#tw; hallucinations

[cupcakeslushie]

Leo arc FINALE pt 1

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[disabirbity]

Honestly, talking to our hallucinations is hilarious.

There's a weird figure in the dark? Dude, get off of my lawn. Go home.

We see a cat for a split second but it was never there? There goes the extradimensional cat, that's a good kitty.

We see bugs that aren't real? Besties you really gotta start paying rent to be in here!

There's weird figures darting around the corners of our vision, never clear enough to be seen? Sorry we looked at you, I totally get social anxiety!

It makes it seem less serious and lets less room for fear to creep in, because when we get afraid is really when it gets bad. "Why are you talking to yourself?" So I don't go insane actually. Deal with it.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[spinzolliii]

DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO CLUE IF THIS IS MEDICALLY ACCURATE

Something that whump writers don’t consider:

IVs feel cold. Can you imagine a room temperature liquid going directly into the bloodstream of someone who’s 97-104 degrees? It’s hellish. You can’t get warm no matter how much external heat you receive.

Imagine a delirious whumpee whimpering and clawing at an IV while being restrained and reassured by Caretaker.

“No no no, that stays in”

“Hey, hey. I know it hurts, but it’ll help you feel better”

Maybe the whumpee’s hallucinating, thinking that they’re being tortured. When Caretaker’s words fail to get through, they have to use gentle touches and singing. Or, if you want to be mean, you can have the Caretaker being forced to restrain Whumpee to prevent them from hurting themselves until they run out of energy and pass out.

[xan-izme]

Dubble life 13 (ATSV x reader x batfam)

summary: You can't get a break. Not even for a second

TW: Angst, mental health issues, cursing, hallucinations, mentions of death

Bruce was the world's greatest detective. And a father. So, he was bound to pick up on a few things. He had suspicions of you hiding something. But he assumed it was due to it being an effect of losing your mother.

But ever since Jason began to stay at the manor longer than a day or two(which was surprising) he began to notice small things. He began to notice how you two would often be together. Not as often as you were with Damian of course. But wherever you were Jason was there as well.

He assumed you two were just getting along. And he was happy about that. But he would catch you two giving each other small knowing looks. The two of you whispering to each other or giving each other signals.

Yes, everyone else in the house does this with each other as well. But the way you and Jason would do it was more like a secret. A secret only you two would have with each other. Maybe it was some inside joke or some odd bonding thing you two had.

Bruce tried not to pry into your life too much. Especially after the argument you two had.

But the more he sat and thought about the argument instead of sulking. Something he said to you ticked you off. Of course, his words got you pissed, but he has this, itching feeling that his words meant far more than you led on.

So, he put you in therapy. And might have bribed the therapist to install a nanny-cam so he can see and listen in on your sessions. . . yes not his most honorable moment. But that itching feeling just kept growing and growing.

So, every session you had. He was watching. And he was slowly seeing you in a more, brighter light. You would laugh as you crack up jokes. Your smile made him smile. The way you would play with some of the toy's Mrs. Dean had warmed his heart. (He might have bought a few dozen plushies to give to you soon)

You spoke about him. And you had no resentment. You even spoke about how you wanted to apologize to him. How you felt like you were in the wrong.

Bruce honestly felt like he didn't deserve you at this point. You were so kindhearted. You spoke about him and everyone else with so much love.

But don't think Bruce didn't pick up those small moments of hesitations. When Mrs. Dean would try and dig deeper into you in any emotional way involving just you. There would be this, small pause that felt like more than a minute. The look in your eyes. The same look he saw you with at that party with your mother's side of the family.

He knows that look far too well.

You hate yourself.

This realization. Kind of broke him a little. His little girl hates herself. Why didn't he see this sooner? he feels like a fool. He's trying to piece everything together. Why would you hate yourself. Your perfect. A little broken. But that just makes Bruce love you more.

As he's trying to piece things together. To understand fully of what was going on with you. There were always blank spots that he couldn't fill in. This was a puzzle. I not a hard one but not easy either. He was able to dig deeper in on you.

He went as far as to hacking into your phone. Yes. His overstepping it but he wasn't going into your messages or socials. Only your call history and photos. It was very sad to see most of your recent calls were to your mother's number, of course those calls were not answered.

Your photos were filled with family pictures and- odd. Pictures that seemed to be in an almost hidden file was filled with unfamiliar faces. He scans the faces through his system. But he found nothing. That, that was odd.

Tim walked into the Batcave, he wanted to report to Bruce and tell him he was going to be playing games with you tonight instead of going out on patrol. As he walked down the stairs. He hears what sounds like a recording of a woman talking.

He's brow arched up curiously as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Bruce doesn't seem to notice him yet.

"You don't seem to be the type to hold a grudge."

The voice of the woman who spoke just now was unfamiliar to Tim.

"Oh no. I hold grudges."

Another voice spoke. Younger. It sounded a lot like. . .

"If I fully give you my trust and loyalty. I expect it not to be broken or abused."

It was you. A recording of you speaking to someone. Why would Bruce be listening to this.

"Uh . . .Bruce?" Tim finally spoke up. Bruce turns around, looking a little like he was caught off guard. Too focused on listening to the recording. Tim walked closer looking confused.

"What are you-" Tim was cut off as your voice was heard once again.

"If I give my trust and loyalty to someone. I give them my heart."

Tim frowns. He's realizing what Bruce was listening to. "Is that- Are you spying on Y/n's therapy sessions?"

Bruce was quick to shut off the recording. Letting out a deep sigh.

"Weren't you the one who didn't want us to invade her privacy?" Tim was reasonable. You going to therapy is actually a good thing, because at least someone in their family was going to therapy.

But just to find out Bruce was spying on your sessions was just. . . disappointing.

"For a good reason." Bruces statement just angered Tim even more.

"Good reason? Bruce, she's a 16-year-old girl who's pouring her heart out to someone you paid to listen to her problems. If you were going to just going to do this. Talking to her would have been a better option." Tim crossed his arms with a deep frown.

"She won't talk to me Tim. . . she's hiding something." Bruce sighed as he looked back down at the recording.

"That doesn't mean you should be doing whatever this is!"

As Tim and Bruce argued, Dick came down with a box of pizza and a smile.

"Hey, I brought Pizza-" Dick cut himself off as he stumbled upon Tim and Bruce arguing.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on here?" Dick walks up to the two with a slight nervous smile. Tim doesn't look all too happy.

"He's been spying on Y/n's therapy sessions!" Tim's words caused Dick's smile to slowly drop.

"Oh. . . oh Bruce that's not. . ."

Dick was trying so hard not to give Bruce a look of hard judgment. But in his attempt to do that his face forms cringe.

A school trip to a museum was giving you Daja'vu from your last field trip. Didn't go well due to the result of getting bitten by a spider and having long-lasting trauma from there on out.

You stared at a painting, a spider devouring a butterfly who was unfortunate enough to be caught in its web.

"Kind of a sad painting don't you think?" Someone spoke up.

You turn your head and see Jason. You don't seem surprised; you slowly turn back to the painting.

"Didn't think paint museums were your thing." You say as your eyes stayed trained on the spider eating the poor butterfly. Jason couldn't help but chuckle. "What do you think my thing is exactly?" He asks as he tilts his head while staring at the painting with you.

"Bird cage maybe. Isn't that where a bird like you should be?" You spoke almost mockingly. "Actually, I feel like that painting over there would be more of your taste." Your head jesters to a painting behind the two of you. Jason glanced back to see a painting of a bird being attacked by a black snake with green eyes.

What was painfully ironic about the painting, was that the bird was a robin.

". . ." That was a personal jab. Jason would usually get angry and curse someone out. But this was you, and he honestly understands your hate. Even when you say something cruel, he knows it's not aimed to him directly. But to yourself.

Jason stared back at the painting of the spider and butterfly. Then stared at you. You stared at the painting with, sympathy . . .?

No. Thats not it. Empathy maybe?

"The butterfly, do you feel bad for it?" His body facing you while his eyes stayed focus on your expression.

"It's the spider I pity."

Jason's brow raises from your words. "The spider?"

You stay silent for a moment.

"People hate the spider, for something it can't control. Kind of unfair if you ask me." Your stare didn't seem to be focused on the painting, seeming to be beyond that.

"Your weird" Jason mumbled. Not fully understanding what you were meaning.

Suddenly your spider senses spiked up. You were quick to grab Jason and pull him away causing you two to fall to the ground, right before a bomb was set off.

Jason was quick to get onto his feet

"Stay." Was all he said before running off. You got off the ground and scanned the area before running off to try and help others to get up and evacuate. Your spider senses were going crazy. People were screaming and the building was shaking.

you were so distracted you didn't notice something rolling to your feet. A smoke bomb. But the moment you noticed it, it was too late. Red smoke exploded into your face.

The sound of a ticking clock, the lights dimmed. You were in a chair, blinking a few times. Trying to process how you got here, you look up to see Mrs. Dean. Sitting on the chair across from you.

". . . Mrs. Dean?" Confusion was quick to take over you.

The air felt eerie, and oddly damp. You glanced around and see your in her office. You see Mrs. Dean talking. Her mouth moving but you heard nothing.

"I- I can't hear you-"

"Do you blame yourself?"

You stayed silent for a moment, Confused. You were getting this, unsettling feeling, causing you to grip the onto the chair you seem to not be able to get off from.

"What?" You spoke, almost in a whisper

"Well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a sort of guilt"

Your brows furrowed by Mrs. Deans statement.

"What situation. . .?"

Mrs. Dean doesn't answer. She freezes almost. No movement. Like she's been paused.

Your surroundings glitch.

And you're standing outside. In the rain, ruins around you. You couldn't process anything. Because you were staring down.

Starring down at a motionless body. The face. She doesn't have a face.

Where is her face. She's supposed to have a face, right? why doesn't she have a face? What is it supposed to look like?-

. . . who is this?

Your supposed to know who this is. But you don't. Why can't you remember? This isn't right. . . .

different faces glitch onto the woman. But none of them were right.

Why can't you remember?

what's wrong with you?

Why can't you remember?

Suddenly your body began to move. Your hands slowly move up to reveal blood. Your breathing increased, panic, dread. Utter dread.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Shit!" Jason struggled to hold you down. Bruce shouted for Dick to open the pod to get you out of this hallucinating state you were in due to the fear toxin. Your blood curdling screams echoed throughout the Batcave.

Your body thrashed as you screamed and cried. Your screaming was throwing Jason off. And it hurt. It hurt seeing you like this more than he would think. Bruce took hold of you and told Jason to grab a syringe to knock you out.

Bruce held onto you tight. You screamed out.

"Please! No- NO NO PLEASE NO!"

Jason ran back with the syringe and stuck it into your neck. You flinched, your head falling back as your eyelids slowly close.

"Mama . . ." You whispered, only audible for Jason and Bruce to hear. Giving the two men a few seconds of silence before Bruce quickly carried you to the pod.

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__-

A/n: Yup, I'm back. Hope y'all are having a good school year for those in school. Hope y'all liked this one and feel free to give me any tips on making more unsettling seance (I just noticed I reached 1,007 followers. You guys going crazy with this)

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

[auschizm]

Even though the hallucinations and delusions psychotic people experience aren't objectively real, they are often experienced as if they were real, and they can easily be just as scary and traumatizing as any "real" traumatic experience

[loonybun]

hi whump community let me tell you about a drug called datura!! because boy is it a doozy.

datura is a deliriant, which means it is a hallucinogenic drug capable of causing serious and often terrifying delusions and hallucinations that are literally indistinguishable from reality in the user’s mind.

It is poisonous and part of the nightshade family, and the dosage used to get high off of it is actually very close to the lethal dose. it is also not only entirely legal in most places but also very accessible. it’s grown as a house plant, actually. most people who trip off of it only do it once because of how awful of an experience it is. also trips last like a long time (anywhere from 12 hours to 3 days if i remember correctly?)

the hallucinations that come with this drug are incredibly horrifying, making it literal nightmare fuel. also the more long term effects from it can include permanent psychosis and lingering delusions. fun stuff.

common hallucination experiences from this drug include the following:

- heavy gore

- seeing corpses

- feeling like you’ve been transported to an alternate dimension (hell)

- seeing people or entities you know (but a little fucked up)

- parasites and bugs

- feeling as though your organs are falling out of your body

- shadows in the back of your vision

- smoking phantom cigarettes or eating phantom food (phantom in the sense that they aren’t really there)

- torture scenarios

all in all, i think it’s a rlly interesting thing that can definitely be used in whump. like imagine a whumper lacing someone’s tea with that. the whumpee wouldn’t even be aware that something was done to them due to the fact that they physically cannot tell the difference between delusion and reality. real fun stuff. probably need an immortal whumpee though just cuz if someone takes this there’s a high chance of them getting hospitalized.

[incorrectbatfam]

Barbara: You’ve been hallucinating all day after drinking that cactus juice and now you lick something you found stuck to the floor?!

Carrie: I have a natural curiosity.

[dustcrumbs]

Bleghh

Dust can't remember his own brothers face, struggling to recall what his grin looked like. In fact, any papyrus looks uncanny to him. It's like he knows them, but at the same time he can't recognize who they are.

Also, Dust might hallucinate people he's close with.. But seeing a more intense or exaggerated version of them and their personality.

[anendtopursuit]

thinking abt the contrast between jimmy's violence and swansea mercy-killing daisuke.

everything jimmy does feels gratuitous. for the smallest example, he escalates curly's (seemingly calmly stated) bad news into hostility and accusations - and it only gets more severe when we start seeing things from his perspective. it's all laid out right there in front of us, whether we like it or not; we watch him, help him, carve into curly's leg and feed it to him, and dehumanise anya, and shoot swansea point-blank. even when he's forcing medicine down curly's throat and the game mercifully fades to black, we still aren't spared the sound of him gagging and sobbing and choking on it - and every time curly is on screen, he's an unavoidable, stark reminder of jimmy's violence. it's everywhere you turn.

swansea putting daisuke out of his misery is, in comparison, heartwrenchingly tactful. he tells him to close his eyes (something that curly can't do, doesn't have the choice to do anymore - even as the credits roll he's still left staring helplessly, no fade to black), and as he does so, the camera pans and retreats until his entire head is obscured. not only do we not see the impact, but we don't hear it either, since the audio cuts out. for the actual moment of daisuke's death, we as the audience don't actually see any of the blood and gore of it all, just the sombre lead-up - and it's only when we switch back to jimmy's perspective that we see it. and it's only through jimmy's hallucinations(?) and actions through the rest of the game that we keep seeing it.

[kuroki---kaze]

⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ He doesn't know half the names this man is babbling about but all he can compare this to in his mind is one very small body of white making its way underneath his cloak as he pushed himself as close to the gunman as physically possible. There were never any reasons as to why but White Cloud would always cry in his sleep. Every time he found it necessary to force their bodies to unbearably close vicinity, the Cloud would cry in his sleep whether he knew it or not.

He never removed him because Bahamut wasn't having it. Even if some days he wanted nothing more than to wrench the swordsman from his arm and force him to sleep by himself like a normal person, there would be deep grumbling in the back of his mind at the thought and the Magun would light in a warm comforting sort of way as soon as it made contact with the Maken in the younger's arms. So he merely let him lay there.

Let him snore there.

And it became a routine. It's strange to not have that same body of white come seek him out from comfort in recent days, just as it was strange that the same body sought him out for comfort in the first place. Maybe it was just fate's way of trying to exchange one soul for another? Maybe it was just fate's way of putting who needed answer from in his path?

Even if the man before him wasn't White Cloud, there was something about his presence that felt like White Cloud.

A small insignificant spot that came from just behind his mask. White Cloud wasn't in the room but he felt like he was. Even if it was just a blip of a presence.

He will inquire about such a thing at a later date.

For now he needed to contend to the babbling, and the sage's patience growing thin was becoming more and more apparent on his face. If there was something to grind his last nerve it was inconsistent babbling.

So blue suns envelop sun oceans even as the man tries to hide inside a blanket and behind what he can only assume is yet another toy dragon.

He says the others and he can only mean the Mistericans and White Cloud but then he starts blathering on about the plants and the walls and for as farfetched as that sounds in most situations they are in Wonderland and he has seen many a strange event in this place.

And then a name follows, Herba - a woman who's name he doesn't know but somehow his memory is telling him he should. From the way she's described he has half a mind to ask his Other if he's ever heard that name either. The whelp as been conscious in this world far longer than he has and he seems to have a better skill at memory retention.

This one... this vassal of White Cloud's seems to be waist deep in the thrones of insanity. Whatever Wonderland has put him through... A man with haunted eyes that can only ramble out impossibilities once he is thrown home after the war.

Words will not reach him at this point. Words were not his canvas on which to paint anyway. So the gunman does the only thing he can think to do in the moment to get the man to silence.

A bottle of water is gathered from his things and pushed towards the other as he looks down.

"Water. Drink."

Perhaps it will give him a moment to clear his head.

"The others," he near-squeaks, trying and failing to avoid the other's gaze. It feels like he's stuck here.

Both arms tighten around his dragon, pulling her in closer to his chest as if hiding from Black Wind is an option he currently has. It seems the man might not hurt him, but even then he isn't sure how he's supposed to interact other than by doing what's asked of him in telling the truth.

"And- and there's also them as in- as in the plants. And the ones in the walls. I don't want Herba to find me again. They're watching me and they're- they're going to tell her where we are. Better just me than dooming the others by being around them. They don't even like me anyway. I miss them so much. And Herba- She's horrible. She will do horrible things to me. I don't love her. I don't want to go back. I can't sleep. I'm not safe so I just- I just wanted to hide. Just for a minute and I won't bother you anymore."

[stefisdoingthings]

ark aftermath

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about how Charles failed to help Wade and literally went brain dead because of how much chaos is going on in there, one of if not the strongest brains, completely destroyed by how much shit is in there but... There's no charles in Finding Home Au because this universes Charles went out with Logan.

But what if Jean gave him a crack? Jean likes a good challenge and Wade cant keep a therapist to save his life. And Jean owes Logan one sooo....

Why not?

"A-are you sure? Jean you can't-" he glances over to wade across the room. "You can't go in there."

"Ive been in yours."

Logan scoffs. "You think MY head is messy? You don't understand, I've seen his phyc evaluations. One of the testers is in a phycward right now." He whispers through grit teeth, not wanting to bad mouth his husband but...it was the truth. It was a shit show in there. But it was Wade's show none the less.

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. I won't."

With a quick twitch of his nose, Logan glares. "You're lying."

"Yeah. Well what are you going to do about it? Hey Wade? Can you come with me for a second?"

Logan swallows as he watches him jog over, eager to help in what ever way he can. He bit his tounge with his canines. Where's Kurt? He needs a prayer done. For the both of them. In all honesty he wasn't sure which one needed it more.

Within 15 minutes, As logans pacing the hall infront of her door, She happily opens it up.

"Sooooo one.. You are so right. It's a mess in there."

"I told you not to look, red!!"

"It was just a peak! Anyway- I rearranged a few things anndd Tada!"

Rushing into the room, he's worried of what she's done to him. He expected smoothbob from that one episode when SpongeBob lost his personality and became boring, but instead, Sitting on the edge of her bed, there he was.

Tears were running down his face as he played with a rubrix cube, the cube wet from tears as he stared off into space, thick black headphones over his ears. His eyes flickered back and forth, his hands busy.

"..Wade?? Jean!" He scolds her, worried.

Giggling a bit, She pats his shoulder. "Oohh calm down tiger. He's fine. He's just.... Silent."

He glares. "What are you ta-"

"Bilateral 8th dimention audio stimulation." She smiles. "Aka- Science!"

"Why is he crying? Does it hurt?"

"No, not at all. I told you, It's silent."

"You..."

"Mhm."

"I-.. How did you get rid of them? We've tried so much medication! Nothing works because of his healing factor. You're telling me this whole time he just needed music therapy?"

"Welllll and for me to plug a few serotonin receptors, but yeah. Practically the same thing.. besides.. I didn't get rid of them. They're just quiet... for now."

Logans' smile fades. "Oh.."

"But hey, At least we found something, right? So if it gets too bad, you can always shut him-"

Logans brow raised.

"Them- Up. Just for a song or two." She mutters, glancing to her phone. "He's in the middle of Pentatonix right now. If you bring him by every week or so, I can maybe dig through that trash heap and patch up some more chemical imbalances." She mutters, putting a hand to her chin. "Not sure if it would stay though, so if his head gets chopped off or something, I'll have to do it all over agai-"

Before she could finish, Logan interrupted. "So he's... relieved?"

"Yes." She smiles.

"Without pain??"

"The most I could spare."

He hugs her tight. "Thanks, Jeanie! You're amazing!!" She blushes, having not been hugged by Logan since.. well.. since before he died. It was awkward, but.. warmer. Then she remembered.

When he pulls away, she watches he rushes over, sitting next to him, but Wade doesn't respond. He glances back. "What did you tell him by the way?"

"Oh, yeah hold on." Right as this song ended, She turned off the headphones, making him blink and look up, confused. Wiping his tears he glanced at the unfinished cube and then to Logan as if he wasn't even aware he was there.

"I-... Why am I crying? Uhm.. I didn't finish it.. It's still... messed up." He says as slowly the noise in his head starts again.

"Oh, that's alright. You can finish it next time. You did very well for your first time." She tells him, giving him that motherly smile, the large belly just adding to the feeling of praise.

"Oh.. uhm.." he swallows, smiling awkwardly. "Okay. Do.. do you need help with anything else?"

She thinks for a second. "I mean.. it would be really nice if you tied my shoes. I uhm... I can't reach. For obvious reasons."

"Because you're a planet?"

"Pregnant!" She snaps. "T-there's a difference.. but yes."

It's Logan who ties her shoes, Wade handing back her unsolved cube, unaware of what had just happened. He had an idea, but he wasn't 100% sure. For all he knew and how she praised him, they could have totally just done an epic sex thing, and he didn't remember what so ever.

Taking Logan's arm he felt... relaxed. Still baffled but they weren't as loud anymore. Talking in his head instead of screaming bloody murder (which some were demanding). "That was... weird. Did I just get mind fucked? GASSPP Loagie you let her mind fuck me!?"

"Eehh kind of. Come on bub. We going headphone shopping."

"Oooh I must have done really well then if Im getting treats!"

Standing at the door, She smiles as they leave. Seeing such a big toothy grin on the both of them was so different. And yet? It felt good. Nice to see him so happy. So deeply devote to someone... and.. if she wasn't mistaken.. she had seen a thought or two of discount engagement rings in that messy little head of his, though just looking for a split second, a glimpse, gave her a massive headache...

[schizopositivity]

i don't know if that makes sense, but whenever i start holding specifically a paranoid belief, it helps me to make up a fake counter-fact.

it's a little dangerous because i am still making myself believe in things contrary to reality, but so far it's worked without me losing myself in them.

a little example and of course tw for unreality, hallucinations and potentially paranoia inducing thoughts:

i always was incredibly terrified about something unknown being in my apartment - chasing me, watching me sleep, etc - to the point i started hallucinating it. but then i gave the "thing" a name and some rules, and now i'm (mostly) okay!

if i hear something at night, especially auditory hallucinations i can simply blame my "thing" flatmate, Adrien. he KNOWS he's not supposed to come into my room at night! he can roam freely when i'm out of the house, but once i'm home he has to stay in the other room.

he's also not allowed in the bathroom, which has greatly alleviated my reflection induced hallucinations (i barely get them at all anymore!)

I actually love this, it made me giggle. I'm such a fan of out-of-the-box coping strategies (as long as they aren't harmful of course). Especially with psychotic symptoms, they are usually nonsensical, so your own way of dealing with it can be kinda nonsensical too.

I myself have created similarly strange coping skills that have actually helped me a lot over the years. Like naming my cat Demon (what I called my old persistent hallucination). So now instead of being like "what's that noise at night??? Is it Demon??? >:0" I will be like "what's that noise at night? Is it my sweet baby boy Demon?! :D". I also love putting stuff like "creepy" dolls or a full size skeleton, and other Halloween decorations in my apartment, because that way the hallucinations can kinda just blend in, and I'm more desensitized to seeing random eyes staring at me in the dark lol.

[neuroticboyfriend]

A lot of the time when professionals interact with psychotic people, they try to reduce our distress by getting us to stop believing things. For me, that only made things worse. It was confusing and distressing. I felt angry, scared, and misunderstood. The best way I've found to cope with delusional thinking is something I discovered on my own. I'll give an example here so, huge TW for unreality and paranoia.

Scroll away if you're not able to hear delusional thinking.

Yesterday I started freaking out thinking people could hear my thoughts. This is something I've occasionally experienced since I was a child. When this comes up, I always think there's some massive conspiracy, where everyone can hear my thoughts but they react to me as if they don't hear anything. And they're all in on it. This time, it was triggered by intrusive thoughts that I started judging myself for.

As you can imagine, this is distressing. I started talking to people through my mind, which only made it worse. I couldn't focus on what was happening around me. What I did to reduce that distress is.. weirdly nonchalant. I just sat there and thought "Well, if this is true, it's not like they're going to change how they interact with me. Everything is the same as it was. Nothing I can do about it, might as well just keep on keeping on."

That calmed me down enough to start focusing on what I was doing, and eventually completely forget about it until now. Whenever I try to treat my delusional thinking as something I have to stop immediately... it literally only makes my mind double down. But if I work within what I believe - what I "know" - I can find another way to look at it that isn't so scary.

This works with my hallucinations, too. I sometimes see shadow people; they're more like jump scares than anything. They startle me, and I start to wonder if people I'm looking at are real. But that latter part only really happens if I get fearful of them. To avoid that fear, I try to think of the shadow people as just friends watching over me, checking in. They don't do anything, after all. They just pop up, stand there, and disappear.

(Talk of unreality ends here)

So, yeah. This doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't always work for me depending on what I'm experiencing/how I'm feeling. But without this, I'd be far worse off; it doesn't take too many missteps for me to spiral. I guess my point is, my reality doesn't have to be "normal" for me to be healthy as a schizophrenic person. It just has to be something I can live with, as happily and safely as possible.

And that's ok. Neurodivergent people are allowed to exist, and some people are helped best by finding ways for them to exist as they are without so much distress - rather than trying to eliminate troubling symptoms entirely.

[mooneln0ne]

he's coping well.