#so i told her the ocd and the anxiety were better but the depression was worse

[teteminne]

Am I being a dick or is EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE PLANET SETTING OUT TO IRRITATE ME???????

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

It’s Not Christmas Without You— Quinn Hughes

Summary: Your seasonal depression gets the best of your relationship leading to an awkward Christmas

Content Warnings: Seasonal depression, panic & anxiety attacks, use of antidepressants, ocd, chemical imbalance, angsty hughes brothers

Pairing; Ex Gf! Reader x Quinn Hughes

September

You had never quite understood why your brain felt so hardwired to the point you couldn’t comprehend anything happening around you. It affected everything you did, but no one could put their finger on why sometimes things got to be much for you it brought you to tears. For the most part, your boyfriend Quinn tried to help you but when the weather in Vancouver shifted just as he’d been named captain. He just couldn’t do it anymore, he tried but it was draining him.

You sat cross legged in the center of Quinn’s living room, reorganizing his CD collection for the third time this week. Quinn sighed as he entered his apartment, coming home from a rough roadie, all he wanted was to take a scorching shower and talk to you while you guys laid in his bed watching a cheesy movie. He didn’t utter a word as he walked past to his room and dropped his stuff off before returning to his living room and letting out a sigh, “The CDS haven’t magically moved since Tuesday dollface.”

You ignored your boyfriend, again. Quinn blew out a breath he’d been holding in for god knows how long, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He expected you to protest against him trying to break up with him, but you didn’t. Which somehow made Quinn more upset at the entire ordeal, “So your fine with just throwing away the last 6 years?” You kept quiet, knowing that if you dared to speak you would say something that you and Quinn couldn’t come back from. So you stayed silent as you stood up and slipped on your shoes and grabbed your coat and walked out of Quinn’s apartment and his life.

You returned to your shared loft with your friend Tess and finally let your composure fall. A wretched sob ripped through your chest as you leaned against the door and slid to sit against the wall. Tess hurried out of her bedroom and was at your side in seconds, “Oh honey. It’s okay.” You felt like someone was wrapping barbed wire around your throat, “I can’t, I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. Something isn’t right Tess.” Your breathing began to quicken as your chest tightened. Tess rubbed your back reassuringly, “I got you.” You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. Once you were calm you turned to Tess, “Quinn and I broke up. I think I need to go home and get help.” And that was exactly what you did.

You went back to Toronto and moved back into your childhood bedroom, went to a neurologist and found out that your brain had an insufficient amount of neurotransmitters which could play part in your moods. The doctor told you that you needed to boost your serotonin and dopamine levels and prescribed you antidepressants and referred you to a women’s mental health clinic. You noticed slowly that your mood became less negative and you were able to focus better. But you also noticed that you began to get thinner and no matter what you did it never seemed like you gained weight.

December

You were reluctant to go to the Hughes Christmas dinner, although Ellen had reassured you that you were more than welcome. You still had your bad days and didn’t know if being around Quinn would make you snap and you didn’t want to snap at him. So you told your mother you’d think about it but that she should go. Which she did. You mother and Ellen were in grossed in a conversation over linens when Luke finally mentioned you, “So I guess she really doesn’t have anything to say to you Quinn. She would never miss out on Dad’s meatballs.” Quinn shot his brother a glare as your mother spoke softly, “She’s just having a hard time right now, her meds are messing with her.” Ellen smiled solemnly, “How is she adjusting to her antidepressants?”

Quinn looked taken aback learning your on antidepressants now, “Is she okay?” Your mom smiled as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, “Her doctor told her she doesn’t have sufficient neurotransmitters and it’s a chemical imbalance in her brain that’s made her feel like this all these years. The doctor said there’s a good chance coupled with the harsh weather and seasonal depression that’s what made her feel so poorly. Nothing you could have done would have helped Quinn.” Jack rolled his eyes subtly, “So because she’s mentally not okay, we’re supposed to be fine with her destroying Quinn?” Ellen glared at her middle child, “Jack! If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say sit.”

You stared at the stack of wrapped gifts you had gotten for each member of the Hughes family. You sighed as you slid off the couch and pulled on a dark red sweater and some jeans and took the gifts to your car and made your way to the Hughes family home. You were unsure of what would happen when you walked in but you were facing your fears today. You rang the doorbell, not expecting Quinn to be on the other side of the door.

His eyes held an unreadable expression that you had grown to miss. You were almost positive that you had lost your voice when he spoke, “Hey.” You smiled, “Hi, you look uh great.” Quinn rubbed his neck as a deep blush rolled over his cheeks, “Thanks. You do too.” He took some of the gifts as you I walked inside the house and placed your gifts with the rest of the gifts under the tree. You slipped your coat off and hung it in the closet with the others. Quinn frowned ever so slightly when he took note of how the jeans that had once hugged your body in all the right places were loose on you and how you looked at him like you might break if you looked at him long enough.

Ellen’s voice rang out from the dining room, “Who was it honey?” You smiled warmly as you entered the dining room behind Quinn, “Hi.” Ellen’s eyes glimmered with excitement as she hopped up and pulled you into a bone crushing hug, “We’re so glad you could make it after all. Right guys?” The Hughes men muttered out agreements. You sat down at the only empty seat which, as the universe was punishing you, was directly across from Jack with Quinn sitting beside you. Conversation flowed between you and everyone besides Jack and Quinn.

Jack spoke up in condescending tone, “So Y/N what have you been up to since you and Quinn broke up?” Jack let out a groan as Quinn swiftly kicked him underneath the table. You felt your smile drop, “I moved back home like 3 days after. I’ve been getting a lot of help. Working on understanding my feelings.” Jack hummed, “Seeing anyone? You sure are slimming down.” You tensed as you drew in a deep breath, “Nope. Wouldn’t be fair to a poor guy. I’m still in love with someone and I’m not sure relationships are for me. But can we just talk about your game against the Red Wings? I mean I was on my seat the entire time.”

Jack’s smirk fell, “You still watch my games?” You shrugged, “I watched Trev kick your ass. I also watched Quinn hand the Sharks the biggest loss. I didn’t stop watching hockey because I got broken up with.” You melted into Quinn’s touch as he placed a hand on your thigh. He mouthed inaudibly, ‘Thank you’ Dinner ended and Ellen insisted on going straight to presents. You smiled warmly as Jack and Luke opened their gifts from you. You You played more into a joke with Jack. It was a shirt that read ‘Straight Outta The Penalty Box.’ Jack’s gift sent his brother’s into laughter while Jack sent you a playful eye roll, “Now I know she actually watches my games still.” Luke’s gift seemed to be more fitting for him, he opened the box and ran his fingers over the soft tie that was adorned with red hockey sticks, “Thank you.” You smiled as Quinn picked up his gift from you, “I didn’t know what to get you so with my luck you’ll probably hate it.”

Quinn opened the box and his eyes softened as he looked at the gift, “You remembered. Why would I hate this?” He pulled out the large cooling weighted blanket. You barely remembered him mentioning wanting one. Apparently your subconscious remembered. Quinn’s eyes softened as you began to tidy up the wrapping paper as everyone continued to open gifts.

Without being noticed Quinn slipped into his childhood bedroom and opened his bag and pulled out a small gift wrapped box. He slipped it into his pocket and returned to the living room. His eyes immediately were on you as you clasped a necklace around his mother’s neck. Soon enough all the gifts were opened and Quinn spoke warmly, “I actually have a gift for you Y/N.” Your eyes widened, “O-okay.” Quinn slipped the small box from his pocket and placed it in your hand. By the size alone you knew it was jewelry of some sort.

You opened the box and your eyes widened and swelled with tears, “You can’t. Not with how horrible I was to you.” Quinn shook his head, “No I can. I have loved you since I have known you. I don’t care if your going through the worst thing possible. I love you and I just wanna be there for you no matter what. For the rest of my life. I want to be your husband. Marry me.” Your eyes welled, “I don’t know if I can give you the life you want Quinn.” Quinn shook his head as he pulled you closer to him, which you didn’t think was humanly possible, “The life I want is waking up to you pressing your ice cold feet to my legs to warm them up, the life I want is holding your purse so you can stop and pet every stray cat you see. The life I want is anytime and everything as long as you are there. You are the one good thing in my life.” You sniffled, “Fine I’ll marry you.”

[oddball-artz]

YO! IS DJ REHE-REHE BACK AT IT WITH QUESTIONS!

Okay, so this is gonna be a lil long :))

So how is Sabrinas relationship with Dalias family? Has she met them? What do they think of her? Do they even know Dalia is dating her?

And, I kinda want to make a future AU where everyone is like 10 years older. So can you go into depth about Dalias future? Like, does her relationship w her mom improve? Is she still with Sabrina? Are they married? Children? Job?

And lastly, how would Dalia manage Sabrinas OCD (because that's canon now) and how would Sabrina help with Dalias anxiety?

:]

Ok, so Dalia's family knows that Sabrina's dating Dalia, but their opinions on her vary. Starting with Avery, she doesn't care that they're dating, but doesn't particularly care for anyone in fruitbasket in general (she thinks they're a bad influence because Dalia's started standing up for herself more since meeting them and Avery views that as defiance and nothing more) Carter on the other hand thinks Sabrina's good for Dalia, he hears the way she talks about her, and how much more confident she is around her. Esme likes Sabrina but likes getting on Dalia's nerves more, so she usually ends up trying to embarrass Dalia whenever Sabrina's around(like why whole shouting the word girlfriend thing). Esme and Jasper were both actively betting on whether or not they'd get together. Esme won. Jasper bet against it bc he assumed Dalia would be too nervous to ever confess,but what he didn't plan for was for Sabrina to be the one to confess, so Esme won 10 dollars.

Dalia ends up putting herself through nursing school. She has an instinctual need to help others, and this helps fill that. She ends up working at an urgent care, and her epithet helps a lot there. Speaking of her epithet, she's trained enough with it now to gain epithet markings(like Zora's triangle tattoos or Mera's eyes) hers are tattoo like moth wing pattern on her back. It glows in a faint lavender color when she uses her epithet.

I also feel like she'd go no contact with her mom. She's learned to stand up for herself(well a little) and has decided it's better for her if she cuts contact. Avery still refuses to admit to anything she put Dalia through (BECAUSE SHE'S A BITCH! Who said that? Not me)

(Oof this it late so we already know her and Sabrina are married with 2 kids) As a mom, she's still definitely a worrier. If her kids are out late, she's up pacing around the living room. She's super supportive though, she makes a huge point of being there for Vee and Jasper. Overall, she's trying to be the exact opposite of her mother. When they were little, she told them the same myths and legends she told her little siblings. Worrys that she's a bad parent and that she's gonna end up like her mom. Would do anything for them, loves them to death.

Alright, Dalia, as said before is there through the bouts of depression, she's not good with words of comfort on the spot, so she tends to really on her epithet to comfort her. Feels bad about it, but her epithet can take the edge off of just about anything. Wants to help in any way she can, if Sabrina says the word, she's there, doesn't matter what it is, she's there. Also Sabrina not leaving when Dalia's anxiety flairs up means the world to her. She's got some issues with thinking people are gonna leave her bc she's a burden(Dalia go to therapy,I'm begging you) and even the simplest reassurance means so much (and it helps more than she's willing to admit). Girlfriends with issues that support each other for the win.

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

i learned something about myself today

a friend of mine was reading a book about OCD (she has the controlling type), when she came across a passage about another kind of OCD I didn't even know existed

She said, "hey, remember when you told us about your internal darkness and violent urges and tendencies, and we told you that's just your depression talking and that everyone has intrusive thoughts sometimes, and that you, as a person, are very kind and compassionate and not evil at all? Well...i may have been wrong."

She sent me a screen shot of the book she was reading, and highlighted a portion where it talked specifically about violent tendencies in OCD. It talked about how some people have very vivid, very violent thoughts, and go through life like they're on a minefield, constantly navigating the thoughts with rituals to help the anxiety. They do things in their daily lives, specifically going out of their way to make sure their thoughts do not come true. their guilt eats them up, their anxiety wears their nerves down, the thoughts are just bombarding them day in, day out.

As I read, I thought, "this is me. Wait. This part is me. Hang on. Is this...ME?"

So I asked her, "I thought intrusive thoughts were normal. Like, everyone told me they were normal."

She said, "you once told me you had an overwhelming urge to bash in a 7yo's head with a golf club, and the only thing that stopped you was the fact that you didn't have any golf clubs. That goes BEYOND intrusive. Normal is when you wanna pull into incoming traffic, not violently murder a child in cold blood. I think you have this type of ocd."

"hang on. Does this explain my social anxiety? I'm not scared of talking to people. Ive proven that time and time again. But is it possible that in order to protect the world from my violent thoughts about them, and to prevent myself from acting on them, I shut myself up away from everyone?"

"I'm not a doctor, so I can't diagnose you," she said, "but that does sound like something you would do. You feel guilty simply raising your voice at people. I can't imagine the guilt that would eat you up if you acted on the thoughts."

"and all the people who said they were intrusive thoughts I got because of my depression?"

"clearly did not know just how dark your thoughts are."

I've still got to get diagnosed by a doctor, but I actually feel better, knowing that this has a label. Knowing it's not simply "intrusive thoughts" or "depression." Not gonna be cured all of a sudden, but I actually feel like I can leave the house now without hurting anyone.

[ishouldreallybeelsewhere]

i want to start working on my mental health again but i don't want to go through the process of finding a specialist

also i can't exactly afford anything other than free counseling, and counseling genuinely will not help me. i don't know what will... well, a low dosage of anti-depressants might... but then i'd need to either speak to my old psychiatrist (i'd rather not) or find a new one, which is either expensive or incredibly time-consuming

but also my ocd is incredibly manageable, i haven't had an anxiety attack in months, and i'm technically able to be medicated for adhd i just haven't gotten around to making the appointment i need to because i keep on forgetting, and i hate being on adhd meds but i need them to do university

there's a solution, go back to my old therapist, but i ghosted her and she made me worse because she just gave me breathing exercises and told me to pretend i was somewhere else whenever i got anxious, and to put all of my problems in a vault between sessions... breathing exercises used to trigger anxiety attacks which is kind of the opposite of what i needed, and pretending i was somewhere else got so bad there were certain phrases i couldn't say out loud because they would confirm a reality i didn't want confirmed. I still can't say the exact words out loud, and there are a few other things i still can't say, but i can talk around them now (something that got better after i stopped going)

there are still things i believe that i know not to be true about myself, and i don't mean like self-esteem stuff, it's like fictional character stuff that i can't type or say out loud... but none of this interferes with my day-to-day life i don't need to take treatment away from people who need it

and i might be depressed but that's just not something i need to think about right now. there's no joy in any of my hobbies, including writing and playing assassin's creed. if i'm not distracted i'm just a bit empty and i'm scared right now but that's just cuz i'm home alone

[solanger]

sunday, 7th july - 16:05

long time no speak. terribly sorry, i've been busy with work! 6hr+ shifts have consumed my time.

i'm here to rant. my mother sent my sister and i voice messages while we were out the house today; my sister, at a charity event and i, at work. safe to say she isn't happy with us. our room is a mess and we've been slacking in our chores - understandable. it's the exaggeration, overthinking and manipulation that i am sick and tired of.

my mum has depression, anxiety, and OCD. so yes, the house can get chaotic. she has her good days and bad days, and she is obviously having a bad day. i don't want to seem like i have no empathy for my mum. to be able to keep going despite everything that whirls through her mind, i wish i had half the strength she had. it's when she lashes out on us.

she always says when she's not feeling good she never takes it out on my sister and i; a false statement. it's the worst time to be in the house. she's mean. she becomes very mean. one time, when i was around 13/14, she told me, and i quote, "the reason i have depression is because i gave birth to you". the reason she said this? i asked her what was in the fridge for dinner.

she thinks whenever we do something bad it's to spite her, and her only. that we're trying to intentionally break her. imagine hearing from your own mum that she thinks you have it out for her. we're not allowed to make mistakes. we're not allowed to be teenagers. we're not allowed to be in a mood. "what's the reason? you have everything you need, you're being ungrateful" she would say.

i think i have it hardest with her, although i don't want to invalidate my sister's feelings when saying this. however, my sister knows how to work around my mum. how to sweet talk her - i don't. every single time we have a disagreement it turns into a major argument, then no talking for a couple days, sometimes even weeks. and i'm always the problem, i am always at fault. i've given up saying sorry or even feeling remorse at times. i am sick and tired of being the bad guy every time.

this voice message was my final straw for today. the kitchen at work are horrible, my manager kept telling me off for other people's mistakes. rent isn't paid, and i still heavily miss my ex. so yeah, had better days.

i was planning to have a nap but it looks like i'll have to tidy up and get some chores done before i even think about closing an eye for more than 30 seconds.

talk soon!

mali

[finned-fish]

Vent Post

⚠️Trigger WARNING⚠️

Physical Abu//, Sui//, Sui//al ideation.

Really do hate interacting with new people. It's been so long since I've done that. Well, did it today in phasmo and rediscovered that I am a nuisance to all.

I am that "everybody leaves me" person, except it's more accurate to say they don't interact with me on a closer level in the first place. People do figure out why.

Autism, OCD, ADHD combined type, Chronic Generalized Anxiety, Chronic Major Depressive. All diagnoses of mine. Traumatized regularly and consistently.

I forgot that I talk too much, or that I do something wrong. Idk what I do. I don't know what it is about me but no matter how much I mask, mirror, or even script up entire new personalities, I'm just off-putting. People dislike me. Either that or they coddle me. Treat me like some young adolescent that still needs to learn how to properly communicate and interact with others. I hate it.

I always see people talk about how horrible the "everybody leaves me" person is, or the "nobody wants to be friends with me" person is. Someone was talking abt that and said "especially when they don't even know why." I don't know why. I don't know what I do wrong. Nobody will tell me. It doesn't seem like I've wildly offended anyone. I don't know what I do. If someone just told me what I do wrong I'd fix it. Why am I such a problem? What do I do wrong?

I'm consistently ignored, undermined, dismissed, and coddled.

That or I'm constantly annoying, frustrating, too loud, or too talkative.

I try so hard to be right for other people.

And I hate it when people give me that fucking "just be yourself bullshit." All that "being myself" got me was severe physical beatings multiple times a day.

I'm supposed to move in with the two people I love most. Never in my life have I cherished a connection as much as I do with these people.

Even when I had someone who I was deeply in love with and who was deeply in love with me. She gave me everything and accepted me purely as I was. And then she killed herself. And I didn't know to cherish the connection more. I cherished her more than anything, but I did not know then that cherishing her and cherishing our connection were two different things.

So I don't know if I can move in with these two people. If I am that "everybody leaves me/nobody wants to be friends with me person", I don't want to interact with them or hurt them like all those videos and all those people say the "everyone leaves/no friends" person does.

What should I do? I don't know what to do. I've hovered my finger over that block button so many times. To just disappear.

Is it greedy not to? Should I just disappear for them? Am I being selfish? I love these two people so much, and I don't want to disappear from them.

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm just sinking. I'm so comfortable with them and I am myself around both of them, and every time I say something or send a message, it feels like I pinched a nerve. I worry so severely that I've done something wrong. It doesn't even matter if they're typing their response or talking to me, I still worry.

And I try to act like I don't worry. I don't constantly put myself down or require constant reassurance from them. I am not forcing a codependent relationship or anything. So I don't think that's it either, since I do a pretty good job of that.

I don't know what I'll do when it comes time to move in. I can't imagine myself getting any better or being any better by then. At so many different points at my life I've been sure that I reached my max potential and still wasn't enough, and I was wrong. It's happened over and over and over again. And after all those times of still getting better, I'm also still not enough. And once again I'm at a point where I think I've reached my max potential. And that there is nothing left for me.

And so now I just wonder how long I can keep going before I make a decision? I have such a strong feeling of doom. And I know what it is. I feel it in the strings, and I know that I'm only going in one of two directions.

I move in with them, and that's as far as I can see. The strings end there. Or I fall the other direction.

If I may be dramatic for a moment:

It's a massive pit. It's oozing such horrible doom. I can't describe the potency of it other than saying that it squelches out and climbs up the strings that I feel are tugging me into it.

And saying these "two directions" I already know I'm only going in one already. I am careening towards suicide so rapidly. I think I just didn't wanna sound utterly hopeless or cliché but there isn't another direction. No strings pulling me towards those two. I look and there's none. And I'm not going to make any.

I don't know when I will commit, but I know it's going to happen within the next six months. It feels somewhere between late January and early April.

Is it cold or heartless to be this analytical? Is that the problem? I can use "both halves" of my brain — emotional and intellectual — in tandem and as completely separate entities. It's not the same as turning my emotions off, either. No matter how heightened my emotional state it I have perfect analytical clarity. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe people can somehow feel that and they don't like it.

Now i do feel heartless. I feel entirely neutral — and even at peace — when I ask myself "which part do I cull?"

And I don't care, actually, because I'd do anything to fix myself. So I don't really feel anything about how horrible I imagine that ultimatum must sound to others. And even then I don't know if it sounds that horrible. But if I had to terminate one of those two parts of me I wouldn't hesitate, I just need to figure out which one it is.

And unfortunately, there's no strings with the answer to that.

[samarallewis86]

I have the 'tism' been diagnosed since I was 14, would have been earlier, but doctors were less inclined to diagnose girls back then (they also called my high functioning autism, aspergers syndrome back then, anyway) and my family was dealing with my younger brothers stuff, one has epilepsy, adhd, autism, the other had a growth hormone deficiency so i was kinda a back burner issue to get to, ya know, if they found the time, so, 14, depressed, anxious, hating life, school, everything, typical teen.

Anyway, moving on, i have lived with neurotypicals, ppl who know about my autism, ppl who have grown up with siblings with autism, ppl who themselves have autism but were never diagnosed and ppl who had been diagnosed with ocd rather then the blatantly obvious anxiety/panic attacks they were dealing with.

The person who had siblings diagnosed with autism, had grown up around it like myself was the worst room mate i ever had. She ignored everything I told her about how i liked things (my friends moved into my family home after highschool because my parents got a second house on a property to try and help my Autistic brother), so MY FAMILY HOME, that i had lived in for 12 years, which had, my stuff, my belongings, where i had my routine, my friend decided she knew better.

I had a job after highschool looking after disabled ppl in their own homes, i worked over night shifts, i left the house in the afternoons, came home the next morning, typically i had only sundays off as i worked the back half of the week, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.

So i was already leaving my comfort zone, to go to a strangers house, help them live a full, active life, and then come home, try and be productive, try and sleep and then go to work.

I came home one morning and my entire kitchen, which had been the same, for 12 years, wad completely rearranged. I couldn't find my coffee, my mugs, my plates, nothing. She changed everything because "its better this way".

I tried to sleep in on Sunday, my day to relax and recharge and rebuild my social batteries. She blasted country music (bad country music) at 7am and started vacuuming the house. At 7am. Because she was awake and had energy and decided to clean.

I had two other housemates and my boyfriend in the house. None of them drove me to murderous rage like she did.

Good friend. Horrible fucking housemate.

Since then i have lived with one friend (the most neurotypical with a few quirks), one of the same friends i shared my house with way back when. We are now in our late 30's (40 is looking pretty close right now) and have lived together since the end of high school, the only time we have lived apart was a year in 2014 when my mum threw us out of the house to renovate and i lived with my grandparents for a year till i went on a 4 month trip to visit friends in the USA. And my grandparents probably would have let her live with us too if she hadn't found a friend to let her stay in a spare bedroom.

My friend understands me, better then almost anyone else (even my mother most days), she knows i forget to hang my washing, so she just puts it in the dryer whenever she finds it and lets me know she did it.

She knows i dont like bright white lights so she bought dimmer lightbulbs i can control on my phone.

She knows i struggle with actually going shopping, i will, i can, i have, i just fucking hate it, so, she asks me to text her my food shopping list and just has it all home delivered.

She knows i forget about paper bills unless they are on the fridge, right in front of my face everyday, so, soon as a bill comes in, it goes on the fridge door.

She plays in multiple orchestral type bands, she plays basically every instrument known to man (our tiny spare room is basically wall to wall instruments) and when she needs to practice for something, she lets me know, usually with a "heads up, theres gonna be noise tonight, ive got that thing on the weekend".

At the height of covid after i was fired and my anxiety sky-rocketed freaking out about paying rent and my already incredibly sick Nanna she bought me a weighted blanket because she knows that even though i run hot at night, i like to have piles and piles of blankets on me.

To bring this to a rambling close, you will never get along with everyone, some people you think will understand you or get you or be like you, they dont, wont, cant and arent. Thats okay.

You just need to find those few who get you, who help you, who dont even give it a second thought, because to them, you arent hard to deal with, you arent hard to manage or difficult, they just slot in beside you like a lego brick and help you build yourself up.

Non-autistics living with autistics:

They keep eating the same freaking food and it frustrates me so much! We can't have the "big scary light" on just lamps everywhere! Even when I try to find peace by doing stuff with them they just ignore me and do whatever they want. They can't even do the simplest of things like go with me to the grocery store every week! How do people expect them to survive in society??

Autistics living together:

So as long as we get my 10 packets of this really specific food, and some snacks, I'll be okay. Also is it cool if you go to the grocery store? I can clean the bathroom since thats bad sensory for you and the store is bad sensory for me. Can you turn on the lamp instead of the big light? It gives me a headache. Thanks man. Yea I'll unplug the TV for you since you can hear the high pitched noise. Do you want to do two separate things in the same room as bonding again this evening? Thats my favorite part of the day too.

[qweei]

mental illness isn't cute nor a fun quirk to have, and i'm saying that as someone who's mentally ill and is neurodivergent.

ofc i believe we shouldn't demonize mental illness and i know this idea of mental illness being cute only really applies to some disorders like depression, anxiety ocd etc. personality disorders get demonized to high hell and should be destigmatized but i personally don't have experience with that so i can't speak on that.

but i can talk about the disorders i do have and how hearing discussions around mental illness can really frustrate me. like there's two sides to this a) who see mental disorders that includes disabilities as something scary, shameful and should be hidden and type b) usually teenagers and young adults who bcs of the influx of representation and discussions around mental health know a lot more yet seem to get it in their mind that to be interesting you have to have some diagnosis? "omg i'm so ocd rn" "i can't focus i must have adhd"

as someone who went through type A for years when i transferred schools and was surrounded by type b people i believed it was a good thing like waaay better than before, same with the content i found on social media that were way more positive bcs to me that meant that i was no longer demonized or pushed aside which is great! but honestly it isn't as much of an improvement as i first thought.

though i will say before someone misunderstands me: i am not at all against learning about different mental disorders and self diagnosing. i definitely think our knowledge on mental health is improving due to more representation or people being more open, but i still want to acknowledge the side of people who misuse the new found attention and support use and do harm to the community, whether intentionally or not.

it's just that some type b people can sometimes be as harmful as type A from my experience. at that school i was constantly surrounded by these ppl and every single time someone talked about mental illness it was always in such a romanticized way, it became a funny adjective, every serious disorder was simply just a cute quirk?? i once overheard a real life conversation where ppl where assigning each other mental disorders the same way you talk about zodiac signs!? also certain people straight up trauma dumping to be funny without any prior warning or anything, i often got so uncomfortable i had to leave the room multiple times. something even more horrifying i was told was by my roommate who told me her autistic sister with tics who went to a different school, people in her school started to copy her tics to the point it became a trend in the entire school.

i've realized this problem especially when i'm with neurotypical ppl my age where every time i mention or its brought up that i'm neurodivergent, they always get the feeling that they need to match up with me??? if that makes sense. listen icantbelieveimsayingthis BUT there's nothing wrong with being neurotypical, not being mentally ill or having trauma... that doesn't make you boring or less interesting and honestly thinking it does really is a slap in the face of people who are neurodivergent and or mentally ill.

i'm so tired of discussions around mental health being so black and white all the time like either I'm treated like a abomination or I get infantilized/romanticized. it really fucking sucks

[dzpenumbra]

2/7/23

I'm a bit upset I didn't start this earlier, I could've kept the bedtime momentum from yesterday. And I have a lot to cover today. I'll try to be brief.

The doctors appointment was... confusing. And overwhelming. As I have said several times, the primary reason I went was to get linked up with a GP so I can set up an ADHD screening, so I can get formally diagnosed and start exploring options for management. My primary focus in mental health care lately has been depression and PTSD, mostly PTSD, and I have been very interested in seeing if I can address underlying executive function issues, which PTSD obviously makes much worse, and is a huge source of depression and anxiety. And, with me constantly suffering impostor syndrome, I have no idea whether the problems I have with routine functioning are a byproduct of my PTSD (developmental, cognitive, nurture), a neurodiversity thing (genetics, nature) or a combination of both. By either confirming or denying with certainty a genetic, biological component, I can really set my focus entirely on what I need to work on. Like my therapist was saying, if I have an underlying neurodiversity issue, it's like fighting the same fight with one hand tied behind my back, and meds could potentially open a lot of doors for that.

So... I show up pretty much on time. I chug a Monster on the way there. It was one of those mocha ones, those just disappear for some reason, probably because they're not carbonated. I was running on 6 hours of sleep. I get in and the waiting room is fucking empty. 2 month waiting list and the place is completely empty. And zero wait time. I walk in, the nurse does my blood pressure and comments on how it's highly elevated. Like... she seemed concerned, and offered to double check it later on in the appointment, but never did. Took pulse, that was fine. Then went right into like... some basic history stuff. And she started asking about mental health stuff, and that's why I was there so... I started talking. I started struggling to think, getting really foggy and overwhelmed. I said PTSD, but then started floundering a bit and stumbling on my words. My thoughts were swirling way too fast, I was bouncing between "what are my current diagnoses" and then the dozens of diagnoses I have gotten in the past and shit. I mean, we're talking over 10 years of history here. "Is OCD still a thing?" "Is panic disorder still a thing?" "Would I say agoraphobia?" "Do I even have any formal diagnoses anymore?" "Who was the last person to actually diagnose me?" And the years of shit just started flooding back.

I apologized to the nurse... of course... then just said like... "depression and anxiety stuff." Or something. I don't know. I choked, I guess. I felt the time pressure. I remember stressing that my therapist sent me to them to get screened for ADHD. I swear, I've told them that like 5 times now.

After a minute, the doctor comes in. She seems nice, a more bohemian type, which meshes well with me. She asked me what I do. Seriously, first question from people every fucking time. "What's your name? What do you do?" And I immediately convince myself, "I'm not actually an artist, I'm actually a fraud. I'm just a lazy shit who sits around playing video games and watching YouTube all day, pretending to be an artist. I mean, what's the most recent art piece I've even made?" So I say, "I'm an artist." And the asshole in my head goes "god, you better hope she believes that." And she asks, "oh really? What's your medium?" And I... stumble. Again. Like... I immediately went to "ink". But like... I really haven't done that many ink pieces. My hoodie was the latest ink piece. Hey, guess what? I was wearing the hoodie too... I could've just fucking shown her. But... not in my freaking out brain, I couldn't. So I just sorta fumbled around "ink and pencil, I guess... but I'm exploring other mediums." And she starts sharing how she likes working with clothing and sewing and stuff like that. It was a nice point of commonality, I appreciated that. I just... was more preoccupied by the tornado in my head.

I have no idea how visible that shit is to others. I've been told it's barely visible at all. To me, it's so damn obvious.

I can't go step by step on this, I'm falling asleep, I'm gonna nutshell. She sent me back to my therapist to see if he'll do the screening. Despite him being the one who sent me to her. Her reasoning is sound, she wanted to make sure there wasn't any kind of misdiagnosis or anything, she thought it would be better if the person who screened me actually had a history with me, actually knew me. And I think she has a good point. I have some options to explore there.

She walked me through how hellish the controlled substance regulations are through her. And I mean... it's fucking bad. Like monthly visits, piss tests that can't even show positive for THC, shit like that. It upset me. A lot. I don't like being treated like an addict or a drug dealer. At all. Like, if they were trying to scare me off of even trying stimulant ADHD meds, they fucking succeeded. They scared the Christ out of me. And set off a bunch of underlying trauma shit that's been haunting me in waves all day since.

Like... I move heaven and earth (in the framework of my world), I show up for an appointment after inverting my sleep schedule, 3 days after putting my beloved cat down, I'm actively grieving, I'm a shut-in who rarely leaves my house, I show up on-time, I wait the full 2 months for the appointment. I show up on 6 hours of sleep, I cooperate fully and respectfully, I'm honest and forthright. I have never had a voluntary addiction other than tobacco, which was much more habitual than chemical. I don't have recreational drugs that I could do. I can't drink or I get insane heartburn or start feeling sick well before I get drunk. I can't smoke or else there's a 70% chance I'll freak out and have a waking nightmare. I refused to pursue benzos again because of how I had 3 different brushes with death trying to fucking detox off of them, because I don't have a healthy support network, and even taking one out of the context of regular prescribed usage just brings me right back there. And yet, if a trace of anything shows up in my piss? I get treated like a drug dealer. I get treated like a scam artist swindler who lied their way into a doctor's office to get a prescription for low-grade amphetamines to sell them to college students so they can giggle for a few hours. Or just a fucking drug addict myself. Like all of my efforts to be responsible, mindful and intentional with substance usage was really for nothing, because the system is going to assume that I'm a criminal.

You can probably tell how upset I am about this. This is a fraction of it. This narrative was so powerful this morning that I had to stop doing yoga, first time in the month and a week I've been doing it every day. I called my mom while lying down on the yoga mat because I had to just get the fucking thoughts out. It combined with a few other triggers and just led to utter catastrophe by the end of the night.

Back to the appointment. The doctor wrote me a bulletpoint list of highlights on the back of a business card. She deserves a medal for this, because by the time I got to the door leaving the health center, I had completely forgotten everything we went over. Like fucking Memento or some shit. But she went over some non-stimulant drug options that she can help me out with, even without a diagnosis, I guess? I found that odd, but whatever. I'm going to look into them tomorrow. So yeah, I have a plan. But at a price.

Being in the doctors office (with a lot of medical trauma), feeling like people are being suspicious or unfair to me, and having to explain the story of my life... which, today, was just... utterly depressing... having to explain why I was in a state-funded mental health institution, voluntarily... Like... the context on these things makes a really big difference, and I only had 15 minutes total with this woman. I didn't even get to talk about any of my physical issues at all, like it didn't even have time to cross my mind. All those trauma sparks just set off a powderkeg. The yoga interruption was the shot across the bow. I sank into recording music for the rest of the day. It went really fucking well. I got bass set up, the bass lines were really goddamn hard but I recorded something passable. I even recorded some vocals, which I basically sang at a slightly pushed falsetto near-whisper. I don't really like them, I really wish I would just go for it and project them, but like... neighbors right on the other side of the wall... might be more of a mid-day thing, when people normally aren't home. But the song is mostly done, sans screams.

After that... my mom called. And... I got set off. I don't even know what did it, honestly. I really don't. It could've been anything. But my fight/flight/freeze/fawn today was... freeze. Big-time freeze. For a while. And my mom kept pressuring me to explain why I was upset, so she could help, which just made things worse. And, I completely get why she would do that. It makes perfect sense from that side of the glass, especially when you don't really know it's a trauma response. Maybe it just looks like I'm a bit grumpy or moody or something. Maybe I mask that shit way too well. After finally being able to tear myself free of that quagmire enough to communicate, I was able to tell her about what was going on there. How, in my experience, I got set off by something deeply upsetting that brought back very painful memories. And she was pressuring me, obligating me, to go back and look at it again, and describe it to her in more detail, relive it again... or else I will not get support. Because otherwise, she won't know how to help me with the situation. It's a very common problem we have. And I think I did a good job articulating it today, from my perspective.

It sucks when people are doing the right thing, just in the wrong context. And trauma can be really confusing like that. Like, what I needed was just... help with the emotions and memories I was dealing with. The Now. The details are not essential, honestly. We can work our way up to that, if needed. Right now, I don't feel safe. Right now, I'm scared. Right now, I feel aftershocks of mistreatment and abuse. So what I need right now are demonstrations of safety, comfort and caring. Then, when the alarm bells stop chiming in my brain, we can explore more practical solutions if need be.

My family just... is completely emotionally illiterate. Even me, with all my insanely overwhelming emotions... even I am not very fluent. Even I struggled to identify the emotion I was flooded with today. But these people just flat-out have no idea how to deal with an emotional problem. It's just 100% practical. "How do I make your problem go away for you so you stop hurting?" "How do I solve your problem for you so you're not upset anymore?" It looks helpful, it feels helpful in intent, but it completely bypasses emotions. I suspect by design. And when you're dealing with an emotional problem? It's doomed to cause issues.

So yeah, I just ordered delivery Applebee's again and collapsed in the comfy chair and ate tons of mediocre food and nodded off to a livestream and now it's like 1:30... so I'm going to go to bed.

I need a break.

[nicknellie]

For months I’ve been saying I’d write a fic where Alex starts counselling because this fandom is in desperate need of good therapy representation, and I’ve finally got around to it! This follows Alex deciding he wants to get therapy, having his first assessment, and having his first session. Most of it is pulled from my experiences so far, but bare in mind that not all therapists/organisations will function the way this one does. Also I’m very tired and I didn’t proofread so I’m sorry for any errors, I’ll fix them at another point.

TW: anxiety, therapy, mentions of depression, mentions of homophobia, mentions of OCD

The Right Decision

It was another one of those days where Alex felt exhausted from the moment he woke up. Not exhausted in that he needed to sleep longer (although admittedly that was probably a part of it), just exhausted because here was another day he had to get through, another challenge he had to overcome, another stressful sixteen hours of endless worries and things to do. Sometimes Alex felt like there was no escape, no rest, no pause in his life. He had to keep going no matter how drained he felt.

It was exhausting.

Everything felt like too much nowadays. Between going to school and sitting exams, playing with the band, and keeping up with his friends, Alex felt as if he had no time to breathe. He couldn’t slow down for longer than a moment or two before along came the next thing and the next barrage of anxieties that accompanied it. He couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t keep up, and it was dragging him down.

What he couldn’t understand was how nobody else seemed to feel quite as worried as him. He had always been more anxious than his friends, that was nothing new – but when everyone he knew had mostly the same stresses as him, it struck him as impossible that none of them seemed too overwhelmed. Perhaps every now and then Luke would complain about an exam at school or Reggie would mention that he was having trouble sleeping, but none of Alex’s friends ever mentioned weak legs, trouble breathing, clouded thoughts, needless panic that stemmed from nowhere, the feeling that nothing they did was really worth much at all.

Recently, Alex’s days had been muddled, his mind occupied with each new worry that he thought up. He was finding it hard to focus on much at all. He’d find his leg bouncing whenever he sat down or his fingers scratching at his knees, little repetitive movements that he wouldn’t notice until somebody pointed them out. He struggled sleeping at night, his mind racing at the speed of light, every nonsensical thought keeping him awake like the world’s most pessimistic firework display. When he was around his friends, his mind snagged on what they thought about him – he began acting the way he thought they wanted him to rather than the way he normally would have.

It felt like he was constantly pretending to be coping better than he was. If he carried on the way he was, he knew sooner or later he would break.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said that morning, sat on the opposite side of the sofa to Willie. He had stayed the night at Willie’s place, vastly preferring it to his own – his strained relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly doing him a world of good either.

“About what?” Willie asked, kicking their feet up onto the sofa and resting them in Alex’s lap.

The question was strangely hard to answer. Where was he even supposed to begin answering it?

“About me,” he ventured slowly. It seemed like a good start, he just wasn’t sure how to carry on.

“I think about you a lot too,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s one of my favourite pastimes.”

Normally, Alex might have blushed, but he was so caught up in his own head that the flirtatious nature of Willie’s comment flew right over his head.

Willie sat up, looking concerned. He took Alex’s hand in his own, dragging Alex down from his addled thoughts. “What’s going on, hotdog? What have you been thinking?”

“I’ve not been finding things easy recently,” Alex began. He hadn’t expected tears to fill his eyes so soon, and yet there they were. His voice wavered, his words interspersed with sniffles. Frustrated, he sighed and wiped roughly at his eyes with his sleeve, annoyed that this was all getting to him so easily. “I… I can’t explain it.”

Willie reached up and gently pulled Alex’s tight fists away from his eyes and instead wiped Alex’s tears away softly with his thumb. “Take your time,” they said. “It’s alright. I’m listening.”

“I just… I feel so nervous. All the time. About every little thing. And it feels like it’s getting worse. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

One of the things Alex loved most about Willie was that he was never pushy. He always let Alex talk as and when he needed to, getting everything off his chest the way he wanted, even if it took hours. They did it now, just holding Alex’s hand, their eyes fixed on him attentively. From someone else, the unbroken eye contact might have just unnerved Alex even more, but from Willie it felt reassuring. He knew he was being listened to and heard – he knew he was safe.

“I want to get help,” he breathed. “I don’t want to carry on the way I am. It scares me.”

“If you want to get help, then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” Willie told him, threading their fingers together. “And Alex – it might not feel like it, but you’re so brave for telling me that. It can’t have been easy, but I’m proud of you for telling me instead of just struggling through by yourself.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Alex asked apprehensively. Willie was always supportive of him, but it was such a drastic change from the way his parents treated him that sometimes he couldn’t help but check it was all real.

Willie smiled gently and cupped Alex’s cheek with his hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch, so he couldn’t see Willie when they replied but he could hear the honestly in his voice. “I think it’ll be really helpful for you. And if it’s what you think you need then it’s worth trying no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, barely audible, throat clogged with suppressed sobs.

“Anything, Alex.”

The two of them spent hours researching different therapists and counsellors. Willie carried out extensive background checks on every one of them – at first Alex thought that maybe it was a bit much, but Willie was adamant that only the best would do, that he didn’t want anyone with a chequered past or a dodgy record.

Eventually they came across a charity that offered free counselling. The sessions would take place at the same time on the same day each week and they could go on for as long as Alex needed. He would be assigned the counsellor deemed most fit to treat him after completing an assessment, and the organisation appeared to have very good reviews and success rates.

“We don’t have to sign you up today,” Willie explained, “not if you think it’ll be too much too soon. But it’s worth keeping in mind that this place is probably a good one to go for.”

Alex thought for a moment before making his mind up. He knew himself – if he kept putting it off because he was nervous about it then he would never get around to doing it at all.

���Let’s do it now,” he said resolutely, trying to sound confident in the hopes that maybe he’d believe he wasn’t so nervous himself. “Get it out of the way. It’s now or never, right?”

Willie just kissed the top of his head and clicked the application button at the bottom of the webpage.

*

A week or so later, Alex received an email informing him of when his assessment would take place. It seemed like a very informal thing – someone from the charity would phone him, they’d have a casual chat where they would ask him about himself, and they’d offer him either a space on their waiting list or suggest somewhere else that might be able to help him better.

Despite how friendly and casual it all sounded, Alex couldn’t help but feel nervous. For one thing, he hated talking to strangers. He’d never been good at it and the whole idea made him feel sick with worry. Though, he supposed, that was why he was going through with this whole thing, to make that worry stop.

But the other issue was that it was a phone appointment. Inexplicably, one of the things guaranteed to cause Alex anxiety was phone calls. The thought of picking up the phone when somebody rang was enough to make his head spin and eyes water. Just the notion of it made him want to lock himself away in a lonely dark room and not come out until he felt he could breathe again. It was painfully ironic – he had to do the things that made him most anxious in order to get help with his anxiety.

When the time of the appointment came, Alex was sat on Willie’s bed by himself, staring at his phone, waiting for it to ring. Willie had kindly offered to be in the room with him, but Alex had declined. Even though Willie was the most supportive person in his life, having them in the room while he had his assessment would have made it a thousand times more difficult.

The phone rang and for a moment Alex considered just not picking up. Was it worth making himself even more worried over this? Maybe he could learn to cope with his anxiety alone instead of getting all worked up over receiving help. He’d managed just fine in the past.

But you’re not managing just fine right now, Alex, he reminded himself. Pick up the phone.

“Hello?” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice level.

“Hi,” came a voice on the other end. It was an airy, soft-spoken lady, and though Alex couldn’t see her he could imagine her sat in her office, surrounded by motivational posters and dreamcatchers, wearing far too many scarves. “My name is Elizabeth. I’m calling for your mental health assessment. I just need to confirm who I’m speaking to.”

“Alex Mercer,” he said, glad he could answer that first question right at the very least. And sure, maybe the other questions he would be asked didn’t have specific right or wrong answers, but he still felt as if he had something to prove with them. Here at least he knew what he was doing.

“And your age and date of birth please, Alex,” Elizabeth asked. He could hear the faint scratching of a pen on paper.

“I’m eighteen and my birthday is the first of August.”

A tiny voice in the back of his mind questioned him, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t going to overthink so quickly. He knew what his own birthday was.

“Great, thank you, Alex,” Elizabeth said. “So I’m just going to talk you through how this will work quickly, okay? I’ll try not to take too long with the whole assessment, I know sometimes talking on the phone or talking to strangers can be tricky. All that’s really going to happen is that we’ll have a little chat, I’ll ask you about your life and your mental health. Everything we say will be confidential, the only other person who’ll find out is the person we assign as your counsellor. All I need you to do is be as honest as possible when you answer the questions. Is that all okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. His throat felt tight with worry but he did his best to ignore it. Elizabeth sounded like a lovely lady and the whole point of this was that he would stop being anxious, or at least learn to manage it better. Maybe this bit was hard, but it would only get easier as time went on. “That’s alright.”

“Fantastic,” she said. “Okay, Alex, we’ll start with the most obvious question: why do you want to come to us for counselling?”

He told her what he had told Willie, just with fewer tears. He could feel them stinging the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His voice stayed level but only because he forced it too.

From then on, it seemed like fairly quickfire questions. Elizabeth didn’t linger on any one aspect of Alex’s life so long that it made Alex uncomfortable, as if she was just sizing him up rather than trying to properly inspect him.

“Who do you live with, Alex?”

“My parents and my little sister, but I don’t spend a lot of time at home.”

“Do you not get on with them?” she asked. Her tone made her sound curious rather than concerned and somehow that was a lot easier for Alex to respond to. She just wanted to know – she wasn’t worried about it.

“My little sister’s fine, but not my parents.”

“Where do you stay instead?”

“My boyfriend’s apartment.”

Pen scratching on paper again.

“How’s your relationship with your boyfriend?” Elizabeth asked.

It was one of the only questions Alex felt confident answering. “My relationship with Willie is the best thing in my life.”

He thought he could hear Elizabeth’s smile as she said, “I’m very glad to hear that, Alex.”

She asked him about his friendships and he told her that they were strong. When she asked who his best friend was he momentarily panicked because he didn’t know which of his friends to choose – they all meant the world to him in different ways – but settled on Carrie. He explained that he was in a band with most of his other friends and that it was one of the only things that made him feel relaxed.

Elizabeth asked about school and Alex told her about his exams, how the stress of them definitely wasn’t doing his mind any good. She asked about his grades and he told her that they were high but he worried about keeping them that way. She asked him if he was part of any clubs or teams and he said he was on the cross-country team but didn’t find much enjoyment in it anymore.

It was odd, he thought absently. As he spoke to Elizabeth, he not only found himself being open and honest with her but also with himself. Half the things he told her were things he hadn’t thought about until she brought them up, and realising that he worried about grades more than he’d thought and that he didn’t want to be on the running team was more of a surprise to him that it should have been. He noticed more and more things about himself as he went on, things he probably never would have realised otherwise, and it sparked a little flame of hope inside him that maybe this counselling was already being beneficial to him.

The assessment was over much more quickly than Alex had thought it would take. Elizabeth told him that she was happy to put him on the waiting list and that she would be in touch when a counsellor became available. After a friendly goodbye, Alex put the phone down and took a few minutes to collect himself before heading out into the living room of Willie’s apartment to tell him how well it had gone.

*

It was a month or two before Alex heard from the charity again. He got another email, this one telling him the time and location of his first appointment. He showed up on the day, Willie by his side, feeling the worst he’d felt in weeks.

“Hey,” Willie said gently as Alex just stared at the door, his stomach flipping at the thought of even pressing the intercom. “Just remember you’re doing this to help yourself. I believe in you, hotdog. You’ve got this.”

Alex pulled Willie into a brief hug, but disentangled himself quickly and pressed the intercom before his adrenaline disappeared and he had another chance to dwell on it.

“Hello,” came the voice of the receptionist inside. “How can I help?”

“My name is Alex Mercer, I’m here for my counselling session,” he said. He wasn’t sure how much of his sentence actually sounded like words, the entire thing having been rushed out on one breath, but the receptionist seemed to get it. The lock on the door clicked open.

“Come on in, you can sit in the waiting room and your counsellor will come and get you soon.”

Alex took a deep breath and pushed the door open, Willie following close behind him as the two of them walked into the building. The waiting room was on the left as soon as they walked in so they took their seats beside each other. There was hardly anyone else in there – the receptionist was sat behind the desk in the corner, there was a lady flicking through a magazine on the other side of the waiting room, and a young man was sat with a toddler, trying to keep the little boy still when clearly all he wanted to do was run around. The walls were covered in posters, most of them either with motivation quotes on them or symptoms of different mental health issues. Alex had to tear his eyes away from the anxiety one, his hands rubbing together in his lap restlessly.

They weren’t sat there for very long when a kind-looking man poked his head into the waiting room and scanned it. When his eyes landed on Alex and Willie, a small smile grew on his face.

“Alex Mercer?” he asked.

Alex stood up and wiped his sweaty hands down on his trousers. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex,” the man said. “I’m Graham, I’ll be your counsellor. Is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, this is Willie,” Alex said, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Hi,” they said, “great to meet you.”

“You too,” Graham said. “Alex, Willie can come in with you for a little bit if you think that would make you more comfortable, or he could stay here in the waiting room and it’ll just be you and I in there. Whatever you prefer.”

Alex cast a glance at Willie who just gave him a reassuring smile. Your call, their expression said, I’m here for you no matter what.

“I’d rather go in alone,” Alex decided.

Graham nodded, smiling genially. “That’s alright. If you’d like to follow me then.”

Sending one last look to Willie (who gave Alex a thumbs up and mouthed ‘you got this’), Alex followed Graham out of the waiting room, up a flight of stairs, and into a smaller room on the second floor. There was hardly anything in there but a desk with a laptop on it and two chairs positioned opposite each other, a coffee table between them with a lamp and a box of tissues on it. Graham sat down in one chair and gestured for Alex to sit in the other.

“Alright, Alex,” Graham said, donning his glasses and picking up a pen and paper. “How are you feeling about being here today?”

“I’m a little nervous,” Alex told him. “But you know… it’s something I’ve got to do, right?”

Graham nodded. “Looking at your assessment, I think you made the right decision in coming to us. I just want to briefly explain what will be happening in these sessions – I’m going to be doing CBT. Do you know what that is?”

Alex shook his head.

“CBT stands for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy,” Graham explained. “As people, we have thoughts. Those thoughts influence our mood, which then influences our behaviour, which influences our thoughts. It’s a cycle. When our thoughts or our behaviours turn negative, it can lead to mental health problems like yours. What CBT aims to do is change the thought processes and behaviours that lead to things like your anxiety. With me so far?”

Alex nodded.

“We aren’t going to start that today,” Graham said. Alex breathed a sigh of relief and Graham chuckled at it, but not in a way that made Alex feel like he was being made fun of. “Today we’re just going to get to know each other a bit, we’ll go over the information I’ve got from your assessment in a little more detail, and then I’ve got a questionnaire for you to fill out. Sound good?”

“Good,” Alex said. Well, he supposed, getting one word out was better than none at all.

Graham pulled out a few sheets of paper and the two of them spent the next half hour or so going over the assessment Elizabeth had conducted. It was a lot more detailed, a lot more personal, and Alex needed to think about himself a lot more than he would have liked, but it was made easier by Graham’s easy-going personality and the fact that Alex’s knew it was all necessary. He wasn’t being judged for any of it, he was just helping Graham help him.

It just felt like a chat with a friend. When they talked about Alex’s parents and he explained they weren’t supporting of his sexuality, Graham said, “When I told my folks that I’m bisexual they had a similar reaction. I understand it – you’re not alone, Alex.”

And as he said that, Alex really felt it was true. He was understood here. He wasn’t alone.

They talked about Alex’s trouble sleeping, how he worried about the little things rather than anything really important, how he was a picky eater, and every detail that seemed insignificant but clearly meant something to Graham. It felt a little invasive, but the environment was comfortable, so Alex didn’t really mind sharing. It was ridiculously easy to say everything on his mind and so much more freeing than keeping his emotions bottled up like normal.

“Alright then,” Graham said eventually. “All I’ve got left is this questionnaire. It’ll take you through forty-seven questions and all of the answers give you a choice between always, often, sometimes, or never. Sometimes it’s quite obvious what the question is getting at – there’s one about repetitive routines that’s obviously about OCD – but I want you to answer as honestly as possible, don’t even think about what it might do to your results. Alright?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, “that’s fine.”

Graham led Alex through the questionnaire, selecting the answers on his laptop. Alex tried to answer quickly, not giving himself time to overthink it, but a few of the simplest ones stumped him. He’d never thought about how much he thought about death, he’d never paid any mind to his specific behaviours. But still, he answered as best he could and the questions were over relatively quickly.

“Looking at your results,” Graham said, pushing his glasses further up his nose and squinting at the laptop screen, “you answered most highly for general anxiety – you got twenty-nine for that. Then social anxiety, you got twenty. Depression and low mood, you got sixteen. For panic disorder you got fourteen, eleven for OCD, and five for separation anxiety. Does any of that surprise you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alex told him, laughing at himself a little. It was exactly what he would have expected from himself – he wasn’t quite sure what the numbers really meant, but having general anxiety at the top wasn’t a shock to him.

“So what we’ll do each week from now on is fill out a smaller one of those, but it will be more focused on general anxiety, only eight or nine questions long. And we’ll start your CBT next week so these little questionnaires will be very helpful to track your progress. But that’s it for this week! You’re done, Alex, you made it!”

Alex felt himself smile. He’d done it. It hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he had thought it would be – it felt like there had been a weight lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe easily. His mind briefly wandered back to how anxious he’d been to even press the intercom outside; now he felt the lightest he’d been in as long as he could remember.

He and Graham said their goodbyes and Alex made his way back down to the waiting room to see get Willie. When he saw the bright smile Alex wore, Willie’s face lit up and he beamed.

“How was that?” they asked, immediately slipping his hand into Alex’s.

“Really good,” Alex told them. Willie’s face softened – there was a definite look of pride in their eyes and Alex knew it was for him. “I’m glad I’m doing this.”

Standing up on his tiptoes, Willie pressed a featherlight kiss to Alex’s cheek. “I’m glad. I’m proud of you, hotdog.”

“I’m proud of me too,” Alex said. For the first time in a very long while, he actually meant it.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

[dragonseattofu]

Knitting Needles (NEO TWEWY Fanfiction)

Summary: She only whipped out the knitting needles when she was stressed. Her new fall collection was going live in a couple weeks, and since she just came home from the main Gatto Nero office, he surmised that perhaps this was work-related. With the increasing speed of those needles, Neku figured he should probably act fast.

Preview:

The living room door shut with a loud thud.

Curious, Neku shut the kitchen faucet off and went to dry his hands. The mushrooms for tonight’s gratin could wait. Usually he would hear the jangle of keys, a soft, “I’m home” from the hallway, and if he was lucky, a quick kiss on the check on her way to the bathroom.

He heard the keys, and then pitter-pattering of quick steps that passed the kitchen, followed by a slam of the bedroom door shutting forcibly.

A couple of thoughts crossed Neku’s mind. Shiki might have had a rough day at work. She could have gotten into another argument with her Dad about living with a boy even though they were both legal now. Heck, Mr. Mew could have lost a stitch and she was just worrying about what harbinger of doom was coming.

He approached their bedroom door cautiously, listening for any noise that could give him a clue as to what could be bothering her. The creak of the closet door opening and closing, followed by rustling of clothing was a welcome reassurance. Like clockwork she always changed her clothes first thing when she came home. Nothing unusual so far, he thought.

Neku imagined Shiki sitting on their shared bed as he heard the mattress squeak, and then the rhythmic clicking of metal sticks tipped him off. Oh.

She only whipped out the knitting needles when she was stressed. Her new fall collection was going live in a couple weeks, and since she just came home from the main Gatto Nero office, he surmised that perhaps this was work-related. With the increasing speed of those needles, Neku figured he should probably act fast.

He opened the door wordlessly. She was as he had imagined, sitting on their shared bed, her glasses were low on her face and her hands were a lagging mirage weaving together what he was convinced was the beginnings of a tapestry.

Shiki didn’t look up from her creation. She also didn’t acknowledge the slow depression in the mattress next to her.

For the most part, Shiki always tried to see the brighter side of things. When she faced challenges of being a young female CEO in an industry filled with chauvinistic and pompous people, she let her talent speak for itself. When she had looming deadlines and a thousand and one things to do, she learned to delegate tasks and developed a harmonious friendship with her staff.

But there were some things that she just couldn’t control, and that made her anxious. The uncertainty that after all the extra hours she was pulling, all the effort she was putting toward making this new collection a success, some things were simply out of her hands.

Neku watched as the ball of yarn spun aggressively on the floor.

Carefully moving closer toward her without getting impaled from the sharp ends of this evening's choice of weapon, he leaned an arm behind her.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked gingerly.

“...Not really.”

“Okay.” He looked up at the ceiling, letting his mind wonder. He knew that she would come to him when she was ready, so he waited.

Shiki once told him that the repetitive motion of knitting helped her cope with her anxiety. Her OCD with stitching prevented her mind from subconsciously ruminating on all the things that could have gone better, or wandering on the things that she still had yet to complete. After several minutes, she stopped to observe the neat rows of connecting loops. Shiki ran her hands over the knitted yarn, satisfied with her work. Channeling her negative emotion into creating something with her hands always improved her mood exponentially.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Mushroom gratin, I just have to add the ‘shrooms and it’s ready to bake.”

“Do you need help?” Shiki asked, leaning into his side and placing a hand on his knee.

“Not unless you want to eat uneven chunks of potato,” he snorted with full sass.

“I am armed Neku,” her lithe fingers twirled the metal sticks expertly.

He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss the side of her head. Like all young adults emerging into adulthood, life is full of good and bad days, and Neku knew that he couldn’t prevent Shiki from experiencing the bad ones. But he could be there to support her when she does have them. By making her favorite foods, because out of the two of them, he is the better cook. By making her laugh when she forgets to smile. And by loving her at her best, and her worst.

Notes: I didn't realize that Shiki's birthday was October 12th, which I also did not know was TODAY so I rushed to get this done on time. Apologizes if it's not that interesting/has typos. I had a rough day at work, and I find the monotonous motion of knitting to help with my anxiety. I relate a lot to Shiki, and I hope that anyone that's having a bad day will have a better one coming soon. Sending much love out there!

P.S. I'm working on a really cute prompt from tumblr so stay tuned for that!

[angelic-vinyls]

She’s Worried About You >> REACTION

Warning: This reaction mentions anxiety, depression, PTSD, and OCD. Please do not read if you are easily triggered.

Feel free to request!

Jisoo:

• She has always been very observant of the way you behave

• She knows your routines and how you like things done because she cares so much about you

• Jisoo also knew of your ongoing struggle with depression

• She's been used to seeing subtle signs of it, how sometimes you don't want to go out or sometimes you just want to be left alone

• She understood that and respected your boundaries

• But she really started to worry when you wouldn't leave your bed, not even to eat or use the bathroom

• At first she thought maybe you would feel better in a day or two but when it had been 5 days and you showed no sign of improvement she decided to intervene

• She came home one day with a bouquet of your favorite roses and an envelope filled with brochures for different therapists

• Jisoo kisses you tenderly before making direct eye contact

• "I love you more than anything in this world and I won't sit back and watch you be in pain. I've done my research and I've found the best therapists and psychiatrists in our area. I'm going to help you get better baby. I'll be here every step of the way.”

Jennie:

• You've had anxiety since you were young, and you were familiar with the fact that at certain points in your life, for whatever reason, it can be much worse than other times

• Jennie knew you had anxiety, but she didn't understand that it wasn't as black and white as it may seem

• That's why she was so worried when you started rejecting her offers to hang out

• Normally you would love to go get dinner and shop at Chanel with her but lately, it seemed that all you wanted was to stay at home

• Jennie confronted you about this, asking if she did something to upset you and why you seemingly didn't want to spend time with her

• She wasn't yelling at you by any means, she was speaking softly and concern was written all over her face

• Seeing her like that flipped a switch in you, and you collapsed into your girlfriends arms as you started sobbing about how anxious you were and how you were sorry

• Jennie simply hugged you tightly and kissed the top of your head while attempting to shush your cries

• "Angel I had no idea. You can always tell me if something's bothering you. I want to help you. You're going to get better and I'm going to help you. You're so strong my love, so, so strong."

Rosé:

• She knew that you had depression, but she wasn't aware of just how bad it could get at times

• You had always shown the world a bright, bubbly personality filled with love and ambition, but underneath that you felt broken, insecure, and scared

• Rosé was the best girlfriend you could've asked for, she was always looking out for you and making sure that you were doing okay

• She just loves you so much and wants to see you thrive and be happy, she wants to see you be the version of you that you show the world

• Lately you had been going through a rough time and have been feeling extremely depressed and Rosé, while she is your rock, knew that you needed professional help

• It had been a few days since she last saw you smile or laugh, and it was tearing her apart, she was determined to help you get better

• One day while you were lying on your bed, in your pajamas mindlessly scrolling through your phone, Rosé walked in and sat across from you

• She explained to you how concerned she was for your well being, telling you how much she loved you and missed seeing you laugh and smile and at least somewhat enjoying the world

• Rosie kissed you tenderly on the cheek, taking your hand in hers before staring into your eyes

• She told you that she had booked an appointment for you with the best therapist she could find and had asked about getting you some medication to help you cope

• As your girlfriend continued her long speech about how much she loved you and wanted to help you through this, you couldn't help but tear up at just how thankful you were that you had someone like her in your life

• You hugged her tightly, relishing in the warmth her body gave you and basking in the scent of her perfume, while you mumbled to her about how happy and grateful you were for her

• "You have no reason to thank me. I love you and want you to be happy again. I'll be with you throughout all of this, you're going to get better sweetheart."

Lisa:

• You've had anxiety pretty much your whole life, but up until a few days ago, you were perfectly functional, you were just anxious while doing things

• You had a really bad experience while you were out in public a few days ago, and ever since then you've been terrified to go anywhere

• While she doesn't have any personal experience with anxiety, Lisa tried her best to understand what you were going through and be there for you

• However, as your condition worsened Lisa found herself becoming increasingly concerned

• She would start to notice the little things your anxiety caused you to do, such as pacing around the room and taking deep breaths, even counting to a certain number to help yourself calm down

• Lisa comforted you through this hard time and tried to be a supportive girlfriend but when you started getting more anxious, she decided to bring in the help of an expert psychiatrist, who diagnosed you with anxiety, PTSD, and OCD

• He prescribed you medication, asked for you to see him twice a week and gave you a list of things you could do at home to help yourself get better

• As soon as you got home from the doctors office you wrapped your arms around Lisa's neck, bringing her into a tight hug

• Lisa hugged you back, smiling as she heard you thank her for helping you get better

• Once you pulled away she pecked your lips, arms still wrapped around your waist

• "Of course I'm going to help you get better. I love you so much baby. You're going to get through this. I'm right here with you, you're going to feel so much better."

[nagichi-boop]

I’m gonna explain the situation behind my previous post cuz I think I’ve hit a bit of a rock bottom with my mental health and I’m not sure what to do.

TL;DR - Tried getting diagnoses from doctors for mental illness, didn’t go well. Need to get a health note for work benefits as I feel unable to do full time work (too stressful), but need to talk to a doctor for that. Unsure what to do (push for diagnosis, ask for health note for just anxiety first, suck it up and keep struggling, etc).

During lockdown I learned a lot about mental illness and neurodivergency. I’m not saying I’m self dxing, but I suspect I may have one or a combo of the following; autism, adhd, ocd, cptsd, DPDR. Currently none have been diagnosed - the only progress I’ve made is being referred to a (still closed) autism clinic which will likely take years to actually do anything.

A gp/doctor said that I have “severe depression and anxiety” (based on a questionnaire that took like 5 mins) on a call where I asked to be referred to a psychiatrist to be assessed tor diagnosis. I even brought up that I thought that I may have ocd. She asked where I got my info from and I said “online”, and she basically dismissed it after that. Like sorry I didn’t go to medical school, where else would I get my info?? But I literally spent hours a day researching mental disorders…hmm, kind of like an ocd compulsion, which is the disorder I gave as an example??

I also did CBT for a bit but hated it. The “therapist” (but probably not cuz apparently social workers are allowed to do CBT for the NHS) said she didn’t think diagnoses were helpful, that symptoms should be addressed. Every session she focused on social anxiety but it made me feel worse - either I’d say “I don’t know” to her questions and she’d push me for an answer and cause me to make something up (due to, uh oh, anxiety) or I would give an answer and she’d be like “that’s not a social anxiety thing, please read this worksheet with the symptoms for social anxiety”, which made me feel like an idiot. Anyways, maybe 4 sessions in I decided to quit because it was too stressful for me. Funnily enough when I told her I felt like I didn’t always know the answer, she said “when that happens, you need to say you don’t know”. LIKE LADY, THAT’S WHAT I DID!!

Needless to say the combo of the two things made me somewhat reluctant to try again to ask for help, so I’m STILL undiagnosed. Now you may be wondering why this is important.

Well, as of a few days ago, I am once again unemployed. Which means I need to (if I want money) go on benefits. The problem with that is they tend to expect you to dedicate your life to job searching and push you to take whatever comes up, which includes full time work. But I really don’t think I could do that. Even working 20 hours a week at my old job was mentally draining. I tried to bring up to the benefits people that I had anxiety and was referred to the autism clinic, but that’s not enough for them. They just told me I needed to get a health note from my doctor. And again, remember how that went before? How would I even ask for that?

I feel stuck. I know logically I should probably just try and talk to a different doctor or something, but I have no idea where to start. Do I bring up ocd? Or just say I’m generally struggling? Or ask to see a psychiatrist again? Do I ask for the health note first or try and get assessed so I know what I’m dealing with?

It’s gotten to the point where my brain is screaming “hurt yourself” or “you’re better off dead”. I feel so useless and dysfunctional.

As the icing on the cake, I don’t rly have a support system. I love my parents, but much like the counsellor I had, they think I have social anxiety and nothing else. They don’t think a diagnosis would help. And they don’t really react at all when I say I’m pretty much suicidal (like they seem unconcerned). It’s not because they don’t care, they just don’t understand (despite claiming to). I also don’t really have any friends, so no support there.

On a good day, I feel emotionally numb and/or disconnected from myself. On a bad day, it feels like there’s an intense pressure building up inside of me and it sucks cuz I can’t let it out and all I can think of is wanting to hurt myself to relieve the feeling. (Also just to to clarify, I don’t actively self harm and have not and have no plans to attempt suicide, but I also don’t have sort of outlet or support for when I have the urge to, so I just bottle it up.)

…any advice?

(Sorry for the long post)

[theblogtini]

The differ variations of the “suicide” is extremely disturbing. First it was mention, no help offered... Where were her doctors? And yet to HR? Really? NOW she it was she didn’t want to kill herself because it would hurt him? For all these “tell-all’s” there’s no transparency or clarity. Just a jumble of isolated situations and stories with nothing but holes and disassociation from each other.

I think Meghan was - as she always is - very careful during the Oprah interview. To quote her exactly, she said: I was ashamed to say it at the time and ashamed to have to admit it to Harry, especially because I know how much loss he's suffered. But I knew that if I didn't say it, then I would do it. I just didn't want to be alive anymore. That was clear and real and frightening and constant thought."

She never said she was suicidal. She never said she was having suicidal ideations. She said she "didn't want to be alive anymore" and that "she would do it." And I don't want to speak for everyone in the world, but many, many people in dark moments say "God I just wish I wasn't alive right now" or have a fleeting thought of "maybe this would be easier for everyone else if i I wasn't here." Now, Meghan says that it was a "constant" thought that she says.

She implied she was suicidal on international television but she never explicitly said it. She knew people would interpret that as what she meant - there's only so many ways you possibly could. She knew that telling her husband she didn't want to be alive would be interpreted as being suicidal. But at this point - and I feel disgusting for saying this - but at this point I genuinely wonder if she was truly depressed and suicidal or if she was just feeling overwhelmed and stressed and like she needed a TEMPORARY way out.......

Listen - to be 100% transparent after my first son was born it was REALLY ROUGH for me. I was diagnosed with PTSD due to the traumatic circumstances of his birth and I had very bad anxiety and OCD (diagnosed, which I have been seeing a therapist and psychiatrist for since 2012). I used to sit in my closet on the floor crying so that my husband couldn't hear me and think of what I would do to just be done with it all. (This went on until he was about 12 weeks old.) I had a little plan in my head. But I NEVER EVER WOULD HAVE ACTUALLY EVER KILLED MYSELF. And I would never describe myself - in that moment or now - as suicidal. Some days were so hard and so difficult that I would just sit there and think "I need a way out of this." That it would just be better for everyone else if I was just out of the way so they could carry on being normal humans without worrying about the idiot crying in her closet because she couldn't handle taking care of a 6lb baby that slept most of the time. I used to feel awful because my husband - who had never even been around kids - was trying to figure out how to be a dad AND how to take care of me and just making it work every day while all I did was make it harder for him. But I never ACTUALLY wanted to kill myself. I just wanted - in those moments - to not have to deal with the shit in my head and in my world.

And I kind of wonder if that's where Meghan was. She was stressed and tired and hormonal and she just wanted to be DONE with it all. And she told Harry that... and nearly 2 years later they decided to run with it in an internationally televised interview.

Because again - Meghan and Harry said they went to *human resources* for help. Then they called a journalist (Bryony Gordon) to do an interview about it. They never... called her doctor? I was in my psychiatrists office 3 days after coming home from the hospital b/c I told my husband I was losing it and he was like "Well, let's go get you help." We left my EIGHT DAY OLD BABY home with my mother so that I could go get help - and my psychiatrist diagnosed me with PTSD, said my anxiety and OCD were getting the best of me, upped my prescriptions of things, and then sent me to the hospital for some testing (b/c of the pregnancy complications I was actually sick in addition to feeling like I was losing my mind).

Things my husband did NOT do in that moment: tell me that he had somewhere else to be or tell me that I had to get over it and get dressed. HE TOOK ME TO A FUCKING DOCTOR. We didn't have an appointment - mind you. He picked up my cell phone and found my doctors number and called her and was like "I need you to see her immediately. She is not okay." And my doctor - being A GOOD DOCTOR - did.

So - I don't know. Nothing they say EVER makes sense and - IMO - that's because nothing they say happened actually happened... or happed in the way they want us to believe it did. They aren't taking notes on the lies and embellishments they're telling. They keep contradicting themselves and each other.