#time to book an appointment with my psychiatrist. and Cry

[nyaacatboy]

me: hi disability services at my university, i would like two (2) accomodations that would make my life much easier, please and thank you

disability services: best i can do is academic coaching and telling you you have the wrong disability for the accomodations you've requested

[howi99]

A Knight second chance 13

Qrow: *cocking one eyebrow after watching the video of Jaune and Glynda's spar* What the hell was that, kid? Didn't you say you wanted to stay low profile?

Jaune: That was the plan at first, but i'm realizing that if i want everyone to survive, they need to step up their game. And i've got something to distract both Ozpin and Ironwood.

Qrow: *pensive* I see... *Point to Roman* Is this why that weasel sitting next to you, too?

Roman: *smirk* Qrow, nice seeing you again. How's your love life going?

Qrow: *smirk back* I dunno, how was it to be beaten by my niece?

Jaune: You know each other?

Roman: *leaning back in his chair* We went to Beacon together. *Sigh* His sister was a complete psychopath-

Qrow: *Grinning* You stole her sword during your first spare against her, of course she would beat the shit out of you.

Roman: *shrug* It was funny at the time.

Qrow: *chuckle* True that!

Jaune: ... *Shake his head, refocusing on why he gathered them here* In any case, Roman, you got the information we need against Lionheart?

Roman: *placing the documents on the table* All there. He wasn't the best at erasing his trace. *Sigh* 25 mission reclassified as low danger, given to inexperienced huntsmen teams.

Qrow: *picking up the document* For fuck sake... More than 200 huntsmen were killed, how did we not see that?

Roman: Mistral is the kingdom of crime. Falsifying documents was as easy as it gets for him.

Jaune: *looking at his scroll* Welp, i gotta go.

Qrow: *frown* Why's that?

Jaune: *sigh* Miss Glynda, psychiatrist extraordinaire, is asking for immediate attendance.

Qrow: *wince* That little bout with your friend is really biting your ass, huh?

Jaune: *groan* You have no idea. *Leave*

_ _ _

At the end of the appointment

Jaune: *perplexed* Something is weird happening with Penny?

Glynda: *picking up some papers* Miss Polendina has recently been suffering from multiple nightmares. *looking at the documents* Weirdly enough, she keeps saying something about there being "Nothing" and- *looking back at Jaune who is glowing faintly* Jaune?

Jaune: *mumbling* Nothing... Nothing happened...

Glynda: *worried* Jaune, what's wrong?

Jaune: *grabbing his head* What did i do wrong!? Why was i left behind?! Because i didn't follow a script?!? *The glow starts to intensify* I just wanted to get back! I- *feel Glynda sit next to him* ... *Hug her, crying*

_ _ _

Ozpin: *looking up with a smile, as Glynda entered his Office* Ah, Glynda, did- *sees her eyes, red from crying* ... *Sigh* Was it-

Glynda: *shaking her head* Worse. *Sitting on a chair* It was so much worse than anything we might have expected...

Ozpin: *worried* What-

Glynda: *trembling* Nothing happened...

Ozpin: *perplexed* What do you mean?

Glynda: ... Their was no knight to save the day, no cat to show you the way and no trees that could help you change for the better... A story that was never written... A destiny that can never be... *Shake her head* No wonder we never found that book, it never existed in the first place...

[never-not-ever]

A very long recap of my outpatient treatment since I left inpatient almost 3 months ago, but mainly just the month of October.

So when I discharged from inpatient I had to get a whole new team of outpatient providers. DMH referred me to PACT and the director of my area and one of the nurses came to meet with me at the hospital. They explained how I'd be set up with a psychiatrist, therapist, case manager and that there was 2 nurses and they'd be the ones to fill my meds weekly.

I asked the director if I found my own therapist could I see them and still be a part of PACT and she said yes as long as everyone was on the same page and maybe I'd see my PACT therapist less often. So in July I had an intake with a therapist from Ellie. It also was a good thing because the therapist they were assigning me at PACT wasn't returning until September. She used to be the director but left for private practice and was returning pier diem as a therapist.

Anyways so I think in total before I discharged I met with my Ellie therapist maybe 3 times? The day I discharged I had an appointment with her and I wanted it to be in person but she worked virtual that day. The good thing about her was she could see me twice a week and was flexible with in person or virtual but she preferred at least once a week in person.

The following week I met her in person and it was a weird experience. First off she appeared to be high. She also seemed a little spacey/distracted and I remember at the end of the session she randomly started talking about picture books/books with not a lot of words. It was just strange. I left the session feeling more hopeless and alone because there was no connection in person. It was just so different than the past virtual sessions.

I only saw her once a week while I was doing PHP. So it wasn't until the 3rd week in August that I started seeing her more often. I tried to make excuses to have sessions be virtual but I ultimately had to go in person. It started to get less weird. Maybe because I avoid eye contact during any type of appointment so I wasn't really looking at her. And it wasn't all the time that she appeared to be high. But it still happened from time to time. I'm not trying to judge her or anyone who gets high. Maybe it was like an anxiety med that made her look that way. But it just seemed like during those times she wasn't as focused and ... yea.

Some other things that started to become habits and make it odd, she kept confusing things we did or talked about like working on a handout from a specific workbook. I can't remember the other things but I just know it happened enough to become noticeable. Don't get me wrong I definitely had my moments at work where I confused something one of my kids told me with another kid but it was rare. And this sort of thing never happened with any staff from inpatient where in that environment the clientele is constantly changing.

So my new PACT therapist reached out to me in the end of September. I was sort of ghosting my team there at the time. One of the nurses showed up at my apartment and realized how bad things had gotten. I had stopped taking my meds and was self harming almost every day. I apologized for worrying everyone there, made an appointment with this new therapist and the rest of my team and got meds refilled.

I'm pretty sure I saw her either the 30th or the 1st. I don't even remember what I talked about during our first session but I know I was crying a lot and it was emotionally draining. I saw her again the following week and I brought up how I was worried about having two therapists and saying one thing to one and another thing to the other, and how a nurse when I was inpatient also mentioned this and said how it's tricky with bpd patients to have two therapists cause it can be easy to split. She said how she was actually wanting to talk about this too. She said she wasn't asking me to make a decision right away but that in the next few weeks we could talk more about this, that in the end if she was going to be my therapist it would have to be just her and that I should think about which therapist I think would best help me achieve my goals.

When I went back the next day to meet with my case manager it sort of became an impromptu team meeting with my therapist and one of the nurses because they were all worried about the severity of my self harm and me not caring if it ended deadly. They wanted me to go inpatient but said it was my decision and I told them they could call to see if there were any beds open. There wasn't, so we made a safety plan and I said I'd have my Ellie therapist call the next day when I saw her. My PACT therapist wanted my self harm to get medical attention to make sure there wasn't any infection. I hate going for stitches let alone after it's too late and it's just to get medical attention. I just feel like I'm wasting their time.

TW self harm

I never went to the ER and I also changed my mind and didn't have my Ellie therapist call for beds. But that Friday night I ended up self harming badly and brought myself to the ER the next morning to get stitches because it wouldn't stop bleeding. Fast forward a few days later and I met with my PACT therapist for the 3rd time. I told her what happened the previous week, me not going but then ended up having to go for a newer incident. This was last week. Which is going to get more daily descriptions. But I think I might make a seperate post since this is so god awfully long.

[seraphim-soulmate]

I needed to send another email to a government program and when checking if I'd attached the proper documents, started crying pretty hard because I didn't fully realize what I'd been sending these people. I fully read the documents that I've just been sending as proof of my disability and it tore me apart while building me back up.

One document is a testament to every treatment I tried, written by the pain clinic, with all the results of every treatment. Every consult I went to, another update about what I'd been trying. it's not absolutely everything either, bcs there were months that I didn't go to the pain clinic so they didn't get an update. I did SO much and fought SO hard to get myself help, to try to feel better. And it's all there, in that document. And I'd gaslight myself into thinking my problems weren't that bad, that I was being excessive or making things up. That I didn't have a right to articulate my needs and get them met, that I wasn't even allowed to have needs. I had to work, actually work on, in therapy, finding out my most basic needs. Then communicating them. Without dismissing myself or belittling myself or thinking I'm bad or my needs are bad if someone cannot meet them. Now I have to work on communicating them in a way that doesn't sound like an order, and communicating them early enough that I don't feel a need to articulate them like an order.

There's also of course my psychiatrist's letter which is hard-hitting too. The fact that I helped write the rough draft only makes it even more painful, but in a good way. The last sentence, after pages of my diagnoses and how they impact me, is "despite his many problems, he presents a beautiful resilience associated with a strong desire to improve his life conditions and to better integrate into society." When you've just read the medical report from the pain clinic, then the one from the psychiatrist, I don't know who wouldn't be shaking in tears after that tbh. Especially with the knowledge of where I was at in life, that I was caretaking for my grandmother the entire time that I was struggling myself, and that I was alone. I had friends, and I cannot be more grateful for those who stood by me, but not having family is hard. Knowing your parents don't understand and can't help is hard. I'm glad my dad tried, that he's gotten better at believing me again. He was the one who actually came to me with the idea that it might be fibro, but that was such a scary diagnosis at the time, for the fact that it was psychosomatic and for the fact that there was no relief, that it took me a bit to accept that he was trying to help. And then I looked into it more. And I went to the pain clinic. And I got so so so very lucky making an appointment, I got one for the following week because of a cancellation. I would have had to wait months otherwise.

Knowing I did that, by myself, alone. I researched conditions and symptoms and medications and treatments and therapies and the list goes on! I became a micro-expert in my field of disability, because you have to if you want to know what your doctors are doing to you and what you can do in response. Advocating for yourself as a disabled person and fighting with doctors is one of the most fucked up things I got from this experience. Some of them are absolutely repugnant.

I searched for all the medical professionals, I reached out to them, I booked the appointments, I reached out to get help going to the appointments so I would have a witness to how doctors treated me, I tried again and again and again, despite so many treatments failing or even worsening my pain. It's so weird to look back on that and think that I didn't just do nothing about my condition, that I was more active and engaged in my care than most disabled people are (or can be, no diss to disabled ppl who cannot get access to care).

I'm proud of that, of everything I've done, but it's also deeply fucking sad. I did that all alone. I didn't get a diagnosis when I was younger, I didn't have the support of my parents. My mom didn't book doctors appointments for me, she didn't take me to them, she didn't hold me when I was weeping with pain and grief and loss. She's proud of me, for everything I've accomplished, because she's now seen people with my conditions who struggle more than I do and she realizes now how excruciating it is for me to be here- to exist. Realistically I know it was easier for me to do it without her, she lives in the middle of nowhere and would have been more of a burden than help, but it's still hard. It's hard that I cannot count on my parents for this, to literally take care of me. Idk if it'll ever not be hard, if I'll ever forgive them for not listening to me all those years I cried out for help to be met with silence, or worse, accusations of lying. Of making it up for attention.

But I'm a success story. I'm living, breathing, being human, being loved and loving, and dealing with it all as it comes. I get to wake up another day and see how the sun reflects off the leaves, I get to see another sunset, I get to see the snow, I get to go to the park, I get to craft, to create, to play. I get to be part of other people's stories. I get to discover my own story.

[jungkookslipring]

Coffee and Sticky Buns🤎

AN: looks like I’m writing another ff based off of my nightmares 🤣👀😀 thank you @felixmainacc for helping me choose the characters!🥰

Summary: when a nightmare prevents you from waking up refreshed and ready to go, your two beautiful friends are there for you with comfort and sweet treats

Genre: hurt/comfort ❤️‍🩹

Pairings: Minho + Seungmin x reader 🐰 🐶

Relationship: platonic 🫶🏽

The second you woke up you were darn near ready to book yourself an appointment with a psychiatrist or something because these nightmares are starting to become a constant! You had awful sleep patterns when you were in college due to stress, but that was years ago and you have a job you love, so you’re extremely confused as to why you’re having these nightmares that feel too real. You’re most recent night involved some of your worst fears, and when you woke up, your heart was thumping against your chest at an alarming rate. You laid on your stomach, propped on your elbows, fisting your hair, trying to control your breathing. You had work so you had to get out of bed, even though your body was screaming at you to take it easy. When you trudged into the kitchen, the smell of coffee and warm cinnamon rolls filled your nose. You peaked around the corner and saw Seungmin and Lee Know wide awake, making coffee and spreading the icing on the delicious pastry. They turned around and smiled at you.

“Morning y/n,” Seungmin smiled before his face dropped a little seeing how you weren’t looking too good.

“Is everything okay?” He asked quietly, putting a hand on your shoulder. Lee Know turned away from the coffee pot after Seungmin’s comment.

“Are you sick?” Lee Know asked concerned. You shook your head slightly.

“Just…had a not so great nightmare but I’m fine,” you said brushing it off. It wasn’t a total lie, you weren’t crying this time, but your heart felt uneasy, and you were a little shaky. Seungmin could tell that despite saying you were fine, you weren’t. He kept his hand on your shoulder while pulling you into his arms. You buried your face into his shoulder and let out a sigh. You were struggling to breathe a little bit but Seungmin rubbed your back with an open palm, humming in your ear to calm you down. After a couple minutes you let go, remembering you still had to get ready for work. Before you could get dressed, the two encouraged you to sit down and eat, to take all the time you needed. You still had a while before you had to leave anyways. Lee Know brought you a decaf vanilla latte with cinnamon roll on a little plate. Once everything was on the table he pet your hair soothingly.

“Take your time okay love?” He said sweetly as you silently thanked him.

You took a bite, the warm, sweet and sticky bun filling your taste buds may have been the key to cure your anxiousness. The two joined you with their breakfast, and watched the sun rise through the window. After finishing your breakfast, you felt way better, and you were able to move on from the not so amazing morning because your best friends were there for you with sweet hugs and even sweeter treats.

[crypticspacecat]

Prisoner Chapter IV (Yan!Dr.KujoxBlack!Femreader)

Hey, it's been a while! I do apologize for taking so long, besides being busy with work, I've been dealing with mental health stuff. I also apologize for the short chapter. Also, lmk if you want part of the taglist!

Enjoy!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

TW: Mental health, suicide mention, and ableist language

@chaichaiiskai

You lay in bed, feeling like you just left an acupuncture appointment. The only bright side to dealing with needles was that you got to eat lunch right after. Despite being in your room most of the day, you were brought some books to curb boredom. Your personal favorite out of the collection is, “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. You hear another knock at the door. Nurse Lynn walks in with a bag full of clothing and a pair of shoes.

“They just finished checking everything. They only kept your other pair of shoes because they have laces.” She mentions while placing the bag on your bed. You thank her as she leaves to tend to another patient. You sort out the clothes, wondering which one to wear today. You find your favorite simple blue shirt with Sonic the Hedgehog printed in the middle. Alongside, you pick out some plain black sweatpants and some slippers. Something about having your own clothes makes you a little more comfortable. You quickly grab your toiletries to hop in the shower.

10 Years Ago…

As a graduate student, one of the requirements for Jotaro’s degree was to shadow more experienced psychiatrists. For one of the psychiatrists, he had to observe an appointment involving a 13-year-old girl. Walking into the office, he couldn’t help but notice the cramped space. The room felt incredibly tiny but the girl in front of him looked even smaller. Well, at least compared to the 6’5 30-year-old. 

“Ok, Ms. (L/N), right? I am Dr. Lewenski and I have a medical student observing us today if that’s alright with you.” He says, not even looking into the young girl’s eyes. Something that Jotaro definitely noticed and it annoyed him. The young girl only nodded, afraid to make eye contact with either man. The doctor proceeds to log into his laptop to prepare for the interview.

“What brings you in today?”

“I was referred to you by the local hospital.”

“Ah yes, I see the file they sent over. You were admitted to St. Mary’s for a suicide attempt via overdose. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir.” The young girl mumbles with her arms crossed. The silent giant can’t help but notice the doctor’s lack of life when talking. He doesn’t want to be there.

“Well, how have things been so far?”

“I don’t think the medicine is helping, I still feel bad and I’ve been crying a lot. Even going to school has been hard because of my classmates calling me a ‘psycho’” She confesses, on the verge of tears. Unfortunately, the doctor couldn’t care less and wanted this appointment over with.

“Since you were only put on the medication a week ago, I would give it more time. With those kinds of medications, it gets worse before it gets better. I’ll see you again in a month.” The doctor deadpans before giving her a paper with her information printed out. Despite her dejected appearance, she slowly nods and abruptly leaves the room.

Jotaro finds himself extremely irritated. Despite her records being right in front of him, the neglectful doctor couldn’t be bothered to actually check on her current state.

“He didn’t even make eye contact…” He whispers to himself in disgust. He honestly felt for the young girl, being so young with a disease you can’t easily get rid of like the common cold. The fact that the doctor was so unengaged was baffling and almost infuriating.

When Dr. Lewenski left for lunch, Jotaro used his laptop that he conveniently left behind to find out more information about the young girl. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t certainly such crass statements from her mother.

‘So you’re telling me she’s crazy?’

‘That girl has always been troublesome…’

‘Can she be fixed?’

Jotaro almost slammed the laptop shut in fury but he knows he has to keep going. If no one is going to help this girl, he will…

You leave the shower, feeling refreshed and not as sluggish. While changing into your clothes, you notice the sun going down. Despite the window bars, you can still appreciate its beauty. You hear a soft knock before seeing one of the nurses walk in.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Kujo wants to see you before dinnertime. When you’re finished I’ll be waiting outside.” The nurse explains. You nod in understanding and put on your slippers. You hope to God you won’t be here for very long.

[thebestworstidea]

I called my psychiatrist's office this morning and made an appointment, because I realized I hadn't booked one after the last one and we're supposed to check in every few months.

Does this mean I'm a functional adult?

not in the least, I'm miserable my self worth is in the toilet, I'm spending a lot of time on the Sword Coast, and I am so tired I regularly start crying about it. The people in my life need help I can't give and it burns. Yesterday I got so dizzy and head weird I was lurching when I tried to walk, and I couldn't drive because my head was swimmy and my brain kept telling me to drive the car directly into things. (in my head I was the only one in the car, this was not the case, and of course, I'm very good at saying 'yeah not doing that')

But I did it anyway. Because it needed to be done. Later I'm going to have to clear the dining room table to cut a blanket, because I absolutely forgot I still had listings up on Etsy and I'll do it but that won't change any of my problems.

[strigital]

hey there, handsome beans. how are y'all?

bet y'all were wondering where tf Meg's gone again. to make long and complicated story short: a few physical illnesses followed by a severe mental crysis followed by more sickness followed by more mental problems. there was, among other things, an autistic breakdown which as we know doesn't go away easily. i will be severely honest with you guys. i do not know how i am still alive, given how horribly suicidal some of these days are. i suppose having pets does make a difference - no matter how selfish the suicidal ideation is it never manages to overpower the motherly need to love and protect these small creatures that so wholly depend on you not just for food, water and shelter, but for companionship as well… Belle, despite having only been out of shelter for like three moths, has been working her little butt off trying her damnest to convince me that i am needed: from following me everywhere like a shadow to crying like a child whenever there's a closed door between us… anyways, what was i talking about? ah yes… the horrific state both my mind a body ended up in. i honestly have no idea where this all came from. it was like one day it was sunny and calm and the next morning i woke up in the aftermath of a severe hurricane, ruin and corpses all around me. perhaps it was all brewing for a long time and i simply failed to notice the telltale signs. after all, there's no smoke without fire. there must've been a trigger. a final drop, a straw that broke the camel's back. sometimes it felt like a horror film, full of terrible thoughts and feelings that paralise you in a fetal position in the corner of your bed and keep you there hostage for days on end. some other days there would be flashes of unexplainable happiness that lasted barely a few hours and left you feeling panicked. most days there would be this prevailing feeling of numbness that wouldn't allow you to eat, let alone take care of daily chores. i've been having severe nightmares. i've plunged my body into a state of starvation. i've turned my home into a horror house of dirt and clutter. i'm failing behind in college and my boss at work is extremely unhappy with my productivity. i've lost ability to feel time: days muddle together, all i ever feel is a desire to sleep all the fucking time.

worst of all is that i cut contact with my closest people, among them - my dearly beloved husband, who still fights cancer on the other side of the planet, wondering where his useless wife gone. i've decided that it would be better for all of them, especially my hubby, to not see me in this condition. that the best i can do for them is to remove myself from their already busy lives and free them from any heartache i may cause, me being out of my mind and all. i did, however, used the very last of my strenght to reach out, to try and call for help… the suicide prevention line was a fucking joke that left me even more desperate than i was before i contacted them. i did, however, join a local autistic group on facebook and lurked there quietly, absorbing their experiences and sifting through for any sliver of hope. and i foud it. a doctor, who may just be the only specialist on adult autism in this entire country. getting an appointment with her was a small war in of itself. and she will cost me a lot of money… but as of right now i feel like she is the only person who can pull me off of the edge, before i tumble over and plummet into the abbyss. 29th of november i will sit my ass on a train and ride to another city to meet her. i pray to whatever will listen that she will take me seriously because neither my current psychiatrist nor my psychologist do. anyone i tried talking to these past two months on the matter of my crisis never offered me any help, only useless advice like "you should talk to a priest" or "have you tried reading a self-help book?". i'm drowning over here, karen, a priest and a book will only be of use during my funeral… the meds have become useless, even when i double or triple dosage.

most of all my heart aches for my husband. he tried calling me a few times yet i was too broken and lost in the dark to even have the courage to call back. i know i have no right to scream for help to a person who had been at war with a third stage cancer for almost three long difficult years. but i am teethering on the edge. i feel like that tiny hedghehog from an old soviet cartoon - lost in a thick fog, calling out for someone, anyone, looking for a way out. and the fact that no one understands or tries to understand hurts even more. the only one's who do are those anonymous people on facebook, fighting similar battles to mine. and when i read a letter from an anonymous mom who, like me, reached her breaking point and cut off any contact with her family in preparation for a final act and she only writes on facebook to find someone, anyone, to tell her what she truly needs and wants to hear in order to swerve off of this path of self-destruction i cannot help but feel an odd likeness to hope. i am not alone. but these people, those like me, simply do not exist within an arm's reach… god almighty, i so so hope the doctor will fix me. i am so tired waking up everyday with a desperate desire to die and walking all day with an invisible noose on my neck which only grows tighter every day.

i will go now and try to record a longwinded voice message for my husband… again. i will try my bestest to apologise, to try to explain, to ask for help. but how do you even begin to explain that your life so suddenly, so abruptly and seemingly our of nowhere became an open bleeding rotten sore, that only grows everyday, infecting more and more of your soul? i don't know. i never had this kind of crisis before in my life and, as if by some cruel divine joke, right now i have no family, no friends to turn to, beside my cat and my dog.

i will not ask of you to pray for me nor wish me luck. y'all have your own busy, messy lives. i only ask that you take care of yourself and your loved ones, so nothing like that ever happens to you or them. trust me when i say that no one will believe you, because this wound is invisible. they will tell you to feel grateful for having two arms and two legs and a roof over your head. meanwhile you will slowly rot away until one day they'll gasp: "how did this happen? they were such a happy person, nothing was wrong in their lives!" that's so fucking unfair, but it is the world we live in. and i know that oversharing like this on the internet is an incredibly stupid thing to do, but… i don't know. maybe another person with similar hardships in their life will read this and realise that they are not the black sheep of the human species and that shit like that happens to others too. i know this thought brings some very mild comfort to me, so maybe it will also brings some to them.

so stay strong, my beans. god knows i'm trying to. love you all and, hopefully, see you in the near future again with memes and stuff,

-- Meg K.

[h0ll0w3d0ut]

i just had the most traumatising fucking phone call with my psychiatrist. you’d think after two years she’d realise how fucked up i am but no, she continues to pressure me into doing shit i’m physically not capable of.

i was sobbing on the phone and it just got to the point where she was telling me all the stuff she wants me to promise to do, and i just kept saying yes so the appointment could end. we came up with a “plan” to book the next few appointments, i told her that was all good and now i’m going to cancel every single one of them because oh my god i physically cannot see her again.

why does this keep happening? i tried for over a year to get in with her, to get help, which is something i’m so fucking bad at. and now i just feel so much worse. and i have to start all over again with someone new. funny thing is, this isn’t even the first time a mental health professional has made me cry in a session and i never went back to them again.

if it wasn’t for my absolute angel of a GP i’d literally be in the ground. she is so kind, she helped me through the worst of it and she fills my scripts with no questions. and my therapist, who doesn’t push any treatment plans on me, who just lets me vent and talks to me like a fucking PERSON.

i find it so hard to ask for help, and when i do, it does the opposite. i’m just so tired.

[lunarlesbeing]

Ughhhh so way back at the end of last year I went for a regular check in with my psychiatrist and she was concerned about my heart rate being really rapid so that office basically just set me up the same day with the first regular doctor they could find that had an opening, I ended up wearing a heart rate monitor for a week and it confirmed that I have frequent racing heart but it’s otherwise normal rhythm. She changed me to a different medication (both the old and new meds are non-stimulant options for ADHD) to see if it was a side effect from the other one and nothing changed so she’s told me the last few times I’ve seen her that I should schedule a follow up just to check in on it again. (I’m hoping once I do I can get the clear to go back on the other med because it worked better and I really don’t think it was ever a factor with my heart tbh, I'm just anxious as fuck and also have hEDS/dysautonomia)

I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been super overwhelmed just in general (and also the new med doesn't do as much for executive dysfunction which doesn't help) but finally went to schedule something today. I actually was thinking of just seeing the same doctor as last time for the sake of continuity (and I don't normally like male doctors but he was actually pretty chill) but could only find him currently listed for a center a few towns over (my local hospital has a bunch of connected offices and it’s one of them but further than I was hoping to drive if I can avoid it) so I figured I’d try first with the doctor I’ve seen for other things in the past. But when I called they said she was booked up and I was like “yeah that’s fine I haven’t seen her in awhile” and agreed to see someone else with more availability.

But then when they asked what the appointment was for they were apparently super confused by my explanation (probably because of how much time has passed tbh) and ended up putting me on hold while they tried to figure it out and then said they’d call me back when they got more details from my psychiatrist and the other doctor I saw (who apparently might actually be practicing at the main center but just wasn’t listed there? Which would make things easier but it wasn’t really clear) about what they actually wanted me to do but I never heard back from them before the end of the day so…hopefully they call me back tomorrow? Ugh it sucks though, I get so much phone anxiety even under the best of circumstances so this is literally like my nightmare scenario, I had to have a stress cry about it once I got off even though the receptionist was super nice the whole time

[hekkoto]

I bleed gayness. Hand me your tits yo darklings, I have BIG UPDATE! I had my 2nd of ADHD tests and I already have diagnosis. So yeah, I have it ;p who would expect this >XD I mean, doctor told me to book psychiatrist appointment right after it ;p Im trying but right now there are no free spots for my doctor but I hope there will be some soon cause I wanna try meds for ADHD. Is that something that could change my life? We will see soon~ today I was feeling waaaaaay better, I wanna thank a lot everyone who listened to me crying that life hurts, I cant express how happy I am that I got a lot of love and support when I badly needed it. Really, you saved my life <3 I love ya pumpkins <3 I had some throwback of ultra depressivo when I had to think and talk about my childhood but I was able to overcame it. I even didnt binge ate at all!And I cleaned kitchen :D omg, say you are proud of me >XD I know it sounds silly but for me its really big thing that I actually did anything ;p I have a lot of energy and motivation for art and hopefully I will be able to drown in creating arts now <3 I feel like I badly need some super artsy time <3 wanna support my evil dark empire? Im accepting souls on Patreon and Ko-fi! -> Hekkoto Huge thanks to all of my Patrons and people who donate <3

[adulting-from-scratch]

Independence terrifies me.

I went from being coddled to having to think about everything.

The idea of being an adult is scary.

So last year, I was living at the place that I'd called home. It wasn't just home. When I was younger it was a sanctuary, a place that was safer than home.

I'd lived there full-time since my second semester of my freshman year in high school.

I didn't have any prospects, which I'm ashamed to admit. I got up, ate, went on my phone, and went back to my room. Sometimes played video games. I'd stopped reading, despite specific books and comics previously being some of my greatest loves.

I'd been out of therapy for three years, I'd just barely started seeing a psychiatrist again. And the day that I called and had an over the phone consultation with a DBT therapist, my house burned down.

I'd tried working two jobs in the past, gotten fired from both. One was a little under a month.

I kept saying, "I'll look, I'll apply."

Or, "I'll look at going back to school."

I did...on occasion. Not as often as I said I did, nowhere near as often as I said I would.

I was severely depressed. I didn't shower or brush my teeth as much as I should have, the latter led to my needing my top four front teeth crowned, courtesy of my grandparents.

Last week, I was supposed to walk down to catch the bus. I live in a semi-rural area, and it

A few weeks ago, I broke down crying in therapy as I voiced aloud the rude awakening that had hit me.

"All this shit I have to figure out and think about and they all cost money!"

This was after my grandfather told me at some point he'd expect me to pay for my therapy. He didn't say when, just at some point.

To me, this was a looming threat. I've made so much progress since being back in therapy, and that's with it being paid for and getting a ride there. That progress looks like not having outbursts, doing laundry, signing back up for school. Not exactly impressive. But worth acknowledging.

It took me time to work up the courage to make a psychiatrist appointment last week, due to being off my meds for a few months. Everything takes conscious effort.

The first time I had to seriously think about money. I'm not struggling right now, I'm living with my mother. But I don't know what the future holds.

In my mind I'm just one or two more failures away from winding up dying on the street. Or being a leech on my family for the rest of my life.

One is dramatic, both are pathetic. And a bit delusional. Plenty of people are educated and harder working than me and still wind up out there.

I'm back in school, taking two classes, not working, because I doubt I'd be able to handle more than that.

I'm still trying to figure out a study program. I

Today, half of me wishes so badly to go back to living there. Having all my needs met, binging whenever I want. Not having to think about much.

But I not only wasn't productive, I wasn't really happy. I was filling the void.

I didn't want to end my life, I just didn't have a life.

But it was easier to say I'd become an adult later.

My grandmother still saw me as her kid, so it was okay, right? But she's not here to enable me.

I was comfortable. But not okay.

Do I want sympathy? Maybe. But in comparison to so many other people, I'm not sure my struggles are worth complaining about.

Life is hard as fuck, and it feels like it's only going to get harder, but I've been far too sheltered, and it hasn't done me many favors.

Independence terrifies me because I'd prefer to have someone else tell me what I have to do.

I feel like I need a lot of handholding.

But the only hand to hold is my own.

That's not quite true, I have my basic needs met. I have hands to hold, family and friends. I just don't have someone constantly hugging me.

But that's what I'm used to. So the adjustment is rough, to say the least.

It's such a stark difference, and my mind is already a bit different, that I have to remind myself feeling and fact are different.

[manicpixieirl]

september 30, 2023

What to do when your therapist cancels on you at a time where you really needed her:

Cry

Hope your therapist is okay because they haven’t canceled once in 3 and a half years

Send a voice message to your friend about how disappointed you are that they had to cancel (be excruciatingly honest about how disappointed you are, it will help)

Watch Teen Mom to remind you that things could be worse

Eat a full meal, especially if you typically forget to eat when you are overwhelmed

Read a book to put your brain in a different universe

Do not smoke weed to deal with your disappointment

In that order.

My therapist and I have been working together for almost four years. I started having massive panic attacks at the start of COVID due to the amount of time I had to spend alone, that’s why I started seeing her. I didn’t tell her I had a diagnosis of bipolar disorder until our third or fourth session, to which she answered, “Oh honey, I know.” I wanted to learn how to cope with feelings of loneliness and isolation, but throughout our time together I have learned how to cope with my symptoms of bipolar, as well. We used to meet once a week; now we meet monthly.

I care for her deeply and I like to think she cares for me, too. She’s never canceled a session before and today I am worried for her. I am also worried because I really needed today’s session and now I don’t know what to do.

So I cried, wished her well, sent a voice message to my best friend, watched the Teen Mom season 7 reunion, ate a good meal, and put my nose in a book, and intentionally didn’t smoke away my feelings. I feel better, but there are still some things I wish I could have talked to her about today. Instead I am stuck with myself and I don’t have a PHD. Although I have a lot of empathy for others, I have very little for myself.

I don’t know what is going on or why, but I have been pretty low for the past couple of weeks. I am feeling disenchanted again. I have been white-knuckling it through the past 15 days, waiting patiently for this appointment.

When she called me to cancel, I felt deflated, and I spiraled. I don’t want to have to white-knuckle life until she can reschedule.

When I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building after listening to her voicemail letting me know she needed to cancel, I noticed a notification from CO-STAR on my phone.

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

I called my partner and when he asked if I was okay, I lied to him through my tears. “Yes, I’m fine,” I said, smiling and crying at the same time.

He took a deep breath and said, “You know, it is okay to not be okay right now.” He was on a work trip and I didn’t want him to worry, but I think he worries more when he knows that I’m lying.

So instead I said, “I’m okay with not being okay.”

I think maybe I needed her to cancel today. Maybe I needed to learn how to navigate these feelings of discomfort on my own. Maybe I needed to learn that it’s okay to feel lonely sometimes.

This afternoon I felt lonely. Tonight I feel less lonely. Maybe being stuck with myself isn’t such a bad place to be.

I wouldn’t be where I am today without the help of my therapist. I have a dedicated team of professionals that help me navigate my co-occurring Bipolar and Seizure Disorders. I have a great neurologist, psychiatrist, and psychologist; but my psychologist is my favorite. Once a month, she holds up a mirror and allows me to see who I am, both in good and in bad light.

This afternoon, I had to hold up that mirror on my own.

Here’s what I saw:

I was able to navigate a change in routine.

I was able to articulate my disappointment and move forward from that place.

I was able to admit to myself that it is okay to not be okay.

This afternoon, I was not okay. After taking some time to myself, I held up the mirror and realized that although I was not okay in the moment, I would be okay eventually.

I feel better now that I took the time I needed to read and be and cope with this feeling of isolation, but now my empathy is taking over and I really hope that she is okay. And if she isn’t okay, I hope she knows that it’s okay to not be okay.

[yamimichi]

I'm sick of seeing Trump's name and face. I wish he'd just disappear. But we are living in extraordinary times. Hopefully when this is all over he'll just be some name in the history books.

I'm sick of the Republicans crying about Hunter Biden and his damn laptop.

I'm going through a very dark time mentally and this shit doesn't help.

There are new stressors in my life. Not my usual anxiety/stress. These are coming from outside sources and are beyond my control. I'm scared to death of these things. I'm having minor freak-outs quite frequently. Like I said, I can't do anything about these things. All I can do is keep taking my meds and talk to my therapist and psychiatrist.

These things have me irrationally scared.

And none of this shit with the Cheeto-Faced Shitgibbon is helping. I'm scared. I'm scared that... what if something goes wrong? What if he does get re-elected? Or what if some other republican gets elected and pardons him? I don't know what that will mean for me and my family.

I've been having palpitations quite frequently.

I missed my appointment with my cardiologist yesterday. I thought it was today.

My husband and son don't know how to help me.

. . .

Sorry for rambling.

[diaryoftheunidropout]

DAY 50

Very brief message because it's 3:30AM and all I want is to SLEEP.

I made the reckless decision to brutally go off antidepressants completely just so I can experience the full syptoms of whatever mental illness(es) I have so I can get a better and hopefully more accurate diagnosis and be take more seriously next time I see a psychiatrist.

Three days ago I felt EXTREMELY anxious for asbolutely no reason at all. I wanted to go to the restaurant, I went, and almost as soon as I stepped foot out of my flat, I got anxious. Over nothing. I just FELT anxious. And I was also super irritated by everything. That was the case yesterday too, and a little bit today as well, but it really is less and less.

These past two days I've been feeling super motivated and happy. I can get lots of stuff done and I want to get lots of stuff done. I believe in crazy shit like "I'm going to write a book and have it published" or "I'm going to study 3D animation" or "I'm going to become a tattoo artist". And to think 3 days ago I just thought I was going to do none of that and just work whatever job I'd be given...?

Anyway, I know this is probably very temporary and a relapse is probably going to kick in soon, hopefully in a week or two only, but it's probably more a matter of a couple of days.

I got my Heartstopper tattoo and I'm so so happy about it. I also love my tattoo artist. What I see in her is like... a 15 year older version of myself? We happen to have quite a lot in common except she is under medication that really treats her illness well and therefore she is pretty stable and enjoys her daily life, and that just gives me hope for my own future.

Anyway, I'll try to keep this blog updated more regularly, especially because I wanna keep track of how my mental state evolves, especially since I've had a hard time focusing and remembering anything lately, and also because whenever I feel bad I get sort of "black outs" and forget :')

See you soon hopefully

xx

Update:

I posted the first part at around 3/4AM so in order to update I must do it on the same post.

Around 2AM I felt peaceful and like I was about to fall asleep but I made the very stupid decision to reply to my grandma's messages knowing it was going to take me 2 hours. So at around 4/5AM, when I finally could go to bed, I felt super anxious, I felt like someone was in the room watching like lowkey paranoid. I think I even woke up in the middle of the night hearing someone's breath but honestly it was probably just mine obviously. I think I fell back asleep and woke up again a little before 12PM.

Then I knew I really had to finish preparing my trip to England which is just under two weeks away from now but it made me so fucking anxious. I still managed and ended up taking a lot of pleasure in it! I was pretty much laughing hysterically at everything.

Then I got up to get prepared because I'm getting my 2nd booster against Covid, which I was totally chill about until I left the house and almost had a full blown crisis with tears and anxiety, which I've been trying to fight for the past hour. It's only 10 mins til my appointment. I'm not scared of the shot in itself, I'm just too unstable. I'm not even sure the vaccine in itself is the real cause of my mental anguish, I think it's mostly because I promised myself after this shot I would stop wearing my mask, which should be liberating but instead makes me feel miserable.

We're the 21st of April and it's day 3 (I think) with no medication at all. I refrain from taking anything, not even a bit of medication against anxiety.

At some point I tried to remember what I did yesterday and just couldn't for about a minute. I still feel dizzy when I walk most of the time. When I say or think about the words "death" I just wanna cry. I wish I could die to end the suffering right as I'm writing this but when I think of dying I just get traumatizing flashbacks from my dad's death.

I'm trying to sit down somewhere and collect myself because I really must not cry in front of some poor strangers working at the pharmacy. They haven't done anything to deserve to see me like this.

I am so in pain right now. I wish a doctor would listen and try to help.

[onemattwolf]

This stress is going to kill me I swear. I also know it's definitely not just what's up with Chris.

My sleep has been super off and I overbooked things this week. I'm already exhausted and it's only tuesday.

Due to all my extra anxiety, I can only sleep right now by mixing my trazedone with a big dose of melatonin. But something about the combination is Really fucking with me and I know I need to stop. I can usually just take trazedone alone, but that last couple times I tried it wasn't actually making me fall asleep.

I *also* know it's not just the anxiety keeping me up. When I was sick I was overtaking night-time cold meds to help me fall asleep. and even when I was mainly feeling better, I kept taking them because they were there, and they helped me fall asleep.

But uh. Def developed a bit of a dependency because the amount of times I'm even just *thinking* about them throughout the day is a bit scary. I didn't know people could genuinely get addicted to cold meds?? Is this normal?? So I've cut myself off cold turkey from all of them just so I can nip this in the bud.

But, meanwhile, my sleep is janky and it's making my anxiety skyrocket.

All I want to do right now is cry in bed in the fetal position. But I can't. because I A. don't want to admit how bad I'm taking everything right now, and B. I got shit to do today. Shit that I know will help me if I so them.

There's this side of me that wants to tell Chris that I think we need to chill things right out until I can see my psychiatrist next so I can restart anti-anxiety meds. I had to cancel my last appointment because I was sick, and she couldn't rebook until March. Which *sucks* cus I ain't doing so hot rn. I just need to breath through it and find other calming things to do. I still got money left from what OSAP erroneously gave me, so I'm gonna book a massage.

And, honestly, I know telling Chris to hangtight until I see my psychiatrist really isn't the right call. I need to be upfront with him even though it makes me feel ashamed.

Just gotta breathe

I wish I had a blueprint or something for how I'm supposed to go about being someone's bf.

I don't have any scripts or firm knowledge cus it just didn't seem to be in my future.

I don't know what I'm allowed to ask for, and what I'm expected to give.

Because I don't know, I'm just putting my full pussy in this (so to speak), doing what I want to be doing and what feels good, and hoping it's accepted and appreciated.

I wish he'd give me more verbal indicators or reassure that I'm on the right track. He's definitely more of a physical touch sorta person. I am too, but I also really need verbal stuff to accompany that, or I'm not really clueing into if I'm on the right track.

He's also not much of a texter. Which is a bit hard for me considering A. The fact that Tom texted so much got me in the habit of hearing from someone asap, even though that wasn't something I was use to before, and B. I express myself a lot better in writing, so if there's something I really want him to know and I feel like it's important to be clear, I write something to him. He doesn't seem to mind the long messages, but he either doesn't reply to them, or, he addresses them very vaguely because I know he much prefers to have these convos in person.

I'm doing my best to go over my side of things, that I don't mind if he takes awhile, and that some of the stuff I don't mind if he doesn't reply to because usually I just think of something I want to share with him and I send it quickly because I know I have a tendency to forget.

I just get the sense that he's someone who really *wants* to give the same energy back, but because that's not really his thing/he's very busy, he keeps waiting until a time he feels like he can deliver. But then he forgets, and if I send him something else later, he just replies to that one because he feels guilty he didn't reply to the more emotionally heavy message.

And I can't say that I'm not hurt. I know he likes me, but I wish he was putting a bit more effort into matching my communication style (or at least helping me develop a middle ground) instead of just expecting me to meet him where he's at cus it's more comfy for him. This alternative is very uncomfy for me. and ya, I know that's me and it's my job to deal with it.

But I feel like I'm allowed to ask for some accommodation here, yknow? And, I know he'll be responsive if I ask for that directly, and trust me, I'm good at direct communication. My problem is that I know he wouldn't like if I try to get him to discuss this virtually. Meaning, I gotta wait til we can see eachother in person. which may take awhile considering his work schedule.

So I'm just stressing in the meanwhile. With that, though, that's absolutely my job to de-stress myself. I can do that. If i keep going at this pace of anxiety, I'm just going go bawl my eyes out when we actually do talk about this, because I would've been holding on to too much stress til then.

I don't like placing my upset-ness on someone else, esp when my emotions are my responsibility and it's really not his fault. And, knowing him, he'd feel really sad in reaction and I don't want to make him sad.

So I gotta calm myself down enough, at least til he gets back to me about when he can see me next.