#repetitive stress disorder

[bathask]

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[kedreeva]

i have an odd animal husbandry question you seem like you might know the answer to, your comment about stan reminded me - ive been thinking about getting into backyard chickens for a couple years and the thing that makes me hesitate most is hard culling. im confident in my ability to put down an animal thats sick, or infirm, or for food, but for like, temperament? or for poor egg layers? just sticks on me for some reason. i think it would feel like telling them theyre not a good enough chicken for me. how to you process this part of animal husbandry?

This will be a little long, so bear with me.

If you want to keep use animals (animals bred for a purpose, to be used for a purpose instead of kept as a companion), you gotta get good with the idea that they are here for you under the agreement that you will only keep them as long as you need to. When you take them on, you are agreeing that you will release them to whatever their next life holds for them as soon as you do not need (or they've completed) their service. Maybe for some people that's just release to the biological cycle of life, for others maybe there's an eternal rest, for others maybe it's reincarnation. For soft culling that's just moving to the next household. Whatever it is, you are allowing them to pass to it in as humane a way as you can, and ultimately it is the single greatest kindness and gratitude you can show to them, to give them proper care while they are here and allow them to end with little to no pain- something animals outside of our care rarely get. You are thanking them for their service, and letting them go. Worth does not even begin to factor into it.

It is not easy to take a life. It is NEVER easy, regardless of reason, regardless of excuse, regardless of anything. It is ALWAYS heavy, and it will always hurt you. And it should. I am grateful for the weight of taking a life, because it reminds me that it is serious, and reminds me to take the production of life seriously, because at some point any life I cause to come into existence via breeding animals will have to end.

On top of that, some things ARE heath related that do not seem health related. Aggression in domestic animals IS A HEALTH ISSUE. A cock is aggressive because he is stressed about intruders, containment, mating threats, resource guarding, etc. Even with the best of care this can be true, and unfortunately for you both, this means the animal is not suited for domestic keeping. The same goes for animals (in any stripe of use, but particularly private care) that display repetitive stress behaviors from normal, proper captive care (for example, mice that are food chewing are stressed and should be culled from lines where possible because they are not having a good time). You are doing them a disservice to keep them in a stressful situation you cannot change because of their biology. It has nothing to do with not being good enough for you, and everything to do with producing/keeping animals that do not experience that stress in captive care and releasing the rest from duty because they will not be okay in any captive care.

For some issues (poor egg laying, for example) you CAN pet-home culls instead of hard culling. It's harder to do, you will spend time finding people who just want pets that don't intend to breed or don't care, but it can be done. However!! Is the bird just slow at producing eggs because her genetics say that's how fast eggs get produced, or is she producing slowly because there's a health problem that isn't immediately evident? Is her ovary damaged, is her reproductive tract infected, does she have a disorder that prevents her from processing food correctly so she can't get what she needs to produce eggs as fast as normal? Are you setting the bird up for failure (and someone else for heartbreak/money troubles) sending them to a pet home? Is it something which could lead to pain/suffering down the road if she's allowed to continue? Hard to say without spending a lot of money. Are you willing to risk your reputation, if someone takes a surprise illness/genetic issue down the road badly ("Oh THAT breeder sold me a sick/unhealthy bird/bird with bad genetics"), and compromise your ability to find homes for healthy birds down the road?

You are okay with culling a bird for food- there's nothing that says you cannot eat the bad temperaments, the poor egg layers, the one with genetic issues, and so on. And if you can tell early enough that you, personally, can't make use of the meat, there are plenty of folks with other animals that would LOVE feed for those animals. Take yourself down to a local reptile expo, grab the business cards for a few people who have big snake babies (retics, burmese, anaconda, redtail boa, even BP) that say they'd be interested in taking culls, OR look up local bird of prey rescues in your area (or reptile rescues or big cat rescues if there are any) and ask if they'd be interested in culls. There is ALWAYS someone that can use what you can't/won't. You may have to jump through some hoops to donate to some kinds of rescues (health testing for example), but it's an option you can look into if you want to combat the feelings you're talking about.

As a last note- and I am saying this gently and holding your face in both hands: do not anthropomorphize animals in reality.

In YOUR eyes, you are culling them an illness or an injury or for food or for temperament or for poor quality or or or---- it does not matter to the animal why you are culling them. A death is a death, to them. They are here, and then a thing happens, and they are no longer. They do not understand life or death or afterlife or reincarnation or that they are here for a purpose or not a purpose or literally anything you as a human might impose upon them in your head. They live while they are alive, and then they are not. They do not "want to live" in the "avoid death" sense because they do not necessarily understand "death" as a future concept. Instincts that have worked well to preserve life have been encoded in their DNA to one degree or another, they can and do respond to avoid pain, but with little exception (like... maybe elephants and dolphins and a crows and a few others), it's unlikely that they understand the connection between doing those things and being alive/avoiding death.

So while TO YOU it may feel like telling the bird they are not good enough, and TO ME it feels like allowing the bird to move on in peace... the bird doesn't know either way, and honestly the reason hardly matters. It is alive in the present, and one way or another it will not be alive someday, and you are responsible for making sure that the one way under your control is so peaceful or quick that the bird hardly knows it is no longer alive. The bird doesn't care about (and cannot understand) the why of their death, any more than they understand their pain/stress and how it relates medical assistance; it's why animals often freak out, refuse meds, etc. They don't hate the vet or the car or the carrier or anything- they just simply don't understand human stuff and react according to instincts/what they do understand. If you treat an animal like the animal it IS rather than the person you imagine it to be, you will find yourself with a lot better relationship with them during life, and be able to frame their passing a bit better later on.

[guided-by-stars]

Siffrin deals with his anxieties (both rational and irrational) by performing rituals and compulsions. These rituals can become obsessive, especially in times of heightened stress, and often focus around either checking things, or numbers. They also deal with intrusive thoughts, with such frequency and intensity that it impacts their ability to function. Those...are all symptoms of OCD.

Let's define some terms, before we go into examples. What are obsessions in this context? This often refers to obsessive thoughts/anxieties/mindsets. These are prevalent, reoccurring, sometimes disturbing, often irrational fears. Intrusive thoughts are one example of this, though not all obsessions are intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts are specifically unwanted and very distressing and often graphic thoughts or images in one's mind. An example of such is this:

Next, are compulsions and rituals. Compulsions are actions that one takes to break the obsession spiral. These either soothe the root fear (though usually temporarily), or quiet the disturbing thought or image. Rituals are "safe" compulsions, decided as such either by repetition or irrational logic. The wording that Siffrin uses when questioned about obsessive checking of pillars is as follows:

One of the most common mental justifications for compulsions is "But what if?". The perceived cost of performing a compulsion is often weighed as nothing against the potential of something truly awful happening. "What if?" carries a lot of weight for people dealing with OCD- often one knows that both the fears and the compulsions are irrational and logically one cannot control the Universe by tapping a certain amount of times on a table, checking for the tenth time if your alarm was set, or repeating a phrase multiple times in your mind. However, the weight of the potential fear is just so great that one cannot take the chance, even knowing that. This paradoxical position of both awareness and delusion that many with OCD have is called "OCD with insight" (1)

This post became....much longer than I planned, so the rest will be under the cut. Please read the rest though!!! There's so much more to it! ☆

The diagnostic criteria for OCD in the ICD (2) and the DSM (3) are relatively similar (though the DSM focuses a lot more on ruling out other causes for similar behavior like anxiety disorders and delusional disorders), and focus on the obsessions being self-sustaining and the rituals being often time consuming and frustrating to have to do. However, not all compulsions are even notable enough to the person to cause any frustration or discomfort, nor are all of them consciously done with any sort of logic behind them. It's quite common for people to perform compulsions without even having a reasoning for why (4).

Hey, weren't we talking about Siffrin ISAT? What's with all this research paper bullshit? Can't you just show me where in the game my blorbo shows signs of mental disorders???!?

Well, one example of rituals that Siffrin engages in is repeating phrases, either out loud or in their head. The number they tend to come back to, again and again, is three. This is shown when they are explaining Wish Craft, and despite the fact that the specific number of repetitions of your wish genuinely doesn't matter, just that it's repeated at all, they instinctively say to repeat your wish three times, before catching themselves and correcting their error.

...When Loop explains their Wish to Siffrin, they say it three times as well. "I wished it could be over. I wished I could get out of here. I wished for someone to help me."

Whenever Siffrin wants something to go right, throughout the game, he also almost always repeats his desired outcome three times.

It's a noticeable enough habit that his party members mention it, when in the trap room. They've noticed the ritualistic mumbling that he does whenever he wants something to go right.

It's not just when they want something to go right that they're doing it though. They repeat things three times when they're panicking, too, to calm themselves down. When they loop back after beating the king:

It's not even just thinking or saying things either, they take actions in threes too, to soothe themselves. After Kingquest:

You can see both thinking things in threes and acting in threes here. It's everywhere. If you look through the game again, you won't be able to help but notice how often they do things in threes.

Speaking of the coughing though, that's another one of the compulsions they do. Covering their mouth, coughing, gagging, they do all of those when trying to banish disturbing memories or thoughts from their mind.

After looping when refusing to try to say the name of their country when the King asks.

Notice again, they repeat "You know" three times. Like I said, you'll start seeing that EVERYWHERE now.

To note, if you try to say it once and try not to say it another time, you'll get this instead:

Three breaths, here.

I could go on, but I don't think I need to.

Another important factor when considering OCD is the need for control. People with OCD not only report a lower level of perceived control over their thoughts and actions, and not only tend to need a higher level of control than the average person to feel safe and comfortable, but also, the less control over their environment they have, the more that OCD symptoms often intensify. (5)

Siffrin is in a paradoxical position here, in regards to control. When they first realize they're in a timeloop, they're absolutely ESTATIC. The first bathroom break monologue exemplifies exactly WHY he's so euphoric at this point:

He's euphoric with CONTROL. No matter what happens, he can always try again. He's safe. He can keep everyone he loves safe. He has SO MUCH CONTROL.

When the illusion shatters, after he's dragged back when they beat the king, that's when he realizes how little control he actually has. Sure, he can decide when he loops (most of the time) but he can't decide to STOP looping. He's trapped. The more he tries to escape, the less control he seems to have (Eg, what happens to Bonnie). After that, we can see him start to have intrusive thoughts, engage in more ritualistic behavior, and end up in more unhealthy anxiety spirals.

...And, we see him lean into the little control he DOES have (looping) more. Any time he's in a stressful situation? Any time that the control he has over a situation starts slipping away? Is Bonnie yelling at him with tears in their eyes and telling him to die? Is Isabeau pulling away from their shaking grip on his collar? Is Odile confronting him on his suspicious behavior? Are things OUT OF CONTROL? ...Control is taken back. Forcefully. He can't handle loosing more control, not when he already feels so helpless and trapped.

Talking about the bathroom scenes, there's another one I want to point out. The first Friendquest run. It's the perfect example of delusional anxieties and compulsions used to quiet the distressing thought, rather than soothe them.

...Yeah.

Siffrin is suddenly overcome with the anxiety that the simple act of believing that his plan could work will somehow make it not come true anymore. This is an example of "magical thinking", or a belief that defies the scientific or culturally accepted laws of causality (eg. "If I step on a crack, my mother's back will break"). It's specifically an example of TAF, or "Thought-action fusion", which is the belief that one's mere thoughts can cause completely unrelated actions to happen in the real world. This is an essential part of how compulsions can genuinely relieve anxiety, and is actually one of the differences between those with other anxiety disorders and those with OCD. Magical thinking is essential to OCD. (6)

This exchange also showcases an example of how compulsions done to quiet rather than to soothe can sometimes involve self harming behaviors to "shake" the thought out of one's mind. In this case, him hitting his own head and focusing on the pain rather than on the thought. Most definitely not a healthy way to deal with it! But what else do we expect from Siffrin, honestly.

Another example of a self-harming compulsion being used to "shake" out a distressing and unwanted thought, also including a more minor example of magical thinking:

Researchers and psychologists have often attempted to divide OCD into subtypes. This has usually been done because different types of obsessions often demand different treatment plans. (7) The actual divisions have varied from researcher to researcher, but one type that consistently comes up, is harm OCD/moral OCD. (Of note, one person usually, but not always, fits into multiple subtypes. I personally think Siffrin fits into multiple) Harm OCD is characterized by a fixation on believing one is a bad person and causing harm to others, often despite others expressing the contrary. This often comes along with very intense self-criticism and judgement.

After repeating a Friendquest route multiple times:

Mal Du Pays fight:

Siffrin specifically is fixated on the worry that the knowledge that they gained by looping gives them an unfair power dynamic with their party, and taking any action informed by that knowledge means that they're taking advantage of them or forcing them to do what he wants. This is despite the fact that, no matter what he chooses to do, they are still autonomous beings who do what they want. He has less control than he thinks.

Also from the Mal Du Pays fight:

("You should've died for me. You should've died to protect me. You should've died to protect me.", "You can wish and wish and wish all you want.", "They'll forget you. They'll forget you. They'll forget you.")

And what of Loop? They're also a Siffrin, right? Examination of the self from an outside perspective has given them time to introspect a bit more. They directly name and point out one of Siffrin's rituals. @dormont pointed this out, in one of his posts. (8)

Loop says, here:

They understand why Siffrin is doing this. Siffrin is afraid that he'll forget again. There was no warning, before the Island vanished from everyone's mind. The coin is a physical reminder that he forgot his first family, that he can't forget this one too. He often rolls it in his pocket, but sometimes grips it tightly, or flips it. In his mind, touching it will prevent him from forgetting again.

Now this is fascinating when thinking about One Hat, because in that eventuality Siffrin, after failing to find Loop at the Favor Tree, leaves his coin where Loop used to sit. This shows that he's doing better mentally, in Act 6. That he trusts himself more to remember, that he doesn't need the coin anymore.

Throughout the game, Loop keeps the comedy mask glued tight to their starry face. Because of that (and the fact that we don't see inside of their head), we don't get to see much of their own obsessions or compulsions. But there is one time where their mask slips. During Two Hats.

When they start becoming more and more distressed, they fall back into repetitions of three:

And if they win the fight....

And after the fight...

But of course, it's not all in distress. What was I saying, at the start of the post? The other reason why Siffrin repeats things in threes? When he wants something to go right, right? When he has a desired outcome, when he's sharpening his knife, when he's carving a figure. "Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp."? At the end of it all, as Loop is fading away:

"I'll see you again soon, I promise! I super promise! I super duper promise!"

And Siffrin understands exactly the intention and desire that they pressed into that repetition. After Loop is completely gone, they mirror their actions.

("You flip it once, twice, three times.")

("You will see each other again.")

Additional resources:

1: Taylor, E. (2020). Discordant knowing: A puzzle about insight in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Mind & Language, 37(1), 73–93. https://doi.org/10.1111/mila.12301

(About the concept of insight in irrational cycles in OCD! Very interesting)

2: ICD 10: The complete official code set. Internet Archive. (2017).

(ICD 10, Account is needed to read the full thing)

3: American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.)

(DSM 5, for reference)

4: Starcevic, V., Berle, D., Brakoulias, V., Sammut, P., Moses, K., Milicevic, D., & Hannan, A. (2011). Functions of compulsions in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 45(6), 449–457. https://doi.org/10.3109/00048674.2011.567243

(Article about reasonings behind compulsions. Honestly I think a lot of the "other reasons" categorized here for compulsions are just...different manifestations of reducing anxiety. But it's still helpful to show how sometimes compulsions are done subconsciously)

5. Moulding, R., & Kyrios, M. (2007). Desire for control, sense of control and obsessive-compulsive symptoms. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 31(6), 759–772. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10608-006-9086-x

(Article around OCD and the need for control)

6. Kingdon, B. L., Egan, S. J., & Rees, C. S. (2011). The illusory beliefs inventory: A new measure of magical thinking and its relationship with obsessive compulsive disorder. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 40(1), 39–53. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1352465811000245

(Article about magical thinking/TAF/history of the other studies done on the importance of them in OCD & creating a better framework to assess them)

(7) McKay, D., Abramowitz, J. S., Calamari, J. E., Kyrios, M., Radomsky, A., Sookman, D., Taylor, S., & Wilhelm, S. (2004). A critical evaluation of Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder subtypes: Symptoms versus mechanisms. Clinical Psychology Review, 24(3), 283–313. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2004.04.003

(Critical overview of the concept of OCD subtypes and what their purpose is)

(8)

(Eve's post :]. Check the replies for more elaboration!)

[ed-recoverry]

Some free mental health/illness books to look at!

We love internet archive here

The Myth Of Normal

Organizing Solutions for People With Attention Deficit Disorder

Dying to please : anorexia, treatment and recovery

Self harm : the path to recovery

Dealing with depression : understanding and overcoming the symptoms of depression

The post-traumatic stress disorder sourcebook : a guide to healing, recovery, and growth

Borderline personality disorder demystified : an essential guide for understanding and living with BPD

Am I still visible? : a woman's triumph over anorexia nervosa

Back to life, back to normality : cognitive therapy, recovery, and psychosis

Panic attacks workbook : a guided program for beating the panic trick

The autistic brain : thinking across the spectrum

The addiction recovery skills workbook : changing addictive behaviors using CBT, mindfulness, and motivational interviewing techniques

The bipolar workbook : tools for controlling your mood swings

The anxiety & phobia workbook

Reclaiming yourself from binge eating : a step-by-step guide to healing

Your guide to schizophrenia

Overcoming social anxiety and shyness : a self-help guide using cognitive behavioral techniques

DBT Skills Training Manual: Handouts And Worksheets

Bipolar 101 : a practical guide to identifying triggers, managing medications, coping with symptoms, and more

49 tips and insights for understanding addiction

Understanding paranoia : what causes it, how it feels and what to do about it

The beginner's guide to eating disorders recovery

Paths to recovery : Alcoholic Anon's steps, traditions, and concepts

Psychosis : understanding and treatment

Skinny boy : a young man's battle and triumph over anorexia

The borderline personality disorder survival guide : everything you need to know about living with BPD

Recovery of your inner child

Living well on the spectrum : how to use your strengths to meet the challenges

Everyday mindfulness for OCD : tips, tricks & skills for living joyfully

Living with bipolar disorder : a guide for individuals and families

Coping with schizophrenia

Loosening the grip : a handbook of alcohol information

Don't feed the monkey mind : how to stop the cycle of anxiety, fear & worry

Coping with BPD : DBT and CBT skills to soothe the symptoms of borderline personality disorder

Understanding body dysmorphic disorder : an essential guide

How to deal with OCD

Dying of embarrassment : help for social anxiety & phobia

The Body Image Workbook For Girl Teens

Overcoming depression

Trichotillomania, skin picking, and other body-focused repetitive behaviors

Depression : what is it? : what to do?

Voices in Psychosis - Interdisciplinary Perspectives

The brain over binge recovery guide : a simple and personalized plan for ending bulimia and binge eating disorder

The ADHD advantage : what you thought was a diagnosis may be your greatest strength

How to survive your bipolar brain (and stay functional)

The Borderline Personality Disorder Workbook An Integrative Program To Understand And Manage Your BPD

Autistic Community And The Neurodiversity Movement

Taking charge of adult ADHD

Obsessive-compulsive disorders : a complete guide to getting well and staying well

Explaining depression

Bipolar disorder : a guide for patients and families

The cognitive behavioral workbook for depression : a step-by-step program

Overcoming worry and generalised anxiety disorder : a self-help guide using cognitive behavioral techniques

Insight into self harm

Get me out of here : my recovery from borderline personality disorder

Returning to happiness-- : Overcoming depression with your body, mind, and spirit

Food : the good girl's drug : how to stop using food to control your feelings

The autistic spectrum : characteristics, causes, and practical issues

Coping with an abusive relationship

Overcome depression

An introduction to coping with eating disorders

Feeling good : the new mood therapy

Driven To Distraction, Recognizing and Coping with Attention Deficit Disorder from Childhood through Adulthood

[antimisinfo]

Endos / endogenics and why they aren't valid :

We've made posts on this before but we decided it might be good to make one big post to link to for when / if anyone asks again. We tried to cover everything we could in this post but we'll likely be making other posts similar to this later on.

So what are endos? Endos or endogenics are people who claim to have DID/OSDD without trauma or claim to have alters / be a system without having DID/OSDD.

Why is this bad? This is misinformation because as far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma based disorder (specifically caused by trauma in early childhood, which is speculated to be 1-9 / 1-12 years old) and your brain would not split / create alters without reason. You cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters. To add onto this endos also take over our communities and steal our terms. (We'll make a post with further information on that in the future).

There is also a carrd that explains why endos are bad and debunks a few myths if anyone is interested in it! If not continue reading

Why can't you have DID/OSDD or alters without trauma? As far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma disorder and in order to have alters in the first place you require dissociation, which is also a trauma ((or stress)) response. Here are tons of medically reviewed sources that say this:

“ They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood. By experiencing trauma in childhood, you take on different identities and behaviours to protect yourself. As you grow up these behaviours become more fully formed until it looks like you have different identities ” — rethink.org

“ Dissociative identity disorder (DID), previously known as multiple personality disorder, is a complex psychological condition caused by many things. These include severe trauma during early childhood (usually extreme, repetitive physical, sexual, or emotional abuse). It's also known as split personality disorder. ” — webMD

“ DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories. ” & “ Dissociation — a major part of DID — is a defense mechanism the body uses to reduce your awareness during overwhelming trauma ” — pysch central

“ DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood. ” & “ Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma. It can happen during a single-incident, traumatic event (e.g., an assault, a natural disaster, or a motor vehicle accident), or during ongoing trauma (e.g., wartime; chronic childhood abuse). ” — mcleanhospital.org

“ Dissociative disorders often develop as a way to deal with a catastrophic event or with long-term stress, abuse or trauma. This is particularly true if such events take place early in childhood. At this time of life, there are limitations to your ability to fully understand what’s happening. In addition, your coping mechanisms aren’t fully developed and getting support and resources depends on the presence of caring and knowledgeable adults. ” — my.clevelandclinic.org

“ There are many possible causes of dissociative disorders, including previous traumatic experience. ” & “ Switching off from reality is a normal defence mechanism that helps the person cope during a traumatic time. ” — nhs.uk

“ Dissociative identity disorder is the result of a natural way of coping with childhood trauma. Our page on the causes of dissociative disorders has more information. ” & “ Dissociation is a natural response to trauma while it's happening. But some of us may still experience dissociation long after the traumatic event has finished. Past experiences of dissociation during traumatic events may mean that you haven't processed these experiences fully. ” — mind.org (two links since they're two different pages)

“ Dissociative disorders usually start as a way to cope with shocking, distressing or painful events. The disorders most often form in children who go through long-term physical, sexual or emotional abuse. Less often, the disorders form in children who've lived in a home where they went through frightening times or they never knew what to expect. The stress of war or natural disasters also can bring on dissociative disorders. When you go through an event that's too much to handle emotionally, you may feel like you're stepping outside of yourself and seeing the event as if it's happening to another person. Mentally escaping in this way may help you get through a shocking, distressing or painful time. ” — mayoclinic.org

Most of these sources are pretty recent too, with the most recent one being made in September 2023 (webMD)

What about religious beliefs / tuplamacy? First people are not required to believe or participate in your religious beliefs (and religious beliefs are not exempt from criticism) and second tuplamacy is a closed Buddhist practice that has nothing to do with being a system and should not be compared to being a system nor should it be included / involved in system communities. Note that the DSM-V also says that in order to have DID; "The disturbance is not a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice." <- this does not mean it's possible to have alters due to a religious thing, if anything it says they cannot be counted as alters / as a system.

To add on, no you cannot pray to be a system or transition into being a system. If you were to pray and one day magically become a system you are either in denial or you've convinced yourself you're something you're not. Believing you can be a system without trauma or that you can become a system by praying is like believing you can get autism from vaccines or drinking too much dairy milk, that's just not how it works.

What about mixed origin systems? Mixed origin systems are not a thing. DID/OSDD forms purely from trauma, you can't form from a mix of trauma and not trauma, that's not how it works. If you identify as mixed origin you are likely in denial and really need to come to terms with the fact that you are either traumatized or you're not a system at all.

What about other kinds of origins? Other origins like "willowgenic" and all that bullshit? Yeah no, same thing as endos, not possible. Look above for all the proof you need, DID/OSDD is only caused by trauma. Traumagenic is the only valid origin.

But I gave myself DID! / But I created my own alters! No you didn't. That isn't possible, you cannot turn yourself into a DID/OSDD system and creating alters is a coping mechanism, not something you do for fun, sources on this;

“ DID Isn't Something You Can Give Yourself on Purpose. Having DID was not a conscious decision those of us with the disorder made when we were children. Dissociative identity disorder is not a selective disorder, meaning you cannot decide that you want to develop this brilliant coping mechanism and then you have it. ” — healthyplace

“ In any case, additional alters are usually the result of extreme stress. The mind does not like to be fractured even when an individual already has DID or OSDD-1. Many individuals cannot split unless a split is strictly necessary for their protection, functioning, or ability to remain hidden as a system. That said, there are exceptions. Some individuals may become so used to using splitting as a coping mechanism that they may split easily in response to seemingly minor stressors. ” — didresearch.org

Isn't being a system like the same as being trans or being LGBTQ? No, many endos compared the two but they are completely different. Being LGBTQ is an identity, it's something you are born as. Being a system is a debilitating disorder caused by severe trauma, it is counted as a disability which is;

“ 'A person has a disability if: They have a physical or mental impairment, and the impairment has a substantial and long-term adverse effect on the person's ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.' ” — gmc.org

The reason DID would be counted as a disability is that;

“ Having a dissociative disorder can affect your ability to keep a full-time job, especially one with work stresses, which can worsen your symptoms. ” — disabilitysecrets

And the DSM-V criteria literally says;

“ The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning ” — traumadissociation

But the DSM-V says that trauma isn't required! No, the DSM-V actually says CSA isn't required, there are other forms of trauma that don't involve CSA or child abuse. To act as if it saying that the trauma isn't always CSA or child abuse means that it doesn't require trauma at all is extremely invalidating to those who are traumatized in ways that don't involve child abuse or CSA.

But this source claims endos exist / DID doesn't require trauma! Most of those sources are extremely old and / or made by endos (or pro endos) themselves. (We'll make a more in-depth post on this topic some other time, but for now this is all we have to say on it)

But we don't know everything about the human brain! You're right, we don't. The brain is mysterious, but we do know enough to know that it doesn't do these kinds of things for no reason. We know the brain reacts to trauma and we know what the difference between a normal brain and a disordered brain is. Just because we don't know everything doesn't give people an excuse to jump to conclusions and spread misinformation. It is better to stick to what science currently knows which is the theory of structural dissociation, which is the current theory about how DID/OSDD forms, and so far no one has been able to disprove it. And before someone says it, no it is not only a theory, it is a scientific theory which is;

“ A theory is a well-substantiated explanation of an aspect of the natural world that can incorporate laws, hypotheses and facts. The theory of gravitation, for instance, explains why apples fall from trees and astronauts float in space. Similarly, the theory of evolution explains why so many plants and animals—some very similar and some very different—exist on Earth now and in the past, as revealed by the fossil record. ” — amnh.org

And to add on;

“ Scientists develop theories to explain the natural world and to advance scientific knowledge. A theory is the highest level of explanation in science. Some features of scientific theories are that they: have been thoroughly tested over an extended period, provide accurate explanations and, predictions for a wide range of phenomena, are widely accepted by the scientific community, demonstrate strong experimental and observational support ” — study.com

[adhbabey]

Let's talk about some lesser known symptoms of autism! Maybe this will help some of you get a broader perspective on what this can be like. There is a whole grab bag of symptoms of autism, but here are some ones you may not know that you have.

Focus on truth

What does this mean? Well glad you asked. This is the focus on facts and logic rather than anything else. People have shown this as autistic people may refusing to lie because it goes against what they find as true. But that's not always the case.

Have you ever used logic to try and figure out your emotions?

Are you someone who doesn't understand why others may speculate when the current knowledge is right there? (such as subtext versus canon knowledge or theoretical arguments)

Do you find it frustrating when others avoid their problems as a way to avoid figuring out negative things? (such as avoiding conflict in a friend group)

Is it easy for you to talk about your strengths and flaws? Do you know your likes, dislikes and limits pretty well?

High context communication

This is preference on details and the full context of any situation. Often going into great detail and backstory to anything.

Do you feel as though you need to overexplain to give the person everything they need to know?

Have you ever apologized to someone by explaining the deep and meaningful reasons of why you did it, before you said you were sorry? And maybe even felt upset or confused why they reacted badly?

Have you ever felt stressed out because you wanted to give others full detail but they either interrupted you or cut you off?

Are you stressed out by people who tell you what to do and not why they want you to do it?

Are you ever told that you talk back a lot?

Do you prefer recipes versus verbal/vague instructions? (All the things that you need such as ingredients, measurements, prep time, etc.)

Do you really like watching deep dives and knowing about the whole history of something you're even vaguely interested in?

Identity diffusion

This is not everyone's experience, and it is common in a variety of other disorders such as DID and BPD. However, it is when you do not know who you are in regards to others. This is also known as identity disturbance.

Have you ever felt like an outsider without knowing why?

Are you deeply interested on what other people think of you? Especially if it's all the time?

Do you really like taking personality tests and quizzes? Are you interested in horoscopes?

Do you feel like you don't fit in any one specific group? Either being a loner, or hopping in between many different groups?

Do you ever feel weirder than the "weird kids" group? Do you not really get along or feel like you belong with them?

Do you have low self esteem when it comes to comparing yourself to your friends? Do you feel like they're better or more capable than you?

Do you feel drastically unimportant and not as interesting or cool as everyone else?

Have you ever related to narratives surrounding a character that is the last of their kind?

Do you feel like your identity is a vast and gaping void, that even if you learn a little bit, that you'll never know everything?

Internalized repetition

This is one of those traits that not every autistic person experiences, but that some might. You could say that for all autistic traits, but hey, good to know regardless. Because of internalized repetition, you may not do many external stims, besides vocal.

Do you listen to a song over and over again? Perhaps having a playlist on repeat?

When stressed out, do you type the same word or phrase over and over again?

Do you like looking at the same things, such as the same color or the same artist's works?

Do you really like certain patterns, crystals or aesthetics?

Do you enjoy games with recognizable fighting patterns? (Such as character rotation, boss battle rotation, etc.)

Struggling to connect to others *

This is something that's been characterized by struggling to connect to others through their emotions, but the opposite is actually true for many autistic people. *I will be talking about those who struggle to connect to others who are emotionally distant or unavailable. Being emotionally distant or not showing emotions externally is a trait that many autistic people share, but for those without alexithymia, they may struggle to understand why anyone wouldn't like to talk about their emotions. I don't know the specific symptom term for this, so please bare with me. If anyone would like to inform me about what this is called, please tell me.

Do you struggle to talk with dry texters, or tend to over-examine people's tone through text?

Do you have anxious attachment?

Do you feel disconnected with many other autistic people and struggle to make friends or talk to them?

Do you feel embarrassment or shame with being emotionally sensitive?

Have you fallen down the rabbit hole of things like starseeds, star children or empaths?

Do you want to talk about serious emotions a lot, even when its not appropriate?

Do you trauma dump or wish people would become more emotionally intimate with you? Do you enjoy it when people share their deep traumas with you, even if it's triggering?

Are you constantly reassurance seeking?

There is plenty more symptoms out there, and these are just a few that stood out to me, because I think I may be autistic. I've always related somewhat, but never connected the dots. But there are reasons for that, such as identity diffusion and thinking I'm different from everyone else no matter what. I struggled because I didn't seem to have a lot of the outward and visible symptoms that were often talked about. I thought every autistic person had alexithymia, when that's just not true. My best friend, who has similar symptoms to me, along with another close friend of mine, have a similar presentation of autism. And it's taken quite a bit for me to accept or process. I feel like I'm faking my experiences just because I've self diagnosed before. And I'm angry that ADHD isn't given enough significance.

But I think I might be autistic, and this article that I based this post off of, confirmed it. So here's my post informing and coming out on that. You can be autistic and highly masking without actually knowing what's going on is masking. You can be autistic and have a spectrum of verbality, you can be autistic and struggle to connect to anyone who isn't immediately emotionally intimate with you. You can be autistic and not relate at all to other autistic people.

You're not alone.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How would you go about writing someone with mental issues? Conditions like schizofrenia?

There is a lot of awful takes that essentially end up being caricatures while actual people wity the condition are often quite chill. It's difficult to do them justice while also not being able to fully understand how it is

Writing about Mental Health Conditions

Questions to Ask When Reporting on Mental Health

Is mental illness relevant to this story? If not, there is no need to mention it.

What is your source? Don’t rely on hearsay to report that a person has a mental illness. If you are reporting on a specific condition, make sure you are talking to a mental health professional to provide the facts. Mental health organisations like the APA can connect you with experts to discuss a wide range of mental health and substance use disorders, as well as the medications and techniques used to treat them.

What is the most accurate language to use? See below for advice about language that is specific and avoids derogatory terms.

Choose Your Words Carefully

The words you use to write about mental health are very important, and can help reduce stigma around mental illness if carefully chosen.

ONE. Focus on the person, not the condition. The basic concept is that the mental health condition (or physical or other condition) is only one aspect of a person’s life, not the defining characteristic.

Preferred: She is a person with schizophrenia.

Not preferred: She is schizophrenic.

TWO. Be specific. Mental illness is a general condition. Specific disorders are types of mental illness and should be used whenever possible (see below for a brief list and definitions of common disorders).

Preferred: He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder

Not preferred: He was mentally ill

THREE. Avoid derogatory language. Terms such as psycho, crazy and junkie should not be used. In addition, avoid words like “suffering” or “victim” when discussing those who have mental health challenges.

Preferred: She has a mental health illness. She has a substance use disorder.

Not preferred: She suffers from mental illness. She’s a drug abuser.

Common Mental Health Terms

The following are definitions of some of the most common mental health disorders. For more complete descriptions, consult Understanding Mental Disorders: Your Guide to DSM-5 or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Addiction - a chronic brain disease that causes compulsive substance use despite harmful consequences.

Alcohol and Substance Use Disorders - the overuse of alcohol or drugs leading to effects that are detrimental to the individual’s physical and mental health, or the welfare of others.

Autism Spectrum Disorders - a range of complex developmental disorders that can cause problems with thinking, feeling, language and the ability to relate to others.

Bipolar Disorder - (also commonly known as manic depression) is a brain disorder that causes shifts in a person’s mood, energy and ability to function.

Depression - a common and serious medical illness that causes feelings of sadness and/or a loss of interest in activities once enjoyed; it can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems.

Eating Disorders - illnesses in which people experience severe disturbances in their eating behaviors and related thoughts and emotions; anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa and binge eating disorder are the three main types.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) - an anxiety disorder in which people have recurring, unwanted thoughts, ideas or sensations (obsessions) that make them feel driven to do something repetitively (compulsions).

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - a psychiatric disorder that can occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, war/combat, rape or other violent personal assault.

Schizophrenia - a chronic brain disorder with symptoms that can include delusions, hallucinations, trouble with thinking and concentration, and lack of motivation.

Facts about Mental Illness

Misconceptions and myths about mental health are unfortunately common. The following are a few facts about mental illness in the United States, as well as key resources for the latest statistics on mental health:

In any given year, more than 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. has a diagnosable mental disorder.

One in 20 adults has a serious mental illness.

One in 6 adults has a substance use disorder (including alcohol use disorder).

Half of all chronic mental illness begins by age 14.

Suicide is the 11th leading cause of death for all ages and the second leading for people ages 10 to 34. It is more common than homicide.

Most people with mental illnesses are no more likely to be violent than those without a mental health disorder. In fact, people with a mental health disorder are at significantly higher risk of becoming victims of violence compared to the general population

Excerpted from The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH):

Write often about mental health challenges—the greater awareness generated about mental health, the more chance there is of helping people who have problems associated with these illnesses.

Let us know if you are looking for story ideas—we have lots of them and would be more than happy to share these ideas with you (you can find their contact details here).

We are asking for your help in reducing the stigma around mental illness including addiction because stigma is a huge problem for people living with mental illness.

We can accomplish this by dispelling some of the negative stereotypes that follow people who have mental illness such as: people with mental illness including addictions are all potentially violent and dangerous; are somehow responsible for their condition; and have nothing positive to contribute.

Labels matter. Don’t describe a person with a substance use disorder as a “heroin addict,” “drug user,” or “alcoholic.” Defining a person by their disorder makes the disorder become that person’s “master status”—the reader or viewer will only see the person as defined by the illness not by who they really are as an individual.

Help reduce stigma by not leaving the person out when describing an individual. When a person is called a schizophrenic, the reader will only see the disorder and conjure up mental images that are likely negative and stereotypical. The same can be said for a person who is called a “manic-depressive or a "depressed person.” Chances are they could be receiving treatment for these symptoms and are in fact not feeling depressed at all.

Exploring Mental Health in Fiction

As fiction writers, we take normal, everyday conflict and crank it up to a 10 to make our stories compelling.

In a mental health focused novel, it’s the absence of and quest for mental health that’s the meat of the story, the source of the conflict at its heart.

What drives the plot is not what happens in the story, but the interplay between external factors and the hero’s response to them.

There are dos and don’ts to writing about neurodivergence or mental illness that will make your characters and their struggles ring true—not flat and stereotypical.

Origin of Your Character’s Mental Health Issue. This can be rich in terms of your story creation. Even if you only hint at it in the narrative, as an author, you need to understand the root cause of your character’s struggle before you decide what the manifestation will be. Family quirks, trauma, relocation, immigration—all of these can impact mental health.

Your Own Past and Life and Family. The old write-what-you-know adage can prove fertile ground for character development.

Understand the Role Mental Health Will Play in Your Story. Is the story about mental illness? Based on something very familiar that you know well? Is the book set in a psychiatric hospital? Is the condition a side issue, a challenge that makes your protagonist’s life a little more complicated?

Be Accurate and Avoid Stereotypes. If you are not writing something autobiographical, drawing on your own personal experiences, make sure to do your research. Interview people, read articles by and about those with the psychological challenges you intend to feature. Make sure to keep it three-dimensional, even if your book is about being mentally ill. No one is just depressed or just anxious. No character is the sum of their quirks and ticks. Make sure any character with a mental health issue is well-rounded and interesting in other ways.

Don’t Be Afraid to Lean Into the Humor. Par for the course with mental health issues are misadventures, foibles, and overcorrects that can end in comically disastrous results. As long as readers can laugh with rather than at the mix-ups, it’s all good. In fact, if everything we wrote about mental health were tragic, if everything we wrote about trauma were traumatic, the work would be pretty hard to stick with as a reader or as a writer. Whatever story structure you employ—classic three-act, spiral, or what have you—a well-drawn main character is essential. The interplay between the self (Passenger B for example), her circumstances (air turbulence), and others in her life (the frightened son and the maddeningly calm Passenger A) creates conflict, obstacles to resolution. Your hero’s place on the mental health continuum gives her texture and relatability. Her mess-ups, embarrassments, and misunderstandings are what resonate for readers and make your work thrilling, agonizing, and yes—satisfyingly fun!

Characters with Mental Illness. The megalomaniacal CEO. The sociopathic killer. The suicidal teen. The anxious woman self-medicating with booze and pills while caring for her demented mother. As writers, we invite these characters into our stories because they are true-to-life and because their psychological problems invite curiosity and compassion.

To avoid stereotyping and caricature—and to keep your story believable—try these 5 strategies and tips:

Make the character relatable. Although common, mental illness is not the norm, so characters with such disorders, especially psychoses, are imbued with “otherness.” The writer must provide a way for the reader to relate to the character despite the illness and because of it. 

Keep the narrative front and center. Stories work best when they are spun around a person and a set of relationships, not an illness. Even “issues books” are successful only when the story focuses on what happens to a particular cast of characters. Mental illness can be debilitating and all-consuming, but it does not define a person. That job still rests with the writer.

Balance internal and overt symptoms and behavior. The internal world of a mentally ill person is fascinating but can readily overwhelm the reader. It doesn’t take pages of suicidal ideation, obsessive thoughts or internal word salad to deliver the message of an altered mental state. Go easy on the subjective "craziness" and opt instead to show how others are reacting (or not) to what is going on inside the ill person’s head. Also, not all mentally ill people have insight; they don’t necessarily know that their behavior and thoughts are abnormal. Obviously, if the person doesn’t realize they are ill, or if they become confused about it, then they might be an unreliable narrator. This can be a powerful tool but it is important to know upfront what relationship your character has with his or her illness, how that affects the interplay of external and internal worlds and the access others have to the character’s problems. It can be as complicated as you wish, but don’t leave the reader behind.

Specify the disorder, at least in your head. Generalized “craziness” does not exist. A mental illness can elude diagnosis, or have a complicated diagnosis, but as a writer, you should try to pinpoint the disorder, even if your character is never properly diagnosed. Why? Disorders are defined by specific behaviors and cognitive flaws, so the more you narrow down the diagnosis, the more you know about how your character might behave, feel and think. For example, mania is evidenced in several disorders, including bipolar disorder, drug-related disorders, and some sub-types of schizophrenia. Knowing the underlying problem has ramifications for your character’s other behavior, their prognosis, treatment, and whether the problem might have a genetic component.

Get the details right. For instance, relief via medication, if it comes, can begin after 2 weeks but the maximum effect can take 8 weeks. Details like this matter not just because they satisfy knowledgeable readers but also because spreading misinformation about mental illness does everyone a disservice. Mental health is a rapidly changing field, so ensure your information is correct for your time period. Terminology, diagnosis, treatment options, and prognosis can be vastly different from one decade to the next.

Fortunately, there are resources at your disposal:

Consult the relevant version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), the official guide to mental disorders. The American Psychological Association updates it periodically, so use the one corresponding to your setting.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) is also an excellent resource;

Seek out mental health professionals and those who have first-hand experience with the disorder (patients and/or loved ones) to lend authentic details;

Visit online forums, but be discreet, respectful, and appropriately cautious.

As with all research, don’t rely on a single source.

The credibility of your story is worth the extra time it takes to gain a deeper understanding of your mentally ill characters.

Knowledge, profound knowledge, engenders respect and compassion, two traits we all could use more of, both as writers and as people.

Writing about Your Own Mental Health

Writing about mental health is one thing, but making yourself vulnerable and disclosing your own illness, especially a serious one, is another.

First-hand accounts, though, are essential in making this national discourse authentic and true to life.

Writing to explain your experience to someone else can help you understand it better as well, leading to additional closure.

Writing fosters personal sense-making, especially when you learn how to reframe your experience more positively.

Exploring meaning in your traumatic experience through writing can mark a turning point in your recovery.

Your increased awareness and articulation of feelings and thoughts can be beneficial to others who may be going through a similar experience.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks for the question. This is important to write about. All the best with your writing!

[nasa]

For the Benefit of All: Assistive Tech Developed from NASA Tech

What do modern cochlear implants and robotic gloves have in common? They were derived from NASA technology. We’ve made it easier to find and use our patented inventions that could help create products that enhance life for people with disabilities.

October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, which highlights the contributions of American workers with disabilities – many of whom use assistive technology on the job. Take a look at these assistive technologies that are NASA spinoffs.

Low-Vision Headsets

The Joint Optical Reflective Display (JORDY) device is a headset that uses NASA image processing and head-mounted display technology to enable people with low vision to read and write. JORDY enhances individuals’ remaining sight by magnifying objects up to 50 times and allowing them to change contrast, brightness, and display modes. JORDY's name was inspired by Geordi La Forge, a blind character from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” whose futuristic visor enabled him to see.

Cochlear Implants

Work that led to the modern cochlear implant was patented by a NASA engineer in the 1970s. Following three failed corrective surgeries, Adam Kissiah combined his NASA electronics know-how with research in the Kennedy Space Center technical library to build his own solution for people with severe-to-profound hearing loss who receive little or no benefit from hearing aids. Several companies now make the devices, which have been implanted in hundreds of thousands of people around the world.

Robotic Gloves

Ironhand, from Swedish company Bioservo Technologies, is the world’s first industrial-strength robotic glove for factory workers and others who perform repetitive manual tasks. It helps prevent stress injuries but has been especially warmly received by workers with preexisting hand injuries and conditions. The glove is based on a suite of patents for the technology developed by NASA and General Motors to build the hands of the Robonaut 2 humanoid robotic astronaut.

Smart Glasses

Neurofeedback technology NASA originally developed to improve pilots’ attention has been the basis for products aimed at helping people manage attention disorders without medication. The devices measure brainwave output to gauge attention levels according to the “engagement index” a NASA engineer created. Then, they show the results to users, helping them learn to voluntarily control their degree of concentration. One such device is a pair of smart glasses from Narbis, whose lenses darken as attention wanes.

Anti-Gravity Treadmills

A NASA scientist who developed ways to use air pressure to simulate gravity for astronauts exercising in space had the idea to apply the concept for the opposite effect on Earth. After licensing his technology, Alter-G Inc. developed its anti-gravity G-Trainer treadmill, which lets users offload some or all of their weight while exercising. The treadmills can help people recover from athletic or brain injuries, and they allow a safe exercise regimen for others with long-term conditions such as arthritis.

Wireless Muscle Sensors

Some of the most exciting assistive technologies to spin off may be yet to come. Delsys Inc. developed electromyographic technology to help NASA understand the effects of long-term weightlessness on astronauts’ muscles and movements. Electromyography detects and analyzes electrical signals emitted when motor nerves trigger movement. Among the company’s customers are physical therapists developing exercise routines to help patients recover from injuries. But some researchers are using the technology to attempt recoveries that once seemed impossible, such as helping paralyzed patients regain movement, letting laryngectomy patients speak, and outfitting amputees with artificial limbs that work like the real thing.  

To further enhance the lives of people with disabilities, NASA has identified a selection of patented technologies created for space missions that could spur the next generation of assistive technology here on Earth.

Want to learn more about assistive technologies already in action? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[august-zip]

Allright. Since I have smashed back half of my study project I can 1. Do some work on sysboxes. And 2 tell you all about some things of DID and parts/alters

1. If you have DID. Your not multiple parts or multiple "people" your less than one part. Less than one identity because yours didn't Intergrate due to trauma.

2. People with DID aren't literally multiple people in one body. You aren't sharing a body with other individuals. You are "sharing" a body with yourself and yourself only. Alters/parts are you, whether they have their own name or not.

3. You will not form a new alter/part purely based off of a hyperfixation. Parts form due to traumatic experiences and stress!

4. You cannot choose what alters/parts you have. Despite some being adamant that thats the only way you get new alters.

5. Innerworld or headspace does not exist. You cannot get drunk in headspace, you cannot get hurt, you will not get life threatening injuries that send you to an Innerworld hospital. It is a therapy technique. Nothing more nothing less.

6. Innerworlds are something everyone can have. Not just systems. Non disordered people can use this technique as well.

7. You cannot see your alters/parts.

8. People shouldn't care about being fakeclaimed by strangers online. A strangers opinion should not matter to you.

9. The only way to be a system is through repetitive childhood trauma.

- Vesper

[shipaxe]

My experience being wrong about plurality

Hi. For a year and a few months more, I believed I was a system. Why did I believe this, and what are some reasons I did, as well as how I realized I was wrong? Why I thought I was a system Around September of 2021, I labeled myself as an endogenic median system. Upon finding the system label, I did nowhere near enough research before labeling myself as one. It felt like the non-traumagenic community didn't care; if you thought you were a system, you were one! If you didn't, you weren't. It felt black and white. Eventually, I realised I had trauma I was unaware of, and switched to the label traumagenic. I was no longer median, either. In less than a year, I had 100+ alters. While this can happen, I don't believe I was nearly as stressed as I would have needed to be, and it just.. didn't feel right. Other factors that lead me into the belief I have multiple other disorders. Specifically, I suspect I have BPD, and the dissociation, mood swings, sense of emptiness, and identity issues impacted me a lot. I mistook these symptoms for OSDD-1. I subconsciously started sectioning off parts of my identity, and felt more and more separate- hence the switch from median to multiple. I am also fictionkin and otherkin. Some of my fictives (which my system consisted almost completely of) ended up being kintypes. I am also, to put it simply, lonely. I never feel like I fit in. In the system community, sometimes I DID feel like I fit in. When I didn't, someone else was "chilling in cofront". A lot of them were like imaginary friends to make me feel less alone. Those ones don't even feel like a part of me, but they're not separate people, either. They're just.. figments of my own imagination. To be honest, I've felt much lonelier upon learning I am a singlet. How I realized I was wrong Honestly, it was somewhat obvious. Many of my "headmates" felt like they were a part of me, and if we had different bodies, it wouldn't be the same- because they were me. I also subconsciously started to copy symptoms I didn't have, I switched as I wanted, I was fictive heavy- which can happen, but it's rarer than people realise. My trauma was not severe or repetitive. I could go on. A big problem in the system community is the "everyone is valid" mentality; I believe MUCH more research should be done before labeling as a system, and not enough people talk about it. Another issue is that not a lot of people talk about being wrong, and personally, I was terrified to tell people I was wrong. It's fucking difficult. There's too much "you're valid! you're valid! you're valid!" and not enough "hey, it's okay if you're wrong!". When I panicked around the time I realized I was wrong (and denied it for weeks), I never received an "it's okay if you're wrong". All I got was "hey, calm down, you ARE a system". I think the community has a lot to fix. This has fucked up my dissociation issues and identity problems worse than they were before. I wish I had realized I was a singlet sooner or never jumped into this label. Not all of these mean you're a singlet, but if you relate to this, please be open to the idea of being wrong. Thanks for reading this. Please share this- my goal with it is to help others. Have a good day/night, drink some water, and know that it's okay to be wrong. ☆

[bathask]

自閉症スペクトラムキラキラ光るもの好き。ASD光るもの熱中DSM-5診断基準。大人の発達障害アスペルガー/自閉スペクトラム症の就労継続支援A型事業所仕事でLEDライト使い検品作業。過緊張高不安ASD光の中は水の中の様な畏れと懐かしい様な安心感。ASD見てる世界必需スマホ,カメラ付きでも作業所撮影禁止

[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑. — EARLY RELEASE 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

Freefall.

One thousand feet above sea level.

Metal nose downturned. What comes up, must come down. 

Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

The purgatory between consciousness and death, where chemical makeup, tight-woven, breathes with electricity—life—and the next natural conclusion. Cause and effect. Fifteen years ago, he stared into the pale, unseeing—lifeless—eyes of his children. This morning, this windy, cool morning, he felt their presence in his chest, sitting atop his diaphragm, compressing, choking, suffocating. 

A broken mind works dutifully for its homeostasis.

A little girl who bore the same eyes, same nose, same lips as him—throwing her arms around his neck, curling in for comfort, for the comfort that only her father could provide. 

A young woman, brunette and doe-eyed in all the most deceiving ways, throwing her arms around his neck, curling in for comfort—for the comfort that only he could provide. 

It was all sick, you see. It was all pitiful, depressing, and sick, even in those moments where they could not stifle down the bliss that had overtaken their features. Beaming at one another, laughing, light as a feather. Untouchable. In those moments where it seemed neither of their pasts could reach them, because here they were, on this little island of safety together, where they didn’t quite match the molds of their respective voids, but they fit the silhouettes well enough to fill out most of the darkness and give it shape. With only gaps around the edges, it was easy to fall into the solace of one another as a projection of who they had once needed, and who had never arrived. And now, only now, finally had arrived.

For the girl, that was a beacon of masculine certainty; a maturity greater and more set-in-stone than the kind she had needed to force from the world, slapped together with desperation; shoddy work. 

A man who ticked the boxes. A man who provided her, so effortlessly, with all of that horrible sweetness she had been convinced she had never deserved in the first place. He was everything she had never known, and everything she had ever needed.

She had gone seeking out his arms because, and only because, they were his arms. 

Had they been anyone else’s, surely Elnara would have cowered away in full force; surely she would have felt the pound of danger closing up around her throat. Violin screech. Pin drop. Run. 

But Reuven Aronov’s embrace did not follow the rules that she had grown so very attuned to; those rules that had been engraved into her mind and her skin by the repetitive carving  of violence and violation and neglect and—

There he was: gentle, and respectful, and attentive, and—

Now she was addicted.

Elnara was dizzy with it. Dizzy and floaty and her broken mind, it sought out its homeostasis as a form of survival. It sought out Reuven’s secure, tender touches as a form of survival. Touch me here. Rewrite the story. Replace the last hand that hurt me. Show me my body is deserving of beautiful things. That I was not made only to withstand the ugliness of the world. 

Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. 

Orbital planes were not just reserved for planets.

Sometimes people, too, had gravitational pull. 

This was not of anything rational or pliable. This was something physical—on the same level of changing states of matter, chemical reactions, and the revolution around a burning orb of heat, and life. A fact. A law. 

His calloused touch upon her skin was heat, and life. Fact. Law.

As the moon completes one iteration around the Earth’s circumference every twenty-four hours, Reuven Aronov and Elnara Chae found themselves locked in a tidal symbiosis, where neither was quite certain when it had begun or how, or if the other was even there orbiting them in return. 

They found one another as the furthest planet in the milky way found its sun—accidentally; without warning; hopelessly tethered and so close to escape all at once. And if it were—to escape—it would wander aimlessly and without purpose, always seeking out that sun for one last dance on its gravitational plane. 

Elnara basked in the warmth of her older flame and stretched out, belly up, like a warm-furred feline. 

Such had been the affliction of the both of them for the past several weeks, steadily richening in complexity and nuance, and all these blissful feelings that had never been experienced before and thus had no names. Simple terms like attachment and affection just didn’t capture the lived experience with any eloquence. It was much deeper than that. It was much more fundamental, and shockingly so.

Fundamental for each of them in some sort of overlapping venn diagram. Where they met in their filling of one another’s voids, Elnara’s attachment strayed into romance, while Reuven’s strayed into something paternal. Something misguided and hopelessly clinging all the same. And what was attachment, truly, if not just tethering perceived in different casts of light? Just as the heart pounds, flighty, in the chest when witnessing a predator and when witnessing a lover, this attachment did not discriminate. Tomato, tom-ah-to. At the end of the day, they both were sick with dreams of one another while they slept just one hallway’s length in separation.

Now that man Elnara ideated in her slumber stirred against his own purgatory, dreaming of parallels. Dreaming of his daughters, his baby boy, and of Elnara. Dreaming of what could have been. Dreaming of what currently was.

Elnara in a backpack, slumped into her petite frame with the density of hard-bound knowledge. His misguided acknowledgement. Who was she? Converse sneakers. Coming home from school. Where was the school? Somewhere off in the forest. Where the fairies and the hobbits roamed. She descended the horizonless coppice until she made her way back home. Back to him. All buoyancy and flapping wings.

Dad, I’m home.

Hey, baby girl. Hey, sweet thing. Hey, honey bun.

Can you show me how to—?

I can show you anything you like.

Can I have a hug?

Chedva. Elnara. Kuna. Elnara. Ezra. Elnara.

You can have all the hugs you want, —

His eyes snapped open with a grunt. 

Freefall. One thousand miles a minute. 

Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

Impact.

The sunlight squeezing through the gaps between black, full-length curtains was stinging; blinding. Reuven squinted against it with a grimace. His head pounded behind his ears. That grunt in his chest returned as he stretched his neck, all of that insight into what really hid below all of this unbecoming now dissipated and gone just as quickly as it had been conjured up under the surface. 

The broken mind seeks homeostasis. Ignorance is bliss. Awareness is agony. 

Thick muscularity swung off the edge of the king sized mattress, his skin slightly more bronzed than the day previous, leaving less of a contrast against the black sheets he ruffled as he departed them. An overtaking yawn. A knot in his shoulder. A tucking of bedding, meticulously, into the edges of its frame. Habit cemented so deeply it was performed without consciousness; was sought by his fingers on their own accord. 

A bare, hairy torso was replaced with a t-shirt. Some old, faded Queen tribute that he’d owned longer than he’d owned this plot of land.  Deep green boxers were concealed by a pair of draw-string sweatpants, drawstring pulled tight at the narrow of his pelvis. Against the windows, the early spring howled its winds, groaning, like the sea moves its waves. 

Insurmountable. Unmalleable. A fact. A law. 

Routine flooded back in. A tired mind remembering that someone who filled out all the edges of his void was waiting there, right below the threshold of steps. The fatigued memory of last night, just that brief moment before bedtime, where she had come to him, asking for his affection, returned to him. Whatever it was that pivotal gesture had conjured up inside the man was now swirling, centrifugal, in the drain of his mind. She was light on water droplets and saplings reaching for air and contagious in all the ways that no one else could sing to his disjointed, fever-stricken heart.

A residue of quiet excitement lifted through him as he descended, his mind zappy with dopamine and ready to enjoy the echo of his cardinal wound healed yet another day. Reckless, avaricious, sick. 

The staircase’s bottommost step was abandoned and from the archway of the foyer, he could see past the living room, where the kitchen displayed, still and devoid and liminal.

Reuven’s features softened.

Disappointment, and… a twinge of concern. That got stifled down quickly with some silent disputing. She had not missed breakfast since she’d moved in. Sure, typically, she rose earlier than he did, but she occasionally slept in a bit and joined him at the tail end of the meal. Lord knew she had a lot of physical shit to recover from. Even if she did miss breakfast, it did not mean the end of the world. It did not mean something was severely wrong. He wasn’t going to start letting his anxieties run astray, no matter how unhinged that nurturing, paternal part of him was frenzied to fix it before it’s too late. 

That was not rational. That was not condign.

Through this silent mantra, he coaxed something less disjointed from that rugged flume he called his mind. A practice that he had been noticing himself slowly becoming more capable of doing again. Reframing had been an essential tool in the arsenal of staying sane while he was working as a SEAL, witnessing the horrors of the world first hand, allowing them to weigh down into his understanding of reality and unveil the well-rounded truth of how evil the human race truly was. Mental fortitude. Resilience. It had all been lost to him when the one thing he was told to anchor to—those he loved—had been evicted and repossessed by the world like some cruel, sadistic joke. 

Perhaps that was why it had been trickling back in now. He had someone to anchor to again. Someone that could contrast all of the darkness, and he could stare at her arc, and ignore the way the blackout pressed in with uncomfortable density against his every nerve. 

That disappointment of his had been a knee-jerk reaction; an immediate sinking of his hopes, and he stacked them back up quickly with the reminder that this was what he wanted. He was grateful that she was resting. Relieved that she was up there, warm in bed, healing, even if doing so meant he would have to tolerate missing her for just a bit longer. It was not a bad trade-off, and she would likely join him by the time the air became fragrant with the heating food. It was not a big deal—he should not get so beside himself. This was his design—he embodied, fully, the juxtaposition of wanting her close all the time, enough to wait around like a lost puppy for her, and wanting to avoid her concomitantly, if only for the same reason. 

Just as had been the reality every other moment they spent apart, the man found himself preoccupied with thoughts of her even in her absence. He wondered, absentmindedly, what she might be dreaming about as he got to work on some more of that nurturing. In his mind, the concept that she might be just as afflicted with preoccupations of him as he was her did not cross the realm into anything substantiated. Instead, he wondered if she dreamt of the forest, like he did. If she dreamt of bears and deer and rivers. It, also, did not occur to him that her dreams may not be dreams at all, and that what she was locked within upstairs might be of the more harrowing variety. He was much too stuck on this amalgamate he’d mixed up in his own head within his own dreams, of routine and parental nurturing and Elnara.

Routine, lost to him so long ago, now returned and comforting. 

Mornin’, pretty girl! You want some breakfast? I made eggs.

Soft patter feet, scrambling on hardwood. Squealing, innocent joy. A new day. A swooping embrace. 

A toddler giggling against his neck, happy just for the hell of it. Happy because she was awake, finally, to be held by her papa again. Her papa, happy for the hell of it, for the same exact reason. 

A content little sigh. A puffy cheek against his shoulder. Pacifier soothing. Two big, brown eyes that matched his own, watching him scrape eggs into oil. 

How does a man heal from that being ripped out from under him?

A broken mind seeks homeostasis. 

Before Elnara, his psyche’s pursuit of stability was turbulent. It was fought for with bared canines and gnashing jaws. It was siphoned from some of the most vile actions a man could commit. All bets off. Where your life ends, mine renews. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

He wondered, if she knew of what he had done, what would Nara think of him then?

Would she think him some monster?

Would she be afraid of him?

Surely.

Perhaps… Perhaps he was some monster. 

This coveting he did of her, projecting his lost children upon her silhouette, mixing her up in that vat of acid until she was still herself, but calling, deeply, upon the instincts that comprised him—righteous men did not do such things. 

Good, honorable men did not do such things.

Was he so sick that even his acts of love were blackened in soot?

The time ticked by, and the eggs fried, and Elnara did not join him.

This heaviness in his gut told him something was wrong. He told that heaviness that it was wrong. 

A chair was scraped out against hardwood and a knee tapped as breakfast was eaten. A plate sat, piled, uneaten, across from him, waiting for her company. Company that never came. 

Slowly, whatever sense of reason he’d been able to conjure earlier began to leach out of him into his surroundings.

Her continued absence struck Reuven like a dagger. He did not expect the way it constricted around his throat; pounded wretchedly against his rib cage. It was not just an empty seat at the dining table. It was years of empty seats at the dining table. Four empty seats. Silence. Solitude. Agony.

His dark gaze fell into the glazed ceramic of his plate, between specs of food too tiny to stick a fork through. He stared into it, feeling an unease settle in on the back of his neck. His knee jumped, fidgeting, for another half a minute, before he rose and cleaned up. 

Her plate was placed in the fridge. 

The back door thudded closed behind him. He didn’t bother with a jacket. 

Anxious hands found vice-like hold around the handle of that axe. His liberator. Every muscle in his upper body flexed as it slammed down, splitting through lumber, severing. Violence. Trembling, unraveling violence. Meditative violence. Not because her absence made him angry, but because it left room for the rest of reality to trickle in again. He chopped through wood as a means of centering himself. Clearing his mind.

She could not know of all the ways he had already tethered to her. Neither could he. 

See, it had not been malicious. It had not even been intentional. Reuven anchored to Nara out of no fault of his own. Still, despite its intrinsicality, or perhaps in spite of it, the consequences of such entanglement could not be avoided, no matter how many jobs he took on, or how often he went out of his way to distance himself from her. Out of no prompting of his own, the man had grown… used to her. He had grown comforted by her company, and missed her when they we’re separated. So perhaps that was why this anxiety rose up in his chest. Not only because it echoed a time when his solitude became his death warrant, but because this lack of company was not borne from his own doing. Quite the opposite. He had been expecting her, and she was not there, and, to Reuven, it felt exactly like that morning he was sat up waiting for his best friend, sitting on that passed-down sectional sofa in New York. Checking the time. Missing them. Missing his babies. 

A long weekend without them.

Unaware.

Ignorance was bliss.

Awareness was agony. 

That same foreboding lingered in his sides now. That same instinctual feeling that something wasn’t right. 

The sun craned to its highest point in the cloudless sky. Cool wind was offset by warmth. He chopped wood and tended the garden and cared for the chickens, letting them out of their coop so they could roam in the warm sun, pecking bugs and seeds from the dirt. Being productive was how he kept himself distracted; how he fought back against that feeling in his gut, and reassured himself that it was not the truth; that he was overreacting. 

But then afternoon began to expire, and Reuven stepped back inside, intending to share lunch with her. Still, she was nowhere to be found. 

He swallowed, retreating back outside onto the deck, drinking a glass of water, staring out into the forest. 

What if she was sick?

What if she was in pain?

What if something had happened overnight, and her injury had taken a turn for the worst?

His palm dragged down his face. 

Was it inappropriate to knock on her door? Just to check on her?

Was it theatrical? 

Overstepping? Desperate?

Twenty minutes of tapping his leg as he sat in the wicker chair out back, twenty minutes of internal debate, much like the one he’d had the night she hadn’t woken at the gas station, before he suddenly bit the bullet and made his way back inside, grabbing that untouched plate of waffles and eggs as he went. So similar to that first day after he had picked her up off the side of the road, his knuckles rapped against the door, and he waited for an answer, brandishing his gift of now-cold breakfast.

Nothing. 

“Nara?” he called, gently, through the door.

Nothing. 

That morose sunk even further into the pit of his stomach. He inhaled a deep breath  His jaw tightened. He cleared his throat. 

“I made breakfast,” he continued, unsure if his words even had an audience. “I’m just gon’ leave it right here. Just in case you—step on it,” he murmured, bending down with a soft grunt to place the dish on the floor. 

Square one. Round two.

“I’m gonna be outside. If you need me.” 

No answer.

He swallowed, his calloused palm finding the length of his beard and smoothing it down in some half-compulsive self soothing gesture. His footsteps carried him down, away, against his better judgement. There, at the bottom of the steps, he debated. What was the right decision here? What was the most respectful?

Surely he shouldn’t encroach upon her personal space. That was out of the question. But… if she didn’t answer him, how long did he wait until he sought out an answer more forcefully, just to confirm that she was even still alive in there? Was it hyperbolic to consider that a possibility at all? Was it reasonable and justified, given the circumstances? Or would that be a massive overstepping on his part? Would he be crossing a hard and fast boundary, drawn in the sand, as a means of soothing his own anxiety about it? About losing her? About waking up one morning to find that his babies—his roommate—the only person he had allowed himself to let in in fifteen years—was dead.

Reuven dragged his hand down his face again, grimacing into the sandpaper grooves of his skin.

The unraveling of his mind had begun, and that centrifugal force in the man’s head was now picking up speed. Circling the drain. Spiraling. He bounded back upstairs, not to appease that overwhelmed part of him with a forced reassurance, but to grab a garment that he had not worn since the last of the Summer season. 

A pair of black swim shorts. 

The lake had unfrozen, just barely, but just enough. He had waded in colder waters. He had suffered more violent discomforts.

He needed to clear his mind, and clear it fast, before he did something he would regret. Not just to Nara, but to someone else entirely. A stranger. A nobody, forever forgotten on the side of the road, buried in thicket, all because he didn’t do what he was supposed to. What he knew he needed to do. Get a handle on the memory of it now, before it transformed into that hideous, gargoyle anger that he was so weakened to, and his meditation came in the form of bloodied knuckles and digging thumbs. Homicidal urges stirred up in the eye of some emotional hurricane not only as a means of placating a chagrin that had no other remedy, but for an even simpler, more primitive reason: an echo of a time when his heart pounded so quickly in his chest he couldn’t even feel its overwhelm anymore. Rather, he became razor sharp. Focused. Lethal. And the second that target came into view and was neutralized—some enemy of the state, some terrorist, some fascist, one moment yielding terrible power over the vulnerable, the next gone, gone forever, with one curl of his finger against a rifle trigger—that rushing relief, his heart rate calmed, and the ease came solely from murder. 

He was not aware of it. Why he did this now. Or, rather, he was completely aware of it, but confused about its logistics. He believed that somewhere in his past, when he donned a midnight black tactical uniform and dropped from helicopters straight into the ocean to swim in a pack onto the shore of an enemy state in the middle of the night, that he must have, in some sick way, loved the kill. That he must have enjoyed it. 

The truth was something far less sinister, and far more innocent. 

He craved the relief.

The only comparable height of emotion was in those final moments, where his own life hung in the balance, and he needed to stay rational, and sharp, and clear, else it would not be the target that was neutralized. It would be him. And his wife, and his babies would wake up to the news that their father was dead. The weight of the world had been on his shoulders, and towards the end, he’d become so masterful at resilience that he’d moved up in the ranks and led his SEAL team. Reuven had become exceptionally adept at maintaining poise under pressure. At withstanding. At maintaining his mental fortitude. But when that relief came—that bullet, propelled into the skull of some evil motherfucker, and it was all done, and it was all over, and the silent chaos stilled into wading waters—it rushed down his entire body from the inside out. 

That was why he found himself on the other side of the coin now, depending on who you asked. Of course, it was all perspective. To Reuven, he was a vigilante. Hitting two birds with one stone. These people he killed—they were going to kill innocent people if he didn’t get to them first. He was doing the world a favor, in his eyes. 

But such justification only withstood so much.

It could not continue steadfast beneath this new reality: this girl. Her perspective. 

Disillusionment had been sitting there, at the base of his neck, since the moment he abandoned his carnage in favor of its opposite. Saviorism, without the gore. Protection. 

She had shifted something in him, and he didn’t dare admit it to himself.

But his actions… they admitted it to the world.

It was why he chose this—yanking on swim shorts with the desperation of impending doom—instead of that. Instead of grabbing his keys, cutting out of the enclave, and finding some poor motherfucker who spent all his days drinking and feeling sorry for himself and doing him the favor of ending his life for him. 

The water—it knew Reuven better than he knew himself. Every inch and every pore of his flesh, mapped out by its enveloping, casting his body in its body. In the water, Reuven Aronov ceased to exist. Man became universe, and in its macrocosm, he was rebirthed. The pressure of its atomic structure spoke to him in a language that could not be manifested in a throat or on paper. It was metaphysical. It was the aftermath of death, and the prelude to birth.

His bare footsteps hit the wooden dock with explosive bounding, long strides, accepting the anticipation before collision. A percussion of his body, before he launched himself off, into the hands of the uncontrollable, and became nothing and everything all at once.

Suspended, mid-air, for just a millisecond, before Newton’s first law captured him by the throat, and tore him down. And Reuven—he accepted it. He welcomed it.

Freefall.

Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.

Impact.

A thousand icy needles.

A wild, stinging gasp.

Lungs automatic, primitive, powerless.

Baptized.

Every high, screeching violin in his mind suddenly muted. The tension of the water broke as he plummeted into its volume. 

His mass became its mass. In symbiosis, when he moved, the water moved. When the water moved, he moved. 

His limbs shivered, and as he broke back through the proclivity of its suffocation, he inhaled a slow, relieved breath, cascading, ice-cold water rushing down from his dark curls to his beard. Dripping with subzero water before he dove back under, allowing the water’s insurmountable force to consume him. Pressure against eardrums, pressure against limbs, pressure against nerve-endings, rendering him deafened to everyone and everything but the water and its symbiosis with his body. Lungs ached gently for another breath that would be staved off to force his heart to relax. Reuven waded with an elegance that gave testament to how it had been his second home all his life. Sometimes, he felt he knew how to exist in the water better than he did on dry land. 

The ocean and all its subdivisions held no secrets. 

It washed everyone who entered of theirs. 

Carried their sins away, fragmented them until they were soluble, until they disappeared. 

There was no violence the water held that it was not up front and warning of. A mirror of the force behind chemical reactions and human love. Fact. Law. 

He propelled forward by shoving the water behind him, diving deeper and deeper, farther and farther. Until his heart thudded its anxiety to a different tune—a more immediate, life-threatening tune. The ultimate grounding method. 

With explosive force, he darted back up towards the sun, breaking the lake’s surface, shaking the droplets from his hair, inhaling tempered gulp against the screaming of his cells for oxygen—. His skin pulsed from head to toe with the subdued thud of his heartbeat. Where carbon dioxide filtered from his flushed lips, perspective flooded in. 

The world was turning on its axis.

He was just one lonesome existence in a universe of relativity. 

Staring out into the surrounding forest, where the lake broke against its towering barricade, Reuven felt himself return to the present. Thoughts of his children were left down at the bottom of this sea. The memory of them, the psychosis it brought, dissipated from his skin and into the water. In its place was an awareness of every nerve ending. Of the here, and the now, and the reality not of yesterday, but of today.

He glided through its resistance in a lazy side stroke, inhaling deep, slow breaths with every pivot of his head, feeling alive. Feeling renewed. 

Another deep inhale, and he was pushing back under the water, this time with less urgency. 

His strokes became meditative as he swam. Just as the movement of the axe allowed him to breathe again, traversing through the water allowed him to think. Or, rather, not think at all. Calamity slowed. Cortisol tempered. His skin acclimated to the cold. His heart rate lowered. And he became synergistic with the lake once again, like an old friend. Nice to see you. It’s been awhile. 

Just as the birds and the wind moved together, he and the soft swaying water did too. 

---

When he pulled himself up onto the dock, water cascaded down off his form, clinging his swim shorts flush and unforgiving to his skin, which now blistered with goosebumps against the ambient temperature outside of the lake. A quick jog back up to the cabin allowed for him to swipe that towel he left hanging over the deck’s railing and nestle into it for its warmth, cupping his hands around his mouth for a moment to breathe hot air into his frigid skin. His heart rate was significantly more slowed. It felt like he could see again. Hear again. Contemplate again. 

As he entered back into the cabin, scrubbing at his waterlogged ears with the towel, he mentally prepared himself for the continued absence of the girl; made peace with it, and cleared his throat, strolling past the kitchen and into the living room in a beeline towards the fireplace, to get some real heat going and dry off, but was stopped in his tracks.

Hair still slick and hung down around his strong profile, those brightened eyes of his fell immediately onto girl’s lithe form. 

His heart hiked.

So much for clearing his mind.

One look and he was already lost of every thought in his head. 

“Hey, you…” he began, light, sweet. I missed you, he wanted to say. Where you been all day?

If not for the way she did not even glance his way, Reuven might have immediately abandoned all concept of investigating why she’d stayed in her room all day, and dove head-first back into their playful rhetoric. Excited to see her. Relieved she was finally in his way again.

But she didn’t. She didn’t glance in his direction. And whatever lifting of his spirits finally laying eyes on her had brought, it quickly lowered back down, somber. Ebbing and flowing. She wasn’t moving. She was still. Tense. 

Staring, expressionless, into the unlit fireplace. Her features slack. Her lips parted, curled ever so slightly around a frown.

That same nauseated, uneasy tension knotted up in his abdomen again, twofold. 

The older man stared at her delicate profile without a trace of anything joyous or elated. Instead, he stared cautiously, analyzing the lax in the skin around her eyes. His voice, roughened, broke through the unsettled silence in ginger intonation.

“Nara?” he asked. 

She didn’t answer.

He, suddenly, became aware of his heartbeat again.

With careful, intentional footsteps, he approached, soft against the hardwood, leaving damp imprints as he went, until he was standing adjacent to her, peering down upon her blank features with heaving breaths. 

She didn’t even look up at him then.

Something wasn’t right. 

She was postured so still, so rigid that her chest was hardly lifting with her own breaths. Her irises, lined with a chocolate brown, were wide and glazed over. She didn’t even look his way. She didn’t even realize he was there.

“Nara.” He repeated himself, this time more firmly. Not a question. A demand. Look at me. His voice cut through the air with the same force as a boot stomping in gentle warning. Not out of anger. Never out of anger. Out of concern. Look at me. Where are you?

Her gaze suddenly snapped up from the fireplace, finding obligatory root into his, but even then she wasn’t there. She was still somewhere else. Far away. Looking past him, into herself. Upon her features, he could see clearly now, was a lilt of fear. Terror. 

Reuven’s heart rate bounded quicker in his chest. 

“Nara,” he repeated again, softening, searching her eyes. He attempted to take one step closer, and then suddenly she was there again, back in the living room, with him. Though, not in the way he expected. 

She inhaled an elongated, feeble gasp, shifting automatically further down the sofa’s leather, away from him. He stopped. That ache in his chest festered, kindling around its fuel with licking, threatening flames. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his tone now completely softened for her. His adam’s apple went bobbing up and down beneath his skin as he swallowed. They had shared eye contact every day since she had emerged from the guest room but today it felt different. Something in her eyes was different. Reuven stopped, navigating around her like he was navigating around explosives. He ignored that pulsing in his throat that told him something very, very terrible had gone on while he was off, continuing his life without her. Guilt flooded in from nowhere. 

She swallowed at her tongue, her voice so soft he could barely hear it, her eyes distracted. “I’m… gonna go take a bath.” She gripped, wrists postured, at the edges of her sweatshirt’s sleeves. 

He held her unseeing gaze for a long moment, before murmuring, “Alright.” Something in him told him that it was not alright. That it was not alright at all.

When she got up, her poise was almost… cowering as she navigated around the living table, avoiding him, avoiding his eyes. 

Uncertainty rammed, full force, through every inch of the man’s being.

He watched her with concern contorting into confusion.

What happened?

Last night everything had been fine. She’d asked him for a hug, and he’d given her one. Told her she could have all the hugs she wanted.

Today… she was…

Why?

As she disappeared past the threshold of the steps, Reuven found himself staring out past the window at the lake, his eyebrows etched inward. His mind desperately trying to convince itself that nothing was wrong, while everything in his body told him otherwise. 

With quick retreat, the man navigated out to the outdoor shower, intending to clean himself of the lake’s residue, but now his mind was alight with anxiety again. He fumbled with the curtain’s rod, hooking it into the shower’s wall, and yanking the plastic curtain closed. His height would have it that he stood a bit taller than the shower’s walls, and found himself staring past the piping and into the forest.

Up above, he heard the upstairs bath’s faucet squeak on, and then the rush of water pounding into the tub.  He swallowed, looking down and staring blankly at the knobs of the outdoor shower, confusion racing through his mind at a thousand miles per minute. He had never seen her like that, except… except the night he picked her up. That look she’d had on the side of the road—hollowed out, haunted. Dead inside. 

As the warm water pooled down his body, a horrible feeling nestled into the man’s form. Something that spoke of feasibility. That spoke of inadequacy. The need to save her. The incapacity to do so. 

Was it something he’d done? Was it something he’d said?

He groaned, quietly, trying to ground his anxiety again as it lifted through his chest, constricting around his sternum. The shower halted with a squeak, and Reuven wiped the water from his face with a dragging hand down his features; one that gripped at his own skin, trying to massage the worry from his flesh. 

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she just needed a little time to herself.

He could do that. He could give her space.

He could ignore everything in him screaming at the top of its heights to go up there and comfort her. 

His original plan of filling up the fireplace was resumed, only this time he sat down on a towel on the couch, drying off with a beer in his grip. As if it were a lifeline. Some IV full of benzos. Calm down. It’s okay. She’s okay. Stop overthinking. 

Telling himself as much wasn’t enough to make himself stop. 

He worried about her well into the night, even after the sun had set and the sound of the faucet upstairs had halted. He stared into that fireplace now, thinking only of her, thinking only of his concern for her. Resurrected, full force, from this morning. All of that waxing and waning in the lake was gone now. An awful feeling struck him as he remembered breakfast. His curiosity, along with his dread, carried him up the steps. At their landing, he stopped, staring down the hallway towards her bedroom. 

A plate, full of food gone cold, was pushed to the side, untouched. Not a single bite. 

She hadn’t eaten all day.

His attention was torn from it only by something that took higher precedent.

From beyond the closed bathroom door, he heard a faint noise. A choking, pitiful noise that seemed to sink down right into his own chest. The sound of her crying. Hiccupping and trembling and whimpering. 

A soft exhale ghosted past his lips. His eyebrows etched inward. His shoulders fell.

Just as careful as his footsteps had been earlier, he approached the door, intentionally letting them make noise. His knuckles hesitated, just a moment, before they found the hardwood, and tapped gently against it in a count of three. “Nara?” he called, an inflection of something desperate beneath her name. Please, he wanted to say. Tell me what’s wrong. She didn’t answer. Her crying stifled, almost as though she had slapped her palm over her mouth, or dove under the water to quiet herself. “Are you okay, Nara?” he asked, softly, to no avail. Shutting him out. Quieting herself. 

The silence spoke everything. It brought a surge of tingling through his nostrils one second before his own eyes took on a tearful glaze. Knowing she was in pain, knowing she was hurting so horribly, and that he was powerless to help… it stuck a dagger through his chest.

He tried to ignore the way it ached as he let her be, stealing off to go take a piss out in the forest, rather than hound her for use of the bathroom. 

By the time he’d come back into the house, back upstairs, there was still an eerie silence from behind the closed bathroom door. He waited outside of his own bedroom door, just a few feet down, listening, staring over at its hardwood. Wanting to say something. Wanting to say the right thing, but he wasn’t sure he knew what the right words were, and was more afraid of saying the wrong thing and making it all so much worse. The door to his bedroom thudded closed behind him gently, and the weight of Elnara’s agony carried with him as he swapped out his shorts for boxers and sweatpants, and lay down in his lonely bed. 

For several hours, he stayed awake, staring at the far wall past the bedroom door, trying to listen for her, trying to gauge whether she was still unraveling. Remembering how his own breakdowns always played out. How something would feel off, for several days, maybe weeks, and then suddenly it would all boil over. The guard would break. The nightmare would come flooding in. And, all at once, he would be helpless to escape it. 

Was that what undid Elnara, right now, right beyond the wall? Was she suffocating on her own memories? Was she lost, drifting down a bank, with no body, no life raft?

His empathy did him in that night. It dragged him down, fitfully, into his restless slumber. Every few hours, he would jolt back awake with a thunderclap of anxiety after just barely managing to dream of Nara, and every time it would be some increasingly more dangerous scenario. Her on the side of the road and his brakes going out, tires swerving. Her stuck in that shelter, being attacked, the doors locked. Her jumping off a cliff, plummeting into choppy waters, where he jumped after her with no hesitation, and still could not save her. Watching her drown. Reaching, reaching, reaching. Helplessly. Futilely.

At two in the morning, he rolled out of bed, needing to piss again, exhausted, anxious, nauseous. 

The second he opened his bedroom door, he knew the bathroom was still occupied. She was sobbing. She was wailing so hard every few seconds her gasping breaths would gradate into some soft scream that was then cut off at the throat and silenced by her own body. Reuven exhaled, some heavy sigh, briefly glancing up as if the big man upstairs could give him some answers here. 

His chest ached. It took everything in him to not knock again. To just… leave her alone. Let her work through it by herself, like she so clearly wanted to do. To not play savior. To not beg her to let him help her. To not lead her to water and force her to drink. 

The night was cold, the wind ripping through his warmed pores as he stole off into the woods, just a few feet, to piss against a tree again. As he did, he stared out through the darkness, distinguishing shapes of branches and bark and allowed that solemn feeling to nestle in right under his dermis. 

He scrubbed his hands at the kitchen sink again. He returned to his bedroom and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling again. 

This time, he listened to her cries. He witnessed them. He didn’t let her pain go ignored and unacknowledged, even if she wanted it to be. He stayed up for the rest of the night, listening as her pain went through revolutions. From whimpers to shuddering sobs to quiet and again. As the sun began to rise once more, a new day reared and neither of them had slept. Nara’s voice, he could faintly hear, high and strung, had become raspy from the sheer amount of weeping her vocal chords had endured. 

Some time after the sun had risen, he ventured downstairs to make breakfast again. Knowing that she very likely would not be coming down to join him, he finished up feeding himself, and set aside hers for later, once again. Before retiring to bed, though, he did try one last time. A gentle tap on the door. “Nara?” he murmured. “Nara, you have to eat, honey.”

Silence.

He sighed. Half an hour later, there was an encore of whimpering. Nasally hiccups. Gasping sniffles.

Deep, sunken bags lined his eyes as he listened, bearing witness until sleep had dragged him down against his will. When he awoke, it was to another full bladder. An urgent one. Damn his body and its aging. The one thing nobody talked about was how hitting fifty meant he couldn’t hold his damn bladder while he slept anymore. 

He didn’t want to disturb her. Back out to the woods it was.

He only made it halfway through his opened door when he was stopped in his tracks.

She was there. Apparently leaving the bathroom in the same second that he was leaving his bedroom.

They both halted like deer in headlights.

He stared, jaw slack, searching her eyes. 

She stared, wide, trembling, regarding him with a fear unlike anything he’d seen directed towards him since that first moment he’d left his truck and stepped towards her. The same fear she’d held at the doctor’s office, when the man’s fingers had coasted near her throat. 

“Nara—” he whispered, but she was quick to cut him off.

Cowering into the nook of the doorframe, where the doorknob rest unlocked, the girl heaved her gasping little breaths, face flushed and eyes puffy, barking at him like a cornered dog. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” she screeched, her teeth clenched. Defensive. She sunk back, into the safety of the corner.

Reuven, shocked, lifted up his palms towards her. 

“Whoa. Nara, I—”

But she didn’t give him a chance to finish, or ask questions, or reassure her. 

She went scrambling back into the cracked bathroom door, diving behind it, slamming it shut. He could hear the knob being locked. A second later, she was sobbing again. 

His shoulders fell. 

A harrowing, solemn feeling nestled down into his stature. Where confusion danced, it now had dejection as a waltzing partner. 

What had he done?

He wracked his mind frantically for answers as he set out towards the forest, still in his boxers—he hadn’t bothered to change, he hadn’t anticipated she was going to be attempting her great escape at the same moment he stepped out to take a quick piss. Was it that? Was she uncomfortable with him having accidentally walked out in his boxers?

Was it something he’d said last night? Was it how he’d held her? Was it how comfortable he’d gotten with her? The jokes he’d made? Had he crossed a line? Had he tarnished this permanently?

A panicked sort of frown overtook his features as he descended the steps again, this time stopping to dress himself properly before attempting to make contact with the girl again. Like probing the intergalactic atmospheres for life, he sent out his words and could only hope to receive something back. 

Another short knock on the door. He reached out to her with his hopeless nurturing, begging her to take his hand. “Nara… I’m sorry. I don’t—” he captured a tense breath in his chest, and then exhaled it. “Are you thirsty? You should drink something. I can get you water—” he offered through the door, but her voice came back to him, biting, shrill.

“Why? So you can fuckin’ piss in it?!” she snapped. In her voice, he could hear the nasally remnants of her barely-resolved cries. The image of her face, reddened with stress, lashes wet, eyes rimmed rosy, sclera lined with irritation—it imprinted in his mind as she barked at him.

He spoke to the closed door like it was a wall. His hands outturned as he gave some defensive shrug that she could not see. “What? W-Why would I do that, Nara?” he asked, pointedly, his tone offended; wounded. “I would never do something like that to you. Just… open the door. Talk to me.”

“Fuck you—” she gasped, one second before her sobs overtook her again.

His shoulders fell. Defeated. A deep sigh lifted through him, his concern for her now tenfold. 

“Fuck you! I’m never letting anybody—” she continued, unexpectedly, but her tirade was cut off by the devolving of her voice back into whimpers. 

His forehead found the surface of the door. He was so concerned he was almost trembling as his hand, absentmindedly, went gripping at its surface. Heavied breaths lifted his chest as he wracked his mind, trying to find the words, trying to figure out what he could say to mend all of this. He’d never been good with emotions. Mitigating emotions. Life was so much easier in terms of concrete, mathematical cause and effect. Pull a trigger, bite a bullet. Emotions were mystifying. Even his own. Especially his own.

But if there was one thing he knew about emotions, it was that barricading oneself in their solitude would kill them eventually. It almost had him. As an act of defiance, an act of love, he cleared his throat, and lowered himself down to sit on the floor, his back pressed up against the wall, his feet inches from the railing. His legs took the length of the bathroom’s entrance and only exit. 

“Well, I’m not leavin’ you,” he desisted, clearing his throat. His head tipped back against the wall, and he stared up at the ceiling, his voice rumbling in his chest as it carried up his throat. “No matter how much you want me to. I’m not leaving you to just die in there, so…” His tongue swiped at his lips, his jaw tightened. 

She didn’t answer him.

He didn’t need her to.

As the silence between them continued, Reuven remembered his baby girl. How as her preteen years crept up on her, she’d begun to shut him out. Lock her bedroom door. Give him sass.

He’d had to be firm with her. He’d had to all but force her to let him continue being her father, continue supporting her, continue loving her. She’d moved on from the phase, for the most part. All that remained of it, at the end, was that snappy irritation she delivered back to him every time he made it known she was still his baby girl. A kiss on the forehead, a big bear hug, a teasing nickname. Cheddar. Cheddar cheese. Kraft macaroni. Every variety of cheese he could think of, until she was laughing and annoyed, and reminded that he loved her to pieces, and that she shouldn’t take him too seriously. 

Maybe… maybe this, in some strange way with Nara, was an echo of that. Maybe this required that firm, non-negotiable putting his foot down. You’re not shutting me out, because I’m gonna be here caring about you whether you like it or not. 

And he was.

He stayed there the entire day. Skipping out on meals. Listening to her crying. She didn’t speak to him all day. Still, he didn’t leave. He lifted his knee, propped up his forearm on it, stretched his neck, shifted his posture, but he didn’t leave.

Behind that locked door, she had continued her mourning. Reuven couldn’t be sure of what. The only trauma he was aware of was that she’d been homeless, and he wasn’t sure for how long, because neither of them was in the business of pressuring each other to share shit that hurt so much it felt like it would do them in. But something… something at that doctor’s office told him that something worse than homelessness had happened to her. And as he sat there, all day, remembering that visit from last week, he couldn’t help but viscerally recall the way she had repeatedly told Dr. Barr no. How her voice had become stronger, and concomitantly more terrified, with every iteration of it. 

Had someone stolen her agency from her?

Had someone ignored her objections in the past and taken what they wanted from her, regardless of her consent?

Reuven had this sick, unconfirmed feeling that something like that had happened. It pursed his lips. It tightened his jaw. He didn’t want to know, because if he did, he’d kill someone. There was no doubt about it. Whoever it was, whoever had hurt her, he would hunt them down, to the ends of the earth, and murder them in broad daylight if he had to. 

He was trying to calm those homicidal thoughts of his when nighttime rolled around again. Once more, neither of them had slept more than a wink here and there. His mind, foggy and dulled, relaxed in its inhibitions, and Reuven became a bit less reserved, a bit more reckless. 

He was staring up at the ceiling, acutely aware of Nara’s presence beyond the door, marinating in their shared silence, when he suddenly broke it. His voice gentle, hoarse, intimate as he spoke to her.

“I’m not gon’ hurt you, Nara,” he murmured, unsure if she was even listening. At this point, he needed to say it whether she was or not. If even just to let the universe know. To solidify it. To make good on it. “What you’re feeling right now… I know that feeling.” He paused, inhaling slowly. “Like everything’s crashing down. Nothin’ makes sense inside…” he shook his head slightly, swiping at his lips with his tongue, remembering all those days he lost his own mind in that bathroom. In this cabin. “I know what it’s like. I know how much it hurts.”

His voice trailed away on that last syllable. Its baritone holding testament to its words. He did. He knew exactly how much it hurt. He didn’t know what she had gone through, but he knew agony. He knew it like the back of his hand. 

As he continued, his voice became roughened and deeper with something emotional, barely stifled down. He felt his tired eyes prickle with tears. “I ain’t gon’ hurt you, sweetheart. I don’t… I don’t ever wanna hurt you. So please, just tell me what I did.” He inhaled a shaky breath, swallowing. His shoulders felt tense with the anticipation of her confirmation that he had mis-stepped somehow. 

“Was it yesterday? When I… when I held you, while you were sleeping? On the porch? Cause I—I should’ve asked. I should’ve woke you up. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

His mind buzzed. His heart pounded.

“A-And… all those jokes I made, bout you bein’ short and—a bad swimmer, it was just jokin’ around. I… I respect the hell outta you, Nara. I don’t-I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t want anyone, ever, to hurt you.” he swallowed again, the truth, his vulnerability, all pouring out of him like a waterfall. “Especially not me, so…” he inhaled, slow, preparatory. “If… if this isn’t what you want anymore, if you don’t wanna stay—all you gotta do is let me know. I’ll… uh, I’ll get you uh, a room down at the motel in town. And we’ll figure it out.” He tried, even though his heart felt like it was breaking just at the prospect. The reality of just how attached to her he had grown suddenly here, front and center. He stared out past the darkened hallway into the high, paneled wall across the way, feeling dejection sink down deep. Resigning to it. Because this wasn’t about him. This was about her. About her well-being. About her happiness. And if her happiness was not with him… then he needed to accept that. And he did. 

Not without sadness.

No. A tear darted down from his bagged eye and nestled down into his beard. 

“You don’t… you don’t owe me nothin’, Nara. You don’t gotta stay if you don’t wanna stay. I ain’t gon’ force you to do nothing.”

His final word of negotiation, or perhaps proclamation, fell heavy in the air between them.

It was silent for a long moment. Long enough that it pressed uncomfortably into his eardrums, humming. 

Then, the door creaked open.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

what is (chronic) autistic catatonia?

// why specify “autistic” catatonia? //

catatonia most common associate with schizophrenia, but increase realize also happen in things like bipolar & depression.

if look at some of typical catatonia diagnostic criteria in DSM 5 (but in easier words): catalepsy & waxy flexibility, grimacing (hold same stiff facial movement), mutism, echolalia, echopraxia (copy movement), exaggerated mannerisms, stereotypies/repetitive movements, etc… wait! some of these things happen in autism!!! (like 7 out of total 12 can be seen in autism)

this is why important to know how recognize catatonia in autism. because overlap.

catatonia in schizophrenia most common start fast and get worse fast. but chronic autistic catatonia typically slow onset and slow but visible deterioration. (always have exceptions though)

not know a lot about schizophrenia catatonia, so this post largely focus on autism. everything below, when say “catatonia” or “autistic catatonia,” mean chronic autistic catatonia with deterioration.

// before move on— //

sometimes professionals do connect autistic shutdown with/as catatonia or catatonia episode or catatonia-like episode to draw connection. this not talk about that. this about chronic ones with deterioration. personally for community identity purpose i don’t enjoy (already have term for shutdown). but personal opinion aside, again this about the temporary vs long term all the time. if experience temporary shutdown, remember to leave space for and not same as those of us deal with chronic autistic catatonia.

important to distinguish from autism because autism and catatonia share many symptoms. (for example, physical stimming or “stereotypies” is autism diagnostic criteria AND catatonia criteria). autistic catatonia should only be suspected IF have new symptoms OR change in type & pattern of old symptoms. cannot. stress. this. enough. again. it not about IF you have these symptoms it’s about WHEN and HOW and CHANGE. it's about NEW.

and. please do not diagnose self based on one tumblr post. yes even if i do extensive research and cite sources and have lived experience. many many many disorders look similar. am all here for educated self diagnosis because medical system inequitable BUT am also sick of every time write this a bunch people comment “oh never heard this this is so me.” one tumblr post not educated self dx. it not a cool new thing to add to carrd to hoard as much medical label as can, it miserable it makes my life hell it not a joke it not cool. not every autistic have chronic catatonia, not every shutdown means chronic catatonia, even if you autistic and see these signs, may be separate unrelated disorder altogether, like Infectious, metabolic, endocrinological, neurological, autoimmune diseases, all can see catatonia (Dhossche et al, 2006). some of you all will read this and truly think this is answer been looking for so long—great! still, please do more research.

// chronic autistic catatonia with deterioration and breakdown //

the key defining symptoms of chronic autistic catatonia is gradual lose functioning and difficulty with voluntary movements (shah, 2019, p21). “gradual lose functioning” will come with regression in independence & ADLs & quality of life. it usually gradual, chronic, and complex. but can vary in severity. some need prompts on some day & some situations, while others need prompt and even physical assistance for almost everything.

how common? have seen statistic estimate from 10% - 20% of autistic people adolescents & above experience chronic autistic catatonia.

typical onset for autistic catatonia is adolescence. some study samples is 15-19, some as early as 13. some professionals think this autistic catatonia may be a reason for many autism late regression (Ghaziuddin, 2021).

can happen regardless of gender, IQ (yes shitty), “autism severity/functioning labels” (is what most studies use, so i keep, but yes have issues, probably also mean happens regardless of autism level 1/2/3 and support needs before catatonia, but need more research to confirm since these thing don’t equal eachother).

// primary symptoms //

from book "Catatonia, Shutdown and Breakdown in Autism: A Psycho-Ecological Approach" by dr amitta shah, recommend read at least first two chapter and appendix.

1. Increased slowness

often first sign but not always

periods of inactivity or immobility between actions which appears as slowness, e.g walking, responses (verbal & body), self care, mealtime, etc

2. Movement difficulties (freezing and getting stuck)

difficult initiate/start movement

freeze or become "stuck" in middle of activity for few seconds to minutes

hesitate & "to and fro" movements

difficulty cross threshold/transitions like door way

difficulty stop action/movement once started

affect speech content, fluency, & volume

eat & drink difficult (like movement for fork & knife, chewing and swallowing, etc)

spend long time in one place

(new) ritualistic behaviors

3. Movement abnormalities

repetitive movements like in tourette's & parkinsons

e.g. sudden jerky movement, tremors, involuntary movements, blinking, grimacing, unusual & uncomfortable postures, locked in postures, increase in repetitive movements, etc.

4. Prompt dependence

may not be able to do some or any movement/activity, unable to move from one place to another, unable to change posture, etc without external/outside prompt

5. Passivity and apparent lack of motivation

look unmotivated & unwilling to do stuff, include activities used to like, probably because can't do voluntary action or have trouble with request and make decison.

6. Posturing

classic catatonia symptom of being stuck in one posture, sometimes for hours

7. Periods of shutdown

8. Catatonic excitement

episodic & short lasting

e.g. uncontrollable & frenzied movement and vocalizations, sensory/perceptual distortions, aggressive & destructive outbursts that not like self

9. Fluctuations of difficulty

e.g. some days better can do more need less prompt! other days worse. sometimes emergency can act as almost like a prompt! but fluctuate doesn't mean difficulty voluntary

// secondary difficulties //

Social withdrawal and communication problems

Decline in self-help skills

Incontinence

‘Challenging’ behavior

Mobility and muscle wastage

Physical problems

Breakdown

// autism breakdown //

can be in addition to autistic catatonia. can look like autism is getting worse, even though autism by itself not progressive disorder!

i also call this autism late regression. separate between autistic catatonia & this not very clear, not enough research.

1. exacerbation of autism

1a. increased social withdrawl, isolation, avoidance of social situations

1b. increased communication difficulties

1c. increased repetitive and ritualistic behavior

2. decrease in tolerance & resilience

easily disturbed, irratable, angry

3. increase in "challenging" behaviors

e.g. self injurious behaviors

4. decrease in concentration & focus

5. decrease in engagement & enjoyment

// treatment //

for catatonia (autistic or not), typical treatment is lorazepam and/or ECT.

specific to catatonia in autism, Dhossche et al. (2006) separate it to mild/moderate/severe and give recommend treatment according to that (do not come here and argue about severity labels, because fuck! mild depression and severe depression of course have different suggested treatments and severity important to know. Remember we talk about autistic catatonia).

note: this is one paper! not the only way! yes have problems like most psych/autism papers, just here to give example (of range of symptoms and treatment route!). NOT MEDICAL ADVICE. (not even endorsement)

mild: slight impairment in social & job things without limit efficiency as a whole (essentially still able to function for most part but difficult).

moderate: more obvious struggles in all areas, but ambulatory and don't need acute medical services for feeding or vitals

severe: typically medical emergency, acute stupor, immobility for most of day, bedridden, need other people help feed. also malignant catatonia which can be life-threatening (fever, altered consciousness, stupor, and autonomic instability as evidenced by lability of blood pressure, tachycardia, vasoconstriction, and diaphoresis, whatever any of that means)

the "shaw-wing approach": very brief summary, keep person active and do thing they enjoy, use verbal & gentle physical prompts, have structure & routine.

lorazopem challenge: take 2-4 mg of lorazopem to see changes in next 2-5 minutes. if no change, another 1 mg and reassess

lorazopem trial up to 24 mg. (note difference between challenge & trial)

bilateral ECT, last resort.

mild: "shaw-wing approach" -> 2 week lorazopem trial if no imporvement in 1 month -> if effective, do both, if not, just shaw-wing approach

moderate: depends on prefernece, either shaw-wing alone or shaw-wing and 2 week lorazopem trial -> if not effective, do 2 week lorazopem trial if havent already -> if not, bilateral ECT

severe: lorazepam challenge test -> if not effective, bilateral ECT; -> if lorazopem challange positive, 1 week lorazopem trial -> continue if successful, bilateral ECT if not.

can sound extreme, but rememeber for many severe catatonia (autistic or not), it is medical emergency. can be life-threatening. there's no/not a lot of time.

it possible to make partial recovery, as in get better but not to before catatonia. but overall, many permanently lose previous level of functioning.

references

Dhossche, D. M., Shah, A., & Wing, L. (2006). Blueprints for the assessment, treatment, and future study of Catatonia in autism spectrum disorders. International Review of Neurobiology, 267–284. https://doi.org/10.1016/s0074-7742(05)72016-x

Ghaziuddin, M. (2021). Catatonia: A common cause of late regression in autism. Frontiers in Psychiatry, 12. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyt.2021.674009

Ghaziuddin, M., Quinlan, P., & Ghaziuddin, N. (2005). Catatonia in autism: A distinct subtype? Journal of Intellectual Disability Research, 49(1), 102–105. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2788.2005.00666.x

Shah, A. (2019). Catatonia, shutdown and breakdown in autism: A psycho-ecological approach. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

[melonsystem949]

Different ways to tell someone you have DID/OSDD/MPD!!

1: Explain to them what it is and what it’s caused by. It’s better to let them know what it’s caused by before you let them know about the alters themselves. I suggest the glass bowl method! Example: “Imagine the child’s brain is a glass bowl, and the trauma/abuser takes that bowl and smashes it. There are going to be different pieces of it, even if you put it back together there will still be cracks. Those pieces are the dissociative amnesia barriers. Those pieces are my alters. I can’t control it. It’s a coping mechanism my brain developed for me.”

2: Test the waters. Ask whether they know or what they THINK about people who have the disorder. Sometimes there are people who you just shouldn’t tell. Example: “Hey what do you think about people who have DID/OSDD? You know, people with different personalities/alters?”

If they say no, explain. If they do and make fun of them, you could explain but sometimes it’s best not to.

3: Tell them the full cause of it. Example: “Dissociative identity disorder, or other specified dissociative disorder is caused by repetitive childhood trauma. When a child is under the age of 8-5 their brain hasn’t fully developed yet. When the trauma disrupts that developing process it causes the child to dissociate. If they continue to experience the trauma, their brain mentally splits into dissociative amnesia parts. These parts hold different memories. Over time they become independent within themselves and become alters. They are more than just personalities. They have their own memories, preferences, and even sometimes gender and sexuality. The brain protects the child when they can’t be protected physically. People with these disorders, their brain’s go-to coping mechanism is to split new alters. This usually happens when there is new stress, trauma, etc.”

You don’t HAVE to tell them all of this but it helps people who are interested in the full cause.

4: Send them an article! Sending them articles or videos can better help them understand, especially if you are too nervous to tell them yourself! There are many articles and videos you can show. We also made a video of what it is ourselves on YouTube!!

5: Don’t tell them at all. It’s okay not to tell someone about it. Sometimes it’s better not to!! Don’t feel entitled to tell someone everything about you. Especially if it’s as personal as this.

[cripplecharacters]

Good morning/evening to y'all!

In your list of frequently asked questions, there was no mention of speech disorders? I was wondering if you answer questions for that too? I'm sorry to bother you if you don't.

If you do, I have two things I'd like to ask, if you don't mind!

First of all, my character is a 4-year-old boy with a stutter from brain trauma. How much does age affect this? Are there better to be cured or is it more severe? What would be the best sort of action from parents towards child?

Secondly, what does stuttering feel like, physically? Does it include tightness in the throat, thirst, numbness, or anything like that?

Thank you all.

Hello,

Yes, we have at least one mod with a speech disorder and I can answer them.

Depending on how old he was when the trauma occurred, he may not even realize that he does it. Some things, like the multiple syllable repetition unless he has a more minor form of it, he may notice and feel frustrated with, but stuttering can also include pauses and drawing sounds out which he may not even notice. Because he has the injury now, when he's still learning language like a sponge soaking in water, it's going to be harder to treat. In my experience, speech therapy that started when I was five never managed to actually improve the way I spoke. It's harder to improve in this situation- possible, to my knowledge, but harder.

Curing a stutter from a traumatic brain injury is going to be difficult. It's not likely and it's probably not something his speech therapist would even consider- when there's a lot wrong with speech and there's a reason behind it that can't be worked around, like a TBI, sometimes a speech therapist will just focus on trying to improve one aspect, or they might not even bother at all. If getting rid of his stutter is the goal, that's going to take years of work and it might not fix everything. It can be a severe condition- some people can have a severe stutter from the brain injury- but mostly it's just hard to treat because we have a permanent modification to how our brain works.

The best sort of actions his parents can take is listen to him. It might be frustrating for people to listen to someone who stutters and they might experience isolation because people don't want to talk to or listen to them, it does so much to have even one person in your life who will listen to you speak without impatience, interrupting, or ignoring. Because he's also going into school, listening to him is really important. School is very difficult for people with speech disabilities (for all disabled people, really.) He may experience teachers who are impatient or ableist, or he might experience isolation from his peers or even bullying. It's important his parents listen to him about any issues he may be facing so that they can step in and advocate him. They're the most important people for him to have in his corner. Listening to and communicating with any child is important, but it's very important that his parents listen to and communicate with him. At the very least, it creates a safe place for him at home. At best, he'll talk to his parents about bullying and they can put up a big enough fuss that the issue will be resolved.

As for what it feels like, it feels like the mouth kind of pauses. Like you're trying to say something but there's a barrier in your mouth, so you have to force every sound through it, and that's hard to do. A lot of people who stutter report physically tensing up trying to speak, leading to tension aches wherever they tense, usually in the face or neck, and that tensing is kind of subconscious as if there really is a barrier and you need to physically force the words through the barrier.

As you try and get words out, you might become stressed or frustrated, and that usually makes the stutter worse, which just makes your frustration and anxiety worse. They feed on each other and it sucks.

People who stutter also might have what are called secondary symptoms, like the reflexive tension I mentioned earlier. These secondary symptoms can include grimacing, blinking, movement or another part of the body, like the arms, legs, or feet, issues maintaining eye contact or even issues looking at the person they're talking to at all, and changes in the pitch or volume of the voice. You might also see adaptive behaviours from the person trying to hide their stutter, such as using word substitutions, meaning replacing a word they might stutter on with one they can say easier, interjections such as uh, um, etc, filler words such as like, and quickly revising sentences to either hide a stutter or rephrase the sentence to make it easier to say, things like "I want- I'll have the pasta." Stuttering and those secondary behaviours can lead to him trying to avoid speaking, which he definitely shouldn't do (shouldn't avoid speaking, I mean.)

Also, you might want to consider exactly where the TBI was and how severe it was, because location and severity can also cause other symptoms. An injury to the cerebellum, for example, will impact his fine motor skills. Look into the areas around the specific places that control speech, too. If the injury was bad enough or at the right angle to hit those places, he'll also have symptoms associated with a TBI to those locations.

Thank you for sending this.

Mod Aaron

[yanpoetry]

How Mental Health Relates to Being a Darling

My mental health conditions might play a role in why I’m drawn to yandere relationships, particularly as a Darling. Here’s how each of them could relate:

1. Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) / Asperger Syndrome:

I struggle with understanding social cues and emotions, so relationships can feel uncertain or unpredictable. A yandere relationship, with its clear and intense devotion, offers a sense of structure and predictability. The unwavering affection from a yandere partner feels like a comforting constant in a world that’s often confusing for me socially.

2. Stressed Induced Tourette Syndrome:

The stress and tics I experience can make social interactions overwhelming or hard to control. A yandere partner’s intense focus and protection could give me a sense of stability and control, making the world feel a bit less chaotic. Their obsession might help me feel more secure, even in moments when I feel out of control.

3. Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) / Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD):

I struggle with staying focused and maintaining attention, so the obsessive nature of a yandere partner can feel familiar. Their constant attention and emotional engagement provide the stimulation I crave. Their focus gives me clarity and certainty in a way that helps me feel connected and grounded when my attention might be scattered.

4. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD):

OCD causes me to experience obsessive thoughts and repetitive behaviors. The obsessive nature of a yandere relationship mirrors these compulsions, making the intensity feel familiar and comforting. Their focus on me gives me a sense of order and certainty in a world where my own thoughts can be overwhelming.

5. Opposition Defiance Disorder (ODD):

I often resist authority and control, but in a yandere relationship, the paradoxical control from my partner could be appealing. Despite my instinct to rebel, their overwhelming attention can provide a sense of security, as they take charge in a way that makes me feel safe, even if it goes against my usual need to push back.

6. Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD):

After everything I’ve been through, trust and safety can be hard to come by. A yandere partner’s intense devotion and protection may seem like a way to keep me safe from further harm. Even though it’s unhealthy, the overwhelming care from a yandere might feel like the protection I never had and long for.

7. Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD):

Anxiety makes relationships feel uncertain, and I often worry about being abandoned or neglected. The constant focus of a yandere partner reassures me and reduces the fear of being left alone. Their obsession with me creates a sense of security, calming the anxiety I feel about not being enough or being forgotten.

8. Major Depressive Disorder:

Depression often makes me feel worthless or disconnected from others. The intense affection from a yandere partner makes me feel needed and valued, which is comforting when I feel undeserving of love. Their overwhelming attention fills the emotional void that depression creates, making me feel like I matter.

Bonus: Disorders I Don’t Have but Might Explain the Desire for a Yandere Relationship:

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD):

BPD involves intense emotions and a fear of abandonment. If I had traits of BPD, I could see how the intense devotion from a yandere partner would feel like the reassurance I need to avoid feeling abandoned. The closeness would help anchor my emotional experience, even if it was unhealthy.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD):

Narcissism is marked by a need for admiration and control. If I experienced narcissistic traits, the constant adoration from a yandere partner would appeal to my need for special attention. Their obsession could feel validating and align with the desire to feel superior and emotionally admired.

Dependent Personality Disorder (DPD):

If I had traits of DPD, I might crave constant reassurance and support from others. A yandere partner’s attention and care would fulfill my need for emotional dependence. Their constant presence and protection would feel like the ultimate form of support and emotional safety.