#I’m just off SSRIs and don’t want to go back

[e77y]

Long but relatively unserious vent/rant below the cut (sorry I added this in bc I realized how long this post is oops)

Being at the center of some kind of internet witchhunt (which ik is kind of buzzwordy but) is literally my biggest fear ohhh my god. Even a small scale one… I think I would Die. Maybe it’s because I had a similar thing happen with my friend group in high school where one of them convinced the others I was like evil and spread all these rumors about me… 😭 He was splitting on me but still. That’s an explanation, not an excuse. And it basically confirmed all of my intrusive thoughts about myself, and my personality completely self-destructed and changed, and I haven’t interacted with any of those people the same way since. I isolated from them for MONTHS and just loathed myself. Bleh

The reason it’s on my mind is bc I’ve seen this happen to friends and mutuals and even just people I’ve followed in small fandoms, where the whole fandom hates them bc of this little drama and like. I KNOW that fandom drama is not the end of the world, but truly I think that would destroy me for months. And I would never be able to set foot in those spaces again :’) Getting a handful of rude comments about a fucking transfem hc I had at like 14 made me stop writing fanfic for YEARS 😭😭😭 sigh. Just bc they said it was ‘out of character for him to want to be a girl’ 🙄 (<- character who canonically felt confident when dressed as a woman btw. initially for a disguise but then she grew to love it. BUT I DIGRESS KNSHFJW)

All this to say I think that’s why I tiptoe around everything I say online… I am SO scared of ruffling feathers, but I know that fandoms are places for like! Having fun! And it’s not a big deal! And it doesn’t affect my real life! But like idk.. I just hate the idea of being hated by anyone. I’m sure that I ANNOY some people, and that’s whatever; I talk a lot and make overly personal posts sometimes (like this lol) but I don’t wanna be HATED yk? And idek if it’s better to be hated and ostracized publicly or resented in secret by people who still interact with you… :( Agh. If you ever have an issue with me, please DM me instead of letting it build up into something worse!

ANYWAY LIKE.. with fandom stuff. Idk. I want to have fun! I want to write and post things on Tumblr and AO3 etc but I am just very scared of peoples’ opinions, especially now that I have a decently popular/well-liked longfic in DnDads. For some reason I have convinced myself that writing bad or self-indulgent NSFW will make everyone hate me lmao. Like girl the POINT of fanfic is to be self-indulgent……….. sigh I need to get out more

^ light-hearted… but also kinda true haha. I stay at home a lot just bc I don’t have many reasons to go out atm and only a handful of close friends to go out with. Hopefully that will change when I move next semester lol. And whenever I get interests, they’re VERY strong and long-lasting, and fanfic writing is one of my main hobbies, so I get REALLY into online communities. And rn that is kind of my little niche fandom Tumblr bubble… which is embarrassing and probably unhealthy but whatever. I just inevitably get a lot of anxiety about things that are important/fun to me (bc OCD), especially bc I’ve never really had mutuals/‘friends’ in a fandom before this, excluding my irls

Anyway this got longer and more vent-y than I intended so I will tag accordingly, and sorry to whoever is reading this lol; I just wanted to get my thoughts written down in a public forum bc idk… Makes me feel less insane when ik other people can see it, too. Helps me not take it too seriously and spiral lol.

[0o-junebug-o0]

What if?

summary: You have some fears surrounding sex, you and Spencer talk it out.

genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort

cw: suggestive 16+! talk about/discussion about sex, insecure reader, reader is afraid of sex, understanding spencer, completely gn reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, reader takes unspecified medication (implied to be an SSRI), bi spencer, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer)

wordcount: 2k

note: venting in the form of a fic? who me? anyway, this is for everyone who, like me, is scared of having sex for the first time and wants someone to comfort them and ease their fears. you are not the only one out there.

Spencer’s hands slide from your cheeks to your waist, gripping you firmly yet gently. The feeling of his hands makes you shiver and you gasp into the kiss. He moans in response and nips on your lower lip before running his tongue over it. He pulls away for a moment to breathe before kissing you again with a fervor you’ve rarely experienced in your months of dating. 

You kiss him back just as desperately, curling your hands into his hair, tugging unintentionally. He moans loudly, his mouth falling open into the kiss. You pull again, deliberately this time, and the sound he makes drives you crazy. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. Spencer’s hand slips under the hem of your shirt and you pull away to allow him to tug it over your head. 

Unwilling to part from him for too long, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him back toward you. Your fingers fumble with the buttons as you try to take his shirt off, distracted by the feeling of Spencer’s hands running up and down your sides. He chuckles and kisses you again before helping you finish unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders. 

Your hands slide across his chest and he gasps again. His hands hold tight onto your hips as you kiss along his jaw and down to his neck. You nip at a spot along his pulse and his hips buck up into yours with a moan. You freeze for a moment as a pang of anxiety shoots through you. You move away from that spot and continue to kiss along his neck as Spencer whines your name.

You smile, pleased at the reactions you’re getting as you kiss your way back up to his mouth, keeping your hands pressed against his chest. Spencer kisses you with desperate, open mouth kisses and the feeling of his hands sliding over your bare skin makes you shiver.

But then Spencer’s hands are tugging at your pants. Your eyes shoot open, having slipped shut while kissing him, and your whole body goes cold like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over your head. Involuntarily, you tense, your lips freezing against Spencer’s. Spencer stills and pulls away, removing his hands and opening his eyes, looking at you with a furrowed brow. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly.

A wave of guilt rushes over you and you press back in to kiss him, grabbing his wrists and returning his hands to where they had been, hoping he’ll just forget about what just happened. He seems to move on instinct for a moment, kissing back, before he gently grabs your shoulders and pushes you away. His eyes dart around your face, his expression full of concern.

He whispers your name gently and you turn your head away in shame. “What’s going on?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”

Your eyes widen and you whip back around to look at him, shaking your head frantically. He looks so worried. Tears well in your eyes and you swipe them away violently, climbing off of Spencer’s lap. 

He watches you for a moment before grabbing your shirt from where it had landed and handing it back to you. You clutch it to your chest and sob. “I-I’m sorry!” you gasp. “I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey,” Spencer says softly. He reaches his hand out but freezes before he touches you, clearly worried that doing so will make things worse. You press your body into his hand and he seems to relax as he starts rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong.”

You tuck your legs against your chest, still cradling your shirt, and bury your head in your knees. 

“Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart? I don’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable but I need to know what I did so I don’t do it again.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you cry. “You’re perfect! It’s just me! There’s just something wrong with me!”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, baby.”

“There is!” you insist, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes back at you with a kindness you don’t deserve. You look away from him. “I want to have sex with you, I promise.”

The movement of his hand on your back stutters slightly but quickly continues. “Okay,” Spencer says carefully. 

“I-I don’t want you to think I don’t want you or-or love you because we haven't had sex yet, because I do! I really, really do! I’m just scared,” your voice trails off into a whisper as you finish speaking. 

“Hey, look at me,” Spencer says. You tilt your head and look up at him. “You’ve done nothing to make me think for even a second that you don’t love me. Whether or not we’ve had sex plays no role in that for me. Honestly, I don’t care if we ever have sex. I know we’ll both love each other just as much.”

“I do want to,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly on another sob. 

“I know. I believe you.”

You sniff and wipe at your eyes again. Spencer smiles sweetly at you and guides you to lean against his chest, holding you close and rubbing your arm. 

“Can you tell me why you’re scared?”

“I-It’s stupid,” you mutter.

“It’s not stupid, especially if it’s bothering you. And being nervous about having sex for the first time is completely normal.”

“I know, but it feels like more than just being nervous,” you try to explain, unsure how to put the feeling into words.

“And that’s okay too.”

“There’s a lot of things,” you admit timidly.

“We can go through them. One at a time, okay?” Spencer offers.

You nod and press your head harder against his chest for a moment in thanks. “One thing I’m worried about is, um, how I look,” you mutter. “What if, once you see me naked, you don’t think I’m attractive anymore, or-or you think my, um, my genitals look gross or disgusting.”

Spencer is silent for a moment and you can feel panic starting to build in your chest. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have said anything. What if you’ve messed all this up? This wonderful amazing thing you have with Spencer, just because you can’t get it together. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you start. “I don’t think you’re shallow or mean like that or anything. I—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you don’t,” Spencer reassures you.

“It’s— I know you won’t think those things but my brain won’t stop worrying about it.”

“That’s because anxieties are often irrational. We know that they’re untrue but they still exist. I don’t think there’s anything I could really say to prove to you that I won’t think those things but I can still promise that I won’t. No matter what, I will always think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Fresh tears steam down your cheeks and your lip wobbles. You untuck your legs and let your shirt fall into your lap as you wrap your arms around Spencer. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too,” you respond.

You stay in each other’s arms for a moment before you pull away again. “What if I can’t cum?” you whisper, speaking so softly that you’re almost unable to hear yourself.

“I couldn’t hear you, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can you say it again?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire and you bury your head in your hands out of embarrassment. “What if I can’t cum?” you say louder. There’s a moment of silence before you realize what that statement might sound like. “N-not through any fault of your own!” you rush to insist. “But because of my medication. Or-or because there’s something wrong with me! And what if I can’t make you cum. I want you to enjoy yourself when we have sex! I don’t want to let you down or not make you feel good!”

“Okay, I’m going to start with the first thing you brought up, alright?” 

You nod.

“This might not be what you want to hear, but being unable to cum is a possibility. There’s a condition called anorgasmia which results in orgasms that are less intense, delayed, infrequent, or absent altogether. And it can be due to taking certain medications. Though it’s unlikely because it only affects less than five percent of people, we won’t know if that’s something you experience until we try. If you do experience it, there’s nothing wrong with you, and there are ways to treat or work around it. But, to be honest, given the statistics, it is unlikely that you will be unable to cum. Your medication might make things a little more difficult but if that’s the case, and if we have sex, that just means I’ll get to spend even more time making you feel good.”

“But I don’t want it to all be focused on me. I don’t want you to have to put in extra effort you shouldn’t have to give just to make me feel good,” you respond.

“That leads me to your second concern.” Spencer pauses for a moment before saying, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes.

“Sex is not transactional. Just because I do something for you that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do the same for me. And I can guarantee you that regardless of what we do, I will enjoy myself. And if I want to spend extra time or even a full night just focusing on you, that would not subtract from my pleasure at all. Making you feel good would make me feel good too. And if you’re worried about not knowing what to do when it comes to anything about sex, I can show you or we can do research together. Alright?” You nod and Spencer smiles at you. “Is there anything else that scares you?” he asks patiently.

You open and close your mouth. Anxiety clogs your throat and seems to physically prevent you from speaking. You bow your head. Of all the worries you have about sex, this is the greatest. “What—“ you pause and take a deep breath. “What if I try to have sex and then don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would? Or-or what if I hate it and never want to have sex again?”

You look back up at Spencer with wide, pleading eyes. The tears once again forming and sticking to your lashes make his face swim before you.

“Then that’s okay,” Spencer responds like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“What?” you ask, unable to help but feel surprised.

“If you try having sex and decide you never want to again, that’s okay. If you change your mind midway and never want to try again, that’s okay. If you never want to even try, that’s okay. Nothing you do or don’t do could ever disappoint me or make me love you any less. I love you for you. I’m with you for you, not for sex. Sex is not necessary for a relationship to me. And I don’t want you to think it is for a second.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you nod. 

“I will love you no matter what we do or don’t do. Okay?” Spencer says softly.

A sob of relief bursts from your chest and you launch toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. “Th-thank you,” you cry weakly. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, baby,” Spencer says, pressing a kiss to your head.

You shake your head in disagreement and feel him chuckle against you.

“I love you,” you whisper. “So so much.”

“I love you too,” he responds. “So so much.”

_____

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@daryls-crossbow16 @nemobee777 @roboticsuccubus83

[oversensitiveandoffputting]

Part of the reason why I kin Stolas so much is because my own father survived two different domesticly abusive relationships.

So, now that that’s out of the way.

Octavia sees her mother abusing Stolas but mentally puts them both on equal footing. “Are you two done screaming at each other for the day?” and “Why does he hate her more than he loves me?”

She doesn’t know that he’s spent the last 17-18 years taking physical, emotional, and psychological abuse to give Octavia a “normal life” (I really hope Octavia never finds out she was conceived via rape. I don’t think Stolas will ever tell her because that would shatter her). She doesn’t know about his severe drinking problem that he uses to not feel all the misery. I don’t know if she knows about the SSRIs but considering how much Stolas keeps secret, she most likely doesn’t.

Octavia right now is angry with her father because, in her mind, her dad and mother loved each other and then her dad did a completely 180 by cheating with an imp and then firing back at all of Stella’s verbal assaults with no rhyme or reason. She is also going through trauma and that deserves to be acknowledged.

The thing about escaping domestic violence is your kid will never not be traumatized by it. If you stay, they’re traumatized by the abuser. If you leave, they’re traumatized by the sudden loss of stability, even if that stability was toxic and terrible. The best you can do is hope to mitigate the damage (but please if you have any doubts on whether to stay in an abusive relationship, the answer is always ‘no.’ Leave while you’re still alive).

I am not and will never victim blame Stolas. Escaping domestic violence is already as hard as swimming from the Pacific to the Atlantic without a life vest. I don’t blame him for not knowing this isn’t normal and that he deserves better. I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave Octavia without a mother (even if the mother is evil incarnate). I don’t blame him for 17-18 years of his survival mode working on overdrive and him not being able to see ahead how not kicking Stella to the curb the millisecond the egg was laid could damage his child down the line. I don’t blame him for putting his whole reason for not kill himself on Octavia, as unhealthy as that dynamic is.

But I also hope Octavia gets to a place where she doesn’t hate him for all this. Stolas can be selfish, but this isn’t one of those times. He found a lifeline in the form of a stupid red lizard (affectionate) and he’s gripping as hard as he can because he’s going to drown if he doesn’t. And to be honest? Taking some of that toxic energy off Octavia is a good thing. It’s not fair for her to be his sole reason for not killing himself. Again, don’t blame him for it- my birb husband has been tredding water for 17-18 years and needed some lifeline, any lifeline- but that doesn’t make it healthy.

I don’t want Octavia to know every dirty detail of her parents’ relationship. But I hope she finds healing in the knowledge that her father loves her more than all the rings of Hell combined and he’s spent 17-18 years trying to make it to the next morning just to make sure she’s okay. I hope she knows that he will protect her in the way he was never protected.

Great now I’m crying I have to call my dad.

[illandtired]

about me<3 (tw)

Hello, I’m 17 and I’m gonna try to take my life again on my 18th birthday.

(Sorry, this jumps around a lot.)

(And it’s long….)

Also heavy topics, literally almost every trigger warning in the book.

This blog is gonna literally be my diary. I’ve attempted to make me life multiple times in the past for multiple different reasons.

I’m seventeen and I currently live alone in my mother’s house, she lives with her boyfriend. I had my biological dad who left before I was born and two step fathers. The only one I “care” about is my most recent. He entered my life when I was 6 and since then I tried telling my mother about him but for some reason it took until I was 16 for her to divorce him. He abused me severely. When I told him I was suicidal the first time he said he was gonna go get his gun then proceeded to make me beg for my life. I was I believe 12 or 13, a lot of it’s a blur like most of my life.

I don’t want to go too much into my past and make this too long, I started smoking weed in 8th grade. By 9th I was doing lines of random shit I got from kids at school off the bathroom toilets. I have touched most stuff besides heroin. The one drug I promised my mother I would stay away from. Currently I am still hooked on opioids, SSRIs, and I smoke weed/thc carts every day.

I was 6 when I was diagnosed with adhd, severe anxiety and depression. I haven’t seen a doctor since. My mother swears she’s trying to get me in but she always complains about how much my meds cost. She knows my worries about my mental state and I swear it’s impossible to get the help I need.

I’ve always been a paranoid person but it’s getting worse by the day. I’m genuinely too scared to take the trash out because I feel 800 eyes on me. I feel like there’s invisible people constantly around me judging my every move. I don’t feel real some times, and not that life is a simulation shit, I genuinely don’t feel like I’m in my body.

I started self harming in 3rd grade. It started as me being a wrist and head banger but by 5th grade I had started using thumb tacks and scratching myself. I went to my step father and he told me they weren’t Deep enough and I was just looking for attention. By 6th grade I was actually cutting, but only to where I barely saw the blood. By 8th it got to the point where I needed to see the blood run. But I’ve managed to get back to only getting it to bead up, occasionally running. I was clean for quite a few months but the smallest, SMALEST thing can set me back so much.

I’ve struggled my entire life with starving myself, binge eating, then starving myself. I’ve been an unhealthy weight a lot of my life. I’m around 240lbs now, my eating disorder is mainly starving now. My “Binges” are now small.

I have never been able to make a phone call to someone besides friends. Even family calls are hard a lot. I can barely order food at a restaurant, fancy or McDonald’s.

I’ve made money in my life from stealing, I’ve been a kleptomaniac for as long as I can remember. But I also made money doing bakery stuff for my mother, doing mechanical stuff, and babysitting. My only “legal” job was working at McDonald’s. I got fired a year after starting because we had a new manager who fired me over homophobic reasons. I hated going to work. I loved the work itself, but I hated having to be around anyone.

I’ve always been called lazy. And I feel like it’s true, I can barely find the motivation to get up to take a piss most days. I had such a hard time with organization and cleanliness as a kid so I always had a messy room, unless it was right after one of the days I got my stuff thrown away.

I never payed attention in school yet I somehow got straight As until i genuinely didn’t care anymore. I dropped out 10th grade on my 16th birthday. School was so much worse for my mental health. I was self harming almost every day, lying to myself about who I am to fit in.

I actually love learning, I wanted to get into nursing school but I know I’ll never get clean enough. I even study biology, trig, physics, crime scene investigation, all sorts of stuff. I have notebooks and notebooks that I’ve filled with information I’ll never use.

I was 10 when I got my first boyfriend. He was 18, a relationship on discord. It lasted a couple years at least. I was sexually assaulted multiple times growing up and I don’t wanna go into more detail in this post. But due to my sexual trauma i became very hyper sexual very young. I still am to this day, I sell pictures to creepy men online because I know I won’t be able to get any other job. But at the same time it’s basically been implemented in my brain I’m good for sex and nothing more. I feel so utterly disgusted with myself after every sexual experience in my life from sex to just sending nudes.

I grew up a chubby girl with big tits. It was 6th grade i started having boys desperate to touch them. I had Ds by then. I’m a F-G now (depends on the bra). My own step father and his sons who were much older than me started sexualizing me when I was about 13. One of my step brother was creepy since he entered my life.

I’ve had so many important parts of my life taken from me. My Virginity with a man was raped away when I was 14 on Christmas. My self worth was barely existent but it was gone completely by 9th grade. My first “good boyfriend” was when I was 15, he was 18. He filmed us one night after I asked him not to multiple times, but the next day a video of me having my brains fucked out was all over my school. It was a smaller school, but even some of the female teachers sided with him because he was the “king” of the school. I missed my middle school graduation which doesn’t seem like much to most people, but I knew I was going to drop out and never have a high school graduation. I was even selected to write a speech and go up and speak at the podium but due to anxiety from both situations I missed the whole thing entirely because I tried to kill myself that night.

Most of my attempts have been overdose attempts, and that’s for a reason. I couldn’t imagine my mother finding me and my brains splattered on the wall. But out of everything, no it’s not my mother that’s kept me alive. It’s been my best friend. I live in the states and he lives in Scotland. We’ve been friends for years, we met through my ex and were completely like the opposite of each other but we care about each other. And unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to meet him. We were going to meet when I turn eighteen because he’ll be turning 21 and can legally drink here, I can legally drink there.

I care about nothing more than him and it pains me that I know he will be disappointed when he realizes I gave up. I don’t plan on telling him anything.. we have a thing where if he’s gone for a month he’s on a mental health break, but two months he’s dead and I have his permission to kill myself. I’m going to tell him he has to wait a year for me because I might be in the mental hospital.

Back to simple things I can’t do, I would rather claw my own eyes out than be alone with a man in a room. But my best friend is the one exception. I haven’t gone on a date since new years. As soon as we got to his house, it wasn’t even 5 minutes before he had a gun pressed in my side.

Yet at the same time I feel like my only purpose is to make men happy in any way I can. Even if it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to do it. Because that’s all I’ve ever been good at and praised for.

There was about a week in my life and it was somewhat recent. I told myself I wasn’t going to attempt again because no matter what life won’t suck that bad. Being homeless was the happiest time of my life, sure I can be on the street and cold, no money, but I no longer have responsibilities and I get to walk which I love doing. I used to sneak out at night and go on long ass walks normally from 10pm to 3-5am.

More things about substances, once again I’m sorry for jumping around. I started smoking cigarettes in 6th grade, provided by my step father and girlfriend. I started drinking in 8th grade but now it takes half a bottle of tequila for me to be at a happy level of drunk. Or 4 bottles of cheap wine, or an entire bottle of rum. Anyways I feel like I’m rambling on and on so I’m gonna try to wrap this up.

What’s the main reason I want to kill myself? Because I know I will never be able to live a normal life. But my one goal as a kid was to make it to 18.

[bakerstmel]

Today I went for “coffee” with my daughter’s best friend’s mom, who somehow manages to gently kick me in the ass every time I see her. She asked how my writing is going, and I answered honestly, it’s not. I have a relatively new job that is a ton of responsibility. I am always too tired to write at night, that’s been true for years, but I do a true commute now so my early getting up is for driving and not creation. I’m distressed by this, but I’m not in a position to move closer to work just yet, so I’m trying to figure out a way to make everything work in the meantime. She nodded and then said something very wise and also ass-kicky.

She said a friend of hers who is a systems analyst once told her that when you have a log jam like mine, you have to devote ALL OF YOUR RESOURCES to resolving it as soon as you recognize it. Like you can’t just think about the problem in your spare time, you have to make fixing it your primary goal. Otherwise, the bottle neck won’t clear itself, and eventually everything—your talent, drive, passion—will clog the opening and it will get harder and harder to unplug, to the point that your life will just begin flowing around it, making new paths that don’t use what you’ve left behind.

If this doesn’t ring true to you, then it probably doesn’t apply, but good Christ did it hit home with me. I’m not working on finding time to write at all, and I need to be, not out of obligation but because I fucking love to write. It’s when I’m most myself, when I feel most alive and connected. I love my job, but it’s what I do, not who I am. I think about writing, but it’s a distant kind of “yeah I should figure that out” kind of thought. Then the next day my alarm goes off at 5, I do Connections and the Wordle, throw on some work pajamas (scrubs) and roll out. I get home sometime around 7 or 8, maybe eat something, give the cats who don’t sleep with me some quality time, and crash. I already feel those new pathways forming, and you know, I had writer’s block for 25 long years while I was on SSRIs, and I do not want to go back.

So now I am going to figure this out.

[g-taire]

ok i wouldn't normally make a post about mental health in the tags for people to actually see, but if you're considering TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) because you're at the end of your rope, do it.

(obviously consult with your psych, ****I am not your doctor****)

very long commentary + procedure explanation below.

cw for bad mental health, depression, suicidal ideation, eating disorder mention (no details, as triggering as this cw tag)

for background, I have had extremely severe depression my entire life, hand-in-hand with suicidal ideation, a severe lifelong eating disorder, ocd, adhd, anxiety, the works. depression, anxiety, and ocd runs in my family, and my family life has historically been incredibly toxic if not outright abusive, as well as having been in abusive romantic/sexual relationships.

i have been on a number of different medications (from SSRIs, SNRIs, anti-psychotics, etc.) with very little success. i have been in various higher levels of care for months at a time. i have tried (medically administered) ketamine. nothing has made a dent.

very recently, i had a severe episode where i was basically bed ridden for six months. it got to the point where my two different therapists, psych, and dietician were all separately recommending a higher level of care. if you're anything like me, you can't afford that shit, let alone taking weeks at a time off from work.

all that to say, ya girl has Been Depressed.

tms was basically a last ditch effort before I would have to do residential, and i didn't want to do that again, only in part because of the aforementioned reasons.

it's not magic. i'm going to say that right away. it's absolutely not going to magically make you happy.

i've been going 5x a week for 6 weeks (none on weekends), and it takes about 30 minutes to do two different stimulations — depression (20 minutes) and ocd (10 minutes). this is my specific regimen, yours might be different. after the 6 weeks and weekly evaluations, I'm tapering down to 3x a week, then 2x a week for 2 weeks (total of 37 sessions). my provider would like me to do 44 sessions total (as opposed to standard 37) but i guess health insurance doesn't always cover the additional sessions, so we're waiting to hear back.

when i started, my evaluation levels were in the 60s. now they're in the 30s. they think they can get me to the teens. i'm already feeling so much relief, i don't know how they think I can feel any better, honestly. my provider used the Beck Depression Inventory, which I just looked up — I am still considered to have severe depression with my score in the 30s, but by god, cutting in half from the 60s? genuinely life changing.

basically, they test your brain regions (and you can get a brain scan for an additional cost and more accurate treatment, but I opted not to) by lightly zapping different regions of your brain to see how your toes and then your fingers twitch. i don't know how it works, but it's how they determine what voltage to use and what areas need stimulation. you're wearing a personal cloth cap with a grid on it to guide them, and the machine itself basically looks like one of those old fashioned hair driers.

it's not painful, but it can be uncomfortable. it feels a little bit like a woodpecker tapping on your skull. if it is painful, tell them. i was feeling a sharp pain in one of my teeth, and they adjusted the positioning. my right hand fingers still twitch when I'm getting the depression zaps, but not the ocd. honestly, I have almost fallen asleep, because it's kind of meditative, and i'm on a very high level. if i'm remembering correctly, it's like 2 seconds on, 10 seconds off? or 5 seconds off? it's not constant.

i read during the depression one, and have to "lightly" trigger myself with the ocd (if you've ever done an ERP/ERP therapy, a gentle version of that so your anxiety is at a 5-7, not a 10 but also not a 3) so I can't read during that one. I listen to music, and my provider has offered to put on netflix or hulu.

during the depression one, the only thing you're really encouraged to do is something mentally positive — don't listen to your Sad Girl TM music, or anything like that. listen/read/watch something that you find pleasant and enjoyable and something that generally makes you happy.

they don't start you at your specific max voltage — they start you low and you build up in increments the first week or so. the first few times are the most uncomfortable, and you might get a headache afterwards, but i never did. after a few sessions, you stop really noticing it.

****there is a VERY (<1%) slight chance of seizures, but i believe only in people who are already epileptic, heavy drinkers, or on specific medications. there is no chance of you going home and having a seizure, it would happen while receiving the treatment.*****

i can not tell you how much my mood has improved since starting this treatment a month and a half ago.

I was really dubious, and didn't have high hopes. I have a friend I met when we were both in a higher level of care who is similarly resistant to depression treatments — she did tms before me and didn't experience much relief. however, ketamine seems to be helping her and it didn't help me! so, remember, every single person is different. what works for me, may not work for you. but i do think it's worth trying.

it doesn't happen right away, and they tell you this upfront. I think I really only started feeling noticeably better around week 3 or 4?

honestly, I think a huge part was just being forced out of the house 5x a week (I was working from home exclusively atp, which was getting me in slight trouble at work despite having permission) forced to interact with other humans, if only briefly/professionally. I scheduled mine at 08:30, right when they open, so I had to force myself to get up at a reasonable time to make the train, get there, etc. and so I didn't have to go on my lunch break or after work.

(a slight disclaimer: at this point in my depressive episode I was using weed to numb out. I wasn't using a lot (at least, by the standards of my former friend group?) but I was smoking a bowl each night. this wasn't a problem for my providers, especially because I'm in a state where it's legal, but do make sure to let them know if you use weed or any other substances, as it will impact the voltages or something. i was told it isn't a problem, so long as i'm not coming to the appointments high. I've been trying to cut down to only a few times a week, and i've been really successful without really any problems, which I'm taking as another sign of my improved mental health.)

I didn't really need the reminder, but the practitioner did remind me a few times that tms does not cure your depression, and it doesn't make you happy.

the way she put it, is it kind of brings the "levels" (of.... what I'm not sure, sorry. google.) of your brain to a more neutral state, which then makes it easier for you to experience happiness or enjoyment, cutting through the fog of depression and anhedonia. this has absolutely been my experience.

like, i'm not going to lie to you and say this has cured me. according to my scores, i'm still severely depressed. but i can not stress how much relief I feel.

I've never been able to get out of bed in the morning, not even when I was a kid, and while I'm still snoozing my alarm until the last possible second, once I'm up? I feel awake. I feel fine. I'm smiling at fucking birds and flowers on my way to the train. I'm not crying over every little thing, and even better? I'm not numb, or trying to be numb because I feel overwhelmed. I feel, god, cheerful waiting for the train to take me to my very boring job. i'm actually looking to make friends and date again, and making creative goals again after months and months of nothing.

no, it hasn't really helped my severely unmedicated adhd — however, I don't really feel the overwhelming feeling of dread at approaching a project that I've procrastinated on for work. i'm honestly still just as distractable, but I'm also finding that cheap sources of dopamine (tiktok doomscrolling, scrolling tumblr) aren't as appealing, and I eventually come back to the task I have to do. do I hate the task less? no, but like, it's more of a necessary evil, as opposed to a crushing despair.

i'll also say it hasn't really helped me progress in my ed recovery. without details on that, i'm at a relatively healthy place after some higher level treatment, and working on maintenance, which everyone tends to agree is much harder than the recovery period. i've done this rodeo a few times, and generally agree. however I can only assume that making progress on that will be infinitely easier when I'm not laying in bed for 20 hours a day.

honestly, the funniest part of this is I've started noticing how much my very incompetent roommate pisses me off. before, I was so depressed I either didn't notice or have the capacity to process how irritating they are (they are the definition of weaponized incompetence, but that's for a different post) because I was so in my head and hopeless, and now? now i'm annoyed, and while that's not, like, an ideal emotion to have towards someone you live with, it's vastly preferable to feeling just nothing. i just roll my eyes to myself, take a deep breath, and move on.

something that was stressed upon me was that, in order for tms to work, you have to put in the work to help it along. like, if your brain is getting set to a neutral baseline, you have to work to keep it from slipping back into depressive habits.

semi-regular exercise like going for a walk on your lunch hour, eating reasonably well, sleeping regularly and enough but not too much, not doomscrolling too much, finding a stimulating hobby like idk crochet or painting or book club — anything that you derive actual enjoyment from. all those really annoying things you hear from people who say things like "have you tried yoga?"

those were so far out of reach for me before. like i've said, i've been quite literally bed ridden all of this year, and not much better in the past. those things actually feel somewhat attainable to me now, for the first time in my life.

honestly, if this is even half as well as how non-mentally ill people feel all the time, I'm a bit furious lol i knew I was starting from a lower rung on the ladder, I didn't realize that rung was literally underground and covered in ice and slime and that most people are miles above me wearing grippy boots. i don't know if this analogy works. whatever.

all of this to say: if you're thinking about tms, and aren't sure because it sounds kind of woo-woo or scary, i'd give it a try.

it's not cheap — my insurance covers everything except my copay, which is $50 per session. that is steep and it adds up. when the alternative was somehow finding the time and money to drop $10k+ on a month+ of residential or php again because I wasn't safe, knowing it honestly may not help much, as it hasn't in the past? it was a pretty clear choice. at least where I go, all insurances were accepted and cover the treatments in some capacity, and I believe a lot also have sliding scales. I'm unfortunately not sure about medicaid/care.

in terms of continuing treatment post-tms, i'm obviously going to continue my medication regimen, and meeting weekly with my outpatient mental health team. many people do maintenance sessions every few months, depending on their mood. we'll see what I need to do.

this post is already a mile long, so if you made it this far, um, gold star! i hope this was at least mildly informative. I know I've used tumblr and reddit to see anecdotal experiences for various medications and therapies, so I'm hoping this reaches at least one person who needs it. I may edit this post at a later date if I think of anything. feel free to ask me questions (within reason, and please with trigger warnings) and I will try to answer them to the best of my abilities, but again, I am one person, with one person's unique experiences, and I am not a doctor. :)

[taintmansion]

.

After another sleepless night for seemingly no reason, no work today, no anxiety felt, no racing thoughts or heartbeat. just my brain not going to sleep. I got some cbd gummies and felt super calm from one before trying to sleep like I don’t understand i’m so beyond done with this and scared. i’m going to a yearly doctor appointment tuesday and will talk about everything and ask to get blood work and stuff done because I start getting scared there’s something physically wrong with me. I’ve had a prescription of lexapro at home for a few days now and stopped trazodone since I didn’t feel good on it and wouldn’t even sleep every night. also the days I took one and got no sleep had me feeling Really bad. I should have just started the lexapro a few days ago when I had 3 days off ahead of me but I’ve been scared of starting something else and feeling worse even if just at first. But after last night I’m starting it. I’ve not been on an ssri since high school and always thought they weren’t for me or needed but idk what else to do. This all has to be anxiety based. I also gave my 2 weeks notice the other day and haven’t heard back from my boss and assume she wants to talk in person tomorrow. I don’t see myself being there on much sleep and now I’ll be newly medicated and feeling like god knows what. I’m worried I won’t even be able to complete the last 2 weeks of shifts. I’m worried about things not improving even after I’m out of there and taking this pill. This came out of nowhere and I’m so lost and confused and worrying everyone in my life. Just trying so hard to be hopeful I get better soon.

[beautifulheartandspirit]

Knee all good 🥹was kinda shocked to hear how bad it was! And I was mistaken. There is still some of my meniscus inside. Even though I wanted it fully removed ( knowing the chances of arthritis are off the charts ) I just wanted my next 20 years of life to be really active while I still have my health 😂if that makes sense?

But my surgeon really is a good guy, he said it was a very tough surgery because of the past injury he had to fix as well. I’m thankful and trusting the process..

That’s the good

Theres the other half of me that is looking in the mirror and going godddd. What have I done to myself? Over the years. It all starts to catch up 😅

I am on no mood stabilization medication or SSRI. I’m back to therapy and I still see my psychiatrist because I am open to meds . Just.. not right now.. I don’t know why.

Everything is at an all time high which is great and also very bad..

My creativity - all time high

My smiles and laughter - all time high

My impulsiveness- all time high( can be good and bad but let’s be real, usually bad !😂)

My mood swings- all time high

Negative emotions- all time high

[findingmypeace]

2/13/2023

I’ve been meaning to update about my appointment with my psychiatrist last Tuesday. For the first time in a long time I was able to be completely real with him. I didn’t downplay how I was feeling or not say what I wanted. It took so much effort to get the words out but I was able to tell him exactly how low things have gotten. For the first time he was able to recognize how hurtful it was to lose K. I was also able to be honest about SI thoughts.

As a result of all of this we are totally reworking my medication. This is the first major shift in my medication since I started seeing him when my last psychiatrist retired in July 2021. He is taking me off strattera and trintellex and adding nardil. Has anyone ever been on nardil? I’ve never heard of it. I think he forgot I am also on rexulti and wellbutrin because he didn’t mention those meds in the instructions for the changes. The reduction of old medications and the addition of nardil will take about 4 weeks. I’m still on week 1 and have not started nardil yet. My first dose will be on Wednesday. It’s a different class of medication than I’ve been on. I’ve mostly taken SSRI’s or atypical anti-psychotics. This medication is an MAOI. I’m not sure what to expect.

Additionally, we agreed that I would start writing things down that I want to say because I find that is an easier way to be honest. I’ve already written a little bit. I’ve basically talked about how exhausted I am with everything going on, how I want to give up, some of the SI that’s happening, and what’s really happening with my eating disorder (which I have yet to fully disclose to him-I don’t want him to suggest going back to treatment-he’s the medical director of the treatment center I went to). I have ect on Friday and I will give him the paper then. I’m nervous about sharing these things but I also feel a sense of relief. I think I might actually get appropriate help if I can be real and honest about what’s really happening. But I am also afraid of what that appropriate help means. I am NOT going to a HLOC! I just hope he understands. That’s really all I’m asking for.

[auspicetaker]

hi tumlr

my queue ran out and i’ve been too busy playing TotK to update it. i’ve been doing some personal writing today that’s probably not interesting to anyone else, but i’m putting it under the cut if you’re interested in reading me complaining about all my life problems and not doing anything to solve them.

5/31/2023

What’s my problem? Well…

… I’ve been bleeding continuously for months, maybe years. I’ve lost track. I’m on hormonal birth control to manage my brutal PMS symptoms (debilitating cramps, migraines so bad I can’t stand up, hellacious mood swings) but now I’m just on a low-grade period forever. Not sure what’s worse - the whiplash of the highs and lows of the natural cycle, or being stuck somewhere in the cycle eternally, not up or down, just blood and tissue leaking out of me day in and day out for months and months on end.

… I’ve been wishing to get on T for some time now. I want the facial and body hair, the husky voice, increased muscle mass, new stinky boy smells, a roughening of my too-delicate facial features. However, getting gender-affirming healthcare, even in a trans-friendly blue state like mine, is no small undertaking. Everywhere I’ve called is either not accepting new patients or has a prohibitively long waitlist. I have an appointment with an endocrinologist in a few months, but since he’s just a straight-world endocrinologist, not someone specialized in these things, I am extremely apprehensive he’ll just shut me down. It’s happened before. The T feels like a new avenue to pursue to deal with my endless, miserable bleeding, some different exogenous hormones instead of the estrogen I’ve been taking. It feels like a small glimmer of hope, so obviously I am already prepared to never get it, to have it be taken away if I do get it, or for it to not work out like I imagined. 

… My job is falling apart at the seams. My colleague who was my greatest support was taken away from me about a month ago, unceremoniously laid off due to financial issues (concerning) and I’ve been floundering ever since. I made so much progress with my self-loathing and avoidance around work stuff, and it feels like I’ve taken eight steps back. No, not even that I took the eight steps myself, it’s like I was picked up by a giant claw and thrown all the way back to a more dysfunctional self. I had something good going, it felt tolerable, and now I am floundering, trapped with my stupid boss on his sinking ship. 

… I need to work on my resumé, apply to other stuff. I have always hated job hunting. It is a particularly odious form of the sort of normal-person lying and deception that is necessary for survival in our society. Creating a version of myself that’s palatable to prospective employers, then scraping, bowing, and doing little dances to try and get their approval or consideration… it makes me sick. Part of what was so great about getting this job was that I don’t even think I ever gave my boss a resumé. He already knew me and I was able to just use that goodwill and prior record to pirouette into this current role. Which in retrospect may have been kind of a red flag.

… My mental health has taken a bit of a nosedive in these past few months. Part of it is that I’m tapering off of the antidepressants that I’d been taking for my entire adult life. I was doing okay, but there’s been a few stumbling blocks in a row and things are tough, now. Things I thought I was doing better with (self harm and suicidal ideation) are back in a big way. I’ve accepted that I’ll struggle for a while, maybe forever, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay for the return of my full range of emotions. Long-term SSRI use leaves you in a state of not-depression but also not-happiness. You don’t experience pleasure so much as you experience the absence of pain. For me, at least, I also experienced a profound dulling of what little creative impulses I had. On that front, tapering down SSRI’s has been revelatory - I feel like I’ve unlocked a long-buried self who desires to write and make art, who has aesthetic visions and preferences. I’m collaging again, making art in my journal, learning to make digital art on a tablet, creating wall collages in my room. It doesn’t feel like something new, it feels like something very old that I lost and am finally returning to. All this to say that I’ll take an uptick in my brain screaming for blood and death (god knows I experienced that already on my full dose of SSRI’s) to get a shred of that old self back, to feel the joy and thrill of creation again. 

… Speaking of aesthetics, I’m so fucking sick and tired of all my clothes. I want something new but I don’t know exactly what. I’m tired of the black-and-green color scheme I’ve been rocking for the past 5 years. I’m tired of the skinny leg silhouettes and the too-small band tees. Again, I don’t know what I’d replace this all with. Shopping takes time and money, and I have little of either. In-person shopping is a sensorily draining and overwhelming experience, and online shopping leaves me either paralyzed with indecision or, worse, pulling the trigger impulsively and then wracked with regret. I have made a few stabs here and there towards a new personal aesthetic, getting colorful, oversized new button-down shirts, for example, but it’s slow going, and in the meantime I’m left with what I already have. And I’m so, so sick of it all.

… My house and my room are in a state of flux. My roommate is moving out, and my girlfriend is moving in. I’m sad to leave my roommate (nine years cohabitating!), apprehensive of change, but mostly excited. It’ll be incredible to have my girlfriend by my side all the time. That’s a dream. There are many, many nasty and frustrating corners of my room I keep saying I’ll deal with, and the clock is running out. My closet is a mess, my storage areas are inefficient and cluttered, and I simply cannot seem to get it together enough to do anything about any of it. Additionally, I decided I’d redo the peeling bathroom paint myself, even though we’re renting and it should be my landlord’s job, and it’s taking forever. I have very limited time and resources to deal with the many stages of scraping, stripping, sanding, spackling, priming, and repainting. The bathroom is currently in the “scraped and stripped” stage, but not yet in the “sanded, spackled, primed, and painted” stage, and it looks absolutely terrible. I feel stupid, panicked, overwhelmed just thinking about it. I’ve painted myself (ha ha)  into a corner and I just have to keep going, despite the fact that I never want to look at the fucking bathroom ever again, at this point. 

… There are other things that are necessary to my survival and health that I’ve been avoiding dealing with, or just haven’t had the resources to deal with. I’ve needed new glasses for months now but can’t seem to make myself do anything about it. It takes a Herculean effort just to go to work, cook food, do the dishes, and do my laundry, so higher-level tasks like “writing a resume” or “shopping for new jeans” or “making a necessary medical appointment” just keep getting pushed off for later. And later never comes. 

[dyketennant]

okay re: post i just reblogged, it’s reminding me how other people i know don’t drink nearly as much water as i do (though perhaps sometimes they should since i live in one of if not the hottest cities in the u.s., been a while since i checked it) because i’m on ssri’s and thus get dehydrated way more easily. and because of that i don’t think people realize how stressful it can be to get water sometimes.

i went to a convention back in late may. here, temperatures already get up into the triple digits. and let me tell you, it was unnecessarily hard to find water once i was actually inside the convention. i think there were one or two big water coolers outside, but most people are gonna be inside because obviously it’s sunny and scolding hot outside, plus everything is happening inside anyways.

anyways, once inside, water bottles were like. $5 for a little 16-oz thing, which really isn’t going to last me long if i’m someone on ssri’s walking around in full cosplay. even then every food stand was usually a long line, which meant standing and waiting to even pay for the overpriced bottled water. if i wanted to refill my water bottle, i had to go find a little drinking fountain (they didn’t have those fountains specifically designed to refill water bottles, for some reason, in the year of our lord 2024), which were not labeled on the map or by any signage and were only located next to some of the restrooms, not all of them. and it’s a massive convention hall, too, meaning lots of walking between locations to even find water to begin with.

i cannot stress this enough: if you are hosting a convention in the hottest city in the U.S., where every year dozens if not hundreds or THOUSANDS of people die/are hospitalized from overheating and dehydration, and this is a fan convention where you know people are going to be wearing heavy costumes/layers, finding water needs to be the easiest thing on the planet. there needs to be water refill stations on every corner. people should be handing out free water bottles as i walk into the building. i should be running into so many places to get water it starts to get annoying, because the alternative is people passing out and needing first aid/urgent care at your extremely packed and busy convention, which clearly makes a fuck ton of money and should have solved this problem years ago. it’s genuinely embarrassing and inhumane to profit off of people’s need for drinking water like they do.

and this is just one specific example of this. do you know how many times i’ve been traveling/on vacation and have to spend a good amount of time on a trip worrying about where i’ll be able to fill up my water bottle? and i’m speaking from a fairly privileged position—what about unhoused people, or disabled people who physically can’t walk around and search for water like i can?

tl;dr it needs to be way easier to access clean drinking water when in public than it currently is and i’m bitter :)

[altruisticenigma]

Wegovy Update

*** TW weight loss, mental health and diet ment ***

Not the best update in the world, but as I want to keep it true to my journey, I thought I’d fill you all in on where I’m at in my journey.

It seems that Wegovy may be affecting my mood- so much so that it’s affecting my ability to go to work and be a normal functioning person 😞 If you’re curious as to what side effects I had: On 1.0 I experienced irritability, extreme low mood, fatigue, and little to no motivation. Each day was very difficult to get through, for about 2 months straight. This was when I was starting 0.5 and I finished 1.0. Wegovy does have a warning about mood changes being a possible side effect.

I’m already disabled as it is, with a migraine disorder and mental health issues, and having this also on the table was very distressing. At first I thought I was slipping back into depression, but I tested Wegovy specifically- a week off and a week on, and the difference in my moods was astounding when I was off versus on.

I also accidentally missed 2 weeks, so I had to “start all over” again 😞😞😞 I’m back to 1.0 now. My mood hasn’t changed just yet, but my eating and appetite has been extremely chaotic. While my mood has been significantly better, my eating feels like a chaos I couldn’t control.

I’ve talked to my PCP about being put on some medication to help with my moods as I don’t want to stop Wegovy- I have come THIS far, it’s taken 2 years to figure out what has been happening to my body, and I’m not ready to give up. I just need to work with my body and see what I can do going forward.

We’re also going to test my thyroid and my blood levels to rule out anything having to do with anemia or hypothyroidism, as my symptoms are similar. We just want to make sure we’re looking at the right things before proceeding with a medication for mental illness. I’m no stranger to things like SSRIs; if it’ll help I welcome it.

I’m trying my best not to feel frustrated or disappointed. Healing isn’t linear and neither is this particular journey- I have different mountains than other people. What’s important is that I listen to my body and work with it, not against it. ❤️‍🩹

*** Note: OP takes Wegovy not only for weight loss, but also to manage insulin resistance. ***

[floriumm]

***I DO NOT ADVISE DOING WHAT I’M ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT***

Anyhow, my psychiatrist switched me off of Wellbutrin onto Lexapro a few months ago. It sort of worked for a while until I realized I had absolutely zero interest in anything at all. Then I started to notice I was sleeping WAY too much, and it was starting to feel like my Prozac experience all over again. So I call my doctor to see if I can see her earlier because my next appointment wasn’t until the end of July. The earliest they could move my appointment was June 28th.

However the fatigue was becoming unbearable. I was literally just in bed all day and night other than to eat and take my kids where they needed to go when my husband couldn’t. I told my husband “I can’t do this anymore, it’s making me way more depressed than ever.” So I said fuck it and just stopped taking them.

Again I DO NOT advise doing this, especially without talking to your doctor.

Outside of mood swings and irritability, I’ve been feeling a lot better and have had more energy. I just could not wait an entire month and have to deal with this shit. Im considering telling my doctor I don’t want to take anything else until I have my ADHD and Autism assessment done. I had a gene test done to get a better idea of what medications would work and Lexapro should have but didn’t. The gene site results said Wellbutrin was not a fit for me either.

To be honest, I really don’t want to go back on another SSRI at all. I’ve had the worst experiences with those so far. The Wellbutrin just made me feel off and I felt like I was dissociating A LOT when taking it. It also caused me to drop to almost 105lbs.

So yeah if I seem off this is why. But I’m starting to feel much better than I have in the past month, so there’s that.

[youtellmeee]

I have so much anxiety. I don’t want to do an ssri my dr prescribed buspar. I’ve taken it before. It worked but my anxiety is heightened just thinking about getting back on it. Mostly bc of the withdrawal symptoms I had getting off of it. Thought? Opinions? I need something for the anxiety. I got prescribed lexapro and my anxiety wouldn’t let me take it. So I’m going back to what I know. Ugh. I’m a mess.

[icelitten]

not f1 so feel free to skip. terrible mental health discussions behind cut

my marriage is over less than 8 months after it began. because it started digitally as a friendship, we didn't have a knowledge of each other in meatspace. when we met, had a social and physical chemistry that was spectacular. we didn't get to live together before the pandemic for 3 months of a summer like we wanted to because the pandemic closed his country's borders. so we went in to immigration hoping and praying we'd recapture that magic. after all, we were best friends. we could get through this.

then he got here in april and was despierately miserably homesick. to cope with it he clung to lots of socializing with his online friends both here and there because they made him feel normal.

i didn't see that. i just saw he was spending more time socializing online with others and very little time doing anything with me. we weren't having sex, we weren't going on dates. we did watch some things and play some videogames together. sometimes go on walks or short outings (sports). but like, that was once or twice a week.

i felt rejected, wondering how could he come all this way to be with me to ignore me. so i started hassling him about why he was spending time with other people, which made him feel pressured and not like spending time with me, and also like i was isolating him from his friends.

we foguht some. we hurt each other. i snooped on his messages b/c i thought he was cheating on me with an ex-GF and still friend. he went and stayed at that friends' house because he felt afraid he had no space or privacy ; i interpreted this as proof of him favoring even his ex over me for spending time with in person, and not that he needed to stay at the house of someone he could get to easily in order to get space away from me and breathe.

then i went into a mental health inpatient program for 2 weeks and went on new meds in september. a light switch fucking flipped. my emotions settled around and i realized i'd been obsessive and paranoid and jealous and ragey. i realized that 80% of the fault was in my head and i flared up and hurt him when he already wanted nothing but to be back in his home country with familiar things, not dealing with feeling all alone and scared and unsafe with someone who'd promised to be one way and was another. and i was absolutely horrified with myself and what i had done. i genuinely couldn't recognize the person who had spoken and acted like that to him - like my diary entries don't even make sense anymore!!!

it turns out my meds totally stopped working. we think after a viral infection that left me terribly ill, my doc had seen this before where serotonin meds stop absorbing after gut infections, but also SSRI poopout is real. the doc said i'd gone into a mixed bipolar state and somewhat dissociated. we put me on a new drug. we ran through a few therapy types - DBT, CBT, ACT - and individual and group therapies. i came out of it feeling a lot more normal and like myself. i recognized myself, i was better.

also today i found out my family has a history of mental breaks requiring hospitalization in their late 20s-early 30s and i'm 33. my grandmother had one, my mother had one, my aunt had one. all went off the rails and ruined friendships and relationships with out of character behavior which then resolved after meds and inpatient. i was never told any of this until today, when i called the mother i'd cut off to tell her i just came out of inpatient. she said "oh, yes, that runs in the line". prior to this she'd always told me it was 'just depression'. i'm telling my doctors next week b/c i think that this probably would have impacted what they tried for my care and how they treated me, to know this was in the lineage and not just depression/anxiety.

i thought that i'd be able to fix things. but it turns out i can't fix things. he's just too hurt by me being reactive and swinging between jealousy/frustration and sobbing tears/SI. he just wants to go back to his home country and divorce and forget this happeed. he says maybe we can be friends again over text a country apart like we used to, but being near each other is too painful and he doesn't want to be in a country with nothing for him. i was actively damaging him while he was here and the homesickness was too killer.

i wish he'd forgive 'sick me', who neither of us recognized, and i wish he'd give 'normal me' a second chance. because we do click so well online, we have values and aspirations and dreams for the future that were so compatible. we made each other happier and supported each other through difficult times in our past. i thought if i'd been enough for him to move out here and give this a shot so we could build something, that he'd want to keep trying.

but that version of me that went on a mental break did too much damage to all trust and bond. he can't believe it will get better between us, that i'll treat him better, that he could love america. he wants to go without a second shot. and i can't really blame him? because if i read online about X doing to Y what i did to him, i'd be like "dude gtfo out of there, they've hurt you too bad, trying to control who you speak to and whats in your space when you're alone with them in another country dependent on them is fucked up'. but i'm still...i'm wishing 5 years of friendship and a few of dating would let him also look past what happened and give it a shot to see if we could do the 'in sickness and in health' thing and try to patch things up because it Was a true mental break and a problem with meds, i was genuinely mentally ill with a short-term not-myself problem, i am working on it and trying to become a better person and make amends for the harm i caused and repair things. i was hoping the weight of history would give us that. but he doesn't want to see me or be here, and... i have to stop crying and clinging to him not to go, because that's the same old behavior i did while unstable and it doesn't show that i've changed or am doing better. i can think it's incredibly unfair sick me is being judged by ill me's standards when even he acknowledges that sick me and drunk me are miles apart and he can tell that i've changed; and he said too little too late, because too much happened to sweep under the rug. and i don't want to like pretend it didn't happen, just try to patch over it and work past and have a future where we said 'good thing we endured the marriage wrecking part in year 1'. and i can't make him give me a second chance, and maybe after reading all this people will agree i don't deserve it.

but i'm mourning the dreams for the marriage i wish i had been able to build, and the forgiveness i wish i had. i'm angry at my ill self, and i'm sad too that it got that far and nobody realized for months how OOC the break was and got me treatment earlier. i'm grieving that i've destroyed my relationship with my best friend with my actions. and i'm going to miss him so badly when he moves out.

[heisenbutch]

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