#tw therapy

[starving-marauder-lover]

Every time I tell my therapist too much I use this fun tactic called….LYING

[whump-mania]

Hear me out:

Evil therapist.

Whumpee gets out of whatever situation they’re in with Whumper and goes to therapy, turns out their therapist is some sort of demon/being that feeds off of fear and trauma

So they just keep milking the information out of Whumpee about how they were hurt, all under the guise that it’s to help them but really it’s so they can feed

[violetmuses]

Butterfly - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹 🦋

Title: Butterfly - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹🦋

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Armando goes to therapy for the first time. 🏷 @deja-r

=====

2024

“If sessions don't work out, just let me know, all right?” Guiding the classic Porsche, Detective Mike Lowrey stood as Armando's biological father.

“Fair enough.” Armando Aretas nodded before taking an opportunity with something new.

Who knows what could happen next?

_____

Before everything kicked off, Armando observed this lobby.

Aretas?

Very few people waited here, but Armando stood when the receptionist called his name.

His footsteps then moved down this hallway and you greeted Aretas. while shaking hands.

“Welcome, Armando. Come in.” You showed enough kindness, but remained professional.

“Hello.” Offering slightly accented English, Aretas knew so much better than to cut responses with attitude. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let's get started.” You prepared to help another client.

_______

“What are you looking for?” You offered this gentle yet important question.

“Peace.” Armando had clipped most answers throughout.

“It's a journey.” You told the truth. “Nothing happens overnight.”

“I know, but…” Aretas struggled to express himself.

“Take your time.” You still relayed notes while sitting across from him.

“It's not easy here.” Armando finally revealed more.

“Does the police department bring issues?” You're aware of his background, criminal history and all.

“I'm used to fighting, but silence always bothers me.” Aretas said. “I've been waiting for something else to happen.”

“What helps you feel better during certain moments?” You questioned him again.

“I don't even know what to say. There's no time to slow down here.” Armando continued offering his perspective.

"When leaving, help yourself out today. No work or stressful situations.” You wanted to improve his feelings at the moment. “Do something that makes you happy, however small.”

“Okay.” For the first time this afternoon, Armando tried to grin. “That's not too bad.”

“All right. Thank you for trying.” You gathered essentials to leave and bid farewell

Armando didn't even realize that so much time passed with you.

“Thank you.” Aretas offered gratitude in return and shook your hand before leaving.

Outside waiting for Mike's Porsche, Armando veiled another smile.

Life didn't feel cold anymore.

[entropymoths]

Sharp Edges: Questions for the Muse TW: Angst, Introspection, Dark themes, Depression

What was the last thing you catastrophically fucked up?

Do you wish you had more friends?

How do you feel about the friends you have?

What don't you trust yourself with?

What do you still want to learn? Will you?

What traits have you inherited from others? How do you feel about them?

Do you play with your phone during one-on-one social situations?

How susceptible are you to external validation/judgment/criticism?

When were you last intentionally provocative?

Are you waiting to be saved?

How do you feel about your current job or state of unemployment?

Do you remind yourself to step back and think objectively?

What are you afraid of losing?

Do you avoid raising hurt feelings for fear of rejection?

How do you process anger?

Do you justify occasional asshole behaviour by being unobjectionable for the majority of the time?

What have you done unto others that would upset you if it were done unto you?

Do you rant? Have you asked your sounding board/s how they feel about that?

Are you lonely?

Describe an idyllic afternoon you haven't experienced.

How do you feel about birthdays?

Have you settled for survival?

What responsibilities have you run away from?

Are you letting someone down? If yes, what will it take for that to change?

What are your coping methods?

What are your least apparent dysfunctional behaviours?

How do you feel about the place you live?

Do you lie about your political beliefs?

Is saying 'No' to someone in earnest need something you can do?

Describe your rock bottom.

What are some of the things you wish people would do for you?

Are you pretending any aspects of your personality?

How do you react to conflict? How do you feel about that?

What was the last thing you lost sleep over?

What are you taking for granted?

Are you emotionally manipulative? Is it conscious?

How do you feel about the lies you've told?

What old damage are you still carrying?

What won't you let go of?

Have you really forgiven the people who wronged you?

Is there anyone in your life you can confidently say understands you?

If you could write an anonymous message on a billboard, what would it say?

What do you pay lip service to?

How difficult is it to perceive yourself fully?

Are you trying to be better? Who for?

What are you ashamed of?

What is your biggest crutch?

What do you hide from others?

What would you start over, if you could?

Just how destructive is your negative self-talk?

What do you fantasize about?

What traits do you detest in others?

When are you most envious?

When are you most resentful?

What do you believe is your biggest failure?

Describe the person you wish you were.

Do you idealise running away?

What are your character faults? Do you enjoy any of them?

Describe a dream you remember.

Describe a nightmare you remember.

What aspirations or pastimes have you given up? Why?

What do you most fear someone saying to you?

Do you talk about people behind their back?

Can you comfortably be alone?

What is something you wish you had said to someone?

What are some of the lies you tell yourself?

What fears are you avoiding?

Have you ever ghosted someone?

What makes you uncomfortable?

What do you want? Is there a reason it can't be yours?

What makes you feel trapped?

What aren't you doing for fear of repercussions?

[snug-as-bugalugs-in-rugalugs]

I only included options that I thought had some chance of winning, regardless of the frequency of their appearance on the show. Obviously there are plenty of good not-included candidates though, so if you have other opinions, that's what the other option/reblogs are for :)

[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

(bonus chapter )

_____________

Another apology is needed I guess, as I made a promise but I didn't kept it, kinda. In my defence, I had to take care of a few things in real life (my dog wasn't feeling well) and online as I manage an edit account on TikTok as well .

But anyway, like I said before, this is a bonus chapter, something I wanted to write that adds some depth to the story (I rewatched the series as well to take some inspiration for this). It's not really necessary to read it, since it's Bucky and Doctor Raynor talking, but it's worthy :)

_____________

This fic is cross-posted on wattpad and Ao3

Nobody's Soldier playlist on Spotify

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, Bucky being insecure and emotional, trauma, light mention of past trauma, therapy session, denial, just Bucky and his therapist talking, limerence, resolving past issues, acceptance, worthy of love and affection, guilt, winter soldier mentioned.

(chapter is roughly 2k long, so it's a short one)

chapter 1 is here

chapter 2 is here

_____________

Bonus - a therapy session with Doctor Raynor

As each day passed, Bucky grew increasingly frustrated by the lack of response from you. He had been doing better when he was able to talk to you, but now? Now it was bad all over again, worse even.

He even started sleeping on the floor again, just like he used to, instead of the bed. His mind was once again filled with memories and images that he certainly didn’t wish to remember. At least not now.

However, he kept his promise and began to work even harder in therapy, both with Doctor Raynor and in the support group he attended.

He longed to reach out to you, to hear your voice or read your words, but he had promised you that he would wait.

And after long, dreadful months of waiting, he finally had one of his last therapy sessions about what happened.

He sat in the chair across from her, frustration and impatience evident on his face. Doctor Raynor observed him silently for a few moments before finally speaking up.

“You look… irritated, James,” she commented, her tone deadpan as always.

Bucky just scowled at her observation.

“You could say that…” he muttered, his voice low and laced with a hint of annoyance.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at his response.

“Any particular reason for that irritation?” she asked, her tone calm, with a touch of curiosity.

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh at that.

“I just… I haven’t heard from her in over a month..” he admitted, his voice betraying his true feelings.

Doctor Raynor tilted her head slightly, studying his expression.

“Ah, I see…the limerence” she replied, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms on her chest as she regarded him with a calmness that he found rather frustrating.

Bucky’s scowl deepened as he acknowledged the truth again.

“Yeah… that’s what you called it, right…?” he said, the word still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

The doctor nodded, her expression still impassive.

“Yes, as I told you it’s a term used to describe an intense, obsessive attraction to someone that isn’t based on reality” She paused for a moment, studying his expression to gauge his reaction.

Bucky gave another resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“I know, I know, …it’s not real. It’s just, I can’t help it…” he clenched his jaw, silently cursing himself again for his lack of self-control.

“Alright, give me a break, I’m trying ok?” he added almost too quickly. ”... I didn’t have a moment to deal with what happened, y’know? A moment to breathe…”

Doctor Raynor let out a soft hum, tapping her pen against her notebook.

“It’s understandable that you’re experiencing these feelings. It’s normal for someone in your situation to crave contact with people who can understand you…” she paused for a moment, clearly considering her next words.

Bucky leaned forward in his seat, listening intently.

He desperately wanted her to give him some kind of advice, something that could help ease the ache in his chest. It felt like he was missing a part of himself, and it hurt.

Then the doctor continued, her voice gentle yet firm.

“However, it’s important for you to remember that addictions aren’t healthy. It’s no good for you to believe you need something or someone to be okay” she added, as she looked at him, studying his expressions changing as she waited for him to reply.

Bucky knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept how he felt.

“I know that...” he muttered through clenched teeth. "I know it’s not good but I… I can’t just turn off these feelings like flipping a damn switch.”

Doctor Raynor nodded, a hint of sympathy in her expression.

“I understand it’s not something you can control easily, but that’s why you’re here.” she paused, allowing her words to sink in. ”...To learn how to handle them in a healthy way. The first step is to understand what’s real and what’s not.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself after the doctor’s words. 

“I know I’m just obsessed, or at least part of me is, but it feels so real, it feels like it’s the only thing that matters.” He raked his hand through his hair once again, frustration evident in his every movement.

The doctor leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle as she addressed his confession.

“What I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to have these feelings, but it’s not ok to act on them in a way that could hurt yourself or others.” 

Bucky gritted his teeth, both his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

He understood she was right, at least rationally, but the knowledge alone did nothing to soothe the emotional turmoil within him.

“I know, I promised not to act on those… until…” he whispered, looking down for a moment.”…until I get better.”

Doctor Raynor observed him in silence, noticing the effort he was making to keep his emotions in check.

“That’s good…” she said quietly. ”...but it’s also important to remember you’re not alone in this. Others have faced what you’re going through and have overcome it.”

Bucky let out a bitter scoff, disbelief evident on his face as he looked up again.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Just stop thinking and magically get over her?” he leaned back in his seat then, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

The doctor smiled patiently at his reaction, undeterred by his defensive attitude.

“No, it’s not that simple, It’s a process that takes time and effort, and you’re only halfway there.” She said, pausing for just a moment ”…but to get to the root of the problem, have you asked yourself why you feel this strongly about this person?” she asked.

Bucky’s expression darkened at her question, his jaw clenching again.

“I… I don’t know…I mean, maybe...” he grumbled, avoiding her gaze once again. "She’s just not afraid of me, she doesn’t see me as some kind of monster. She makes me feel like I matter...”

At that, the doctor nodded, a hint of a smile appearing on her lips..

“So in a way, this person gives you a sense of normalcy? Something you lack in other aspects of your life,” she stated, more as a clarification than a question.”...and because of that, you can’t stop thinking about her?“

Bucky nodded, his voice low and rough as he spoke again.

“Yeah… yeah I think so. She doesn’t see me like everyone else does. And when I think about her… it feels like I can breathe again” he let out a humourless chuckle at his own words, his expression a bitter mix of frustration and longing.

“I know it’s stupid but I… it’s like a drug I can’t quit.”

The smile on the doctor’s face was now gentler, her eyes filled with both sympathy and understanding.

“It’s not stupid, James. Your feelings are valid, however, it doesn’t have to consume your entire life.” she paused, leaning back in her seat again and observing him thoughtfully before speaking again. ”...but allow me to ask you something, will you?”

Bucky let out a sigh at that, visibly tensing once again.

“Sure” he muttered, his voice sounding a bit more defensive. He was listening, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming need he felt deep in his chest.

Doctor Raynor nodded in response.

“Have you ever thought about why she doesn’t see you the same way everyone else does? Why she sees the real you and not the monster, as you said?” she asked, allowing him to fully understand her question. ”...What do you think the answer to that is?”

“I… I don’t know,” he answered after a moment, frustration lacing his voice. ”...maybe she’s just that different?” he paused, his expression darkening as a thought crossed his mind.

“Or maybe she’s just a goddamn stubborn idiot...” he grumbled, mostly to himself.

The doctor only smiled slightly at his muttered insult.

“Maybe she’s all of those things,” she replied calmly. ”...but what if there’s something else?”

She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on his.

“What if you’re the one seeing yourself as a monster, and not her? What if you’re the one putting a label on yourself first, and she’s just seeing through it?”

Bucky’s expression darkened at her words, his jaw clenching again.

“I am the Winter Soldier” he stated firmly, his voice laced with anger. ”...that’s who I was for decades. I killed people, I destroyed families, I ruined lives. How can someone see me as anything else?”

At that, Doctor Raynor sighed gently, her eyes never leaving his.

“That’s who you were, not who you are, we discussed that long ago...” she pointed out quietly.”...you’re not that person anymore, you’re James Buchanan Barnes..”

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.

“But you’re holding onto that part, letting it define you. Maybe she sees beyond that, beyond the label. Maybe she sees a person who’s trying to change, maybe she sees the real you.”

“I want to believe that..” he muttered, his voice low and filled with something between doubt and hope. ”...but how can I? How can I believe I'm worthy of that kind of… acceptance?”

Doctor Raynor smiled at that question, her expression conveying both understanding and empathy.

“It’s never about worthiness, James,” she responded gently but firmly. ”...you’re worthy just as you are. You don’t have to make up for your past deeds or actions”

She looked at him squarely in the eyes as she said that.

“The real question is, are you ready to accept that? To let her see the real you? The person behind the mask and the guilt?”

Bucky felt a lump rise in his throat as he listened to her words, his heart clenching in his chest.

“I want to..” he mumbled, his voice betraying his uncertainty.”...but if I screw up? What if I hurt her?”

Doctor Raynor nodded in understanding, her expression still patient and kind.

“That’s actually a good thing..” she admitted gently. ”... that means you care, that you’re willing to take a risk for this person.”

As Bucky almost scoffed, she continued.

“You’re not the same as you were before, you’ve grown, you’ve changed. You know yourself better now. That’s what you need to show her.”

He closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“I don’t even know if she wants to see me or hear from me..” he said, his voice tinged with pain at the memory. ”...last time, well… I don’t think I left her with a good impression.”

He let out another humourless chuckle as he opened his eyes, his expression hardening.

“She probably thinks I’m a lunatic.”

The doctor chuckled gently, fully expecting a self-deprecating comment from him.

“I highly doubt that..” she reassured him, a hint of amusement in her tone. ”…and if she does, then she’s not the right person for you.”

She paused before adding,

“But you won’t know that until you talk to her.”

Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

“I know, you’re right..” he said, his voice still bitter. ”...but it’s not that simple, I promised I’d wait…and..”

At that point, Dr. Raynor interrupted him, her gaze firm.

“You’re a man of honour, James, I respect that…but..” she stated, her voice still understanding. ”...sometimes you have to think of yourself too. Holding onto this promise while it’s eats you up inside isn’t healthy either.”

She paused for a moment before continuing.

“Maybe it’s time to have an open and honest conversation with her about how you’re feeling.”

At that suggestion, Bucky let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t have to keep living in the shadows. You deserve a chance at happiness, and if she’s the one who can give you that, then why not try?” the doctor added when she saw his reaction.

He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment, before looking up at the doctor again.

“What if I can’t be the person she deserves? Why the hell would she want a broken shell of a man like me?”

Doctor Raynor’s expression softened at that, her voice gentle now.

“Since when do people choose who to love based on logic?” she asked, a bemused smile on her face. ”...sometimes people fall for someone despite their flaws, just because they see something beyond them.”

Her expression turned serious once more.

“And you’re far from a broken shell of a man. You’ve been through hell and back. You’re a survivor, a fighter.”  

Her words, along with the explanations she was giving him, echoed in his mind the more she talked.

Should he really try to call you again? Text you first, maybe? He didn’t know.

What if you didn’t even remember him?

He guessed he only had to try.

_____________

[ramstouux3]

Tw mentalhospital/OD mention + more and overall mental health vent rant

In my mind I keep entertaining the thought of self-admitting. I’m nearly begging for peace with my metal state at this point and have gone so long without doing anything except therapy and medication for my anxiety only (which I started a good 2 months ago, but it’s so hard for me to open up. I don’t feel like there’s any progress. I stopped taking medication a good 4 years ago because it made no difference and I nearly unintentionally ODed by taking way more pills than intended out of despiration to feel some sort of affect/difference to help. To this day no one close to me knows about this). If I don’t get some sort of help I worry about what I’ll do. I’ve gotten to the point of destroying myself and entertaining other thoughts that I don’t want to bother again

The thing is I know that the facilities tend to treat people terribly and I’ve heard so many terrible stories about them, but maybe it’s the idea of my struggles being recognized and acknowledged properly by others and being assessed and treated that I want. It just fucking worries me so bad about what my family would think, but I know I shouldn’t care. It just makes me so scared of what they’ll think of me then. They completely underestimate and misunderstand what I’ve dealt with, as well as what issues and conditions I am struggling with. I’m fighting tooth and nail trying to deal with intrusive thoughts as I type and I feel like I’m gonna break or that there’s some sort of impending doom. It’s so draining, I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. I need someone to understand and the fact I really don’t have anyone I can trust or talk to is frustrating and embarrassing, but the idea of burdening someone else with all of this makes me feel terrible. I don’t wanna feel or be seen as crazy. I really feel alone

[brinnanza]

the problem with therapy is that an hour a week takes forever to actually get anywhere one hour is barely enough time to get through my four main childhood traumas and my food issues and that's just me saying like literally what happened out loud not even what effect it had on me like man by the time she's caught up on my laundry list of traumas because I have never once processed an emotion ever or at least I hasn't before literally this very calendar year the heat death of the universe will have occurred. I mean yeah I'd love to skip directly to the things currently bothering me but unfortunately all my coping mechanisms are enormous fragile rube goldberg machines and the context is all actually tremendously important I have been traumatized by a series of Normal Events that people usually just get over and unpicking the fucked up thought patterns and behaviors is. an endeavor. I have done so many mental gymnastics. I can justify or denigrate anything. at this point I just need someone to tell me where I've gone wrong so I can correct except that requires knowing how I got here!! and that's going to take forever!!! and the time will pass anyway so obviously I'm gonna do it but ajdjxjdhsjsh I already hate talking out loud it's sucks and I'm bad at it I could be snuggling cat at 1230 on a Friday but noooo I've decided to fucking heal or whatever UGH

[fallstaticexit]

TW: therapy / depression

Really felt like opening up, this is a safe space, right?

I’ve finally taken the steps to work on my mental health and I’ve been seeing a therapist. I’ve had 2 sessions so far. I was pretty terrified of the idea of therapy because the thought of unpacking my depression and childhood trauma felt overwhelming and honestly so terrifying but, I’m happy and proud I did it. I hope to come out of this healthier and stronger and happier and I hope it reflects in my work as well. (COTF my be on a longer hiatus, at least until my sessions are complete or I feel mentally ready to tackle this epic episodic story I created with the grace and love she deserves ❣️)

I started playing this game during the pandemic which is around when my depression began. The Sims 4 was my escape from reality for a long, long time. Everyday I’d get lost in the world I created and there was just something about finally having the control I wish I had with my own life that made the bad days tolerable. But escapism wasn’t the cure, I learned. I knew I couldn’t depend on it to make me happy for the rest of my life even if that’s all I wanted. Because on the days it didn’t make me happy or I was unable to play it, I felt lost and angry. Like now what, what else is left? I was left to deal with the sadness. I had to dig deeper and reach out and ask for help. And I finally did that. And it feels pretty damn good, if I’m being honest. I just want to feel better. I want to be the best version of me, whoever she is. For myself. For my wife and kid. And with counseling and really putting my mental health on the forefront, I hope to achieve that. I really really hope so.

That’s all I wanted to say. ❣️

[flare-captin]

I just had a war with same of my friends and when it concluded we all got therapy which was run my same friends that were also in the war lol I died like 5 times

[our-arospec-experience]

cw:// trauma, CPTSD, ignorance on arospec, therapy/medical

——————————

me, explaining to my therapist how my romantic feelings have been drastically changed by my C-PTSD and how i’ve accepted that change. that i’m content identifying as aro and explaining the process of how i came to that conclusion (this blog was a part of it hehe)

her, pulls out DSM-5, not being able to find aromantic and says to not get lost in labels, to address the issue but she says she understands why i chose the label and is supportive??

like i love my therapist, she’s really sweet and understanding but omg miss girl doesn’t really understand LGBT terms and language and she can be ignorant by accident. that gave me whiPlash like thanks but what?? that’s the point of labels? i don’t want to trauma dump every time im asked why i no longer desire/feel for/repulsed by romantic things so i say i’m aromantic because it’s less triggering. i didn’t know what aromanticism was before or that romantic attraction can be different from sexual. and when i found out, it really resonated with me. i could understand a lot of aromantic’s experiences. i didn’t feel alone/weird anymore. i’m still sapphic sexually but romantically i’m aro/caedro. and i’m chill with that

- 🌻 anon

I’m glad you’ve found a label you resonate with so well :) Hopefully your therapist accepts you and lets you talk to her about aromanticism.

You are valid no matter what :)

[wildemaven]

spent most of therapy crying… being a human is hard sometimes

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Therapy

okay this is low-key a short one, and not very eventful. Just Jesse branching out a little and going to therapy! (sorry if my writing of therapy sucks, every time i go to write this i totally forget how therapy goes lol) Also this is a chaos post but im trying to get into writing for jesse again. I miss him

CWs: bbu, therapy, grief, victim self blaming.

Masterlist

———————————–

Bree stared at the young rescue sitting across from her, in the den of Cooper Hernandez’s home. It was always a little nerve wracking, meeting with someone new. Would she be able to help them? Did they want to be helped? It was even more so meeting with an ex-pet. What kind of pain had they experienced? How deep did the conditioning go?

She’d met with clients who had gratefully and swiftly shed their previous identity, ready to take on the world as a free man or woman. And she’d also met with clients who had no interest in moving on, who were much more comfortable as a pet. It was freedom that scared them, it was healing they didn’t want. And she had no idea which one she’d get.

She met with Cooper before the session, so he could give her the low-down on what kind of person this rescue was. She learned that his name was Jesse, and that he kept it from his previous owners. She learned that he was roughly twenty years old. He was trained as a Platonic and worked for his buyers as a nanny. She learned that he left of his own free will, although he seemed to regret it ever since. He was severely physically abused and most likely sexually abused. He was having a very difficult time transitioning to his new life and leaving the family he lived with behind.

Throughout Bree’s five years of working with the pet liberation movement, she’d learned that Platonics and Romantics often had the most difficulty in moving on from their owners, regardless of if they left themselves or not. They were taught that they only existed to please their owners. They felt as if they’ve betrayed them by leaving, not saved their own lives.

She could feel this just from looking at Jesse. He looked miserable. He was thin, although she had no idea if that was a product of his time here or not. There were deep bags under his eyes and they were red rimmed, as if he was crying before coming in. He kept fiddling with his collar and looking at the door. He sat on the couch cushion furthest from Bree, which she was actually happy for. If he felt  he may be in danger with her, it was good that he would at least try to preserve himself. So many rescues don’t even bother.

When he first walked in she greeted him with a, “Jesse? Nice to meet you. I’m Bree,” which he nodded to, but he hadn’t said a single word himself.

Bree leaned back in her chair to give him space. She didn’t have a notepad in her hand -- she felt as if he might get nervous if she began to write things down without telling him what they were. “How are you settling in here?”

Jesse twisted his collar around his neck, staring at the carpet between them. “Fine.”

Bree nodded. “I know it can be difficult transitioning to such a new situation so quickly.” He didn’t respond. “Have you talked to any of the other rescues living here? Or Cooper and Contessa?”

He hesitated before answering. “Gwen.”

Bree smiled. “Gwen’s a great girl. Has she helped you settle in any?”

“Um. She told me to try this. To try talking to you. I mean.”

“Did she?” That was very nice to hear, actually. Gwen had her own reservations about therapy when she first arrived, but four months in she was opening up more than Bree even expected. “Why did she say that?”

“She said you would help.”

“What would you like help with?” Jesse glanced up at her for just a half a second, but even from that Bree could tell he was holding back tears. “She said you could help… with my girls. Help me feel better about-- about abandoning them.”

“The girls. The children you cared for?” He nodded stiltedly, quickly running a hand over his eyes. Bree pointedly took a drink of her water, taking her time with the lid to give him a moment to compose himself. “Well. I can tell you right now you didn’t abandon them. You saved yourself, Jesse. It’s something that’s not cowardly, but admirable. Do you believe me when I say that?”

He nodded immediately, not even trying to convince her he was telling the truth.

“You don’t have to lie. I know you don’t, and that’s okay. We’re going to work on it together, okay?”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to talk, but hesitated. Bree waited patiently. “I just -- I don’t. I just want to know if they’re okay.”

“Are their parents with them?”

“Their parents are divorced. They live with their -- their mother during the week. She has a nanny. I don’t know who will care for them on the weekends.”

“Their father? The nanny?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But they--” He cut himself off, frowning deeply and swallowing hard. He was scared to cry. “They don’t know them like I do. They don’t care like I do.” He worked his jaw, twisting his collar around his neck. Bree could see the skin underneath, chafed and raw. She reminded herself that they will have to discuss other self-soothing techniques.

“Why do you say that, Jesse?”

He looked at her with such pure and sudden pain in his eyes, that Bree was taken aback. “They weren’t trained for it,” he said. “If I’m taking care of them, I know they’re getting the best care. I left them in hands that aren’t prepared, not like I am.”

“You think they’re unsafe because of that?”

“I know they are.”

She feels her eyebrows draw together. “How do you know that?”

“I--” he stopped again, thinking, looking over at the door. He lowered his gaze, wiping his eyes. “I just feel it.”

Bree’s hands itched for her notebook, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she watched him. Watched the way he was once again avoiding eye contact. Watched the way he was curled in on himself, protecting himself. The way he kept twisting that collar with one hand, and the other was knocking against the couch in a pattern only he knew. He was tense, like he could try to run any second. Bree knew, though, that even if he wanted to he never would.

“Did you leave of your own free will, Jesse, or were you taken?”

He swallowed. “I left,” he admitted, ashamed.

Bree nodded. “Why?”

“My owner--their father… he hurt me.”

“Did he hurt them?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

“No. Never.” He chewed his bottom lip. “He just -- he worked a lot. So he wasn’t home. But he never hurt them.”

“Do you regret leaving because you think he’ll start, or because you think they’ll miss you?”

“They’ll miss me,” he whispered. “I miss them.”

Bree smiled softly, but he was not looking up to see it. “But they will be okay. And they will heal. They’re children. You will miss them. I can tell you really loved them. But, Jesse -- what do you think would have happened to you in that environment?”

“What do you mean?”

Bree searched for the right words. She didn’t want to push him to this conclusion, she wanted him to reach it himself. “I mean… do you think you would have been safe there? With the man who hurt you?”

He shook  his head silently. Bree went to continue when he did speak up, albeit quietly. “He would’ve killed me. I think.”

She nodded. “Do you think the children will heal better from having witnessed you die -- or from knowing that you left to be somewhere safer? Don’t they love you too?”

“I think so. I -- I hope so. I love them.”

“So… can you agree that it was better for you to leave than to stay? That you’ve saved them a lot of heartache in the long run?”

He didn’t answer. They sat in silence as Bree’s watch ticked on. They used to have a clock in the room, but it was removed after it made too many rescues feel as if they were being timed and doing poorly. Eventually, Jesse nodded. One, quick nod, as if he didn’t want to do it.

Bree smiled again. “They have people to care for them. They will be okay. You had to take the chance to leave for you. Don’t you think you’re important enough to be safe too?”

“I don’t want to feel like this,” he confessed tearfully. “I feel so awful. Thinking about them and being here. I don’t want this.”

“Will you let me try to help?” Bree asked.

He glanced up at her, tears falling once again from bright blue eyes. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Jesse. I appreciate you trusting me. I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

He gave up on holding the tears back, letting them fall rapidly down his flushed face, chest heaving for breath he tried desperately to control. “Why would you want to help me? I’m -- I’m bad. I’m a bad pet. I ran away. I’m ungrateful here, I hide. Why?”

It was Bree’s turn to ponder a difficult question. “Because you deserve to feel safe, too.”

He didn’t believe her. She could tell. But he accepted the answer, leaning back into the sofa and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. She could only hope that he would believe her sometime soon. That he would choose to live his own life, and be his own person. That he would find an identity outside of being a Platonic.

That he won’t let his heartache destroy him first.

———————————–

Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @boxboysandotherwhump @hold-him-down@winedark-whump@melancholy-in-the-morning@castielamigos-whump-side-blog@cyborg0109

[askthechronoverse]

I'm staying with my brother for a month or so for therapy. Can anyone recommend a place in New Bricksburg to get a good slice of pizza? Is Brickolini's still around?

[livinglycan]

I want to be in therapy. I want to talk about my issues wit a professional. I think that would be good for me. But, I'm not in a situation where I feel like I could be honest with a therapist and trust them enough to talk about this. And if I did, what would happen?

Would they lock me away is a psych ward because of my lycanthropy? Because they seem it delusion? Would they force me to take meds to suppress It and rip it away from me? Me being a lycanthrope is such a core part of me, something I've formed my life around unintentionally, and I can't imagine life without it.

What would they do to get rid of it? How would that affect me? Would they tell my loved ones and would my family think I'm crazy? Would they just tell me I'm not experiencing this and we'll just never being it up again?

I WANT to talk to someone about this, but what would happen? I don't want to take pills and drug myself so that I don't have these transformations anymore but what else would they do?

I'm tired and worried, and I'm not even in therapy and I don't think I will be anytime soon.

[racetrack-is-back]

i hate physical therapy. nothing leaves me quite as upset or angry as going to physical therapy and feeling like a fucking dumbass because i can't move my arms the way they want me to or because my knee hurts and i can't do the stretch they're telling me to do. i hate having to do the stretches every morning. it takes so long and i still can't do them right and i still feel stupid. and it leaves me fucking uncomfortable and everyone keeps telling "i know it sucks but it'll help" like i didn't fucking know that already. im a teenager, not fucking incapable of understanding. i can't move my fucking body the right way because there is something wrong with me and i hate having doctors pointing that out and having to do this stupid stretch in front of them even though i already know i can't fucking do it. and i just have to suck it up and deal with it, just like everything else that has gone wrong these past few months. i want a break from this fucking summer. everything has been so awful and im so tired.