#~Officially being diagnosed with crippling social anxiety

[pastelaspirations]

YES. HOLY CRAPP, YEESSS. TWO PEAS IN A POD, WE ARE, I'M SCREAMING

Y e s. I agree so h a r d, man. Ink being socially awkward and having a hard time articulating his feelings because he lowkey views his feelings as meaningless and fake anyway = peak. IT GIVES SO MUCH ANGST POTENTIAL.

He wants to love Error so much, but he really believes he can't. He's soulless. If a soul is what creates the feeling of love, how can he truly feel it if he lacks the thing that is required to make it??

I'm also just. Holding my head. So many of my writings has Ink having difficulty saying "I love you" precisely because of this reason. I have literally had this headcanon for so long, you don't understand.

BUT ERROR, MAN. HE DON'T C A R E. TO ERROR, HE GOT PROOF. SO WHAT IF INK NEEDS HELP TO FEEL EMOTIONS? THAT DOESN'T MAKE THEM ANY LESS REAL

To Error, just because Ink needs a lil extra help to feel something that other people don't even need to think about doesn't make his emotions any less real. His smiles are just as genuine. His tears are just as heartbreakingly real... If anything, to claim his emotions are any less real because he needs vials to fully access them is a little bit ableist, no? Especially since Ink didn't c h o o s e not to have a soul really. (This even fits if you consider Ink ripped his soul out willingly. Ink did that because he didn't plan on surviving that. He thought he would die. I doubt he would have gone through with it if he knew it wouldn't have killed him)

BUT YES. It's insane how I literally agree with everything you said, you're so incredibly based, man. I am also SO HONORED, MAN, THAT MY UNHINGED RAMBLING INSPIRED ANOTHER SCRUMPTIOUS DOODLE. I shall hold it close to my chest and love it forever <3

Also, it's. Just kind of funny. Your doodle reminded me of something similar that I drew. It kind of just shows how similar/peas in a pod we are, man

Can you guys tell I have a favorite pair of sillies yet . . .

[xplrvibes]

What were the key things you found interesting/ liked most in the podcast/interview from yesterday?

So, aside from the things I already covered in the previous asks from aussie anon (just search the "aussie anon" or "snc video review" tags on my blog if you want to read those!), here is what I found interesting/noteworthy during yesterday's podcast:

1, The anxiety discussion: I may have mentioned this earlier (I can't even remember anymore), but I found it interesting how they both found and bonded with each other because of their crippling insecurities, shyness, social awkwardness and anxiety, and yet they both experience/d that in such different ways, and have dealt with it in different ways as well.

I may have said this before as well, but to me, there is a difference between anxiety with a little a, and Anxiety with a big A - and these two are a great example of those differences and how they present themselves and are dealt with. (This is not an indictment for or against anyone suffering from either form, btw - I just think there are difference between the two different ways people can experience anxiety and how they are handled).

Sam has "little a" anxiety. His anxiety was situational, had a clear starting/trigger point, and could be mitigated by addressing the triggers. He had severe insecurity in himself and had a massive fear of public speaking and being noticed because of that; hence, the thought of being noticed or putting himself out there triggered anxiety in him. Once he gained the confidence he needed to put himself out there, he figured out the key to managing those anxious situations, and hasn't had many issues with it since.

Colby has "big A" Anxiety (and yes, I know Sam hastened to say "we haven't been diagnosed" and that's fine, but I'm still rolling with this cause as a person with the official big A Anxiety diagnosis and certificate, I recognize the signs). His Anxiety is chronic, probably chemical, and can present itself at any time, for any reason. There may be some clear triggers (I know he mentioned before that feeling trapped can trigger it), but just as often, he probably just wakes up anxious with no idea why. There's no clear start, and no clear ending to it. It just...is. Knowing is half the battle though, and once you recognize what is going on with your body and what the symptoms are, then yes - you can work with that to lessen the stranglehold it has on your daily life. It is a never-ending struggle, though, and he explained that pretty well (for what little he actually did spend explaining it).

2, Sam's dad being so business minded and smart that he could not only see that these two crazy kids had something going, but that he convinced them to start up their company while they were still in high school is wild. That man has the true gift of foresight lol.

Also, on the subject of parents: all this talk of Sam's dad being such a help to them, so supportive of them, and a hero of sorts to Sam...and all we get from Colby is "our families weren't always supportive." :/

3, The fact that as soon as they got away from Sam's dad's influence, they immediately got scammed into signing away all their adsense under a shitty 3 year deal is kind of funny, actually. I mean, it's sad that it happened, but another point there for our old pal Kirk Golbach, who never woulda let that shit fly, amirite?

Not to mention, this is probably part of the reason why they are so involved in the decision making in every aspect of their business even now and I understand that, having dealt with vendor contracts for a huge portion of my career even though I am emphatically NOT a lawyer. I can only trust myself to not scam myself...so I get it.

4, I think I mentioned this already, but the Sam Pepper Prank.

Look, I know that this fandom has a habit of woobifying Sam, and I know it stems from this. It does. Let's stop denying that this set the tone for how everyone views and treats Sam vs Colby, even to this day.

But the fact that people have gone so far with their delusional that Sam is this hapless little meow-meow and Colby is the dark brooding villain that they would rather believe an utterly ridiculous conspiracy that Sam would actually lie about his trauma o save the guy who happily traumatized him than believe that maybe Sam is not perfect and was just as willingly involved in this, has always frustrated the fuck out of me.

This man has stated multiple times over the years that he was in on it. Why would he lie? Huh? Tell me. It wouldn't have been to protect Colby, cause why would he do that? From things they've said in the past, they weren't getting along that well back then anyway, and their careers obviously hadn't yet taken off to the point where it would've been detrimental to them to split off. If anything, had he split off from Colby at that time, he probably would've fared better than Colby had (since sympathy would've been on his side) so...why?

Sam Golbach is not that altrustic. Nobody fucking is. Nobody. If my mother did something like that to me, I'd motherfuck her all over the internet. Forget a friend trying it.

So...he's explained his method acting at length and how far he went to make this happen, how into it he was, etc. SO CAN WE LET THIS ONE GO NOW?!?!?

5, I admit, I completely zoned out halfway through their quasi-philosophical discussion about the egg theory and whatever else. The religious talk was interesting, but the rest? it just reminded me too much of some of the most obnoxious stoners I ever knew. These are the people who I would avoid like the plague if I saw them pulling out a joint lol.

6, snc love to speak as though they are one person who just somehow got split in two, and that was on display in this podcast. "In our life," and "our dad told us we could have a gap year" are just two examples.

Drunk Colby described it best when he said, "We're going to say something...and it's going to come out of my mouth."

Indeed.

7, The business talk - really interesting to hear the way they operate in their business, and how they've managed to keep it running smoothly all these years when they are also best friends, roommates and basically all but married.

The fact that their finances are so intertwined that they basically have joint 401k's and investments is a little scary, so let's just hope they never have a Lennon/McCartney-esque falling out lol.

But yea, the fact that they don't do anything unless both are in agreement of it is pretty interesting, although the way they kind of skirted the question of "who plays more of a lead role and gets their way more often" has me concerned for Colby, cause we know it ain't him lol.

8, This is going to ruffle some feathers, but I just don't care to be nice about this topic anymore so I'm going to say it. If you think this will upset you, then you should probably just skip this part and go right to #9:

Sam gives me fucking anxiety.

There. I said it. That man feels like an energy drink to me (in a bad way). When he was talking about his obsession with productivity and how he felt like any time he wasn't working was time wasted, I could literally feel my throat closing up from the intense up-ness of that whole discussion and his whole demeanor during it.

I've been in the corporate game for most of my career. I do not like people obsessed with productivity to the point of burn out. Their vibes make me wildly uncomfortable.

Also, I'm sorry - kind of hypocritical how he can say all that while having hired himself some editors and leaving his 50/50 partner holding the whole bag there.

Ahem, anyway: even with all that, I find it interesting that he is fully aware this is an issue, and claims to have tried to solve it. I hope it sticks, cause if it doesn't, this man will have his first heart attack at 32. Calling it now.

Also, lol at Colby being like "Nah, I can chill all day and veg out knowing that I did my shit." GOOD FOR YOU, SIR. Guess who won't be having a heart attack at 32? The supposed lazy guy lol.

9, I found the way Colby talked about having kids to be very interesting, and again - another way in which I think he and Sam differ and yet somehow wind up meshing perfectly.

It seems, from what Colby has said, that he wants to have kids in his 30s and will see that as being his new passion/job in life, meaning the kids will come first and he will gladly walk away from the constant traveling to be a present dad.

Sam, meanwhile, didn't really say much on the topic of kids, but we all know thanks to recent events that he is not ready for any of that, and kind of sees settling down as sort of an end to his youth and fun.

And you know what this made me realize? And it's sad, but I think it's something Sam sees too, maybe.

I think Colby will be the one to pull the plug on the snc channel someday.

Now, I do not think these two will ever be able to function without living in each others' back pockets - but I think Colby is going to be the one to force them both into retirement from a frequent posting and traveling standpoint, and will probably be content to just live off of whatever other side businesses and streams of revenue they will have going for their brand by then. Sam, meanwhile, is probably not going to be able to handle it and will get into either directing or producing or something like that.

But their wives are going to have to learn how to be friends with one another, or shit's gonna be awkward when these two decide to buy houses next door to one another and connect them by a tunnel in the basement.

Anyway, that's it (I think). Overall, lots of info we already knew, but a lot of new info peppered in, and a really decent look into their dynamic and who they are as people. I kind of liked it!

Bonus Item (I lied when I said I was done lol): The whole "following fat people" thing.

Colby was right with what he said, he just said it in a way that was bound to get his dumb little ass in trouble lol.

But he wasn't wrong. Look at all the controversies that happen every single day on tiktok, and how quickly everyone moves past them as soon as a new controversy pops up. There is too much content out there, too much drama, and it all just overlaps one another. This would be maybe 2 days of backlash, tops (especially if they weren't well known).

I'm not saying its right or it's wrong to do it, but that really is the way the internet operates these days.

[earlgraytay]

I think this article is relevant to a lot of the very stupid, wanky debate that I keep seeing going around my dash about TEENS SELF-DIAGNOSING WITH DID. It is a funny quirky article written by a literary fiction author about how one of her characters got into her head during the pandemic and started dispensing Wry Life Advice, disappearing as soon as the stressful situation ended.

there's this bit that I think @pervocracy wrote, about how if your culture only had two words for 'fear', and one of them was "mild nervousness about passing a test" and the other was "the bone-chilling horror of being chased by zombies in a graveyard", that keeps you from talking about a whole range of human experiences. if you have crippling social anxiety, or you have an uncommon phobia, or any kind of fear that isn't 'mild nerves' or 'IMPENDING PHYSICAL DOOM'? you're stuck choosing between two words that do not suit your experience to describe what's going on.

I think "the experience of having an entity in your head that is Not You" is actually remarkably common- way more than 1%- especially among writers/artists/actors/fandom folks, and especially among anyone who's going through a severe physical or mental stress. an entity like this can exist in varying degrees of independence-from-you and interest-in-the-outside-world. Sometimes this entity is a comforting presence, other times it's a malevolent one. some disappear as quickly as they appear, and others stick with you for your whole life.

A lot of historical cultures had a framework to explain this kind of thing. "This is your daemon." "This is your guardian angel." "You're hearing spirits; you're possessed." Mainstream Western culture rejected these explanations, and in some cases, rightfully fucking so. But we don't really have a framework to replace them.

So if you are experiencing this phenomenon, because of how our society has decided to handle it, you really only have two words for it- "imaginary friend", or "DID alter". in the vast majority of cases neither of these words are appropriate, in the same way that severe social anxiety isn't Test Jitters or IMMINENT FEAR OF YOUR LIFE.*

there is a wide range of human experiences here being collapsed into 2 points. but people who are having that experience are going to need the words to describe it. if you're a published litfic author and the experience is over, you can write an article about it and just come off as a Little Quirky. if you're a teenager on TikTok, the experience is ongoing, and the only word you're being offered is DID? you're gonna take that word.

we need more words for this range of experiences. we need more people to be able to talk about this range of experiences- including DID, which is a very different experience from Brain Octopus up there- without getting tarred as Bad Psycho Crazy. we need to stop arguing whether or not you can only have this state of being from Severe Enough Trauma; we need to be able to accept it as a natural part of how humans are without judgement or shame.

*(Not saying that having alters is the same thing as ZOMBIES IN A GRAVEYARD; it's the Wide Range Of Intensity And Experiences that I'm comparing.)

[rendezvous-ramblings]

Do you have any advice on how to combat social anxiety/anxiety in general—specifically about the future?

I don't know anyone officially diagnosed social anxiety/anxiety so I don't think I could give the best accurate advice on how to combat and grow from it. Everyone to an extent has experienced anxiety in their life and I think I do have a bit of social anxiety. I will try to find alternative ways to avoid unwanted social contact/interaction even if it's inconvenient for me. For example, if a group was blocking off the entire sidewalk (walking excruciatingly slow/goofing off) I would walk off the block and past them instead of saying excuse me to get their attention. I get nervous and anxious if I'm in a rowdy group of people who are attracting a lot of attention (positive or negative). If someone asked me a question or was trying to get my attention on public transportation, I always have my headphones in so I'd ignore them until they give up. Those are just a few examples of how I try to dodge interactions/conversations with strangers.

I wish I wasn't that cold and stand offish sometimes. I'm sure some strangers might have found me "rude" unfortunately I also do have a resting bitch face/poker face 😅 E's friend recently told me "I can never tell if you're sad, happy, or just okay." He jokingly also asked after making that comment if I was sociopath. Haha, E is definitely not dating a sociopath. I'm just not very emotional or vulnerable unless you're someone close to me.

Old patterns are very hard to break but to deal with this I've been trying to be more extroverted in levels that I'm comfortable with. I'll try new experiences and places with friends that I'm close with. They usually have friends that I haven't met before who tag along too. I'm more spontaneous with my plans now and I'm gradually "letting loose." I usually need to have plans super planned in advance to feel comfortable, but now when my friends invite me somewhere last minute I'll join in and let go of needing a plan or structure. Haha, my friends are definitely Type B people whereas I'm Type A 😬

I'm always dealing with anxiety about the future especially in terms of my professional goals. I've mentioned before in my blog that I sometimes have crippling imposter syndrome when it comes to academics even though I am among the top of my class. Another teacher/advisor once wrote in my yearbook to take things easy and be kind to myself because my 80% is usually someone else's 110%. It was one of sweetest but also reflective things that anyone has ever said to me (I wasn't very close to him but the fact that he noticed that and kindly pointed that out to me!). I tend to overwork myself and stress about things even though I end up with a more than satisfactory grade. It's unhealthy and I'm still trying to find ways to work around it. Being with close friends and E helps a lot especially if I can talk things out with them. I tend to bottle up my emotions so when I let it out it's very cathartic.

Developing healthy habits and ways of self care also helps me. I tend to question my thought patterns and reason with myself before writing my thoughts down or structuring a scaffolded plan that's better for my stress levels. If I really need to take a break I'll usually do an activity I enjoy or a "meditative" one like coloring, baking/cooking, or doing my nails. That's just generally how to deal with my every day anxiety. I acknowledge my strengths and weaknesses and I have to be realistic/honest with myself in order to "treat" my anxiety.

I would definitely seek professional advice and help if the anxiety is the clinical type. Good luck! Just know that you're not alone if you're dealing with these things personally! 💛

[wahbegan]

The Scary Asylum Trope (From Somebody Who’s Been Committed)

I can’t help but feel that the very loud and righteous voices of people with the best of intentions....who also have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about often overshadow those with a more nuanced and realistic view of the world because they’ve been through the shit. Especially on this site. In the real world, of course, both are drowned out by the man who both has bad intentions AND no idea what he’s talking about, but either way, the fact remains: people with first-hand experience of the ugliness of society saying shit nobody wants to hear, especially shit that makes the world a bit more morally grey and a bit more frightening than anyone would like to deal with are never listened to. 

 Although it’s often overlooked, I think we can all agree that the mentally ill and substance-addicted are among the most cast-off and overlooked members of society. Junkheads and crazies are already struggling to survive and nobody wants to give them a job, get too close to them, give them money, have them wandering the streets or coming into their businesses. Unlike other forms of oppression, one of the most insidious things about this is it’s opposed by almost nobody. “Don’t give that guy money, he’s a crackhead”, “stay away from that bum, she’s not right in the head, she’s dangerous”, “we can’t give you a job because of your history with substance abuse”, none of these statements are remotely controversial with the vast majority of people. A lot of people get angry when you say they should be or even suggest the mentally ill (not disabled, mind you, just ill) or addicted are even oppressed by society at all. Addicts, particularly. The general consensus is they ARE dangerous, they DO do illegal shit, they ARE unpredictable and unable to work reliably or have an interpersonal relationship with you, and most importantly...they brought this on themselves. This, of course, brings us to that great garbage bin of society’s dregs, the mental hospital.

Okay, so a bit of background. In Senior Year of college, I was alcoholic, cartoonishly depressed, and trying to deal with vague, unspecified shit that may have been trauma or a personality disorder or something I do not know, all I have ever been officially been diagnosed with is depression, but that doesn’t cover everything. I don’t know to this day exactly what’s wrong with me and I’ve gotten too old and used to it to really care enough to speculate. But long story short, one night I got too mouthy about a suicide attempt as I often do...to be honest, I think my crippling fear of the oblivion i believe follows death tends to manifest as loudly telegraphing my intentions to commit so that I have a chance to wake up even if I don’t chicken out at the last second...but anyway. My friend Vanessa came by my door and helped me down out of the home-made belt noose in my closet, and the cops were called. Cue being taken away in a cop car in handcuffs and 96 hours in a mental hospital without ANYONE believing any of my attempts to defend myself or even being put before a judge how’s that for due process ladies and gentlemen?

I won’t say what hospital I was in due to all the horrible shit I’m about to say about its character, but I WILL say when i first got there, many a joke was made about a then very topical certain someone who was known as a whistleblower and/or traitor depending on where you fall on the political spectrum who leaked a bunch of CIA and NSA shit. Oh, yeah, completely unrelated, did I mention I went to the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, VA? Just a fun tidbit.

Anyway, I know this is slow in getting to the point, so let’s cut to the meat of the thing. From Outlast (the good one), to Arkham Asylum, to Silence of the Lambs, Session 9, Halloween, to House on Haunted Hill (the bad but enjoyable one), to that story some kid in grade school and/or your older sister wouldn’t shut the fuck up about that had an escaped mental patient who apparently the staff had deemed wise to give a pirate hook for a hand, the common consensus is: mental hospitals are fucking scary. More specifically, crazy people are fucking scary.

In recent years, as we’ve all grown a little more compassionate and people give the mentally ill at least a few months or years before they decide your shit is too much for them to deal with and throw you out like a leper, there’s been very strong pushback against this. Particularly on places like tumblr and other random blogs and op eds around the internet. It’s easy to see why. Dehumanizing the mentally ill is not only offensive to people who CAN actually generally understand and remember what you say about us, thank you very much, it’s just lazy. People like Michael Myers (no not that one the scary one) and Joker, who would NEVER see the inside of a hospital due to their clear intelligence and control over their actions, are thrown in an asylum as a cheap plot device, and classifying a character as crazy lets you ignore pesky little things like “character motivation” and “consistent characterization in general, fuckwit”. People may even praise your character for lacking those things if they’re cuh-RAZY enough. Again, Michael Myers (still not that one) and Joker.

I’m a huge fan of the pushback against the escaped mental patient with a hook trope. Having been a mental patient myself, I can assure you that almost all ANYONE wants to break out of that shit hole to do is get some good fucking food, sleep in a real bed, and pork their significant other. Mr. Pirate Hook, in a realistic version of that story, may have jumped the teen lovers for their car just to drive it to the liquor store and then his girlfriend’s house.

The problem is, and this is the main point of this giant fucking essay, that there is now also considerable related pushback against asylums being scary places. Ironically enough, this is coming not mainly from certifiable and dangerous-to-themselves-or-others type people. This pushback is coming from very well-meaning young adults with anxiety disorders and/or depressive episodes who are very sweet and god bless them I just know for a fact have never EVER seen the inside of one of these fucking places. It is coming from people who don’t want asylums to be seen as scary places because they want the mentally ill to want to go to them. To help them, ostensibly, but a tiny little cynical “fuck everyone” part of me thinks it’s more like to sweep their mess into someone else’s room so they don’t have to fucking handle it.

Now, before I continue, let me stress that the place I was in was a bit renowned for being a terrible shit hole. I’m sure my experience would have been a lot nicer at a suburban 50k a day mansion rehab for celebrities in the hills of Los Angeles. You don’t condemn all hotels in the world because of one particularly traumatic stay at the bumblefuck nowhere clown motel next to the old graveyard (yes that is a real thing), right? And unlike hotels, there’s no such thing as an asylum critic. A lot of people do NEED to be hospitalized for safety, and a lot of people DO, through one method or another, find themselves better off by the end of their stay. And I’m sure the go-to solution for any and all of life’s problems isn’t “tranq them in the ass and throw them in an isolation room” in EVERY hospital. But I get a sneaking suspicion it’s most of them. With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s continue.

Mental hospitals are the most terrifying fucking places in the world. Every time one of my well-meaning friends who’s never been committed says they think a brief hospital stint would do me good, I want to throw a blender at their fucking head. Every one of your relatively well-adjusted but probably on an anti-depressant or anxiety meds guidance counselor and social workers friends will list their good qualities until they’re blue in the face and tell you it’s not at all like the movies and there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s not like the movies, most of the time. Not exactly. But that resort and bond with people who have been through the same thing as you and time to work on yourself and group therapy and art class pitch they sell you on? Yeah, it’s bullshit.

Let’s continue with my story. When I was brought in from the main hospital, they first sent me to acute. I’ve been to county jail, and I’ve been to the acute treatment (read: high risk/high security) wing in an asylum, and I would pick county. Every fucking time. Bless her heart, my patient and long-suffering girlfriend at the time, who had been by my side for the whole process, was sitting next to me and holding my hand as they did the intake survey. They were at least compassionate enough or smart enough to know I would be a lot more placid and manageable with her around to let her stay for the intake process. Outside, the hallway was dark, one guy was on a prison-style wall-mounted phone, some dudes were playing cards, a woman was wandering up and down the hallway....and up and down and up and down and up and down the hallway. And from somewhere, someone was screaming. Not words. Just...screaming. Nobody seemed to do anything about it, see what she was screaming about. I don’t know if it was agony, misery, or fury. Maybe some combination of the three. On and on and on, with breaks seemingly only to get her breath back. I was in the acceptance stage at this point, and was busy shutting down emotional channels one by one and going into survival mode, steeling myself for my stay, but my girlfriend at the time...she looked terrified and broken-hearted. The thought of her leaving a loved one in this windowless pit (this wing, you see, was underground) destroyed her. I could tell. It would me, if I were in her situation. It is a traumatizing situation to be in. There’s no way out, nobody believes anything you say unless you tell them the worst, you can see that woman out in the hall passing back and forth and back in forth in the door window, and someone is screaming like she’s in Hell. Maybe she was.

The screaming was when I first realized an ugly truth and my morals were shaken into a grey zone: people who are mentally ill can be pretty fucking scary. Even if they’re harmless. I never saw that woman or found out why she was screaming. But in that moment, I desperately feared her and hoped I would never find out. It’s easy now for me to look back on her with compassion and pity and feel ashamed for my reaction, wish I could have helped her, but then...I was already in a fragile place. She scared me. And this leads to the next conclusion, even worse. You scare other people, and maybe it’s understandable that they’re scared. 

I deeply repress my anger. I have never in my life been violent or had the urge to be, and I don’t plan on changing that. But my anger is repressed. It can take a lot of battering before it shows itself...but when it comes out, it’s in a sudden, explosive, deep-throat scream worthy of a jump scare in a horror movie showing a protagonist is losing his mind and can’t be trusted any more. I usually only get about half a sentence out in this way before I scare myself, my eyes go wide with horror, I clap my hands over my mouth and run out of the room crying. But by then it’s too late. I got so drunk so often I forgot huge chunks of my past and have no idea what I said or did. I emotionally wounded people. I acted unpredictably. I asked to borrow a friend’s cigarette while she was DRIVING, and casually, with no warning, ground it out on my arm. My girlfriend often found me passed out through booze or asphyxiation or covered in blood. Crazy is undeniably scarier to live with than it is to witness, and I often get frustrated when it feels like people don’t remember or fully understand that. But...that doesn’t mean witnessing it isn’t fucking horrible. People were being perfectly rational to be afraid around me. Never afraid OF me, everyone who knows me knows of my physically gentle nature (with others) and desperate desire to be a good person. But they were afraid: afraid of my behavior when I wasn’t in control, of what reckless and insane shit I might do to self-destruct and/or inadvertently hurt people around me.

Thankfully, my intake survey and a nurse who noticed my relatively normal behavior both indicated I should be in the (above-ground!) high-functioning wing, so I was quickly moved there. I never figured out who that scream belonged to. But even in high-functioning...it wasn’t much reprieve. A woman shit the bed, a man fresh out of acute regaled us with stories of getting tranqed and thrown in isolation because he had barricaded himself in his room with all his furniture and berated the orderlies as they tried to force their way in about “you should really bolt the furniture down it’s a safety risk I could be killing myself in here” because he was bored. My only friend in the wing, who I really did like quite a lot and still do even though we fell out of touch, had a roommate who was always acting like she was just on the edge of doing something fucking stupid. Once, her husband smuggled her a shaving razor, which she whipped out in front of my friend, waving it around and threatening to kill herself. When my friend alerted the orderlies, this woman put it (IN ITS CASE I always feel I should clarify) up her pussy to hide it and feigned ignorance, resulting in my friend going to isolation. No tranq though. This was the high-functioning unit, after all.

Your one-on-ones with the psychiatrist were roughly 3-5 minutes in length and consisted of medication questions and asking if you were literally going to beat your head against a wall until you died in the next 15 minutes, otherwise talk about it in group. The more you insisted to this man that you were fine and shouldn’t be here and inquired about the legal status of your incarceration and when you could be released, the worse he thought you were. 

There were times to gather and talk about feelings. There was art. Some people were very good at it. Visiting hours. But most of the time was just...sitting. Sitting, bored out of your god damned skull, so bored you might just barricade your room with all of its furniture and laugh and laugh and laugh as the orderlies try to force their way in. The patient man doesn’t need to inflict physical torture to break someone. Isolation and boredom do things to the human mind, maybe sooner, maybe later, but...up there, I said hospitals make a lot of people better. They also make a lot of people worse. Then they have to stay for longer. When they’re finally released, they don’t remember how to live in the normal world and soon end up back inside. 

Just like prison. Make no mistake, the asylum is a prison. A prison where nobody believes a god damned word that comes out of your mouth. A prison for people nobody wants to deal with. A prison where they stick you with people whose crazy does NOT fuck with your crazy and you start to think maybe people are right for not wanting to deal with you after all. That’s the worst part of negative emotional reactions to symptoms of mental illness. How god damned much they remind you of yourself. The trauma I mentioned off-hand up there was that my ex from High School may or may not have abused me it’s complicated and fuzzy i don’t remember it’s not important. What is important is a new girl came in once who casually admitted to abusing her boyfriend. I backed away slowly and retreated into a private room, where my one friend had to comfort me. Later, the class clown, Mr. Barricade Tranq-in-the-Ass, made a rape joke in front of her. A rape survivor.

Everyone’s mind breaks in very similar ways, but for very different reasons and with just different enough symptoms and fears and psychotic hatreds that there WILL be people in your unit you fucking hate, whose crazy and yours grind on each other’s gears. There will be people you are afraid of, people you’re stupidly attached to for no reason other than they’re there and nice to you.

Throwing all these people in a hole and throwing away the key does not create an environment conducive to anyone’s mental health. Then, of course, there’s the treatment. Yes, like I said, if you’re willing to petition like 5 people about it and constantly remind them, you may get some good one-on-one time. You may get some good nuggets out of group therapy. You might make nice art. Mostly, though, they cut you off from the outside world and take you away from everything you love and put you with a bunch of potentially terrifying strangers and just fucking leave ya there. To rot. 

The problem with mental hospitals is the problem they’ve always had. No, obviously nobody’s head is in a cage and they don’t electrocute and lobotomize you, but the theory is the same. They want you to stop being crazy. But first, and foremost, they want to keep you there and keep you under control. That is the primary goal. Not treatment. Keeping you there and controlled. I suppose if you consider the history of asylums it’s quite humane, but I wasn’t joking up there about the tranqs in the ass.Everything from death threats to trying to pork another patient to getting too lippy with a nurse is treated with the tried and true ass-tranq isolation room. How long will you be in there? Who knows!! Until they remember they put you in there and/or the shit that you’ve smeared on the walls starts to smell. 

And all of this leads to the most horrible conclusion of all, the kind that makes people truly lose their minds if they think about it too long in that Lovecraftian/Poe kind of way where your hair turns white: maybe there is no right way to handle mentally ill people, and if there is, we sure as fuck haven’t found it yet.

The mentally ill are oppressed and deserve compassion. Love. Support. But we can also be terrifying to the mentally well, to each other, to ourselves...and forcing all of these people into a cage they don’t want to be in with strangers who they’re irritated with and scared of who are irritated and scared right back at them and leaving them in this weird, artificially constructed, regimented society until you deem them fit to leave is....ha. Well, it’s crazy!. And it is scary. And it can and often does make people worse. 

So please, don’t...don’t say mental hospitals shouldn’t be seen as scary or shouldn’t be used in horror. By all means, do it. But do it well. Look to Outlast. See, in Outlast, the set-up is very trite. Big asylum, patients escaped and massacred the staff. But you’re there on a tip that human rights abuses and clandestine experiments were being performed. Most of the inmates are doing vaguely unnerving shit but are harmless, just like a real hospital. Some are just fucking watching TV. And the game is never satisfied with “this guy’s crazy.” Walker, the ‘UGE FUCKIN GOI who everyone’s terrified of has awful PTSD and if you listen to his idle dialogue, is always muttering about containment protocol and stopping the spread of something. And by the end of the game, you realize he might not be as crazy as he seemed, and that the patients massacring the hospital staff was completely understandable and maaaybe even a little bit their own fucking fault. One guy, in an absolutely heart-wrenching and my absolute favorite part of the game, is just sitting broken in a burning kitchen talking about how this place took everything from them because nobody cares about a few abused or dead lunatics, so he’s gonna burn the whole fucking thing down.

You know what it basically comes down to? Most of the crazy people aren’t dangerous. Some are, but the ones that are have clear motivations. Crazy ones, but motivations. Almost like........ooohhh the point emerges REAL FUCKING PEOPLE! Make villains crazy. Well, all right to be honest, it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a bit on that, but I don’t want it to stop entirely. Depict asylums as the Hellish shit holes they are. But for God’s sake, just write mentally ill people like human beings. A human being you can’t understand isn’t the same thing as a non-human. Nobody does things for NO reason at all. If you’re writing a crazy villain, don’t make him evil because he’s crazy and the symptoms of his crazy are being evil; if you’re setting something in an asylum, make sure the horror doesn’t start and end with guys in straightjackets frothing at the mouth and screaming about how they want to fuck whoever’s walking past them in the aorta. 

I don’t want the truth about us, our condition, our capacity for harming those around us, or how fucked up it is how society treats us because it has no idea what the fuck it’s doing sanitized because it’s difficult to deal with and there are no clear good guys.

[neensinkorea]

A mental diagnosis that helped my college career

“Uh, I’m ok,” I say as my friend urges me to come meet her friends. I’m reluctant to go, but I introduce myself anyway. Meeting new people means I have to actually talk. My friend ignores my silent resistance as she drags me closer to the large, intimidating group. The circle opens up as we approach, and a happy burst of energy exudes from the group. I’m uneasy. Sweaty palms, dry throat, and trying to muster up a smile. I could hear the heartbeat in my ears. They start greeting me, and I greet them back the best I can. My face feels hot, and it felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I felt pathetic.

(My mind is in a constant limbo)

I was officially diagnosed with social anxiety around the age of 18. As a child, I was stamped as, “oh, she’s just shy,” or “it’s just a phase, she’ll grow out of it.” I could feel the anxiety even as a young child. I never invited friends over for birthday parties, because I hated being the center of attention. At school, I grew a habit of averting my eyes whenever the teacher asked for an answer to a question. Unlike most people, I favored group projects, because then at least I could present in front of the room with three other members.

(Looking at the uncertainty from the inside, out)

My confidence rose a little in high school. I still felt judged no matter where I went or who I talked to, but an inner voice would tell me it was silly to worry about things like that. My freshman year of college was tough. I was staying in a dorm with five other girls and the amount of college work was overwhelming. Everywhere I went, a constant, “It’s ok” looped over and over in my head. Even in my classes with over 70 people, I worried about them judging me. Was I sitting weird? Why were they staring? My suitemates didn’t help the situation. They would invite friends over every other night, and when I opened the door, I could feel my face turn red even though I knew they weren’t looking at me.

(The rest of the world vs me)

I didn’t want to admit I had a problem, but eventually I caved and went to get diagnosed. I felt slightly relieved when she said I had social anxiety disorder. It was step one into figuring myself out. Because my symptoms were not crippling, I decided to go the non-medicated route. I would be lying if I said that everything is all flowers and sunshine now. I still feel nervous when I step out of the house. I still practice conversations in my head thousands of times before saying them out loud. But I am facing my demons.

[asking-jude]

I might be seeing a therapist soon. In the past I've been diagnosed with MDD and GAD, but I've done a lot of research and I believe I also have OCD and C-PTSD, but I don't know how to tell the therapist that. I'm awful at describing how I feel so I think they often don't understand how severe my symptoms are and don't take me seriously, and my mom says all the time I don't have OCD and PTSD just because my symptoms aren't as bad as hers (which are really bad). I wish they'd take me seriously

Hey there. If you suspect that your symptoms coincide with the diagnosis of OCD or C-PTSD then perhaps you may have the disorder. I really suggest and encourage that you see a therapist, and soon. If you’ve already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety and major depression, you should really be seeing someone in any case to help you deal with these disorders, which are quite serious, especially while experiencing them together. If you happen to have OCD and PTSD as well, then you should see someone to get officially re-diagnosed.

Your therapist is your confidant and someone you should be able to trust. It’s important that you tell her that you think you may have these issues so they can adjust their ideas for treatment. If you believe you don’t express yourself well enough, whether it is with the therapist or with your family, then this is okay. Some people are not as able to eloquently phrase the thoughts and ideas that are going through their head, especially if the anxiety and depression they are experiencing is affecting daily function and routines. Mental illness is crippling, and can prevent you from being as sharp and well-spoken as you may wish to be.

I’m very sorry that your mom undermines your feelings and concerns. If she is not a therapist or psychiatrist, then she has no credibility to tell you if you have the disorder or not. Even so, she should not be discrediting the possibility of you having the disorder because her symptoms may be more severe. One has nothing to do with the other. You may still have the disorder even if she has more extreme symptoms. You both may have the disorder, or she may be misdiagnosing herself.

If I were you, don’t take what your mother says to heart, although it is easier said than done. Be pushy, if needed, to see a therapist and/or psychiatrist. And if you still feel worried that you will have trouble speaking to them and explaining yourself, just remember that they are well-trained in this field, and will find ways to get you to express yourself in an easier manner, and will understand what you are saying, even if you don’t.

As far as your GAD is concerned, Asking Jude published a great video on social  anxiety. While I understand these are two different disorders, many of the tips and tricks provided can help you cope with the symptoms of anxiety: https://youtu.be/HoiOxyEm3qI. Please, subscribe and support us! 

I hope this helps, and good luck.

With love, Angelique Zak

Support Asking Jude in more ways than one: @askingjudeSelf-help videosDonate

[jadelyn]

Heya. Recently saw a post of yours going around regarding mental illness and not having to censor your own experience, be constantly positive, offer up your success story ect. I suffer from clinical depression and anxiety myself and I was kind of interested in your referring to yourself as an "old crazy" and what not. A lot of times I feel like depression is more like a... comparatively "pretty" MI and like it's barely even valid to talk about having a MI in certain ways you know? 1/?

But you're confident enough with it that you'll say things like "old crazy" and just generally... treat it with the seriousness it deserves? I feel like there's almost two sides of it. When talking to nurotypicals yeah, depression is obviously a MI and our experience is way different from theirs, but when talking with other folk with MI's it feels almost like... whining? Maybe a bit like being a "small fat" in regards to fatphobia vs someone who is much bigger and receives more scorn for it? 2/?

Anywho, if there was a question in there I supposed it was going to be"is depression the only mental illness you suffer from? And what's your opinion on "reclaiming", I guess, stigmatized words like "crazy" when one suffers from comparatively less stigmatized MI's?" I mean I've got best friends who deal with hallucinations, family with bipolar disorder, in laws with disassociative identity disorder and I guess I low key feel like I cant even call myself someone with an MI by comparison. Idk. 3/3

So...okay.  Let me start by saying, I’m really trying not to be an asshole about this.  If I come off sounding like a jerk, it’s not intentional, and I’m mad at the ideas and social forces behind them, not you for giving voice to them in my inbox.  

That said...fuck that noise.

My specific diagnoses are honestly nobody’s business but mine and my doctor’s.  I’m pretty open about them here, but it does rub me a bit the wrong way to be asked, basically, “what are your Crazy Credentials?”  

I’ve been formally diagnosed with chronic major depression and social anxiety.  My therapist has made noises about C-PTSD a few times but never anything official, more just letting me know that some of the things I thought were shitty personality quirks actually fit the diagnostic criteria for C-PTSD and may be less my own fault than I think.  And I’m about 99% sure I have ADHD, to the point where I’m about ready to seek out official diagnosis to see if I can get treatment for that in addition to my depression, bc I think it would really help me.  

Short answer re my thoughts on reclaiming “crazy” as someone with...I can’t even bring myself to say “less severe” tbh considering that my depression has tried really hard to kill me several times over the past 20 years and has almost succeeded more than once, but someone who doesn’t have psychotic or personality disorders, is that if people use it against me I have a right to reclaim it for myself.  And that has happened enough times that I’m feeling pretty confident in my Earned Right to call myself a bitter old crazy fucker.

I also suuuuuper object to the classification of depression as a “pretty” MI, even comparatively.  Like.  That shit made me drop out of college, cost me the first ten years of my adult life, I have literal physical scars from the self-harm I used to do because of my depression, I’d have died years ago if not for the family and loved ones who took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself.  None of that shit is fucking “pretty”.  I hear you say it’s a comparatively “pretty” MI (and like I said, I’m not mad *at you* so much as the ableist cultural attitudes that make people think that about it) and all I can think of is the nights when I would be curled up as tight as I could get, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe, hating myself so intensely that if I could’ve spontaneously wished myself out of existence I would have.  I think of the emotional neglect I perpetuated against the man I love, the way that him trying to take care of me left him with scars and issues of his own, and all I can do is offer my experience in how to cope with those kinds of things, I can’t undo it for him, I can just ironically use my experience of the depression that harmed him to help him learn to cope with his own.  I think of the fact that I’m 32, but I’m a mere 4 years into my career, basically the point where someone in their mid-20s would be, because of the way my depression crippled my ability to work for so long. I think of the fact that I only stopped stashing razor blades around my living space “just in case” I needed to self-harm about a year or two ago, and even now I know without having to even pause that if I suddenly decided to go back to that, the exacto knife in my little home toolkit under the kitchen sink upstairs has a box of extra blades that I could use.  

That’s...not...pretty.

But I think you’ve actually hit on a pretty perfect comparison in the “small fat” thing, tbh.  I’m fat, undeniably so, but I’m a smaller fat, only a size 18.  So there are parts of the “fat experience” I’ve never had to deal with, like having to use seatbelt extenders on an airplane or buy a second seat or get kicked off a flight.  

But that doesn’t mean I’m insulated from fatphobia, including the deadly kinds like medical neglect.  It doesn’t mean I can’t or shouldn’t call myself fat.  

If you can look at someone who’s a size 16 or 18 and simultaneously acknowledge that said person is fat and faces fatphobia for it, and that they’re a small fat and that bigger fat people face unique issues that the smaller fat person doesn’t...can you do the same with MIs?  If you have depression, or mood disorders or anxiety disorders in general, you are mentally ill and you face ableism and stuff because of it; at the same time, there are types of ableism that you aren’t targeted by since you don’t have a personality or psychotic disorder.  Those things can be true at the same time.  And it really sounds like you’re struggling with some internalized ableism around this, that you’ve picked up some of the general cultural attitudes around Real and Bad MIs like psychosis vs meh MIs like depression.  

It’s okay, and entirely possible, to both understand that someone with a mood disorder faces a different level/type of ableism than someone with a personality disorder - and still understand that both of those people are still mentally ill, both of those mental illnesses “count”.  There’s no mental illness olympics.  Having different types of MIs results in different experiences, sure, but that doesn’t make people with mood disorders not *really* mentally ill.

We need to stand together, all of us, in fighting stigma and ableism around mental illness.  Those of us with less-stigmatized disorders need to stand with those who have more-stigmatized disorders - but doing that doesn’t require that we minimize or dismiss our own illnesses or experiences.

Don’t let mundanes divide us against ourselves.  

[rouge-heichou]

personal ramble

Contains Mental Illnesses, so there might be a trigger warning? Idk. 

K so, as I mentioned yesterday I’m semi diagnosed with BPD. And I also said it scares me and I can not help it but overthink this shit. 

Nothing’s official yet, it’s just a high likelihood.  Apparently the likelihood for BPD is like 5 times higher, when a first-degree blood-relative has it, well my brother has/had. 

Given I have been in college for education and social science and had a couple Psychology classes, I knew what BPD was exactly and it shocked me how I could literally tick all the boxes but nonetheless, I’m no social worker, psychiatrist or psychologist who knows, so I didn’t take it all too seriously and kinda shrugged it off with “Yeah, that’s probably just depression related, its better not to self-diagnose.”. 

Still the thought kinda remained but yeah, no over thinking done. 

But after yesterday, I’m over thinking so much, I can’t believe I’m even more pessimistic than I usually am. 

In 2012, I’ve been in a semi-stationary therapy over about... 13 weeks. Back then, I was diagnosed with, I quote: “Depression and Personality Disorder”. 

Depression? Yeah, that’s pretty straight forward. 

Personality Disorder? That sounds really damn generalised. 

But I shrugged that off as well, thought that was kind of the placeholder for my crippling anxiety. 

So when I now think back to what I had told the therapist the first time I went there... Which was something along the lines of 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m super close with my friends but sometimes, even if they only ask me for a tissue, I randomly get so pissed off that I wish I could just smash their head against a wall.”

“I get randomly so angry at people for no apparent reason. Or sometimes the reason is just so dumb that I don’t understand why I even get angry in the first place. Sometimes I feel like, it’s only something that’s not even involving me in the slightest”

I’m not sure if those previous therapists had an idea of what was going on, but just couldnt name it? Didnt want to name it? Even after knowing that my brother has BPD and was even treated in the same hospital as me? 

And I feel like, all this is getting worse and worse. If you asked me to describe my personality to you one day, I will do. But two weeks later, it’ll be something different. One day I’ll tell you I’m super caring and want all the cuddles and affection and the next day I’ll tell you I don’t want anyone to be near me, and I can’t be bothered to care for anyone because everyone will leave me anyways. 

I just... feel like, all the shit I had thought was just me being really weird or sensitive about, finally has a name and I hate it. Knowing that BPD got it’s “Borderline” from the fact that it’s considered a borderline psychosis scares me so much. 

I was hoping and wishing that going back to college and intense behavioural therapy would fix me within (according to psy’s) a year or two. But right now? I don’t think this will be solved within a year or two...  I don’t even think I can avoid taking meds at this point... Especially since the woman yesterday told me to get a psychiatrist in order to get meds, as soon as possible... 

I’m freaking scared of possible side effects of making this shit hole that’s depression already even worse and making those thoughts of “I have no reason to live” even more apparent. - I mean, I live fucking alone. There’s no one to keep an eye on me. Me living alone is terrible, me living alone has resulted in self-harm because my mind went all like “No one is watching you anymore. It’s easy to hide now.”. I’m already scared of myself. 

Like, my mind is so blank right now, I just can’t stop thinking about how terrible the next years will be. I don’t know about other places but there aren’t a lot therapists here who will put up with BPD patients. My brother was looking for one for years, finally had one but that one fucking retired and now he’s looking for a new therapist for over a year again as well. 

I’m scared that’s not gonna get fixed until it fixes itself in like my 40′s... I don’t want to feel like this for the next 20 years or so...

[prosecutormiles]

Edgeworth & Mental Illness

In honor of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, I thought I would talk a little bit (spoiler alert: there is nothing “a little bit” about this post) about the different mental illnesses that I write Miles with.  Keep in mind that I'm not a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm going on my own research and experience for a lot of this.  This is, of course, my own personal interpretation.

This is not a comprehensive list, and it's bound to shift and change as I develop my writing.  Please be aware that this isn't fun stuff.  I'll put a full trigger list under the cut.

#child abuse #trauma #suicide attempt #suicidal ideation #self harm #addiction #drug use

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

PTSD is a mental disorder that can develop after a person is exposed to a traumatic event.  According to the ADAA, the disorder is characterized by three main types of symptoms:

Re-experiencing the trauma through intrusive distressing recollections of the event, flashbacks, and nightmares.

Emotional numbness and avoidance of places, people, and activities that are reminders of the trauma.

Increased arousal such as difficulty sleeping and concentrating, feeling jumpy, and being easily irritated and angered.

Miles canonically experiences symptoms of PTSD.  He has flashbacks triggered by earthquakes, he has recurring nightmares, and he avoids elevators.  Within blog canon, he also suffers from insomnia, panic attacks, and hypervigilance, particularly under times of high stress.  He is also claustrophobic and experiences anxiety from things that restrict his breathing, such as tight ties/shirt collars and swimming underwater.

It should be noted that Miles' PTSD stems not only from witnessing his father's murder, but also the abuse he suffered under von Karma.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

GAD is a mental disorder characterized by persistent and excessive worry about a number of different things, coupled with the inability to control that worry.

This is something Miles had since childhood, but he had a decent support system when he was young.  It was exacerbated greatly by his father's death, and further from training under von Karma.  A lot of this overlaps with his PTSD, but I do hold that it is alongside rather than a part of it.

A lot of his anxiety is stemmed from his triggers, but he has developed a good deal of smaller worries concerning (mostly) unrelated things: ladders, large bodies of water (such as oceans, not lakes), thunderstorms, etc. He also has a crippling fear of failure and losing control.

Major Depressive Disorder

MDD is a mental condition in which a person suffers at least one major depressive episode in their lifetime.  The qualifications for one of these episodes involve a certain set of symptoms being persistent for at least two weeks and generally will interfere with one's ability to perform their normal everyday activities.

Miles experienced a major depressive episode following the State vs. Skye case (Rise From the Ashes), although he had been spiraling since before the State vs. Edgeworth case (Turnabout Goodbyes).  Before that point, he likely would have been diagnosed with Persistent Depressive Disorder (PPD), which is a less severe version of MDD but generally lasts longer than a single episode.  Miles has had major depressive episodes before the one that ultimately saw him leaving his job and disappearing for a year, but they were less severe.

The symptoms he experiences include feelings of extreme guilt and hopelessness, loss of pleasure of things he normally enjoys, decreased appetite, insomnia, fatigue, lack of concentration, and suicidal ideation.

He was likely predisposed to MDD, but it manifested because of his trauma and abuse history.  He might have it without those things, but the severity would likely be a bit lower.

Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder

I'm a bit hesitant with this one because personality disorders are a whole different category, and diagnosing them is really complex. Personality disorders are called such because they are rooted within someone's personality, sometimes due to years of maladaptive patterns of behavior.  It often has to do with using juvenile coping methods and never really learning to use better ones.  Miles does fit a lot of the patterns, but I'm not sure it's the perfect diagnosis for him because it's difficult to tell if it's a part of his personality or some sort of chemical imbalance (believed to be the cause of many mental illnesses that are not personality disorders).

OCPD, which is also called Anankastic Personality Disorder, is a kind of personality disorder that is characterized by perfectionism, need for control, and cognitive rigidity.  It is similar in some ways to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but it is considered a separate diagnosis.

Miles' symptoms include preoccupation with orderliness and organization, obsession with rules, perfectionism to the point where it interferes with productivity (i.e. he may not sleep the night before a trial because he feels the need to prepare for every single possibility that may come up in court, rather than not getting his work done on time), rigidity and stubbornness, and inflexibility about moral issues (i.e. everything is either good or bad, black or white; there are no gray areas).

While the exact cause of OCPD is unknown, it's likely that this was influenced greatly by von Karma.

With this cocktail of mental illnesses comes certain behavioral patterns and coping mechanisms.  Due to the fact that Miles is a functional member of society with a high stress job that he is very, very good at, it's clear that his coping mechanisms are working for him, at least for the short term. However, he has a distinct lack of a social life and not very many friends, along with the fact that his abuser is still a part of his life after he moves out.  Without treatment and removing the severely negative factors in his life, it's likely a major depressive episode was inevitable.

Miles' coping methods were effective in the short term, but they were not positive coping methods.  Here is a non-comprehensive list of his coping methods:

Distraction. He will bury himself in work to avoid dealing with his emotions. (Note: this is not necessarily a negative coping method, but being as he never actually deals with things, it's not a positive one either.)

Self-medication. He abuses prescription benzodiazepines (like Xanax or Ativan).  However, there is a stipulation to this:  he has a legitimate prescription, and, while he almost always takes at least one a day, he will not resort to breaking the law to get extra.  The last few days before he is allowed to refill his prescription are days you want to stay very far away from him.

Self harm.  Although less prevalent in adulthood, he was a cutter the entire time he was living under von Karma's roof.  His cuts are very well hidden, mostly on his thighs.

Avoidance. He actively avoids situations that will spike his anxiety, to the point where he climbs twelve flights of stairs every single day so that he doesn't have to take the elevator.  (Also not necessarily a negative coping mechanism, except for the great lengths he'll go to to avoid certain things.)

Aggression. While much of the time, his reprimands to subordinates are due to a lack of competency on their parts, he also sometimes derives pleasure from putting other people down.  This is especially true in the courtroom, where he can generally outwit a defense attorney.

So, what can he do about it?

This blog's canon is that Miles started receiving psychiatric treatment after leaving his suicide note and fleeing the country.  I'm not sure if this happened because of an actual suicide attempt or for some other reason.  With official diagnoses and proper therapy and medication, he was able to rebuild himself into the man we see in the later games.

He also got Pess while he was in Europe, who is a certified service dog trained to help him deal with his PTSD symptoms in particular.  She is more than an emotional support dog, although she performs those tasks for him as well.  What makes her a service dog is that she is trained to get him to safety in earthquakes, protect him in the event of a full flashback, wake him up from nightmares, etc.

She is the absolute light of his life, and he adores her.  He takes her just about everywhere, although he doesn't always need her services. The main place she does not go with him is the courthouse.  But she has a doggy bed in his office and strolls around the twelfth floor most of the day.

Just because Miles is in treatment and on medications doesn't mean he is magically better, though.  Many of the things he deals with now, he will be dealing with the rest of his life.  The difference is that he is getting the resources he needs to deal with these things in a healthier manner.  There will still be bad days and weeks and months, and there are still things he hasn't addressed. For instance, his addiction to benzos is still something he won't admit to needing to deal with and is very good at hiding it from his acquaintances. He still hasn't completely processed the idea that his life was so incredibly influenced by a man who was setting him up for failure from the beginning.  He still has trouble admitting that what happened to him was abuse.

It's a long process, but he is finally on the right path.

[j-derioux]

how does ‘popularity’ relate to misdiagnosis?

As some very, very quick background for this question... I am a CSA survivor, born with some pretty strange looking genitalia. It’s like my body tried to form a male set, then stopped abruptly and formed the female set. So completely that I had children. But my ‘clitoris’ is still so much of a penis that it gets erections and can be stimulated in the exact same ways to great effect. Makes me feel weird. It looks kinda weird. My sexual partners have been great about it for the most part.... another story for another time. Sorry. Not sober- having a hard time tonight.

Anyway. As a CSA survivor, some fucked up shit happened to me a long time ago and I coped in some pretty odd ways. Very recently, I’ve been diagnosed with DID by a trauma specialist. Prior to that, I bounced around in the mental healthcare system for 10 years, experiencing diagnosis after diagnosis. Depression, obvious. Anxiety, yeah. Crippling Anxiety-- not the official name, just what it is. Sometimes. 

And then one therapist suggested that maybe I was actually transsexual. They thought I should start HRT as soon as possible. I expressed doubt, told them that I’d already done reading, that I’d read that childhood sexual trauma causes some complications in this regard. That from what I had researched, it can make diagnosing this a little more complicated.

Who knows if that’s true. I don’t think anything is black or white. I was happy with testosterone for 3+ years until no dosage felt right. Nothing felt right as a man at that point.... my husband and I wanted kids, anyway, so we quit hormones and got pregnant. With twins. Now we’re 8 months post-birth and trying to figure shit out.

So the question. That took a long fucking time, shit.

How many people have been misdiagnosed? Or was I? How much does the media and social popularity effect the rate of official diagnosis***? Is it terrible to really prefer it if people have that? As someone who struggled for over a decade to achieve a diagnosis, I can understand either side. I’d just like to see more healthy discussions and answers available. 

***-prior to my diagnosis and letter recommending HRT, being gender variant was virtually unheard of, at least in my state / region. It wasn’t that popular on social media, either. It seemed that shortly after my “generation” was either diagnosed or came out that it was suddenly ‘normal’ (and it’s valid, no worries, I don’t mean the quote marks, it’s just that there was an incredibly drastic social change in a very short amount of time on the outlook of this thing) and at that point...

 I don’t know. I’m just concerned as someone who was misdiagnosed that others may find themselves in the same situation and have their recovery set back by years because of it.

[telnaga]

aid for a disabled enby lesbian in need

this is my friend Celeste, or the picrew she was comfy putting in this post. I’m making this on behalf of her, because she needs help, and doesn’t really use social media. but she’s a punk leftist in need. the financial aid she was being given by a friend has just cut off.

I am from near Detroit, MI. My name is Celeste. I'm 21. I go by they/them or she/her pronouns. I'm a vegetarian. I'm an enby punk lesbian who gardens, plays videogames, writes, has aspirations to be a polyglot, listens to too much EDM; alt rock; and post punk music, has an interest in occult stuff, learning bass guitar, reads and watches movies I guess, wants go into computer science, and a myriad of other things.

I am in chronic pain 24/7 in my back and legs that prevents me from being physically active. I haven't been able to get an official diagnosis. I have some kind of mental illness. I have panic attacks when people are rude to me and struggle with porviding customer service. I have diagnosed depression and anxiety. I don't have a degree currently which makes it impossible to get a job in which I don't have to do physical labour or customer service of some kind. I went through 5 jobs in two years because I mentally and physically couldn't handle doing them. I tried to work and it just made things worse. I'd get out of work exhausted my feet numb and in pain. I couldn't fall asleep and had to keep moving them to stop the pain from bothering me too much for a few hours after work. Sometimes I'd work more than part time and my back would get so bad I couldn't bend. I started taking legal drugs and alcohol to try and help the pain but that didn't help much. I currently take weed mostly to help. I tried NSAIDS and they upset my stomach to the point I get crippling nausea and have to lie down.

I have diagnosed sleep apnea which is untreated and I can't currently do anything to help immediately. Weed helps me sleep. I got addicted to caffeine and started abusing it to help combat depression, fatigue, pain, and poor sleep. It just made things worse and upsets my stomach, ruins my mood and causes me to feel mentally overwhelmed and sometimes be on the verge of a panic attack. I don't have a medical marihuana license although I'd like one. I've tried doing physical therapy and it helped a bit but I couldn't afford it. I tried talking to a therapist to get help with mental illness and they refused to help me get diagnosed. I ended up having to quit my last job because I was transitioning, couldn't handle the all the stress and physical pain, and got plantas fasciitis that led to bone spurs and crippling pain in my feet which has improved significantly but the leg and back pain remain.

My grandmother and other relatives have had bone spurs and fibromyalga. I talked to her about it and she said it's likely I have it too although I haven't been able to get diagnosed. I feel tired constantly due to my sleep apnea and I've tried taking melatonin which just makes me have nightmares and feel loopy the nextt day. Weed is the only thing that really helps.

I need dental work done. Mostly cavities although there might be more serious stuff.

Both my parents are poor and we've had to rely on financial aid almost my entire life and it hasn't been enough.

We have a massive hole in our interior ceiling and insulation from water damage, half our power outlets and lights don't work, we only have one shower in a bathroom that gives me anxiety and has made me have panic attacks, we have no hot water, we have no working sinks, we have one toilet that has to be manually flushed, we have parts of our floor that have rotted through, we have a broken ventilation system, I have a mentally unstable family that causes me anxiety and stress, we only have one car that we can't afford to maintain to drive three people to and from work, we have a broken furnace. I have at least $120 + $45 + $50 + $50 + $??? in medical debt It costs me $200+ per month to buy enough weed for my needs. I have to spend $275 every two months on laser but I need full body and that'd be around $500. I need to get GRS and electrolysis to finish off the remaining hair after laser in the future. I don't have money to pay for my own necessities and I can't work.

I won't be in a better situation financially till either my parents get lucky, I can get financial aid to help cover stuff, I get lucky, or I graduate college in fourish years and get a decent job I can do.

please donate to Celeste https://www.paypal.me/anonymous356

[aspiredlife-blog1]

12 Signs You May Have an Anxiety Disorder

Worried? Nervous? The distinction between anxiety disorders and "normal" anxiety isn't always clear.

What's normal?

Everyone gets nervous or anxious from time to time—when speaking in public, for instance, or when going through financial difficulty. For some people, however, anxiety becomes so frequent, or so forceful, that it begins to take over their lives. How can you tell if your everyday anxiety has crossed the line into a disorder? It's not easy. Anxiety comes in many different forms—such as panic attacks, phobia, and social anxiety—and the distinction between an official diagnosis and "normal" anxiety isn't always clear. Here's a start: If you experience any of the following symptoms on a regular basis, you may want to talk with your doctor.

Excessive worry

The hallmark of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD)—the broadest type of anxiety—is worrying too much about everyday things, large and small. But what constitutes "too much"? In the case of GAD, it means having persistent anxious thoughts on most days of the week, for six months. Also, the anxiety must be so bad that it interferes with daily life and is accompanied by noticeable symptoms, such as fatigue. "The distinction between an anxiety disorder and just having normal anxiety is whether your emotions are causing a lot of suffering and dysfunction," says Sally Winston, PsyD, co-director of the Anxiety and Stress Disorder Institute of Maryland in Towson.

Sleep problems

Trouble falling asleep or staying asleep is associated with a wide range of health conditions, both physical and psychological. And, of course, it's not unusual to toss and turn with anticipation on the night before a big speech or job interview. But if you chronically find yourself lying awake, worried or agitated—about specific problems (like money), or nothing in particular—it might be a sign of an anxiety disorder. By some estimates, fully half of all people with GAD experience sleep problems. Another tip-off that anxiety might be involved? You wake up feeling wired, your mind is racing, and you're unable to calm yourself down.

Irrational fears

Some anxiety isn't generalized at all; on the contrary, it's attached to a specific situation or thing—like flying, animals, or crowds. If the fear becomes overwhelming, disruptive, and way out of proportion to the actual risk involved, it's a telltale sign of phobia, a type of anxiety disorder. Although phobias can be crippling, they're not obvious at all times. In fact, they may not surface until you confront a specific situation and discover you're incapable of overcoming your fear. "A person who's afraid of snakes can go for years without having a problem," Winston says. "But then suddenly their kid wants to go camping, and they realize they need treatment."

Muscle tension

Near-constant muscle tension—whether it consists of clenching your jaw, balling your fists, or flexing muscles throughout your body—often accompanies anxiety disorders. This symptom can be so persistent and pervasive that people who have lived with it for a long time may stop noticing it after a while. Regular exercise can help keep muscle tension under control, but the tension may flare up if an injury or other unforeseen event disrupts a person's workout habits, Winston says. "Suddenly they're a wreck, because they can't handle their anxiety in that way and now they're incredibly restless and irritable."

Chronic indigestion

Anxiety may start in the mind, but it often manifests itself in the body through physical symptoms, like chronic digestive problems. Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), a condition characterized by stomachaches, cramping, bloating, gas, constipation, and/or diarrhea, "is basically an anxiety in the digestive tract," Winston says. IBS isn't always related to anxiety, but the two often occur together and can make each other worse. The gut is very sensitive to psychological stress—and, vice versa, the physical and social discomfort of chronic digestive problems can make a person feel more anxious.

Stage fright

Most people get at least a few butterflies before addressing a group of people or otherwise being in the spotlight. But if the fear is so strong that no amount of coaching or practice will alleviate it, or if you spend a lot of time thinking and worrying about it, you may have a form of social anxiety disorder (also known as social phobia). People with social anxiety tend to worry for days or weeks leading up to a particular event or situation. And if they do manage to go through with it, they tend to be deeply uncomfortable and may dwell on it for a long time afterward, wondering how they were judged.

Self-consciousness

Social anxiety disorder doesn't always involve speaking to a crowd or being the center of attention. In most cases, the anxiety is provoked by everyday situations such as making one-on-one conversation at a party, or eating and drinking in front of even a small number of people. In these situations, people with social anxiety disorder tend to feel like all eyes are on them, and they often experience blushing, trembling, nausea, profuse sweating, or difficulty talking. These symptoms can be so disruptive that they make it hard to meet new people, maintain relationships, and advance at work or in school.

Panic

Panic attacks can be terrifying: Picture a sudden, gripping feeling of fear and helplessness that can last for several minutes, accompanied by scary physical symptoms such as breathing problems, a pounding or racing heart, tingling or numb hands, sweating, weakness or dizziness, chest pain, stomach pain, and feeling hot or cold. Not everyone who has a panic attack has an anxiety disorder, but people who experience them repeatedly may be diagnosed with panic disorder. People with panic disorder live in fear about when, where, and why their next attack might happen, and they tend to avoid places where attacks have occurred in the past.

Flashbacks

Reliving a disturbing or traumatic event—a violent encounter, the sudden death of a loved one—is a hallmark of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which shares some features with anxiety disorders. (Until very recently, in fact, PTSD was seen as a type of anxiety disorder rather than a stand-alone condition.) But flashbacks may occur with other types of anxiety as well. Some research, including a 2006 study in the Journal of Anxiety Disorders, suggests that some people with social anxiety have PTSD-like flashbacks of experiences that might not seem obviously traumatic, such as being publicly ridiculed. These people may even avoid reminders of the experience—another symptom reminiscent of PTSD.

Perfectionism

The finicky and obsessive mind-set known as perfectionism "goes hand in hand with anxiety disorders," Winston says. "If you are constantly judging yourself or you have a lot of anticipatory anxiety about making mistakes or falling short of your standards, then you probably have an anxiety disorder." Perfectionism is especially common in obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), which, like PTSD, has long been viewed as an anxiety disorder. "OCD can happen subtly, like in the case of somebody who can't get out of the house for three hours because their makeup has to be absolutely just right and they have to keep starting over," Winston says.

Compulsive behaviors

In order to be diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, a person's obsessiveness and intrusive thoughts must be accompanied by compulsive behavior, whether it's mental (telling yourself It'll be all right over and over again) or physical (hand-washing, straightening items). Obsessive thinking and compulsive behavior become a full-blown disorder when the need to complete the behaviors—also known as "rituals"—begins to drive your life, Winston says. "If you like your radio at volume level 3, for example, and it breaks and gets stuck on 4, would you be in a total panic until you could get it fixed?"

Self-doubt

Persistent self-doubt and second-guessing is a common feature of anxiety disorders, including generalized anxiety disorder and OCD. In some cases, the doubt may revolve around a question that's central to a person's identity, like "What if I'm gay?" or "Do I love my husband as much as he loves me?" In OCD, Winston says, these "doubt attacks" are especially common when a question is unanswerable. People with OCD "think, 'If only I would know 100% for sure whether I was gay or straight, either one would be fine,' but they have this intolerance for uncertainty that turns the question into an obsession," she says.

[slightlycracked17]

#1

Look, I’m not going to lie. I’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m doing.

It’s been about four years since I first had the idea of documenting my innermost thoughts in some way, but, having stayed true to the (not-so) great procrastinator I am, it’s never happened. Finally, here we are; I’m finally putting pen to paper, or rather fingers to keyboard. I am armed with my metaphorical shovel & gold pan, ready to dig & sift through the deep, dark depths of the overworked and extremely weary mess that is my mind (or lack of…).

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been an extremely shy & reserved person. Very much introverted rather than extroverted; an internaliser as opposed to an open book. In fact, if I were to describe myself as a book, I’d probably be one of those old key-locked diaries people had in their youths. Slightly tattered and torn, yet despite every mark, scratch, and tear I’ve received, I’m still in one piece (mostly), and guard the most private, intimate details and occurrences with great ferocity. Yet on this occasion the key has been brought out; I’ve been opened, and light will be finally shone upon several routinely darkened places.

WOW. Shit. Well, it’s safe to say I’m seriously re-thinking that sentence now… Moving on swiftly!

——

I’m not terribly fond of going back, but for the sake of this shoddy piece of text, I think it’s necessary.

In 2011, at the age of thirteen and a half, I was officially diagnosed with depression. Our family psychologist was (and still is) certain that I had been experiencing it for much longer, even as far back as 2008. A couple of years after that came the diagnosis of both generalised anxiety disorder & social anxiety disorder (I was started on my first antidepressant Fluoxetine in 2014). Then, to add a rotten cherry on top of a mouldy cake, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was confirmed earlier this year.

Depression is by far one of the most painful things I have ever experienced in my life. It’s changed absolutely everything about me – the way I act, the way I think, the way I live. I constantly fake smiles; lie, and say that everything is okay, when in fact it’s the complete opposite. More often than not, I wake up each day feeling hatred – or nothing at all – towards the world, and sometimes even for my own life. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve gone to sleep at night and wished that I didn’t have to wake up the next day, because the pain of simply existing has been almost too much to bear.

It’s a constant thick, dark fog in my brain that eats away at each tiny glimmer of hope or light that somehow manages to enter my mind. It’s without a doubt one of the worst parasites on earth, and it’s completely robbed me of everything – emotions, feelings… Basically, depression has robbed me of myself, and it’s completely fucked up the way I perceive the world (and most of all, myself). It’s like my brain is wearing a pair of those alternate reality goggles, and there’s no way in hell of removing the fuckers.

Waking up in the morning often seems like the most arduous, impossible task imaginable. On my darkest days, seemingly simple tasks such as showering, brushing my teeth and changing my clothes are the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. Sometimes, getting up and going to the toilet is so exhausting that upon re-entering my room, I’m incapable of doing anything except flopping straight back onto my bed. I’ve had a few especially bad depressive stages; around this time a year ago in June/July was one of the worst. That period was so unbelievably dark and draining that one day, I only left my room once. Just once.

Adding anxiety to the mix makes my life a living hell. You know the feeling of absolute shit-scaredness you get when you lean too far back on a chair? Anxiety is a lot like that. That sickening feeling is there constantly, except you never actually fall. It’s equally as crippling and debilitating. It’s a constant tight knot in my stomach that I can’t untie. My mind races at a million kilometres a millisecond; every single thought running amok in different directions and crashing into each other. It keeps me up at night; that antagonising voice in the back of my head overanalyses absolutely anything and everything. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating; it just doesn’t switch off.

Quite often, even the thought of having to speak to another person makes me physically ill. Answering and making telephone calls is the stuff of nightmares, even if it’s to an extremely close and trusted person like my Dad or Nanna. I overanalyse and stress to the point that my heart starts beating so hard I feel it’s going to escape my chest. Composing emails and Facebook/text messages are equally traumatic; I have an irrational need to read and reread messages a countless amount of times before I feel somewhat comfortable pressing send, and even then, my anxiety levels go through the fucking roof once it’s been delivered.

It makes me so incredibly terrified of the world around me. Whenever I manage to go out somewhere, I need the comfort of knowing that it’s a place that has somewhere I can go in case I get overwhelmed – toilet cubicles have become some of my closest friends. Even if I’m out with mates, often I’ll excuse myself to go to the toilet – only I don’t need to go; the pressure of being in a social situation makes me so overwhelmed that I need escape for a bit and attempt to regain even the smallest ounce of composure.

Both the depression and anxieties render me almost completely incapable of understanding why people like me and/or want to be around me. Most of the time I can only see the worst in myself, so when someone says they appreciate me or something about me, I’m absolutely gobsmacked. ‘You’re an exceptionally good mate; we love being around you. I’m glad we met’. Comments like this should be making me feel positive, and while it does a bit, the self-loathing and doubt manages to override the positivity 90% of the time. Oh, how I wish it wasn’t that way… Having said that, I’m so incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such an amazing group of people. They always make me laugh and smile when I need it most. Often those are the days where I feel like I’m never going to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. To quote The Beatles, I get by with a little help from my friends. Oh, and a 100mg Sertraline prescription…

It’s probably a mix of the anxiety as well, but the PTSD impacts me a hell of a lot, too, especially in the sense that I’m beyond terrified of any sort of confrontation or argument, no matter how big or small. Exceptionally loud (and/or unexpected) noises, screaming, and shouting are powerful enough to make me want to cry, or if it’s bad enough, trigger a breakdown/episode of sorts. At the same time, I’m violently afraid of upsetting and hurting other people. I’m a delicate, sensitive little soul… Probably too much so.

——-

Well, I think the dribbling is done for the time being. Bear in mind that this was written in the late hours of the evening, so I apologise profusely if the above doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. But at the same time, the evening is when I find it easiest to think… Hmm… I just can’t bloody win, can I?!

It feels rather good to finally have some of these thoughts on a page (it’s an organised chaos for sure). I’ve done my absolute best to try and make sense of the things that sometimes don’t even make sense to me, so I think I’ve managed alright.

[newsbiteswithjennysok]

Dec 9, 2019

1. Rising hip-hop talent Juice Wrld was set to attend his own 21st birthday party the day he died after suffering an apparent seizure, according to a report. The rapper, whose legal name was Jarad Anthony Higgins, had turned 21 days earlier and planned to celebrate Sunday night with a fete in his hometown, Chicago, news station WFLD reported. The “All Girls Are the Same” rapper arrived on a private jet early Sunday to the city’s Midway International Airport, where he experienced a medical emergency, Chicago police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi told The Post. Shortly after landing, he was seen “basically convulsing” in a private jet terminal and rushed to an area hospital, where he was pronounced dead, police said.

Police launched an investigation into his death, but there were no obvious signs of foul play, authorities said.The up-and-coming star — who was named Top New Artist at the 2019 Billboard Music Awards — first made waves in the music scene with his 2018 hit “Lucid Dreams.”

After his flight landed, the artist apparently swallowed a bunch of Percocet pills in what may have been a bid to hide them from authorities, sources told TMZ.

The rapper died after having an apparent seizure early Sunday at a private terminal of Midway International Airport, police said. He was brought to the Christ Medical Center, where he was pronounced dead around 3:15 a.m.

The Cook County medical examiner’s office said Monday that his autopsy is complete, but declined to rule on a cause of death, the Chicago Sun-Times reported.

Officials said they’re waiting on the results of additional tests, including for “cardiac pathology, neuropathology, toxicology and histology.”

2. The father of kidnapping survivor Elizabeth Smart has revealed how he prayed he was not gay and struggled to accept his sexuality amid the collapse of his 34-year marriage. Ed Smart made the stunning announcement that he is gay and would be divorcing his wife Lois and leaving the Mormon Church in August. Three months later, the 64-year-old shared intimate details about his internal battle to come to terms with his sexuality in an emotional interview with CBS This Morning's Gayle King aired Monday.   Ed described how he consulted with therapists and church leaders in hopes of concluding that he wasn't actually gay, because 'I didn't want to believe I was'.  'How do you cure being gay? There is no cure. And for all of those out there that are struggling in the same spot, there is no cure,' he told King. 'This is absolutely not a "choice". And I wish my wife knew that. I wish that more than anything.'

3. Cardi B gets real about monogamy in her new cover interview with Vogue, published on December 9. The “Press” rapper, 27 — who is one of four powerful moms to cover the magazine’s January 2020 issue — poses with her 17-month-old daughter Kulture Kiari Cephus in red on the new cover.

The mother of one doesn’t hold back in her candid interview, in which she discusses how motherhood has changed her; a new album; the scrutiny of ever-escalating fame and how social media effects her; and, the most hot button topic of all, her marriage to Migos rapper, Offset. Cardi goes into great detail about how she and the Atlanta rapper, 27, overcame his infidelity last year. The pair, who secretly tied the knot in September 2017, split in December 2018 after Offset cheated on Cardi. However, they eventually reunited earlier this year.

“When me and my husband got into our issues — you know, he cheated and everything — and I decided to stay with him and work together with him, a lot of people were so mad at me; a lot of women felt disappointed in me,” Cardi admitted, explaining, “But it’s real-life shit. If you love somebody and you stop being with them, and you’re depressed and social media is telling you not to talk to that person because he cheated, you’re not really happy on the inside until you have the conversation. Then, if you get back with them, it’s like, how could you? You let all of us down.”

At the end of the day “everybody has issues,” Cardi said, noting, “I believe in forgiveness. I prayed on it.” — Something both she and Offset did together. “We had priests come to us. And we just came to an understanding like, bro, it’s really us against the world. He has my back for everything, I have his back for everything, so when you cheat, you’re betraying the person that has your back the most. Why would you do that? We have come to a clear understanding,” Cardi explained. “For me, monogamy is the only way. I’ll beat your ass if you cheat on me.”

Vogue briefly spoke with Offset, who gushed over his “outspoken” wife. “It’s not an easy thing. We both have our own households. But you grow,” he said of his marriage. “We’re way better now with communication. She’s balancing a lot. She feels like she can’t be absent a lot, and our jobs are crazy. But I think motherhood got her more focused. I always tell her, don’t follow the comments. But she’s been outspoken on things since before she was making music — she’s not ever putting on, she’s not ever being cool,” Offset said, concluding with, “At the end of the day, she’s still going to rap about the same shit, which is what it’s like being a woman.”

4. The Bachelorette alums Ashley Hebert, 34, and JP Rosenbaum, 44, announced on Instagram that he is suffering from a rare autoimmune disorder called Guillain-Barré syndrome. “JP was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré syndrome yesterday,” Ashley posted on her Instagram Stories on Sunday, December 8. “He is in treatment and doing well. It may be a long road to full recovery, but we are so grateful to everyone that has helped us get to a speedy diagnosis and treatment.”

Guillain-Barré, according to the Mayo Clinic,”is a rare disorder in which your body’s immune system attacks your nerves. Weakness and tingling in your extremities are usually the first symptoms. These sensations can quickly spread, eventually paralyzing your whole body. The exact cause of Guillain-Barré syndrome is unknown. But it is often preceded by an infectious illness such as a respiratory infection or the stomach flu.”

JP, who won wife Ashley’s heart on season 7 of The Bachelorette, spoke out to his Instagram fans in a series of videos, as well. Sitting in his hospital bed, he called the diagnosis “very surreal and humbling and crazy, rare. Things you do every day, like picking up this phone, or buttoning buttons, tying shoelaces, putting on deodorant, just can’t do it. Picking up my kids, can’t do it. Wiping your ass, maybe TMI, but might have Ashley assist on the next one. Can’t really believe it.”

He added that he’ll probably have to be in the hospital for a few more days, but he and Ashley are remaining optimistic about his prognosis. “I know there’s lot of physical therapy in my future,” he said. While there is no cure for Guillain-Barré syndrome at this time, there are treatments that can ease the symptoms of the disorder, and reduce its duration, according to the Mayo Clinic. The organization notes that “most people recover from Guillain-Barré syndrome, though some may experience lingering effects from it, such as weakness, numbness or fatigue.”

5. Chrissy Teigen has spoken out about her crippling battle with anxiety and how being famous has exasperated the mental health condition. Taking to Twitter to do a Q and A on Sunday, the American model, 34, said her medicine was the key to keeping her sanity. When asked if she has changed for the better since becoming a celebrity, Chrissy replied: 'Very good question. I don't know, honestly. I still see things from every perspective. But I’m also highly anxious and perceptive so it’s kind of hell for my own mind.

In another Q and A, Chrissy continued: 'I was always so nervous. I never knew what I was going to do next. I still don't really know. But it's okay. Don't just survive. Live!'.

The television personality also spoke about how fame has made it hard for her to tackle everyday tasks such as getting public transport of going to the supermarket. 

Chrissy previously spoke about her anxiety with Glamour last year, she said: 'I used to be on anti-anxiety medication because I was confused. I didn’t know where I was going in life.

ll I knew when I was younger, or when I was 18, was that I wanted kids and a husband.'

Over the last few years, Chrissy has cultivated an impressive following on social media, with 12million fans.

Her tweets morphed from partying and hangover cures to fertility issues, motherhood, breastfeeding, and postpartum depression.

She explained: 'I thought postpartum was, you have the baby and you’re sad. It was like, no. It sneaks up on a lot of people'.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

I Found Out I Had Asperger’s at 33

http://fashion-trendin.com/i-found-out-i-had-aspergers-at-33/

I Found Out I Had Asperger’s at 33

Those with Asperger syndrome are said to sit on the “high-functioning” end of the autism spectrum. While all subtypes of autism are now technically folded into a single diagnosis (autism spectrum disorder, or ASD), the breadth of the spectrum means living with ASD looks different for everyone. 

Taylor was diagnosed with Asperger’s as an adult. The process of reflecting on her life and seeing herself through a new lens has been both scary and enlightening. When I got her on the phone to hear what that’s been like, she was chatty and friendly; I detected none of the bluntness she told me she has to keep in check.

Such are the subtleties of the Asperger’s experience — and it’s why I asked Taylor to share hers. Below is her as-told-to story. –Haley Nahman

Being diagnosed

I didn’t know that I had Asperger’s until a year ago. I was 33 when I was diagnosed. It was a long process. I think being diagnosed as an adult is a very strange experience, but it was also a massive relief. As a kid, I suffered from anxiety, but doctors diagnosed me with depression and stuffed me with drugs. Now when I look back, I think I was just struggling with Asperger’s and struggling to communicate with people.

Throughout my life, I tried to mask my social anxiety and social shortcomings by being outgoing and funny — but funny in a kind of offensive way. It sometimes made people laugh, but it also sometimes made people say that I was too much. I’ve always had a strange relationship with people and the way I communicate with them. I’m very blunt; I say whatever is on my mind. A lot of people don’t like that; they prefer the sugarcoated pleasantries. I remember during one of my first jobs in media, I was asked by my boss to add smiley faces and exclamation points to my emails because I sounded so mean in them.

I moved to Berlin in 2013. That was an interesting experience because not only was I dealing with new people, but also a new culture. German people are stereotypically very blunt, as well; they’re not big into small talk [like Americans]. In that way, it was nice for me because I felt a little more normal. But two years ago, I started getting really depressed. I was having a lot of trouble making new friends. Berlin is a very transient city, so I would meet new people and they’d move away. My friend group would fluctuate a lot, and I got to a point where I had only a handful of friends, if that.

I was super-lonely. I got really depressed thinking people didn’t invite me out because they didn’t like me, so I started looking at how I am with people and how I communicate with them. I started reading a bunch of things online, and, like any good digital native, I self-diagnosed myself on the internet. I took an online Asperger’s test and it indicated I was on the spectrum. But I thought, Okay, whatever, it’s just the internet.

Then my depression got worse, and my sister, who lives in New York, finally suggested I go talk to someone. I found a psychologist and met with her and said, “I took this Asperger’s test online and it’s probably stupid…” And she said, “Not at all — you actually have a lot of the symptoms. Let’s dive deeper into it and find out.”

The [official] test is on the computer, combined with talking to someone in person and problem-solving and stuff. It’s kind of similar to the Myers-Briggs test — that was actually a component to it, as well. Mine, INTJ, turned out to be very prone to Asperger’s. The therapist gave me a lot of literature, and we kind of went on this journey together of figuring out what it means for me as an adult. It’s been scary but also such a relief.

How it feels

It’s hard for me to explain what it feels like because I can’t speak to other people’s experiences. The spectrum is massive. Different people are plotted along it in different ways. I have a cousin who is low-functioning — he’ll never be able to live on his own — whereas I am high-functioning and you wouldn’t necessarily know I have Asperger’s if I didn’t tell you. Everyone has different quirks and different ticks.

I do think there are key commonalities, though. For one, we process information differently. For example, today was a really hard day for me because my boss sent me a two-sentence email. I had to read it 20 times, say it out loud and write it down to understand it. I was so overwhelmed I actually had to step outside for a little while. I couldn’t process this one sentence that said, “Add links to the document below and draft an email and send it.” I finally had to ask my coworker, “What does this mean?” It took me 20 minutes to figure out. The email was simple.

I think for a lot of neurotypical people, it’s much easier to pick up on tone of voice, body language or other nonverbal cues and know what they mean, whereas people with Asperger’s have trouble with that. Someone may say something to me that is bitingly sarcastic and I might leave with the impression that they’re very genuine. It’s hard. Sometimes my boyfriend will have to remind me when something’s a joke.

My brain just never feels fully comfortable. People think I’m being rude when I ask a question like, “Can you repeat yourself?” But it’s not that I’m not listening or meaning to be impolite — my brain just didn’t process what they said. It’s hard to describe how it feels exactly because other brains cannot grasp the way that my brain works. I tell people, “I don’t pick up on body language” or “I can’t look people in the eye” or “I don’t like being touched” because those things are relatable, but there are processing things that are harder to explain.

For example, your boss might send you an email saying, “Hey, I need this article finished by the end of the day,” and you would think, Okay, cool. I know exactly what she’s talking about. Whereas for me, my first thought is, Is this person angry at me? Followed by What article is she talking about? and What does she mean by finished? What if she’s not happy with it? Should I write two different versions just in case? What if they’re not the right two versions?

There’s a lot of overthinking, there’s a lot of overcomplicating. Nothing ever feels simple. I can’t trust my thoughts. I don’t think people quite understand how easy it is for neurotypical people to process information. It can be really crippling for people with Asperger’s.

I have to remind myself to smile. Even with my boyfriend sometimes, he’ll get really flustered. Sometimes I’ll think I’m being really cheeky and funny and playful, and he’ll get upset because it’s just not translating. And I’ll have to say, “I’m trying to not be too blunt! I’m trying to be subtle.” Reading people’s social cues is a tough one.

Another thing with people on the spectrum is sensory overload. Often you hear about people on the spectrum who can’t be around too many lights and sounds — mine is smell. It’s really weird. I like to know ahead of time if I’m going to be somewhere where there might be overpowering smells because they might rile me up and make me really uncomfortable.

Living with it

My entire life, I never felt like a normal person. In high school, I wasn’t unpopular — I had a lot of different social groups I hung out with — but everyone I was friends with always told me, “You’re really weird, you’re really loud, you’re really this,” etc. So I never felt that anyone really liked me. My impression was more that they just put up with me. In hindsight, I know people did like me because I have friends from childhood I’m still close with, but that’s how I felt.

My best friends now know that I have Asperger’s and can pick up on when I’m struggling. It’s helpful to have people who understand my triggers so they can give me space and give me what I need. My friends will sometimes say, “Do you just need to go outside for a minute?” They know to be supportive.

Now that I know I have trouble processing, I have even more trouble with people who are not to the point and tell me [excess] information. I cut people off because I’m either taking too long to process what they said or I’ve already processed it and I’ve gotten the most information I could possibly need out of that sentence and I’m done. I have to just shut it down sometimes.

I live in England currently, and the cultural stereotype here is to be nice and polite even if you’re pissed off, so that’s something [else] I struggle with. I try to stop before I say things and make myself say them in a nice way, which feels very unnatural.

For a while after I found out, I was worried about telling people because I didn’t know that much about it. If I said I had [Asperger’s], people immediately asked what it was or responded that they’d seen a special on BBC or something. And I’d think, You have no idea. I even made my boyfriend read so much stuff, and he’s still having a hard time understanding it. My parents would say, “You don’t have Asperger’s” because they didn’t see it. It’s taken them a while to understand it.

I think now, though, I just address it head-on. If I think someone is confused or I get the sense that they think I’m being weird, I just tell them. Sometimes I also say it up front so people know. Where I work now, I made the decision to tell them from the very beginning of the interview process. It’s funny because everyone there said, “I’m fairly certain this is the perfect place for you because all the processes that we have in the office are fairly Asperger’s-friendly.” And that just means no bullshit. They don’t want fluff. Just straightforward stuff. We’re not allowed to use Powerpoint — we just use Word documents, and that’s ideal for me because I’m able to just get things out and not have to worry about pleasantries. They like when people push back and say what they mean, too. It’s been a really good environment.

There is no treatment, just awareness. I’m still navigating it all. A lot of it is reading literature and reading about other people’s experiences as well as learning from your own experiences. You can’t be embarrassed about it. All you can do is learn more and grow with it. The diagnosis has changed the way I think about myself. I think it’s empowered me. It’s made me like myself more because when you’re constantly told by people that you’re a bitch or too blunt or too whatever, it doesn’t make you feel good. My whole life, I’ve struggled with how I’ve interacted with people, and now I finally have an answer. I’m not ashamed of it.

Collages by Emily Zirimis.