#TM Disorder

[tonguetie25]

The Temporomandibular Joint is made up of bone, muscle, nerve and cartilage. Dysfunction in any of these structures can contribute to a disorder in the joint. One of the most common causes of a TM Disorder is neuro-muscular dysfunction, where the various muscles connected to the neck, face and head spasm painfully. In more severe cases the muscles connected to the Articular disk may actually displace it out of position causing additional pain, clicking & popping sounds and locked jaw. These spasms are caused by multiple factors like mouth breathing, tongue tie, teeth grinding, clenching, a bad bite, physical or emotional trauma etc.

[scatterpatter]

one of the best things about embracing plurality and starting to actually admit I'm part of a system online is realizing just how many people in my spaces are also plural and its just

[vyeoh]

People will say they want less sanitized portrayals of mental health. Bitch you can't even handle Evan Hansen

[growing-home]

i spent nearly two decades of my life severely depressed and suicidal and for so long i believed wholeheartedly that it was my fault. i believed that the reason no medication or therapy had ever worked for my depression was because i wasn’t ACTUALLY depressed— i believed i was just lazy, bad, manipulative, and just using depression as an excuse for the inherent badness i thought was inside me. this was a story that was told to me and reinforced over and over again by treatment providers.

this past summer, i tried my 30th+ psychiatric medication, not expecting to see any results. the day i realized it was working was the day i realized that i was…planning my future???suddenly i no longer wanted to stay in bed all day and never go outside. i no longer wanted to isolate. i wanted to see people, talk to people! i started spending more time with friends and facetiming people and talking on the phone, things that i rarely did in the past. when i had been depressed, the only movies/tv shows i could focus on were super intense, fast paced, and scary or disturbing because that was the only way to hold my attention. after starting this medication, i started enjoying SITCOMS! i no longer felt like i was fighting to just get through every single day of my life.

there was such a clear and measurable difference in the quality of my life that i started to question why i believed that my depression had been my fault. it became very clear to me that a large part of my depression had been biological. i had not been lazy or bad. i had been sick. my brain was sick the same way other organs get sick sometimes. this brought up a lot of grief for me— grief for all the lost time that i’d spent trying to find something that worked, grief for how much pain i had been in for so long. but it also brought up sheer FURY at all of the therapists and psychiatrists who had treated me like i just wasn’t trying hard enough to get better.

i had been labeled treatment resistant, of course, and the only recommendations i had received after being given that label were TMS, Ketamine, and ECT. once i had tried all three with no success, i believed i was just a lost cause. i thought i was out of options. i was made to feel that way by so many treatment professionals. i was told that nothing was working because of my complex trauma and that once i healed from that then i would stop being depressed (as if it’s that easy to just fully recover from CPTSD!) i was told that i just needed to do more DBT, i just needed to live and breathe DBT skills and then i would get better, even though i’d done intensive DBT programs for years with no improvement to my depression. (yes, it helped me to change my behavior and quit self harm, but behavior change isn’t necessarily indicative of a change in mood. i could do all the right things all the time and still be in excruciating mental pain.)

i was told that i just wasn’t trying hard enough, or that i must have a personality disorder, or that i just needed to exercise more, or eat less, or eat MORE, or eat differently, or get a job, or get a dog, or do yoga, or acupuncture, or biofeedback, or find purpose in my life— psychiatrist after psychiatrist looked for something to blame everywhere but in the mirror. instead of admitting that they weren’t equipped to help me, they made me believe that it was MY fault i wasn’t getting better. and i believed them. for SO long, i believed them.

and now after finding a medication that works for me, i see everything so much more clearly. psychiatrists need to put their enormous egos aside and actually treat patients with treatment resistant depression instead of blaming us for suffering from a (partially at least) biological illness. if you’re a doctor and you know that a patients illness is outside of the scope of your abilities, either do more research and get more training to help them or refer them to someone who specializes in what they need. don’t keep them around letting them pay you thousands of dollars while you make them try the same thing over and over and over again and expect to get a different result. people act like things like ECT are a last resort option, and in doing so make people believe that if it doesn’t help then you’re out of options. but nobody ever tried me on tricyclics. nobody tried me on MAOIs. nobody told me about how some dopamine agonists like Pramipexole have had some success in treating treatment resident depression. instead i was made to feel like asking to not be suicidal daily was asking for too much. if you’re a clinician who thinks that’s asking for too much, you’re in the wrong profession. we can do better than that. we NEED to do better than that.

in my experience, out of every profession, doctors have some of the biggest egos i’ve ever seen. i say this as someone who is both mentally ill as well as physically disabled. many doctors HATE it when you do your own research. they HATE it when you have suggestions, or when you ask for what you need. it’s almost as if they feel threatened by it, like they need to believe that they are superior to their patients because of how much time and money and energy they put into going to med school— they need to believe they hate their hard work was worth it so they have a tendency to dismiss any ideas their patients might have. i don’t care how many years you’ve been in school. you do not get to tell your sick patients that it’s their fault they’re sick to justify your laziness and refusal to learn new things. put away your god complex and actually listen to your patients.

and the strangest part to me is that the longer you have been suicidal for, the less seriously they take it. the same way that the more chronically ill you are the less people believe you. it’s bizarre— when people see pain that is beyond what they can fathom, instead of feeling empathy, they tell you you must be faking it or that you must be looking for attention. i’ll never understand this. it’s as if they think that suicidality doesn’t need to be taken seriously unless the patient has successfully completed suicide. and i think it’s very clear how that logic is flawed. i was treated like i just wanted attention whenever i asked for help with my chronic suicidality and it made me terrified to ask for help with ANYTHING. i still constantly am afraid that if i’m too honest with clinicians then they’ll think i just want attention. attention isn’t a bad thing to want, all human beings need some degree of attention, but regardless that doesn’t negate the severity of a person’s suicidality. i wasn’t attention seeking by asking for help. i was STRONG. i was really fucking strong, far stronger than i should’ve had to be. i fought for my life every single day and i am lucky to still be here but it’s not luck that got me here. it’s ME that got me here.

i don’t want to make it sound like i speak for everyone who has suffered from TRD, because i don’t think that would be fair. i can’t tell you if there’s a med out there that’ll work for you. all i can tell you is that most psychiatrists prematurely tell chronically suicidal patients that there is nothing they can do to help them or that they’re out of medication options. if you’re a psychiatrist or doctor and you feel yourself getting defensive while reading this, i invite you to get curious about where that activation is coming from.

and if you are someone with treatment resident depression or chronic suicidality reading this, i am telling you now: your illness is not your fault. i don’t know if it’s going to get better or not, but i can promise you— it is not your fault and it never has been.

[crimeronan]

the more loved i am and the more i love people on purpose, the more comfortable i get with who i am. i think this is a natural product of getting older as well, you kinda settle into your skin and figure out what you want and how to go after it. the funny part about doing this for me is that like.... i don't feel things like other people do. i just don't. i have a pathological need for attention and i don't form attachments the same way that others do and i break connections very easily and i don't feel guilty about stuff. i do recognize when i'm WRONG and i change my behavior and/or my viewpoints when they're harmful and i actively work to combat my most maladaptive bullshit, so sometimes it's like.

i dunno. the whole stereotype of the self-aggrandizing sociopath who thinks they're above everything is boring, but sometimes it feels like there's something to it. like i'll see sensationalized explanations of 'narcissism' and 'sociopathy' that are like "these people can just choose not to care about stuff," and i'm like....

....yeah??

So The Fuck Can You.

in fact, you do. CONSTANTLY. by telling yourself that the real life living breathing human being asking for change on the street is a scammer, or a predator, or unpleasant, or too sick, or too strung-out, or otherwise too Other and inhuman to help. you only reserve your so-called "intrinsic empathy" for people that you relate to, and you turn it off when it gets uncomfortable.

i know exactly where i'm spending my emotional energy and who i'm spending it on. when i don't spend my emotional energy on someone, it's not because they're an unperson to me. it's because i simply don't wanna put my emotional energy there.

you guys could learn a thing or two about doing this. like. i know why i am how i am. what the fuck is YOUR excuse????

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Sometimes I’m like, “Nah, I’m not like Those People (TM), I don’t really have sensory issues or anything like that.”

And then I realise that wearing heavily filtering ear plugs on my morning commute reduces my body aches and joint pains by like a factor 10 because normally my body tenses up so much from the unrelenting sharpness of all the ambient noise.

I do have pretty bad sensory issues. I just normalised being in low-level pain all the time.

…

So yeah. If you at any point notice a thread of derisiveness within yourself towards certain nitpicky, cringe, Obviously Neurodivergent types of accommodation…

Chances are you would benefit from that accommodation. Possibly immensely.

[tallymarksystem]

Even with all of the hate and threats we get when we post about either neopronouns or nonhuman alters, we are not going to stop. It is incredibly important to us that people who are like us feel seen and heard and accepted. If you use neopronouns, I'm proud of you for being yourself. If you're a system with nonhuman alters, you're not alone in your experiences. Have a good day :) -Cassie

[kidfur]

i know im schizospec Something but liek im only diagnosed with major depressive disorder with psychotic features but im 99% sure theres More than that going on.. i think im either schizoaffective or schizotypal but honestly idek. so i just say im schizospec. looking at stuff written by psychologists abt schizospec disorders kind of pisses me off xD

[echo-goes-mmm]

Hoarding Behavior #4

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: non-graphic processing of an animal (dead deer)

River woke up with purring in his ear and warmth against his cheek. What? His eyes flew open. He was on the opposite side of where he started, pressed into Master’s chest. He looked around wildly, and Master’s arms were loosely cradling him close. 

It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, but there were better places to be than in the arms of a Master who could tear him apart. He slipped out from the hold. Noct cracked open an eye, but said nothing. He curled up on himself, and went back to sleep.

Now what?

He gazed around the den. His eyes landed on the cooking fire. Pots and pans hung on hooks from the wall. Breakfast sounded good.

He grabbed some eggs from a carton on the counter. He took a pan off the wall, and ran straight into a problem. How would he light the fire? It had long since gone out, and there were no matches or any flint. Of course there wouldn’t be; why would a dragon keep those around?

“Need a light?” He jumped. Master was right behind him.

“Yes, please.”

Master leaned over the wood and puffed a ball of flames. It lit instantly, a low heat perfect for eggs. 

“Thank you, Master.” He began to crack the eggs into the pan.

“I am going hunting,” Noct informed him, “I must kill all the bears in the wood to appease the village.”

“What about the wolves?”

“There are no wolves in the forest. I implied there was to make a better deal,” admitted Master, “Wolves are clever, and would not bother sharing territory with a dragon.”

“Oh. Um, have fun?” Noct cocked his head.

“I suppose I will. I do not care for bears. They dig up my garden and steal honey from the nearby hives.”

“You have a garden?” asked River as he scrambled his eggs.

“Of course. Why would I not?”

“I just… thought dragons ate only meat.” It seemed silly in hindsight. He had just eaten the dragon's food last night, and that had potatoes.

“Mostly. But I am fond of many things. I would not buy from humans when I can hunt and grow it myself. Aside from bread, of course.”

“Right.” River imagined Noct kneading bread and getting dough caught on his claws and the patches of scales on his hands.

“I will be back.”

“Okay.”

River ate breakfast slowly. Noct would be gone for at least a few hours. He washed the pan in the marble sink and hung it back on the wall. What to do now? He supposed he could just go back to sleep and wait for him to come back.

River laid back down. He sighed, staring at the ceiling. Even that was clean. Everything was clean. There wasn’t even a cobweb to dust away.

River wasn’t used to just lounging around. Even the servants at his old owners’ houses left messes for him to clean. There was always something to do. But Noct was incredibly tidy.

He sat up, already bored. He eyed Master’s collections on the shelves and displays. A tour of Noct’s things couldn’t hurt.

___________________

He was so fucked. 

River stared at the remains of the glass statue. He’d tripped over that damn chain and his elbow knocked it off the shelf.

He heard the distant whoosh of air in the tunnel. 

Of course Master would come home now, when he had no time to clean it up.

He watched, petrified, while Master carried in a deer on his shoulder. Noct glanced around the cave as he dumped the deer on the stone. His eyes landed on River and he must have seen something on his face, because he frowned and made his way over.

“What troubles you, my treas-” Master stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the shattered glass. 

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident-” Master whirled on him, snarling. River stepped back, but Noct grabbed his wrist in a bruising grip. He raised a hand-

But the slap never came. Noct’s hold loosened.

River opened his eyes. Master was still clearly pissed, but he dropped River’s wrist and turned back to the shattered statue. 

“Go away,” he said, his voice oddly upset, “I will punish you later.”

River left him by the glass, and he sat in the nest. He grabbed a pillow, clutching it tight to his stomach and burying his face into it.

A faint sniffling reached his ears. He looked over. Noct was sitting on the floor, a piece of glass in his claws. He saw Master wipe his eyes. 

River couldn’t imagine that a small statue of a horse was sentimental or especially valuable, but dragons were different from humans. They were hoarders, drawn to certain items. Maybe it didn’t matter the object, everything they deemed important was worth crying over.

He really messed up.

Noct cleaned up the glass. But instead of coming over and punishing River as promised, he dragged his catch of deer to the kitchen. He began to butcher it, skinning it and portioning out cuts of meat.

River stewed in anticipation as he watched Noct get up to his elbows in viscera. It made sense to punish him after salting and wrapping the meat. He couldn’t let the dead deer linger in the warm room, but he hated waiting like this.

Noct opened a stone door in the wall, and disappeared behind it. That must be where Master stored most of his food.

He waited as Master returned and cleaned up the blood and gore.

He waited as Master went to dispose of the excess.

He waited as Master washed the pelt.

He waited as Master went to clean himself up.

He waited as Master set the skin aside for tanning.

Until finally, Master turned to him. His face was stern and impassive, and River shrank under his gaze. He took the pillow from River and tossed it aside. 

Master hauled him up and dragged him to another part of the nest. He forced River to his knees, sat in front of him, and then pulled River over his lap. 

River flushed. He whimpered when Master yanked down his pants and pinned his wrists with one hand.

The first smack surprised him. He gasped, jolting forward in Master’s lap.

His face burned and he tugged involuntarily against Master’s grip. Master barely noticed, his hold like stone as each measured smack landed on his ass. Soon the dull ache of each blow turned into a stinging pain when his hand landed on him. Again. And again. And again.

It was humiliating.

His whines turned to sobs, but Master did not let up. He wasn’t hitting him any harder than before, but it felt worse with each strike.

Until finally he was finished. River lay limp, and he pulled his arms close to bury his head in them. He didn’t have the energy to move off of Master’s lap.

Master rubbed his back and let him cry.

As far as punishments went, it wasn’t… the worst. His ass hurt like hell and he was completely drained. But a spanking was vastly preferable to the cutting torture of a whip. It was more embarrassing, somehow, even though Master had left him nearly dressed. When River got the whip, he had to strip to his boxers and everyone saw everything. But here he was strangely more flushed and ashamed while covered up with only Master to see.

After a few minutes, he could breathe properly again. He sat up and wiped his face with his hand.

“Here,” said Master, handing him a pillow. River pulled it close in a tight hug.  Master draped a blanket around him.

Master got up, glancing towards him with pity as he passed. It was over, and he wasn’t mad anymore. His expression puzzled River. Did he regret punishing him?

Noct began to make a meal, and River didn’t know if it was supposed to be lunch or dinner. Either way, he was grateful when Master handed him a plate of roasted vegetables and a tender cut of seared meat. 

Master had given him a knife with his food, but clearly he was supposed to use his hands to eat. 

River still felt miserable, a headache forming, but it was a little funny when Noct used the claw on his finger as a fork to stab the veggies. He supposed he wouldn’t bother with a fork either if his hands had naturally pointy bits.

But the way Noct ate his venison- sharp teeth flashing and the steak quickly disappearing down his throat- reminded River that he was trapped with a predator. The most dangerous, lethal predator in the world, and River belonged to him. Even if his idea of a punishment was far more gentle than he was used to, Noct was still deadly.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[dairyfreenugget]

A little funfact

I headcanon PK as an introvert (I mean. Duh. Being a recluse is like one of the few things we know about him) and Flower as extrovert/ambivert with severe anxiety

🤝 socially awkward brothers in arms

[plague-of-insomnia]

Petition to have people who have no background in psychology to stop applying personality disorders to kuro characters

[wellthatschaotic]

scrolling youtube. "how to spot someone FAKING DID!!!" heavy sigh.

[chicago-geniza]

Someone said they were singing Lekha Dodi to the tune of Bella Ciao at the encampment and I said "oh, like a reverse John Brown's Body" but nobody got it :( (religious text sung to melody of secular radical song instead of secular radical text sung to religious melody)

[cas---2y5]

i unfortunately have the urge y’all

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

so i have managed to get zero writing done, bc i'm out of my adhd meds. and cvs says they are on backorder so it could be a while before i get them. but i NEED them. and the store just expects you to personally call every other cvs nearby and ask them if they have what you need. you know, instead of just doing it themselves, like they should bc it's their goddamn job to see their clients receive their medication. and i cannot function without it. but i hate making phone calls, my social anxiety is so bad that i get super nervous and can barely make it through the conversation without crying. it's not fair. adhd meds like adderall have been hard to get for over a year. and my goddamn insurance won't pay for it anyway, so I'm gonna have to pay out of pocket.

[catinasink]

nobody wants to go to the library w me </3