#u don’t understand i am in agony and it’s not the period cramps

[gojoest]

………i have to fuck him in that state

[ecotone99]

[NF] VICARIOUS INTERLOPER

"An interloper, you say?," questioned my therapist, Dr. K, whose sudden change in tone gave away that he understood little of what I had just proclaimed. I had been visiting Dr. K for a while now, but he always seemed to find my declarations so peculiar, if not nonsensical. "Yes, Doc. An interloper in every place, an intruder in every situation. I just can't seem to find my spot in life. Even when I'm showered with praise I still see myself as being out of place..." The quadragenarian started rummaging through the papers he had placed on his desk at the beginning of the session. He didn't seem very preoccupied. I heard him murmuring. "Hmm, could be… imposter syndrome… but… that can't be all…" He looked back at me. "When did you start feeling what you just described?" I flashed back several years. I saw myself back in 2011. Sunny Monday, entering my classroom. All the other children were getting seated. The instructor had just begun taking attendance. I heard the names of everyone in the room, almost each one my friend. "Ryan Makhoul!" exclaimed our French teacher. "Present!" I shouted back, as I took my seat. "Good news today, students! Most of you did well on the writing test you sat for last week!" Her smile grew even larger before she spoke again. "And please, everyone, let's all applaud Ryan for his excellent work! The text he wrote is an absolute pleasure to read!" Everyone complied. The classroom was filled with the claps of my young colleagues. It wasn't the first time this happened. Everyone was used to praising the top students. I wasn't the only one to get praised but I did have that honor many times. I collected my paper. 19.5/20. I was baffled. This is where I felt the strangest I had ever felt. I always think fast, but the thoughts in my head were too overwhelming to consciously process. "That's not me." "That can't be me". "I must have cheated." I was so deep in thought I almost didn't hear the tutor asking me if she could keep the paper to show other students. As I accepted, and went back to my seat, came the congratulations from my classmates and friends, which as always filled me with joy. "That was in 2011, true? Yes, I saw your grades and teacher's remarks from that year. Unanimously recognized as a brilliant student and model for his co-learners." The psychologist's voice brought me back to reality. "But Ryan, a simple, treatable obsession like this can't be what pushed you to seek help in the fall of 2013, am I correct? What else did you experience during or before that period?" I was about to complain that he always asked me the same question, before coming back to reason. While it was true I always told him that most of my problems started after 2012, we had never really analyzed what could have caused this sudden change of behavior on my part. So I tried to make sense of it all. I was 19 today, much more able to understand what was done wrong by me or external parties. But the many years since those times fogged my memories. "I had a happy childhood Doc. Even before I started school. My family used to live in the North, Akkar, where my father was born, but then we moved to Naccache and I got accepted in my former school in Achrafieh. I never saw war, famine, death. My friends were amazing people. So I cannot conclude but one thing: all that happened is my fault, even if I never wanted it." "What did you do wrong, Ryan? I've seen you for less than a year, we never went this far back. Every time you come see me you blame someone old or new for insulting or cutting you out of their life. You say everyone hates you but that only happened recently!" "Low confidence and zero self esteem will do that to you Doc, and my levels of both have been really low for quite some time. Probably 8 years now, I haven't felt worthy of being loved by anyone. Not even my own family…" "Let me tell you what I felt the school year of 2013. I mostly still had many loyal friends and people who cared about me, but by the end of the year I found myself alone. I fell into a deep depression which lasts to this day. It didn't let me think clearly. All I could think of was that I was being abandoned by everyone. But it turned out to be the other way around. I developed severe social anxiety and just couldn't even dare to talk to anyone. Quickly my reputation changed from "Popular fun guy" to "Silent nerdy guy who never makes eye contact". I slowly started being avoided. People probably thought I was annoyed by social interaction and left me space, but the truth was I never liked anything more than having friends." "And that's when you sought help," stated Dr. K. matter-of-factly. "Yes, but I never truly had much hope of getting better. I visited so many psychologists before coming here. None of them helped. Most rejected me. One insulted me in front of her whole waiting room; calling me stupid, and probably autistic." "I hated my time with most of those charlatans. They addressed everything but the real problem. One told me to stop playing video games, as if that even mattered." "Even you, Dr. K, give me no hope. I am simply here today because I have nothing more productive to do." K. seemed to ignore me. He wrote something on his paper. Then he exclaimed: "That's all for today. I'll see you tomorrow in the morning. Sleep well!" He left the room. I was alone again in this tiny hospital room. White bland walls, a white bed, and a brown chair. I started remembering the year I had spent eight continuous months in this very same cramped room. Back then my social anxiety was at an extreme. I simply refused visitors. One friend from school came ro surprise me, and as he finished his visit I asked for a "No Visitors" sign to be posted on my door. Eight months. I missed so much of school. I don't know where my classmates thought I had disappeared to, and everytime I tried to think about it, the same thoughts went through my head: "Good riddance…" "I hope he doesn't come back…" So I tried to forget everyone and everything. I wasn't hospitalized on the grounds of insanity or something else. I was taking antidepressants before and they seemed to have no effect on me, which prompted a hospital stay that permitted doctors to monitor me around the clock. Unfortunately nothing worked. I spent 8 months in a tiny bed doing nothing. What should have been good for me ended up worsening both my mental health and social life. Some time before the stay was supposed to end, I was forced (forced!) to undergo about 30 sessions of ECT. For the uninitiated, ECT is basically electric shocks to the brain. You see it prominently in movies about mental asylums. As I was put to sleep beforehand, these sessions were painless. But I would have preferred to feel pain rather than ECT's major side effect: memory loss. I forgot so many people, animals and objects dear to my heart. I was reassured it would all come back, but to this day nothing did. I forgot the year I spent with the class one year younger than mine. I would feel so ashamed of myself when one of them would say "Hi" to me but I couldn't remember their name. Some had come to my birthday, and I had forgotten even that. Only the pictures seemed to help. I don't remember why I was discharged after those 8 months. The most probable thing to have happened is that the doctors noticed I was getting better, but I was probably acting. I absolutely could not stay a day longer. However, if I had truly gotten better, why did I get readmitted only a short while later? By force, too. I still remember. It traumatized me. Getting grabbed by multiple older and bulkier men. "We're doing this to save you", they said. I felt cornered like an animal in a slaughterhouse. My self-defence instinct kicked in, and my rage was insufferable. An unwinnable, one-sided brawl started. Many, including me, bleeded, but my adrenaline dulled the agony. The fight only halted when I heard a crack. The pain I felt when the security guards broke one of my ribs was insurmountable. I kneeled, then fell over. That was their opportunity to inject me with a tranquilizer which left me defenseless. I could only watch as I was transported to my room, and accepted the fact I would still be prisoner for a long while, not only in this infernal place, but also staring at my own miserable perception of life.

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[cilverstephen-blog]

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