#also i had to call a mental health crisis line before i got real physical care but thats a story for another day

[briarpatch-kids]

The difference between being diagnosed and undiagnosed is still making me extra insane. When my GI problems started, I lost 80 lbs to illness in like 3 or 4 months. Shit was SCARY, I only lived because I had a buffer of weight to lose before it got deadly. Nobody really gave a shit though?

Now, despite having figured things out, I'm maintaining my weight, even gained a bit, the dietician was just casually like "oh yeah, if it ever becomes a Problem and you can't keep up on the oral liquid diet we can give you a feeding tube."

What??? Like, where was this when it WAS too hard? Oh, right. It was available, just not to people without a name for their disease.

[patsymayhugh]

Diary of a Desperate Mental Health Worker….

My anus twitched as I listened to his words knowing I was unable to physically help him. Barely audible tone with slow, deep breathing, this guy was serious. “Carl, shall I call emergency services for you?” I asked. No immediate reply, just breathing sounds and the occasional snivel before Carl softly informed me that he was not going to kill himself tonight because his dog was asleep next to him, but once he had rehomed him, he would make firm plans. Carl gently thanked me for listening to him. It was 1am, I reminded him our helpline was 24 hours, and he could call anytime, then he hung up. I emailed his community mental health team, I’m sure they will contact him later today.

Several more calls proceeded, then I went on my 30-minute break, that’s all we are allowed in a 13-hour shift. When I get back to my desk and I can hear Janet, the senior nurse on duty talking on the phone, standing next to her is Paige, like me, she is a helpline worker on the night shift tonight. Paige is anxiously biting her nails listening to Janet on the phone. “I had to transfer him to speak with a nurse.” Paige tells me a hurriedly, hushed voice, “he wants to eat his foot.”

“Oh” I replied.

I sit down, wake up my decades old computer and wait for the next call to come through all the while earwigging to Janet’s conversation.

“Gordon, have you masturbated tonight?” Janet asks him in a controlled, serious tone. 

Paige whispers to me, “he wanks off over pork chops”

“Oh”

Janet wraps up the call after about 40 minutes. Having listened into said call, it’s evident Gordon does not want to come in to see a nurse face to face. Instead, Janetpromises him a crisis call-back tomorrow daytime, and in the meantime, he has agreed to go to bed reassuring Janet that his foot will remain firmly intact and attached to his ankle.

Janet swivels her chair to face the room. “I literally do not know what the fuck to do about that one!” she exclaims, and we all sit with our gobs wide open not knowing what to say.

“He is a university lecturer that fantasises about eating people. The problem is he also provides private tuition to kids.” Our gobs are still open for a few seconds before Paige pipes up, “He’s like Jeffrey Dahma”

Recently, Netflix released a series entitled, ‘Dahma.’ which followed the real-life story of notorious serial killer Jeffrey Darma and his cannibalistic tendencies. Since it has been aired, we have received a few phone calls from individuals out in the community who claimed they have similar intrusive thoughts and felt they should be locked up so they could not hurt anyone. Thankfully, I dodged those bullets and missed those calls.

Janet decides to call the non-emergency police phone line for advice. Maybe police have some information (police call this “markers”) on Gordon? Turns out they have never heard of him and have nothing on him, I can’t help thinking, ‘they have now.’ Police told Janetbecause he has not committed a crime there is nothing they can do, but it might be a good idea to contact his employer… the university where he works. It was 4am and I’ve heard of a thing called confidentiality, so I hoped she wouldn’t leave a voicemail with the Uni reception desk. 

Janet tells the room, following her productive call with the police that she was worried that Gordon could one day seriously hurt himself or worse, go on to commit a crime as he sounded very serious, and, after careful deliberation, Janet decided to hand the issue over to the day staff. “We’ll also contact his GP via email and let them know about his call to us tonight.” And she begins typing up a long set of notes. I suspect Gordon will be bombarded with lots of phone calls over the next few days. 

Half a dozen more calls until finally, the clock finally turned 9am, leaving us all emotionally exhausted. I was Looking forward to going home to an empty house knowing Rob was at work and the two kids Tom and Millie were in school. I got into bed where I lay dead for about 5 hours- until it was time to collect them. Then it was dinner shovelled and for me to get ready for my next night shift…

[princeanxious]

Soulmate au fic that I really wanna write where Janus is soulmates with everyone(aka DLAMPR) but soulmates stay the same every lifetime but theres a chance to have multiple soulmates and in rare cases you don’t meet them all in that life before you or your soulmates dies.(especially in janus’s case, for reasons i’ll get into shortly) With each life once you hit a certain age(say somewhere between 19-20) and/or meet your soulmate, you gain the memory of every life you’ve had in the past, specifically the life you lived with your soulmate.(also soulmates arent inherently romantic in this world, and i’ll mention that roman and remus are always inherently platonic soulmates to eachother, and are often born as twins to eachother, and if not, are often always the first meet in their group)

Janus is a very special case, and in their world considered almost an anomaly.

All the information gained in the world is supplied from his soulmates, who at the end of each of their current lives always end up together as a group, though it on average happens pretty early on in their lives, minus janus.

Janus is an anomaly because it seems that he’s dying every lifetime time that he meets one of his soulmates, lost to the world 24 hours after hes come into direct physical contact with the first of his soulmates in that lifetime.

(Check the tags for trigger warnings before reading!)

In the first lifetime, he meets Patton(who, in this life, is not called Patton), a young baker who takes his hand with excitement, the barest brush of skin alone triggering not a memory of a past life, but instead a brilliant feeling of connection, a soul-deep aknowledgement that their souls are brand new, and infact are connected to a whole group of souls. Patton is overtaken by a whole new kind of excitement. Janus matches it, and they plan an outting for the very next morning. Janus does not make it to the outting, succumbing to a stab wound just hours after meeting Patton while on his walk home. Patton meets the rest of their soulmates while waiting for Janus to arrive. They hear about his death a week later.

The in second lifetime, he briefly meets Virgil, theyre 16 and 17 respectively. He doesnt learn much, the brief brush of skin while waiting in a croud for a train, enough to distract him into turning around just enough to meet eyes with Virgil, who had been on a train back to meet the rest of their soulmates, an exclamation of relieved surprise on the tip of Janus’s tongue. And then Jan trips, or someone impatiently shoves at him and he loses his footing, niether of them really know for sure. One moment they feel the euphoria of their souls connecting, the next Virgil feels the bond instantly shatter alongside his heart as he watches Janus disappear under the oncoming train. Virgil spends that lifetime traumatized by his sudden death, guilt ridden in knowing their soulmate’s last lifetime’s death had ended in a similar fashion even in mer secs, and his soul takes on a much more cautious nature from then on.

In the third lifetime, he meets Remus, theyre 18. Remus manages to spend a whole hour with Janus before they touch, and it’s only because Janus talks him out of jumping off a bridge. Remus wasn’t being suicidal, just hyper moridly curious, but Janus didn’t know that. Janus strikes up a conversation with him, its snarky and fun and perfect, and Janus joins him on the railing as they talk. Janus derails Remus from jumping by mentioning that he’s never had sushi, and to Remus this is an afront to living. Remus hops back over to the safe side of the railing, declaring to fix that crisis immediately. Janus laughs and agrees, relaxing visibly. The relaxing is a mistake, as for a single second Janus forgets that hes still in a dangerous position. He slips, his hand missing the railing, Remus only just barely managing to catch his hand in time but he doesnt get a good enough grasp, the spark that triggers their soul connection distracting enough that Janus’s hands slip from Remus’s, and Remus is forced to watch in horror as Janus plummets to his doom. He scrambles to fish Janus out of the river, but they cant revive him, Janus died on impact. Remus doesn’t meet the rest of their soulmates for another three years. He never touches sushi again for the rest of that lifetime

In the forth, Roman is 17, Janus is 18, and Janus actually meets Roman multiple times, knowing full well what his life has in store, neither ever knowing. Roman and Janus are actors for the two main characters for an up and coming movie, and they get along super well. Janus has always worn gloves, scarves, long sleeves and jeans, hoodies, beanies. Its a bit taboo at such a young age, but Janus never seems to mind the controversy and never commets on it, and Roman doesn’t mind either. Janus is infact very withdrawn, and often gives very little input on what his true personality is and so Roman doesn’t push it. Later, he really, really wishes he did. Inevitably, they become closer. But it’s only until after the movie is released that Janus lets his walls down just a little. Somehow, he seems to know that Roman is his soulmate long before theyve actually touched. Somehow, for some reason that they just cant seem to fathom, at the end of a large event for the movie, Janus and Roman are being ushered away from eachother and into seperate cars to avoid an influx of fans for some reason or another, Roman doesn’t remember what. All he remembers is Janus taking a glove off his hand and brushing Roman’s cheek after he wished Roman an odd farewell. Not a see you later, just “Farewell, my Prince.” In perfect sync with a very specific line that Janus’s character had said. Roman is in too much shock by the time he’s in his own car, the past three lifetimes of memory flashing through his head taking just long enough to settle into dread as he realizes. He panics, he tries to get someone to listen, and by god do they try, but no one can get into contact with Janus in time. Janus dies in a freak car crash just minutes after they touched, dead on impact. Roman and his soulmates hold onto this movie for the rest of this lifetime, the last physical record left behind by the soulmate that fate just wont let them meet.

In the fifth, he meets Logan, each at age 21, Logan is a nurse in training, and Janus is a cashier, a college student just starting to work towards getting their law degree. By this point Logan has met all of their soulmates, and they all live in a flat together. Really, these days they all sit in wait, they have a plan amongst themselves, about what to do when they meet Janus, a last resort, a trying attempt to keep him alive just long enough to break that 24 hour threshold, to break the spell, to be able to say they did something to try and save him. So its truely a shame that in this lifetime, Janus is bleeding out from a gunshot wound by the time Logan is able to reach him. Its late at night, the police have been called, but it seems Janus was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and finds himself bleeding out on the tile floor. He doesn’t struggle, he doesn’t panic. When Logan approaches, he instead smiles sadly, and reaches his hand out to Logan. On instinct Logan takes it, just before he processes hearing Janus greet him with “Hello, Soulmate.” In vain, Logan tries to staunch the bleeding, but he’s done all he can do, and they know the real paramedics will be 2 minnutes too late. So they sit there, covered in Janus’s blood at 2 am in the middle of a shoddy convenience store, talking quietly about life and how their soulmates love them. There are tears in Logan’s eyes as Janus smiles sadly, knowingly up at Logan. He reaches his hand up and cradles Logans face, and asks Logan to “never forget to smile, okay?” Logan ends up leaving nursing, his mental health unable to take the soul-deep wound that incapacitates him when surrounded by the call of death.

In their sixth life, his soulmates wait, the group meets at age 23, and feel renewed hope as each month passes that they do not experience another traumatic death in their midst. Around age 30, confusion sets in, the hollow itch of meeting their last soulmate is dulled, almost non existant. They’d believe it gone if they didn’t feel it whisper to them late at night where theyre all gathered together. By the time their 60, the whisper seems to fade, and they slowly mourn the loss of the loved one they never got to have. Janus’s soul infact does not make it to the sixth lifetime, but not for lack of trying. His soulmates don’t want to believe it, waiting for his arrival to the very last of their days in this lifetime and never meeting him, they refuse to voice that they mightve lost Janus for good..

Fate has instead taken hold of his feeble soul, the weakest soul in an already unusually huge soulmate group, his soul only half as strong as it should be to balance fate in each lifetime, and so weak that his soul collapses under the amount of soulpower that reaches out to his own when his soul meets the others, and the fates are agitated by the constant unbalance of what should be their greatest and most intricately created group of soulmates yet. So the fates decided to hold onto his soul for a single lifetime, and spends the years mending and healing and strengthening his soul, practically filling in a full half of his soul, and spending years merging it while still carefully balancing his connection with his soulmates perfectly. The trade off is that the tampering and adjusting of his soul fucks with his soulmate memory trigger. He doesn’t forget, no, but his access to his previous lifetime memories is staggered, and so it takes months before he gets back all of his pevious lifetime memories, leaving the inital soulmate connection actually connecting but not immediately supplying his soul with any information of his own first 5 lives, leaving him blank at the start, though knowing that he and his soulmates soul’s are still older than being a brand new soul without memories, and doesn’t actually have a point in his lifetimes when he his an age and his past lifetime memories come to him, he /has/ to meet his soulmates to trigger those memories. The fates are very particular about him, keen on not providing this group with anymore unnessesary trauma.

So, imagine Janus’s genuine confusion, in his sixth life and his soulmate’s seventh life, at age 23 when he approaches a group at a college party on a whim to chat/flatter/flirt with the infamous Remus Sanders, the local social cryptid who always raises more questions than answers when you talk to him and who, Janus has learned, is a highly entertained arsonist-wannabe, and Janus knows that it’s smart to have contacts, because who knows when he’ll be need of someone who’ll commit arson with him? It just happened to be an hour earlier that Remy had spilled soda on his gloves, so he’s braving this interaction without a safety barrier but he’s heard Remus has all his soulmates already, all four of them to be exact, so he doesnt think he has much of a reason to worry. He manages to slide into the conversation easily, and none of Remus’s soulmates seem bothered by his intrusion, especially when he takes the eccentric way that Remus speaks in stride without even a pause, they just seem exasperated when he sneakily brings up the topic of fire.

Then Remus takes him by the shoulders, grinning at him almost crazily, and states “You. I like you” and, it’s obviously instinctive, the graceful way he laughs and puts a hand on Remus’s to agree, but of course the moment skin touches skin, their souls link and everything sparks. And then Remus shutters, and stares, his jaw going slack but his hands seem to grip Janus tighter. And for a moment, Janus finds it terribly, terribly fitting that he’s soulmates with a filterless pyromaniac, but then he remembers that Remus also has soulmates, and then the panic sets in because, assumably, that makes them his soulmates too.

Imagine Janus’s confusion when instead of being met with joy, he suddenly finds himself tucked carefully yet securely into Remus’s arms, being rocked by a man whose suddenly panicked and almost manically whispering “it’s him, hes here, it’s him.” Any move he makes to pull away even a little is met with a sob, Remus is crying, and Janus is so very confused. He tries to coo and comfort Remus, but each of their other soulmates crowd around them, touching his skin one by one, none of them moving away, his skin is burning from touch starvation, its a lot, its to much, its not enough, it burns.

It takes Janus over an hour, after being shuffled into a corner and placed in another soulmate’s lap, Janus thinks his name is Patton, to come back to himself, and finds his soulmates can’t stop touching him. He, too, feels the zing with each touch, the specific innate and undeniable feeling of ‘soulmate, soulmate, soulmate’ but he feels that hes very specifically out of some kind of loop considering all of his soulmates are crying.

When the fates whisper to them, three hours in, with the words “his soul was weak, we have fixed the issue, he is now yours for life to keep, he will safely continue.”

And while Janus requires quite a bit of catch-up, he feels like nows not the best time to ask. He feels more than sees the collective relief that sweeps through his soulmates, he lets them crowd around him further, touching and holding and assuring themselves and eachother that hes real, hes there, he’s staying alive, hes going to be safe. He tries not to say too much, doesn’t want to step on any sore spots, and finds theres tears in his eyes as well. He just lets himself be passed from lap to lap, and somehow or another they manage to all safely arrive at their joined home, pilling up a pillowfort into the livingroom and putting on a movie. Not once does he leave the hold of at least one soulmate, and finds at least two other hands on his person at a time up until he’s sat in the middle of the pillowfort(after he was allowed to get ready alongside the others for bed. He ends up in an oversized nasa hoodie that belongs to Logan) and the others begin to just, talk about life. Its too early to talk about the extreme protectiveness that theyve all treated him with each second, like hes about to dissapear at any moment. The thought makes him shudder, and he tries not to dwell on it.

Turns out, Virgil has the best idea of the night, suddenly and carefully kissing him, which triggers a bit of a domino effect, where Janus goes gently from soulmate to soulmate and trades kisses and hugs until everyone is breathless and giggling wetly with emotion.

And, when he wakes up the next morning, refusing to leave the warmth that is Roman’s chest and whining when Logan, who’d been acting as his other warm big spoon, start pulling away to start the day. And for the first time in this lifetime, Logan startlingly quickly relents and actually returns to their makeshift bed, pressing closer to Janus in an instant to hear his happy, sleepy hum. None of them get up for hours, and when they finally do, they order takeout, and dont stray far from eachother in the coming days.

Its the start of something new, something beautiful.

Something completely and finally whole.

[lifewithchronicpain-original]

CDC Comments

The CDC has published the many comments they solicited regarding their opioid guidelines. You can read the thousands of comments here.

I’m not sure if my comment made it in, but here’s a copy of what I sent to the CDC regarding their cruel guidelines:

March of 2016, while I was already at work for the day, I experienced a back spasm so severe I couldn't stand up straight. An ambulance was called and at the ER I was told I had back spasm. When I saw my primary care doctor, she prescribed Vicodin, which did not eliminate the pain but it helped immensely. Not long after MA Gov. Baker signed state law based on the CDC's opioid guidelines and my own doctor had to go on maternity leave. The interim doctor refused to refill my Vicodin. Ever since the spasm my back pain never went away, it had not been intractable before then. I had an X-ray done and was told it showed nothing so nothing could be wrong. I was told to go on more walks. However I persisted, I tried physical therapy and got an MRI when insurance would approve. It showed I had Degenerative Disk Disease. My PCP came back, once again allowing me back on opioids but let me know she could not continue prescribing them, that I had to seek out a pain clinic doctor

For the next year I struggled to get access to sufficient pain relief that I had no choice but to retire and go on disability. I also used everything I could to treat my back such as lidocaine cream, tens devices, physical therapy, core exercises, Epsom salt baths, epidurals and more. At the end of the day, the only sufficient pain killer was Vicodin. Eventually I was put on Tramadol as a replacement, it helped, but not enough. Certainly not in the doses they permitted. After a few really bad experiences with doctors and pain doctors trying to get sufficient pain relief, I tried a new place and found a doctor that told me he believed my pain was real and he was going to do what he could to help me. He kept his word and worked out a regiment of Tramadol as my main pain reliever, and Norco as a sort of assistance for flares or when I want to go out and be active ( It's always more painful to be active.) This, along with my other methods and continued epidurals has helped me manage my pain...to a point. I still experience high levels of pain, and increasing pain. I have other pain causing illnesses including but not limited to Fibromyalgia and Forefoot Valgus.

I'm in severe pain every day, I get through it because I have some measure of pain relief, and it even allows me to be active sometimes. However, the more active I am, the more pain relief I need. The more active I am, the more recovery time I need. There's no world I live in where I can be as active as I was 5 years ago. I probably will never work full time every again. I have lost so much of life and so much of it still exists in daily pain. Meanwhile my doctor is worried I might be targeted by the DEA for withdrawal. He recently gave me 15 more Norco pills to deal with bad flares and increased activity, and he asked me after if I had any issues. He knows he's putting his license on the line, and he isn't even prescribing me the big one Oxycodone. I know his efforts are sincere and that he would be more free to help me explore more effective pain measures through opioids if it wasn't for the CDC Guidelines.

I'm also not just a woman with pain, I have had mental health issues my entire life. I have attempted suicide twice and am at a high statistical risk of attempting and succeeding at a third attempt. I already know if I lose my opioids, what little pain relief I have now, I will lose my life. I have no hope of being significantly pain free from any other way than opioids. I also have no history of opioid abuse, I have taken them safely off and on since my twenties for various issues. However, I also come from a family of addicts, and I believe firmly that the CDC Guidelines around opioids will create more addicts for illegal substances by forcing pain patients to use illicit drugs for pain relief. Those same illicit drugs that are mostly responsible for this opioid crisis. I also think it's shameful that the CDC can't do better than a guideline that hurts pain patients and does absolutely nothing to address the disease of addiction. Restriction has and never will make addiction stop. Addicts also deserve pain relief too. I believe in science based medicine, and that these guidelines are not based on such. They are biased and hurt both addicts and pain patients. We should be seeking comprehensive science based medicine to help both groups and not limit access to opioids for pain patients just because of people's ill-informed biases against addicts who deserve humane treatment too.

I'm tired of feeling like I don't matter in this country because I'm disabled. I'm tired of people distrusting me or lecturing me because I need opioids. I'm tired of being in pain every damn day and my doctor is prevented from fully exploring all pain relieving options for fear of violating this guideline and bringing the DEA down on us. I'm tired of people like me dying because their opioids were taken away. I'm tired of living with this fear I may lose my meds.

Please, end this pain and suffering now!

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #692 (October 1993)

In this issue: Superman goes to the doctor and finds out why he's not dead anymore! But, before that, he's clearing some of the debris left by his fight with Doomsday when he finds... Clark Kent? Lois Lane is very happy to see Clark again, but Superman himself doesn't look very thrilled in these panels.

Turns out Clark wasn't dead as everyone believed, he was simply trapped in the basement of a collapsed building! The basement happened to equipped with plenty of food and gym equipment (explaining why he's still jacked, like Superman), but unfortunately not a single pair of scissors (explaining why his hair is now long, like Superman's).

Later, Superman bumps into Lex Luthor Jr., who demands to know where Supergirl is, but Superman gives him the runaround. Hmm, where could Superman's good friend who can change shape and pretend to be other people be? Anyway, Superman then meets Lois and Clark and... holy crap! Mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent is secretly Supergirl!

So yeah, Supergirl pretended to be Clark for a while just so he and Superman would be seen together and no one would question why both are suddenly alive again. Then Supergirl leaves and we move on to the second dilemma solved in this issue: How the hell is Superman alive again? To address that question, supernatural DC character (and fellow Jerry Siegel/Joe Shuster creation) Doctor Occult appears out of nowhere and rudely teleports Lois and Clark to a black void, where he replays moments from Superman's life... and death.

Occult explains that Doomsday DID punch Superman's spirit out of his body, but there was still solar energy keeping the body just barely alive. Superman's ghost ended up stuck between the living and the dead, attracting some nasty soul-eating demons. Fortunately, Pa Kent happened to be dying of a heart attack at the same time, so he and Superman teamed up to fight off the demons (as seen in Adventures #500). Superman’s soul returned to his near-corpse, which was taken to the Fortress of Solitude by the Eradicator and lovingly nursed back into health. (Okay, more like “coldly,” but you can’t argue with the results.)

Anyway, the point is that Superman's resurrection happened due to a convoluted series of events that could never be repeated, unless someone's willing to sneak behind Pa Kent and blow an airhorn in his ear or something. As the mystical exposition dump ends, Occult teleports Lois and Clark to Smallville, and the issue ends with the Kents finally reuniting. A tender moment...

...until two seconds later, when Ma smacks Clark in the back of the head for taking two whole issues to come see them (or that’s what I’d do).

Plotline-Watch:

Doctor Occult reveals that the moment when Bibbo shocked Superman’s body with a hyper-charged defibrillator in Adventures #498 actually helped keep him alive. Once again, Bibbo is the real hero of this saga.

Supergirl has a lot of experience posing as Clark, since she was stuck in that form between 1989 and 1992. That was also her in the only other photo of Superman and Clark together, taken in Superman #34.

While Superman is being interviewed by a news crew after rescuing "Clark", that lawyer from Action #689 barges in and demands that they stop calling Superman Superman, since that name is now trademarked by Superboy's manager. Damn, maybe he's gonna have to start calling himself "Supreme" or something?

Aww, Lex is happy to see Superman again. Sure, it's only because he wants to be the one to kill him, but still.

S.T.A.R. Labs is examining the Eradicator's corpse when they realize he's alive! Sort of. Later, Doctor Occult remarks that the Eradicator sacrificed himself "in mind, if not in body". Hmm. The doctors overseeing his condition are Kitty Faulkner, who can turn into an orange She-Hulk called Rampage after a workplace mishap, and a new character called David Connors, the only S.T.A.R. employee without superpowers. So far.

The JLA returns from the little space vacation the Cyborg sent them on, and we get the first instance in all of comics of Guy Gardner admitting he was wrong. Character growth! Don Sparrow says: “Nice to see some follow-up to the characters around the DCU and how they react to Superman’s return. No mention of the fact that they got suckered into a mission into space that went nowhere.”

When Doctor Occult shows up, Superman is like "aw, not this guy again!", referencing that classic tale of Superman's first encounter with the supernatural... which hasn't come out yet. Don: “It’s a neat forward call-back (is that a thing?) when Superman references his first encounter with Doctor Occult, given that we won’t see it happen until 1995, when DC does a line-wide ‘Year One’ series of stories. And wouldn’t you know it, that story is written by none other than Roger Stern (and even involves tentacles, as in the thumbnail image)!” #rogersternplaysthelonggame

Don Sparrow's section, on the other hand, can be read NOW, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We open with the cover, and it’s one of the top ten best of this era, for sure.  Drawn by Kerry Gammill and Butch Guice, DC used this drawing on the “Return of Superman” cards.  I tend to favour simpler, iconic covers, even when they don’t necessarily represent the story within, but in this case, it’s showing exactly what the heart of the story is about: Clark Kent is back. 

Inside, we open with a full page splash of Superman’s shield, through tons of rubble, and it’s a great image, but without the face, it allows us to focus on the title of the story, a callback to the speech introduction of the old Fleischer Cartoons.

I don’t know if it’s from the writing, or the artist, but Action Comics has always seemed the most romantic of the Super-titles, and this one is no exception, as Clark and Lois have their hands all over each other for basically the whole comic. While it is a bit weird to remember that it isn’t Clark that Lois is caressing (more on that in a bit) in the early part of the story, it always feels intimate and romantic more than it feels graphic or titillating.  A tricky balance that this team pulls off well, particularly in their “reunion” on page 3. [Max: Every time I read this issue I think it’s Martian Manhunter posing as Clark and when they start flirting I’m like “ew”. Then I remember who it is and I’m like “nice”.]

I always enjoy seeing Superman flying upside-down, which I consider to be a Byrne innovation—I don’t remember him doing it pre-Crisis. It always seems so joyful and carefree, and it’s nice to see Superman savouring his powers. 

Jackson Guice uses tone very well in the scenes with Lex Luthor II in his aviators, and I quite like the sense of motion to Superman’s pose as he approaches the helicopter—almost like he’s swimming in the sky rather than floating.

It’s a good drawing of the Eradicator getting the post-Hoth Luke Skywalker treatment, with David Connor and Kitty Faulkner getting an eyeful.  My copy has a slight colouring error that makes it look like the Eradicator is awake in the tank, even though he’s supposed to be catatonic. [Max: Still looks like that in the collections. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleep with their eyes open?]

Superman embracing Lois after the ruse of “Clark Kent” is very cutely drawn, as is the Ghost-like backward embrace on the following page.  

The entire sequence replaying Superman’s death and rebirth is drawn well throughout, especially the dreamlike staging, and the darkness as Lois knocks the flashlight away.  It’s also moving that Superman can see the heroic lengths that Bibbo went to try to save him once Superman succumbed to his injuries.  

Lastly, it was wonderful to see Clark reunited physically with Ma and Pa, especially with the nice touch of the poem by DH Lawrence as the only narration.  Stern was always the best at referencing secondary texts in his stories, and it’s well used here.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Is it me, or is Matrix/Supergirl a little too into this Clark Kent act?  I get that making their performances light and funny keep it from seemingly overtly dishonest, but “Clark” is pretty tender in these scenes. Lois does a good job of playing along, but it’s hard for me to fully forget that all this canoodling is actually with Supergirl.  So as a helpful tool, I created these graphics: [Max: Nice.]

It was cool that Lois specifically mentioned that Jimmy got a shot of the returned Clark Kent next to Superman, I always like it when that can happen.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how creepy it is that Luthor has a sexual relationship with Supergirl/Matrix, when she is in so many ways (mainly mentally) a child, and I can’t help but read the scene where Lois chooses Superman over “Clark” this way.  The laughing and clapping has a whole different feel if you think of her as mentally diminished somewhat.  

So it’s not exactly a continuity error that Clark says on page 13 that he has to call Ma and Pa to let them know that “Clark” is alright (even though he already called them in a previous issue).  It could be that they want to tell the Kents the cover story of Clark’s return has now taken place, and they can act like their son is alive again when they go to the corner store, etc. [Max: Yeah, that’s how I took it. It would be awkward if their neighbors saw them all cheerful while their son is still “dead”.]

 I like to imagine that Dr. Occult looks and sounds like Robert Stack. [Max: It’s impossible for me to hear him as anyone other than Humphrey Bogart after Lois calls him “Sam Spade”.]

We’ve mentioned previously Jackson Guice’s tendency to use photo reference for his characters.  In this issue, Superman looks a lot like Jason Patric to me, who would have made a pretty great Superman had there been movies being made in this time.

I also appreciated this issue explaining both the physical and metaphysical reasons Superman was able to return—and that there’s no back door to the story—if Superman ever died again, he would be unable to return.  

[unboundbnha]

hoooo my god. this is for ME

for me. for godzilla. :’) 

➤ rules; make headcanons of you and a character of your choice, be it sfw or nsfw.

Thank you so much for tagging me @spicyness​! I’m gonna SKAJHDSKJ. HHHHH. This is everything? Fuck I just want a purple boyfriend 😫 this will be about Shinsou because I like him a normal amount :-)

First off, I’m a pain in the ass. My sense of humor is wack (it’s basically just ‘annoy my friends and loved ones’), I’m always fricken TANKING The Mood (because it’s funny and I physically cannot resist making a Funny if the opportunity’s there), everything turns into a game unless you make me stop wink wonk. Shinsou seems like the type to snort in amusement and roll his eyes at my dumb antics, and I appreciate that! If I could make him legit laugh I’d die happy. (I am also emotionally savvy enough to know when to draw the line though, don’t worry. It’s just, man, my idea of fun is ‘LET’S ROAST ‘EM’)

I love cats. I’ll lose my whole mind over them. They NEED head kisses. Shinsou also likes cats. He also needs head kisses. That’s it, that’s the bullet point

Being open and honest and genuine is important to me. I believe most any relationship (friendship or otherwise) can work if you’re willing to communicate and empathize with the other person: I would 100% be willing to hear Shinsou’s shit, and he seems like he’d be a good listener too. I’m also good at logicking things through and he seems like he’d appreciate that. Likewise, he seems like he’d do the same for me, and as long as we stayed humble and weren’t looking to be offended (I don’t Do That -- he’s a Cancer -- love you, Cancers -- so it might take him a minute to get on the same page, but he’s emotionally smort and cares about me so I think he’d be willing to work at it) then we could help each other through emotionally hard stuff with hard truths. Plus, I’m a super honest person: if he was in a relationship with me he’d probably be pretty secure in knowing I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. If past shit comes up with him, I’ll talk to him. Talking’s the good shit, y’all: utilize patience and empathy and you’ll be so well off!

I also battle, with a big fucking sword, a lot with mental health stuff (LMAOOOO WHO DON’T!!! YEET). I used to struggle with agoraphobia and still deal with anxiety and depression. On top of that, I have something like chronic fatigue -- I’ve been calling it chronic fatigue because I’m fucking tired, all the time. My top energy levels are like a 35% on a fantastic day. I really like the idea of this boye seeing me melting into a puddle, face down on the carpet, and bein like “how’s it going down there? you okay?” and the answer being obviously no, but him just like. Man I dunno. He seems like the kind of person who’s tired, but who can live with it. I can’t! When I’m tired, that’s it babes! I hit a 0% on my battery and I’ll collapse! So I just, hhhh. Don’t laugh, but I like to fantasize about him bundling me up and into bed. Thinkin’ about Birthday Snoot by my good friend @lord-explosion-baku​ and melting, okay?? OKAY???? I’m soft, the truth’s OUT, FUCK! I want to be taken care of like a sad but pampered cat.

(Please read Birthday Snoot I still cry over it)

Also I’m gross and struggle to shower often enough because it’s exhausting so bein given a gentle bath? oh MAN. Hands softly running through my stupid, terrible hair...asking me about my day and if anything happened that triggered me feeling this bad...just....the tenderness....the gentle affection.....being loved even when I’m at my lowest. Being cared for when I can’t do it myself. That’s a legit fantasy y’all. We out here!

I love to SNOOZE. I love being COZY. You bet your sweet bippy I’m gonna sprawl over a couch and take up the whole thing. Shinsou’d better be willing to snuggle the fuck up. I’ve got great squish which I personally feel like’s great for cuddling: I’m like warm taffy. How better to gently seep into every crevasse of your Favorite Person while enjoying a cozy cuddle?

Listen, everyone fucks hard with Shinsou calling his S/O ‘kitten’, and I agree (def have written leetle -- HOO -- leetle scenarios with that nickname because wow) but I get all wibbly with the idea of He calling me ‘Angel’. A joke at first because, like, guys, I’m really nice. (I know it sounds bad when people say they’re nice and LSDFLKJDF I AM, OKAY. I’ve worked on it. Cultivated the skill of kindness! Being kind isn’t easy, and sometimes you just wanna go apeshit, but I’ve worked hard to improve upon myself! Yeet!) But I also just really fucking love being annoying. I simply cannot resist the urge to sneak up behind someone and poke them in the ribs. I rib-poke while in the deep depths of making out too, I’ve tanked the mood a lot so picture my dumb ass Pink Panther’ing behind Shinsou, prepared to be Evil while he’s, idk, making breakfast or something, and before I can commit a Rib Crime he uses his hero training and fast reflexes and honed senses and all that good stuff to snatch my wrist and ask “what’re you up to, angel?” the answer is nothing, because he’s killed me by being sexy and fast and hero-y, and he’s probably actually killed me by startling me into collapsing like a fainting goat

He gets the deep stuff. Unfortunately for everyone and especially myself, I’m a Thinker with a capital T: it never fucking stops. I had an existential crisis for like three years in a row because of course, but I feel like he knows what it’s like to get lost in your head. Working each other out of panic attacks because holy jesus the universe sure is fucking huge huh? We’re not even a blip on the radar in the history of existence and we’re gonna be dead basically tomorrow aaaand that’s why we’d be good for each other, because I feel like we both have coping mechanisms that keep us from spiraling too bad, and we could share them with each other.

I also so fucking admire his drive, but it makes me angry that stupid fucking hero society would discriminate in the first place. 

Oh, yeah, that’s another good point: I’m hella mad about 98% of the time and I work hard to hide it! Because innocent people don’t deserve to get yelled at! I feel like Shinsou’s smart enough to sense when I’m about to pop and he can be like “heyyyyy...you wanna talk this out constructively instead of getting into a public brawl?” and I’ll be like “NO but I’ll do it for you because I love you” and then we get pizza.

Because I’m fine and balanced and stuff, I made a quirk for myself if I was in the BNHA-verse, and basically I can get stronger at the expense of higher thinking skills and will turn into a weapon of mass destruction against whatever I’m pointing at (ugh, that’s so sexy. Fuck I wanna be a big spooky buff as shit monster thing), friend or foe, so Shinsou and I would work well in tandem because if I got too rowdy he could use his quirk and get me to calm down! Keep me from accidentally doing a murder! Nice!

Okay this is nsfw so if you’re under 18 DON’T READ IT. I’LL CALL YOUR PARENTS. GET OFF MY BLOG. 

Relating to the point above, QUIRKPLAY. Mind control me into stuff I want to do but am too awkward to ask for, please and THANK you. Also, Shinsou’s a top. Gotta be, and thank god for it because I’m certainly not. I’m not happy about being a fucking bottom, because my first and most powerful personalty trait is ‘be as annoying as possible to the people you like; don’t let them tell you what to do.’ Can’t make it easy on myself, nope. Anyway, I want the appearance of being a top without the responsibility because damn, gotta be like, suave and shit. Gotta plan stuff. I don’t like that! I do that enough in real life and I don’t like it there, either! But whatever. I’m a brat and I feel betrayed by my coochie for it. But Shinsou’s a top and he’d tease me for being Fucking Terrible, and suddenly I wouldn’t be so mad at my coochie. She has her reasons.

I...like Shinsou for a lot of reasons, but a really big one, for sure, is that I feel like he can communicate about the important stuff. He likes to tease, but he knows when to be serious too. I’m really wack about being close and intimate with people and I have, hhh, special requirements to be able to sleep with them, and I feel like he’d both be able to respect AND honor that. Like, run through the rest of the BNHA boys with me here: would Bakugou be able to be completely cool, calm, and collected while still teasing, but knowing where to draw the line? Todoroki’s closer maybe, but he’s not as people-smart (which is also a big thing for me). Confidence (or at least the appearance of it when it’s important), respect, communication, listening and respecting what I ask for even if it seems wack -- Shinsou has that, and god is it attractive. 

Also, mind control. 

Also, his capture weapon. 

Also you know this motherfucker is kinky as shit. Thank the good lord.

Also, sexy-slow makeouts with his long, nimble hands running up my outer thighs to squeeze my waist -- teeth on neck, stolen gasps of breath -- 

\\\\\\

I feel bad because all of this, fuckin, WALL of text is pretty much ‘this is what purble boy can do for me’ and I don’t say a lot I’d do for him, but if I got someone like him I’d go to the end of the earth for them. I may be a perpetually-sleepy bitch, but one of my best -- and worst -- character traits is my unwavering loyalty. I’ll be 110% down to kick anyone’s ass who insults him: he can fight his own battles, but he shouldn’t have to over some dumbass with a big mouth and a little brain. Making him smile and laugh, oof, be still my beating heart. Words of encouragement when life gets too much. Genuine thanks for his help, whatever it may be. Hugs, because we’re both touch-starved as fuck and he deserves gentleness, dammit. He doesn’t seem like his love language is receiving gifts -- more like quality time and words of affirmation? Maybe physical touch? -- but I’d still get him little things that made me think of him, that could help him in his day to day life or maybe just bring a smile to his face. We could rescue each other at social conventions, have dates to the humane society and play with cats. Support each other through our depression days, prove that even having a brain that’s mean to you sometimes doesn’t make you unlovable. Man, idk. The whole thing’s soft and makes my heart go doki-doki. Hitoshi Shinsou is an extremely good person and god damn I’d want to show him I appreciated him and existing at the same time as him. He deserves love and kindness. He deserves someone to kiss every knuckle of his hand. He deserves hugs in the kitchen and blankets being pulled over his shoulders when he falls asleep at the desk. He deserves only good things, and I’d be honored to give them to him. 

HHHHH.

Okay! If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! You don’t actually get anything, but boy oh boy you have a lot of information about ME now! Aren’t you delighted? Heh. So! You tag people for this stuff, and I’m gonna tag @lord-explosion-baku​, @bnhascribbles​, @perpetual-bed-head​, @russianonion​, @weebsinstash​, and last but certainly not least, @usernamekate94​. Tell me about Monoma, Kate. Tell me.

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

I’m confused by my own feelings about your death. I feel as though I should want you to never be forgotten or that you should have left some physical legacy behind. But, I don’t. As much as it hurts that you never lived to your full potential, I don’t give a shit about any of that. I guess I’ve confused myself with my own expectations, and I’m trying to figure out my real feelings are entirely to the contrary. 

I suppose I know I had my own existential crisis about the meaning of life years ago now. It was one filled with those stereotypical thoughts of what is the real meaning of all this? and what if I’m not remembered? followed by wait, would it be so bad if I wasn’t? I eventually came to the conclusion that when the sun swallows the Earth up, no one will matter and there will be no one left around to remember Shakespeare or Stalin, so why spend my energy trying to become another big name? (Man, this got heavier a lot quicker than I expected. Apologies. I wish we’d had the chance to talk existentialism in person.) Basically, I decided that if I really wanted to make a difference, I could spend my life helping others. That way I’d be investing in hundreds of people who really could change the world, rather than just focusing on trying to be The One That Could. I guess I also realized that just because people aren’t remembered, it doesn’t mean they didn’t have an amazing life. And surely that’s what’s important. Who gives a fuck about being known for centuries if for the few decades you were alive, you were miserable? 

The thing is though, I know you didn’t leave any big legacy and I know you spent a lot of time on this Earth in pain. So I’m asking myself, why am I not mad? Why do I not feel compelled to make a film about your life or make a charity in your name? 

I guess I’m realizing that you did change things after all. I mean, I think if you’d expressed a desire to have children or win the Nobel Prize, I suppose I’d have mourned those legacies that could have been. But if you didn’t care about doing those things while alive, why should I care now you’re gone? What matters is you did make a difference. I just never saw it before. To me you made a difference; I never told you before but you helped to restore my trust in guys. I came to uni guarded and suspicious, and knowing you, spending time with you, that taught me that good guys do exist. You helped me heal. 

And E? I know you helped them be confident in their own skin when they came to uni, newly living as a transguy. I also know that you once sat up with them til 5am talking about mental health things and that you helped them to know taking a year out was right for them. You helped them to put their mental health first; if they hadn’t they could have ended up where you are now. 

And B? I’m sure you know better than me how down she was when you met. She told me that you helped her out of a dark place and never judged her when she showed you where she was living alone at just 17. She told me you did more for her in the short time you had together than she could ever have hoped for.

And A? You gave him someone to talk to about his nerdy computer stuff (that I can never keep up with). He hadn’t had anyone to share it with since his dad passed away the year before he started uni. When he met you and saw he could talk about his passions again to someone who understood, you helped to fill a small part of that hole in his heart.

I’m sure you’ve heard of that old saying, Josh. That one where they say if a butterfly flaps its wings, it can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world? Well, you were that butterfly, Josh, so what does it matter if the hurricane is named after you? You may have only been on this Earth for two short decades, but my God did you make a difference. You changed lives, Josh. You made the world a better place. 

That’s why I don’t care that your name won’t be in the history books or that there’s no shiny trophy with your name engraved on it. You did more than that. Of course, I fucking wish you’d had more time; I daren’t let my thoughts linger on all the amazing things you could have done. And of fucking course I wish that while you were here that you hadn’t been in such pain. But here, that’s not the point. See, Josh, there’s this film I’ve loved since I was a kid. It’s called My Sister’s Keeper and if you’ve ever seen it (though I have my doubts) you’d probably think it was a weird film for a kid to love. Anyway, there’s this bit at the end that always got me, right after Anna’s sister dies (spoiler alert):

And I wish I could tell you that there was some good that came out of it...that through Kate's death we could all go on living. Or even that her life had some special meaning...like they named a park after her, or a street...or that the Supreme Court changed a law because of her. But none of that happened. She's just gone....a little piece of blue sky now. And we all have to move on.

Frankly, that line could have been what started my existential crisis in the first place. I don’t remember. But I guess it just made me appreciate that in reality, not everyone can become van Gogh or Einstein. Anna does say this other thing though, she says:

Once upon a time...I thought I was put on Earth to save my sister. And in the end, I couldn't do it. I realize now...that wasn't the point. The point was, I had a sister. She was fantastic.

I know it’s a different situation, Josh. But I hope you see what I mean when I say losing you has made me really understand that line now. With you, the point isn’t all the things that you didn’t do or the fact that in the end it was suicide that took you from us. The point is that we were fucking lucky to ever have you as a friend Josh. You were a fucking gift. 

Plus, I have no worries about you being forgotten. I trust that between me and all our friends there probably won’t be a day when you won’t cross our minds. Sure, eventually when we die too, maybe your memory will fade. But so what? So will ours. Not to sound too weird or morbid, but I personally the thought of fading together sounds kind of beautiful. It feels like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Thanks for bearing with the existentialism, Josh.

C

[randomkposts]

The crack twilight shipping conversation

E :-"I took care of those girls who spread rumors about you"

"What girls?"

"Not important "

I have back flashes of this kid and I'm like yo she scares me.

K : Jane is terrifying. Just not in the same way to Bella as she is to others.

"We are going to Yellowknife, so you can see the northern lights at this time of year! They are glorious! This guy has agreed to fly us."

"Jane, I don't- wait, why is he shaking"

"Juicebox is also excited to see the northern lights"

Shaking man: "Absolutely ecstatic"

"I made sure that all the warm clothing fits your size! It's even real fur! "

Crack twilight ships

K - E, Crack AU, where Jane is the one who imprints on Bella, going after James for crime, and Bella has to deal with the insane situation of "I think I was kidnapped by a child, and the child is trying to woo me."

Except Jane's Idea of wooing is terrifying and surreal, and has some pretty bizarre stuff to try to impress her.

"Jane-"

"But let's double check!"

E -OMG

K :-”Jane, why do you always give people such strange nicknames? Quickmunch, O delicious, lunchmeat, mosquito bait, and now juicebox?

Except for Jaccob, who you just called stinky

Why do you call him that?

-Because he just is

He doesn't smell any worse than any other athletic teenage boy. You haven't even seen him since he got sick.

Hey, does she have a nickname for Bella, you think?

E -Jacobs sweating furiously at all these vampires

K -It's because he's a wolfy shapeshifter, but for story purposes, Jane has no Idea, just that she hates Bella's childhood friend.

Alec, who is back in Voltera, but Jane talks on the phone too, assumes she's being possessive of who Bella spends time with, and views him as a rival.

He tells her that.

E - The fact he face times this stuff. Supportive bro vampire.

K - Don't kill the rival Jane. Bella will be crying, and you don't want to spend time with her mourning. Maybe take her on a trip, and get some personal time

E -She does, but also scares ppl to give them cool shite.

K -I had a crack thought once, where I thought what's the randomest most out there mates I can give vampires. , where Jane's mate was a random old man that she met in the food chamber, was like ,"wait don't kill him!" It became quite a debate.

Alec's, on the other hand, was a toddler he met on a job, where a lady had been vampired, and had bad control.  The kid wasn't even related to the target, just on a walk in a bad place and time. He can't get the face out of his head.

Neither of them are decided on who has it worse.

But Bella being shippable with almost any vampire in the series has way more potential for comedy.

Still, question, does Bella ever come to return the affection?

Edward is hundreds of years older than her, but looks roughly around her age. Staying beautiful, and around his age was something Bella found important to her in their relationship.

Jane, for all she is also centuries older than Bella, can not easily be mistaken for a young adult. Admittedly it could be claimed, possibly by dwarfism, but given that  physical appearance is important to Bella, and plays a part in her affections to other people, how would that play into any potential relationship with Jane?

K - God, weird how what starts as crack, leads me to wonder about real questions.

If that random old man is in fact Jane's soulmate in the crack mate's verse, should she take her mate in the form she finds him, or eat him and hope he reincarnates. Is there only one possible match, or are there potential matches walking around that finalize when conditions are met? Is the old man, at his age, fit to be a mate to a centuries old vampire of a young body? What if he's amnesic. How would that translate to vampirism?

Should Alec keep tabs on the toddler who could be his mate, or let them go and hope for another chance encounter?

E -Probably yes, even though you are aware she is older than you, she is mature maybe *I debate on that due to they stay in that state forever* but you can't get over the fact that is a child's body

K -If Alec chose to keep tabs, when would be the time to reintroduce himself? And how?

E - I say let them go, cause this is a bit too close with the Renesmee and Jacob kind of thing

Hmmm I say reincarnation is kinder?

K-Is reincarnation even real, or a hope?

How would you find them?

E -They have vampires, werewolves and shit, but does reincarnation really draw the line?

First off how did they even know they were mates?

K -It is, though I can't see Alec child napping the toddler, and raising them himself

Some voice in their head screams "Mine!"

Edwards was just weird, because he thought his voice meant " my meal"

E -Bwhahaha

Oh God Eddy

K -The Cullens are unusual in that they turn people in life threatening situations.

Still,Carslie and Esmae certinally had some affection between them, before she commited suicide.

Why did Rosaline get Emmet turned again?

Beyond the bear wound, I mean?

She doesn't seem the type to go out of her way to do something like that for just anyone.

Maybe it was blurred by the blood, and the need for control, but something about him called out to her, I think.

"Rosalie confessed to Bella that she saved Emmett from dying because of his innocent look, dimples, and curly hair that reminded her of her best friend Vera's child, Henry, and that ever since the day she saw the baby she always wanted a child of her own just like him."

Somehow, I doubt she looked much at the appearance of someone covered in blood. She is trying to resist killing after afromented bear mauling.

That sounds like a post rescue justification.

E - True. Always wondered about that.

K - Anyway, I think he might just send Gianna, or something to guard the kid for a bit, if he decided to keep tabs. Gianna is just glad to be temporarily spared, and hopes that job success may mean Alec turns her into a vampire, or at the least, doesn't kill her.

E -Shot, i would make sure that kid have the best life ever if that means he doesn't kill me

K - But anyways, to a vampire who is not rescuing a human from a dangerous situation, or abstaining in general, sometimes they get a sense of "Mine!" About humans they see.

Jane, as a member of Voltri, where mates are occasionally found like this, has heard, and does not question, and in fact jumps on the opportunity.

Her human smells delicious, and is resistant to her gift, and absolutely perfect. Now, how to not kill her, while making Jane the center of her world.

That kid has aunt Gianna, who is not really an aunt, but is... A family friend now, and full intent to make the kid happy.

Gianna is a dead secretary as of Breaking Dawn, I think, But Alec has a need for the human, so he can borrow her.

She's well aware of her morality, at this point.

Also, get rid of that James guy, who found Bella while she was hiking in the woods, in this verse.

E - Yeah lets get rid of him!

Honestly the image of a grown asa man getting his ass handed to him by some 12 year old cracks me up.

K -While Bella might find inclination to view Jane romantically, possibly, sexual orientation may be an issue for her.

In cannon, Bella had the higher sex drive then Edward, and would have prefered that to marriage, indicating she may have a higher sex drive then romantic inclination.

Book Bella didn't show much interest in women, and I don't know what way she swings in this AU, but either way, that Jane has the body of a child would probably complicate things in that aspect.

Would Bella be exploring cross orientation here, or having a crisis for her finding a sex drive for someone who's body is closer to a childs then an adults?

Both would be complex issues.

-It does!First she takes him out with mental fire, then she fights and tears him up, in hopes of impressing her would (will) be  mate!

E -Crisis at the sex drive, cause again kids body, and I'd be hella creeped out. And orientation since I haven't seen her show much interest in woman so that's a lot of issues for her to start on

"And here we see the alpha female show her dominance by obliterating the high male in order to impress her mate"

K - Its kind of weird to even talk about it, yes.

But it would come up in this context

Bella herself, would probably be creeped out

Jane, might be less so, due to being centuries older than her, and living in a different time with different marriage standards

E - Bella is like "oh honey no, that's. ..no"

K -Jane was born in England around 800 A.D, the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon woman and a Frankish soldier.

She was 12-13 when transformed.

Let's bump it up to 13, because while both are far too young for being burned at the stake, 13 is slightly more

----

Was reading this

----

"Contrary to Victorian beliefs that pale, delicate women were the most attractive, Brown says that actually, muscles are key. It's the earliest known example of #fitspiration:

"All women would be healthier and none the less beautiful if they possessed firm muscles and strong limbs; this scarcely any one could controvert."

Even if she wants to consign herself to a life of singledom: "And if a girl never intends to marry she should be none the less mindful of her health."

Brown explains that women are often less inclined to discuss sensitive maladies than their male counterparts. But that's wrong.

"Young women should learn that to neglect disease is to create more," he stresses.

"Secondly, they should appreciate the fact that, though they may get very little sympathy from either the other sex or their own, there is no execuse for not taking their complaint boldly and sensibly to that quarter made for them, namely, their doctor."

---

And this guy sounds kind of radical for the time, and possibly today even, for some, but why does that last line still feel relevant to today's attitude of women's health.

[bigskydreaming]

So this is...its a thing. Let’s go with that. I’ve been calling around LA for pretty much all of last week, going through every oral surgeon I can find to see if they do the surgery I need and what their schedules are like, how soon I could get into surgery, etc, and also I’ve been asking literally everyone I know if they know of anyone, have a referral, etc. Even reached out to this old client of mine from back when I was doing sex work, years and years ago, to see if he knew anyone in LA with connections at Cedars Sinai or another hospital, like, to see if they could even just check with their hospital to see what visiting doctors specialize in that kinda thing. Keeping in touch with people from my sex work days, lol, is not something I normally did, or do. He’s literally the only one, and that’s because it just....kinda happened? *Shrugs* He's not a regular presence in my life or anything like that, just the only one from those days that for various reasons, I kinda kept in casual contact with - which for me pretty much meant that I called him or he called me like, a couple times a year to just be like hey how you been. And it’d been a couple years to be honest, cuz like....*gestures at the last two years* 

LOLOL. I guess I just have very low standards for people keeping in contact with me. Who knows why. One of those inexplicable mysteries I guess.

But point is, he got back to me like, the same day, and acted as a go between for me with this old friend of his, who works at Cedars Sinai as a chaplain, their non-denominational one...last week, at the time, I was only focused on the advice part of the email he sent after he asked around the hospital for recommendations, and it kinda didn’t even register that this guy wasn’t just....had connections at Cedars Sinai, but was actually working there himself (for some reason, I thought he was in a different state when first put in contact with him, whatever). Let alone what his title there was. So he gave a recommendation that I’m following up on today, and I just called the old client of mine who put me in touch with him to clarify a few things he’d say, and it only then hit me where this friend of his worked, and so I asked how long he’d worked there and turns out it was two years.

Which was...when my aunt killed herself. And that was where she worked.

So. Like. This random guy who I’ve never met before, doing a favor for me as a favor for this guy who used to pay me for sex and kinda almost accidentally ended up as like...a casual but distant friend, is literally the guy who was hired to replace my aunt as the non-denominational chaplain at Cedars Sinai when she died two years ago.

And I don’t have the first fucking clue what to do with that?

Like....I’ve always considered myself ‘comfortably agnostic,’ like I’m more than willing to believe a higher power exists, I’m just not all that concerned with forming a definitive idea of what that might be or look like or want. I hate organized religion with a passion because lol, repressive Catholic upbringing, and I’ve just never felt a particular need to go out and look for faith in anything other than myself and like....the things in life I actually value, y’know? I’m of the mindset that like, I figure if I do things cuz they’re the right things to do and try and live a good life where I’m helpful to people and empathetic and compassionate, whatever that Higher Power’s specific deal is, they’re either gonna decide that’s good enough for them when I die, or if its not good enough on its own merits, like...idk why I would even want anything from them or anything to do with them anyway? Like sure God, send me to hell because the only thing that really matters in the end is I didn’t sign up for your official email mailing list or whatever the fuck. Nope. 

So religion and faith and spirituality have never been a big...thing for me, or part of my life, its not something I really feel like, a void for not having or whatever. I don’t have an issue with what anyone else believes or why, up until the point where their personal faith apparently requires them to like....impinge upon my actual life and ability to live it the way I choose to....but I’m not like that dude who goes around trying to poke holes in peoples’ faith, just like...respect that I’m not interested in a sales pitch and we’re cool, y’know? Like my aunt was a chaplain, literally the only person in my family who ever kept in regular contact and like, made a point to check on how I was doing and shit and like...idk, loved me, is I guess the word to use? LMFAO. But like....yeah, she was the only relative I actually felt valued by, and thus the only one I really had anything like a regular or ongoing relationship with....*shrugs* So like yeah, whatever. She believed things that I don’t necessarily NOT believe, but more just have never felt a need to explore or try and decide just WHAT exactly I believe or put a name or a description to it.

And I’ve never been someone who sees signs in stuff that happens, nooooooot a fan of fate or destiny as a general concept and like....I’ve got no problem believing that things like ghosts or demons or anything like that could exist, y’know, things that just can’t be explained by science or anything near to our current understanding of reality at least....I’ve just never had anything remotely close to something I would describe as an encounter with the supernatural, or demonic or divine or anything really...spiritual, I guess?

So.....I don’t know what to feel about this, lol. Like, I’m trying not to read anything into it, like y’know....a sign, haha, not because I wouldn’t like to think that my aunt is still looking out for me in some way, I guess, maybe? Like, of course I’d like to think that, I miss her. A lot. And actually have been randomly thinking about her a bunch lately, like at weird times like, I don’t know what it is that made me stop and think of her, my thoughts go there? So I mean....I’m just saying....it wouldn’t break my brain or upend my entire worldview to accept that could actually happen or be a thing, its more just that I’ve gotten my hopes up so many damn times this past year in specific, that I’m just like....I cant afford to pin my hopes on THIS, like that this is ‘a sign’ that this time, its going to work out? But at the same time, its SO FUCKING SPECIFIC a connection like, and in such a WEIRD fucking round about way, that its pretty much impossible NOT to try and read something into it? Like, the guy who replaced her never even MET her, she’s literally just the woman who had his office before him and well. Is probably just remembered as a depressing story around the hospital, to be totally honest, cuz like, there’s not a lot of follow up that tends to happen when you ask so what happened to her and the answer is well, she killed herself, y’know?

So its like, how do you not get your hopes up even just a little bit, from thinking about that......which I figure means, oops, further to fall and crash and burn if this lead fizzles out too and I got my hopes up for nothing, but if it does pan out, like....I guess that’s kinda the point of faith in a higher power in the first place, lol, to hope for better or believe that there’s a point to all this or a place this all is headed, idk.

But then also now I just fucking miss her too, like, even more than usual, and thinking the shit I’ve tried really really really goddamn hard not to think about for the past two years, like how I know she had her own mental health struggles and even physical health issues, and I know better than to fucking blame her and yet there’s that part of me that wants to fucking throw a tantrum about how i need her and how could she leave me alone with just the rest of my useless fucking joke of a family, but then there’s the other part of me that’s like well I obviously wasn’t the help she needed either, so its not like I’ve got any right to think I was owed her presence or help or anything like that, its just. Idk. I miss her. I need her. I love her, like there’s so many things I want to tell her that I never got the chance to because I didn’t just fucking take the chances I had when they were actually available and there are so many more things I wish she’d told me, and just. I knew she cared, at least. No matter how detached I felt from the rest of my family or just like...fuck family in general, lol, she was the one person there who I never doubted like...just cared. About me. Gave a shit, showed up, wanted me to actually be happy and wanted that to look like whatever I wanted it to look like, didn’t give a fuck what other people thought my happiness should look like or require.

And its just like, maybe this is just a really weird, strange, major coincidence or maybe its a sign of something or proof of something and maybe it doesn’t even matter, bc like...I was just gonna say that its not like I even NEED the answers or to know, but like lol, dumbass, the fact that I’m actually asking the questions or getting worked up over whether or not I actually believe this means something or I just WANT to believe it means something, like, would tend to suggest I’m shitting myself and I DO actually want the answers which suggests maybe I’m not actually as agnostic or at least not comfortable with being agnostic as I’ve told myself, which....oh fucking hell. Am I having an existential crisis? Is that what this is? Jfc I better not be having a fucking spiritual awakening or whatever the fuck, like that is not what I need, this is NOT the time for that, literally nobody asked and I should know, Ive been here the whole time and nope nope nope this guy is not your ‘but the real salvation came from finding strength and purpose in something greater than myself in my most dire time of need’ narrative or whatever like I FUCKING REFUSE, my belief system can go to the BACK OF THE LINE until I’m good and ready to deal with it on MY time, I didn’t sign on to do a rewrite of some modernized Book of Job shit, literally any other thought in my brain is invited to step the fuck right up because THANK YOU, NEXT, I just willingly made an Ariana Grande reference because I can think of nothing more suitably over the top dramatic short of tossing my hair which is much too short to toss but again I insist nooooooooooooooope.

Like, love you and miss you Aunt Diane, and if that is you looking out for me plz know I’m very grateful even tho it totally doesn’t sound like it, but like, you know me well enough to know that I like....object to this timing and context on principle, WHICH YES HELLO I AM AWARE SOUNDS FUCKING STUPID NOW THAT IM TYPING IT OUT YET IT PERSISTS SO LIKE WHATEVER AND STUFF....just. I am me, and thus I shall super gratefully take like....just a smidgen of hope and optimism or whatever from this offering so like, I don’t want to be RUDE, but then Im gonna put the rest of it back in its box and shove it alllll the way to the back of my Pressing Priorities and unpack all that at a very fucking much later date, thank you ever so much, because like....I gotta be me, and I have been partners in crime with my Cynicism for way too long to just bail on him now, like, what kind of person would I be if I just cut and run on the anthropomorphized negative outlook that has helped see me through life oh so jadedly until now? 

Ugh wtf, why am I like this, is it free will or is it God or is God even real or did Cthulu eat god or is God’s actual name Sonya and like I have no clue where I’m going with any of this, look the answer is obviously that a faithless blasphemous heretical fucker has phone calls to make today, and nobody’s finding the light here, nope, nope, NOOOOOPE, my motel’s one shitty lightbulb works GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

[owl-elementary]

A Tiny Experiment

Summary: Tony keeps walking in on Peter in an interesting state of relaxation. He’s determined to get to the bottom of things.

Fandom: Marvel, minus Endgame.

X-posted to Ao3

*****

It was Morgan’s eighth birthday the first time Tony noticed. Peter was there, of course, and he had offered to entertain Morgan while the adult-adults de-stressed from the rocking princess party that had just taken place. Tony went in to check on them and offer one last cookie before bed, but he stopped short in the doorway. Morgan was sitting on her bed, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and scrolling through YouTube. And Peter… 

The friendly neighborhood Spiderman was curled up in the fetal position, eyes wide and rocking back and forth. He was also shivering slightly. 

Tony took a small step into the room. “Morgan...what have you done to him?” he asked, sounding way more curious that accusatory. 

“Nothing,” Morgan chirped. “Can I have another cookie, Daddy?”

“Uhhhh...yeah,” Tony said, still staring at Peter. “You okay, Parker?”

“Yep. Just fine,” Peter said. It came out hurried and quiet. 

Tony relaxed a bit. He’d heard Peter sad and/or traumatized many times before, and this wasn’t that voice. “Okay.”

*

The next time was a few weeks later. Tony had stopped by to check on Peter after a bad afternoon with New York’s newest big bad. May had let him in, and he’d made the grave error of not knocking prior to entering a teenage boy’s room. To his relief, Peter was fully clothed and not engaging in any hormonal pastimes. 

“How you doing...kid? Are you okay?” 

Peter was staring wide-eyed at his phone, shivering. “Fine. Just...taking some time to relax. Today was rough.”

“Why are you shaking?”

“I’m not shaking.”

“You’re shivering like the last chicken in line to be slaughtered. What happened? Did you -”

“I’m fine, Tony,” Peter said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Really. But it’s late - I thought you’d be headed back to your family. Is there a mission?”

“No, I’m headed back after this. I just wanted to check on you. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. May thinks I need to take vitamins,” was Peter’s only offering of explanation. 

“Okay, well, you come to Avengers Tower on Saturday for a physical and we’ll get you sorted. Go to bed - you can’t go around skipping every day of your freshman year. What’s your major again?”

“History,” Peter answered, smirking. He wouldn’t tell Tony what his major was, and it was causing Tony deep anxiety.

“Jesus. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

*

The third through sixth times it happened, Tony tried bribing and threatening it out of Peter. It was really unnerving to walk in on Peter looking half traumatized and half delighted. Peter wouldn’t budge though, insisting each time that he was perfectly fine. And the kid did seem okay - happy and relaxed, if a little stunned looking. Tony had surreptitiously whispered, “Karen, tox screening?”

Peter Parker functioning positively. Not toxins or drugs detected.

“Hey!” Peter had yelped. 

time it happened Tony didn’t even bother asking. Peter was at Avengers HQ, discussing some sort of quantum theory or other with Bruce. Tony had gone to get something from one of the other labs, and when he came back. 

“For crying out loud!”

Peter was rocking back and forth, looking relaxed and absolutely delighted. Bruce was literally on the floor laughing. 

“Peter what is this?” Tony asked. 

“A tiny experiment,” Peter said.

“No! No more cryptic - Bruce, stop laughing! You tell me what’s going on, Parker!” Tony said, turning on his Dad!Voice. 

Peter shook his head, trying not to laugh. “One Stark already knows, and uses her powers for evil.”

Tony thought back to his conversation with Morgan the week before. He’d tried to bribe her to tell him. Ice cream was apparently no longer sufficient payment. “You tell me or...or…”

“Or what?” Peter taunted him. 

“Or…” Tony thought. Empty threats of taking the kid’s suit wouldn’t work. And he was fresh out of embarrassing pictures to threaten to leak. But maybe he didn’t need it. “Or I’ll call Shuri.”

Peter lost the smirk real quick. His face went slack, eyes wide, and he dropped the chip he was about to eat. “You wouldn’t.” 

While Tony might not have anything on Peter at the moment? Shuri definitely would. Tony wasn’t sure how you could be best friends on different continents having never met in person, but hey...Gen Z found a way. 

“You think I don’t have a direct line to Wakanda? You wanna try me?”

Peter huffed as Bruce wheezed and got off the floor. “Help, Dr. Banner?”

“You’re on your own kid. I’m gonna order some pizza.”

“It’s these videos,” Peter said, holding out his phone to Tony. “ASMR.”

“The girls eating pickles?” Tony asked. 

“Those are on here, but I prefer the soothing sounds of things getting crushed.”

Tony pulled up one of the videos on the playlist, and watched as a car rolled over Ramen noodles, Tide Pods, eggshells, and stress balls. “Okay so...Peter?” He’d looked up from the phone to find Peter shaking again. 

“It’s my Spidey Senses,” Peter explained. “The videos are super relaxing, but they’re super intense ‘cause of -”

“Cause of your Peter Tingle,” Tony said, nodding in understanding. 

“Oh god, WHY did Aunt May tell you that name?” Peter lamented. 

Tony turned the phone on mute, but continued watching. “Does it help with your PTSD?”

“Uh...I think so? Helps me sleep at least. You’re about to invent something, aren’t you?”

Tony grinned. “Stark Industries should help out with the mental health crisis we have in the nation. I’m sure we can figure out something good based on this...ASMR thing. Here, take your phone. And we are calling Shuri, as soon as it’s morning in Wakanda. She might want in on this project.”

[a-room-of-my-own]

Four years ago, I wrote about my decision to live as a woman in The New York Times, writing that I had wanted to live “authentically as the woman that I have always been,” and had “effectively traded my white male privilege to become one of America’s most hated minorities.”

Three years ago, I decided that I was neither male nor female, but nonbinary—and made headlines after an Oregon judge agreed to let me identify as a third sex, not male or female.

Now, I want to live again as the man that I am.

I’m one of the lucky ones. Despite participating in medical transgenderism for six years, my body is still intact. Most people who desist from transgender identities after gender changes can’t say the same.

But that’s not to say I got off scot-free. My psyche is eternally scarred, and I’ve got a host of health issues from the grand medical experiment.

Here’s how things began.

After convincing myself that I was a woman during a severe mental health crisis, I visited a licensed nurse practitioner in early 2013 and asked for a hormone prescription. “If you don’t give me the drugs, I’ll buy them off the internet,” I threatened.

Although she’d never met me before, the nurse phoned in a prescription for 2 mg of oral estrogen and 200 mg of Spironolactone that very same day.

The nurse practitioner ignored that I have chronic post-traumatic stress disorder, having previously served in the military for almost 18 years. All of my doctors agree on that. Others believe that I have bipolar disorder and possibly borderline personality disorder.

I should have been stopped, but out-of-control, transgender activism had made the nurse practitioner too scared to say no.

I’d learned how to become a female from online medical documents at a Department of Veterans Affairs hospital website.

After I began consuming the cross-sex hormones, I started therapy at a gender clinic in Pittsburgh so that I could get people to sign off on the transgender surgeries I planned to have.

All I needed to do was switch over my hormone operating fuel and get my penis turned into a vagina. Then I’d be the same as any other woman. That’s the fantasy the transgender community sold me. It’s the lie I bought into and believed.

Only one therapist tried to stop me from crawling into this smoking rabbit hole. When she did, I not only fired her, I filed a formal complaint against her. “She’s a gatekeeper,” the trans community said.

Professional stigmatisms against “conversion therapy” had made it impossible for the therapist to question my motives for wanting to change my sex.

The “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders” (Fifth Edition) says one of the traits of gender dysphoria is believing that you possess the stereotypical feelings of the opposite sex. I felt that about myself, but yet no therapist discussed it with me.

Two weeks hadn’t passed before I found a replacement therapist. The new one quickly affirmed my identity as a woman. I was back on the road to getting vaginoplasty.

There’s abundant online literature informing transgender people that their sex change isn’t real. But when a licensed medical doctor writes you a letter essentially stating that you were born in the wrong body and a government agency or court of law validates that delusion, you become damaged and confused. I certainly did.

Painful Roots

My trauma history resembles a ride down the Highway of Death during the first Gulf War.

As a child, I was sexually abused by a male relative. My parents severely beat me. At this point, I’ve been exposed to so much violence and had so many close calls that I don’t know how to explain why I’m still alive. Nor do I know how to mentally process some of the things I’ve seen and experienced.

Dr. Ray Blanchard has an unpopular theory that explains why someone like me may have been drawn to transgenderism. He claims there are two types of transgender women: homosexuals that are attracted to men, and men who are attracted to the thought or image of themselves as females.

It’s a tough thing to admit, but I belong to the latter group. We are classified as having autogynephilia.

After having watched pornography for years while in the Army and being married to a woman who resisted my demands to become the ideal female, I became that female instead. At least in my head.

While autogynephilia was my motivation to become a woman, gender stereotypes were my means of implementation. I believed wearing a long wig, dresses, heels, and makeup would make me a woman.

Feminists begged to differ on that. They rejected me for conforming to female stereotypes. But as a new member of the transgender community, I beat up on them too. The women who become men don’t fight the transgender community’s wars. The men in dresses do.

Medical Malpractice

The best thing that could have happened would have been for someone to order intensive therapy. That would have protected me from my inclination to cross-dress and my risky sexual transgressions, of which there were many.

Instead, quacks in the medical community hid me in the women’s bathroom with people’s wives and daughters. “Your gender identity is female,” these alleged professionals said.

The medical community is so afraid of the trans community that they’re now afraid to give someone Blanchard’s diagnosis. Trans men are winning in medicine, and they’ve won the battle for language.

Think of the word “transvestite.” They’ve succeeded in making it a vulgar word, even though it just means men dressing like women. People are no longer allowed to tell the truth about men like me. Everyone now has to call us transgender instead.

The diagnostic code in my records at the VA should read Transvestic Disorder (302.3). Instead, the novel theories of Judith Butler and Anne Fausto-Sterling have been used to cover up the truths written about by Blanchard, J. Michael Bailey, and Alice Dreger.

I confess to having been motivated by autogynephilia during all of this. Blanchard was right.

Trauma, hypersexuality owing to childhood sexual abuse, and autogynephilia are all supposed to be red flags for those involved in the medical arts of psychology, psychiatry, and physical medicine—yet nobody except for the one therapist in Pittsburgh ever tried to stop me from changing my sex. They just kept helping me to harm myself.

Escaping to ‘Nonbinary’

Three years into my gender change from male to female, I looked hard into the mirror one day. When I did, the facade of femininity and womanhood crumbled.

Despite having taken or been injected with every hormone and antiandrogen concoction in the VA’s medical arsenal, I didn’t look anything like a female. People on the street agreed. Their harsh stares reflected the reality behind my fraudulent existence as a woman. Biological sex is immutable.

It took three years for that reality to set in with me.

When the fantasy of being a woman came to an end, I asked two of my doctors to allow me to become nonbinary instead of female to bail me out. Both readily agreed.

After pumping me full of hormones—the equivalent of 20 birth control pills per day—they each wrote a sex change letter. The two weren’t just bailing me out. They were getting themselves off the hook for my failed sex change. One worked at the VA. The other worked at Oregon Health & Science University.

To escape the delusion of having become a woman, I did something completely unprecedented in American history. In 2016, I convinced an Oregon judge to declare my sex to be nonbinary—neither male nor female.

In my psychotic mind, I had restored the mythical third sex to North America. And I became the first legally recognized nonbinary person in the country.

Celebrity Status

The landmark court decision catapulted me to instant fame within the LGBT community. For 10 nonstop days afterward, the media didn’t let me sleep. Reporters hung out in my Facebook feed, journalists clung to my every word, and a Portland television station beamed my wife and I into living rooms in the United Kingdom.

Becoming a woman had gotten me into The New York Times. Convincing a judge that my sex was nonbinary got my photos and story into publications around the world.

Then, before the judge’s ink had even dried on my Oregon sex change court order, a Washington, D.C.-based LGBT legal aid organization contacted me. “We want to help you change your birth certificate,” they offered.

Within months, I scored another historic win after the Department of Vital Records issued me a brand new birth certificate from Washington, D.C., where I was born. A local group called Whitman-Walker Health had gotten my sex designation on my birth certificate switched to “unknown.” It was the first time in D.C. history a birth certificate had been printed with a sex marker other than male or female.

Another transgender legal aid organization jumped on the Jamie Shupe bandwagon, too. Lambda Legal used my nonbinary court order to help convince a Colorado federal judge to order the State Department to issue a passport with an X marker (meaning nonbinary) to a separate plaintiff named Dana Zzyym.

LGBT organizations helping me to screw up my life had become a common theme. During my prior sex change to female, the New York-based Transgender Legal Defense & Education Fund had gotten my name legally changed. I didn’t like being named after the uncle who’d molested me. Instead of getting me therapy for that, they got me a new name.

A Pennsylvania judge didn’t question the name change, either. Wanting to help a transgender person, she had not only changed my name, but at my request she also sealed the court order, allowing me to skip out on a ton of debt I owed because of a failed home purchase and begin my new life as a woman. Instead of merging my file, two of the three credit bureaus issued me a brand new line of credit.

Walking Away From Fiction

It wasn’t until I came out against the sterilization and mutilation of gender-confused children and transgender military service members in 2017 that LGBT organizations stopped helping me. Most of the media retreated with them.

Overnight, I went from being a liberal media darling to a conservative pariah.

Both groups quickly began to realize that the transgender community had a runaway on their hands. Their solution was to completely ignore me and what my story had become. They also stopped acknowledging that I was behind the nonbinary option that now exists in 11 states.

The truth is that my sex change to nonbinary was a medical and scientific fraud.

Consider the fact that before the historic court hearing occurred, my lawyer informed me that the judge had a transgender child.

Sure enough, the morning of my brief court hearing, the judge didn’t ask me a single question. Nor did this officer of the court demand to see any medical evidence alleging that I was born something magical. Within minutes, the judge just signed off on the court order.

I do not have any disorders of sexual development. All of my sexual confusion was in my head. I should have been treated. Instead, at every step, doctors, judges, and advocacy groups indulged my fiction.

The carnage that came from my court victory is just as precedent-setting as the decision itself. The judge’s order led to millions of taxpayer dollars being spent to put an X marker on driver’s licenses in 11 states so far. You can now become male, female, or nonbinary in all of them.

In my opinion, the judge in my case should have recused herself. In doing so, she would have spared me the ordeal still yet to come. She also would have saved me from having to bear the weight of the big secret behind my win.

I now believe that she wasn’t just validating my transgender identity. She was advancing her child’s transgender identity, too.

A sensible magistrate would have politely told me no and refused to sign such an outlandish legal request. “Gender is just a concept. Biological sex defines all of us,” that person would have said.

In January 2019, unable to advance the fraud for another single day, I reclaimed my male birth sex. The weight of the lie on my conscience was heavier than the value of the fame I’d gained from participating in this elaborate swindle.

Two fake gender identities couldn’t hide the truth of my biological reality. There is no third gender or third sex. Like me, intersex people are either male or female. Their condition is the result of a disorder of sexual development, and they need help and compassion.

I played my part in pushing forward this grand illusion. I’m not the victim here. My wife, daughter, and the American taxpayers are—they are the real victims.

[202008073wte2022]

Flooding and its Effects on People

24/5/2022

Mary Annison – University of Hull

“None of us had expected the rain. One weather report called it a freak event. Some said it was biblical. Climate change. Punishment. Atonement. Whatever had caused it, at the end of June 2007 it rained for two days. Relentless, like someone had left the taps on full. Water filled gardens, cars, and houses. Hull had been labelled the forgotten city. It received the least government help and featured in few headlines. But our people came together. We carried one another’s sofas upstairs and shared sandbags, towels, and stories.”

Maria in the Moon by Louise Beech

These words appear in chapter two of Maria in the Moon by Louise Beech, written in and about the aftermath of the rains and floods of 2007. Beech’s novel follows Catherine-Maria, also known as Katrina, as she volunteers in a flood crisis centre after her home was flooded and she was forced to move into a temporary flat with a friend.

The novel shows Catherine-Maria handling phones at Flood Crisis, helping others talk through their trauma while also processing her own as repressed memories of childhood trauma resurface.

One of the signs of Catherine-Maria’s trauma, even before her memories begin to return, is her habit of calling people things other than their names, such as calling her stepsister Sharleen rather than Celine, which is her real name, and calling Kath from Flood Crisis ‘Condom Kath’ because she mentioned improvising a needle silencer from a condom at Crisis Care, so that she could knit while answering calls.

When Catherine-Maria meets John (the head workman rebuilding her house) and his apprentice, she quickly labels the apprentice Robin in her head, as she sees him as “Robin to John’s Batman” and continues to call him such even after finding out his name is actually Stan. When the two have a steamy moment in a taxi on the way to his hotel on a night out, he calls her ‘Tiger’ and accidentally triggers a panic attack, as the nickname is part of the traumatic repressed memories.

At multiple points throughout the book, Catherine-Maria refers to a statue of the Virgin Mary belonging to Nanny Eve that Catherine-Maria had accidentally smashed as a child, using it as a parallel for when things in Catherine-Maria’s life became broken, when her family began shortening her name down to Catherine.

Catherine-Maria speaks in chapter three of her home and the state the flood left it in. Of the damage, but also the hope. She had received the official certificate from the drying company a week before the chapter is set, and the drying machines had been removed from her home. “Dry certificates were the must-have item, like a new games console on Christmas Day. Neighbours called from one caravan to another when they got one. It meant the rebuild could begin. The flood had not won.”

Maria in the Moon is very open in showing the pain and suffering caused by the flooding, but also shows the hope and kindness of humanity. “That Day waves had lapped at the windowsill, splashed tears against glass. It spilled into airbricks, entered through every hole and crack, uninvited, intrusive. It ruined all that I’d built, all that I had.”

The despair that Catherine-Maria felt is a reflection of many after the flood, and is also seen in the calls she answers at Flood Crisis. But the book also shows the good in humanity that blooms after a tragedy.

Catherine-Maria is a good representation of this as she helps others through the phone lines, which allows her to process her own trauma, particularly after speaking with Helen, a young woman who was in a relationship with her tutor and suffering the effects of childhood sexual abuse.

Effects of the 2007 floods

In the Living with Water Hull Household Flood Survey, “92 people answered that they or their family members had suffered health and wellbeing consequences. 75 respondents described how flooding caused mental health impacts and 34 described impacts on physical health.” Flooding clearly has an impact on both physical and mental health, and the physical impact can trigger the mental impact, such as the damage to a house causing physical health problems to those living there and forcing them to find other accommodation, which has a negative effect on mental health due to stress.

“A total of 457 surveys were completed (one response per household), of which 303 were completed in-person and 154 were online. 346 responses were from residents of the target wards. It is important to note that the results are not generalisable for Hull, for example our door-to-door work focused on areas affected by flooding in 2007, rather than all areas of Hull.”

While this states that the responses do not speak for everyone and cannot be generalised, it can be assumed that they are common reactions of many affected by both these floods and others. “‘What was the worst part of the 2007 floods?’ 154 people who were flooded or whose houses were damaged by flooding answered this question:

      18% of these respondents described the flooding and helplessness as the worst part

      28% described the devastation caused to their homes.

      54% described different aspects of recovery including: the time taken to repair damage and stress in dealing with insurers and builders; living arrangements during repairs such as living in caravans or staying in flood damaged properties; and some people mentioned the lack of outside help during recovery.”

At the time of the report, people were still very concerned about flooding. “Over half of respondents (55%) felt that flooding could occur again in the next 30 years.”

“Nearly two-thirds of residents have taken some measures:

      47% had made sure their insurance covered flooding;

      28% had implemented property-level measures;

      24% had checked their flood risk (including when moving to a new house).”

The report suggests that one area lacking in flood preparedness is information, with “19 respondents said they had stored sandbags, indicating that people are not aware that other forms of temporary flood barriers are more effective or where to get them from.”

“20,000 people were affected by the flooding and one person died during the floods. Approximately 8,800 households were flooded, of which 5,153 were displaced” in the 2007 floods. One of the greatest effects of the 2007 floods was on mental health, with the Living With Water report, Maria in the Moon, and an article by Emma Hardy all discuss the fear and anxiety caused by the floods.

In Maria in the Moon, Catherine-Maria has a caller at Flood Crisis who talks about the fact that she “can’t sleep when it rains. I go to the window when I hear it on the roof and wait for it to stop.” Emma Hardy was a primary school teacher during the floods, and describes the first rainfall the next year.

“I remember the following year, back in our building at last, when the first heavy rainstorm came. Normally, children are excited by the noise and the spectacle, but instead a deathly hush fell on the classroom.” Even children felt the tension and fear from the rain.

In the report, “Six respondents referred to recurring anxieties each time it rains, for example: ‘It affected me mentally, each time it rains I get scared’; ‘Stress, anxiety, and even today when it rains it won’t go away.’”

This shows that flooding can have a long-term impact on mental health, particularly when the floods cause people to be displaced from their homes. One respondent said “‘My wife couldn't go out. She had a disability. She had cabin fever was stuck in the house and couldn't move.’”

When speaking of disabilities, I mean “a physical, mental, cognitive, or developmental condition that impairs, interferes with, or limits a person's ability to engage in certain tasks or actions or participate in typical daily activities and interactions” with a particular focus on physical disabilities that impair mobility.

People with physical disabilities are likely to have more trouble with floods than able-bodied people for multiple reasons. In Maria in the Moon, Catherine-Maria describes working with her neighbour Sally to move their belongings upstairs, which a disabled person may struggle with if they cannot climb stairs or live in a building without an upstairs because stairs are difficult for them.

Many people were helped by friends, family, and neighbours, with “32% of respondents (147) helped other people during the 2007 floods. Examples include helping people as part of their role at work, helping family such as by providing accommodation or child-care, helping neighbours such as shopping for people with limited mobility.”

The support between people shown in Maria in the Moon is a reflection of this, with people genuinely helping each other, like the “bloke in a rowing boat was handing out bricks so people could raise their furniture out of the water” and the people like Catherine-Maria who asks herself in chapter 19 “Why else would anyone do this if not in the hope that they touched someone and made a difference?”

This also shows when the report says “32 respondents felt that the floods helped bring their community or neighbours closer together” as people were brought together by kindness prompted by difficulty, stress, and fear. This shows that there are a few small positives that came of the floods, hope and good growing from the bad things.

People made plans to better prepare if a ‘next time’ came around, and it allowed people to change things in their homes that they hadn’t been able to before, like replacing a carpet that they didn’t like because the flood destroyed it.

People made plans in case the floods of 2007 were to happen again, and some of these came to fruition when the area around the Humber Estuary flooded in 2013. Although none of the target wards adjacent to the Estuary, meaning that the flooding in those areas was fairly minimal, the wards were still affected by the floods.

“Disrupted essential travel, disrupted work, and flooded gardens were the most common impacts.” The floods in 2013 were less extreme in these areas, as only “Three respondents’ houses were damaged by flooding, but no one evacuated their house. One other respondent reported being flooded in 2013, and although their house was not damaged, they suffered from a range of other impacts including flooded garage, damaged car, disruption and health and wellbeing consequences.”

However, the floods still had a significant impact on mental and physical wellbeing, with one respondent saying “’The entire family suffered mentally, anxiety and stress. Stress is a silent killer as everyone knows’.” For many, the worst part of the 2013 floods was the way they brought back the memories of 2007.

The floods in 2007 had many different effects on the people of Hull. They brought people together, with neighbours, friends, and family all coming together to help one another. However, they also caused much pain and misery and harm.

Both Maria in the Moon and the Living with Water Hull Household Flood Survey show this, albeit in different ways as Maria in the Moon focused more on individuals and their stories through Catherine-Maria’s work at Flood Crisis and her memories of working at Crisis Care, while the Flood Survey was more general, looking over the responses to the survey and reporting numbers with quotes from some of the respondents.

People lost homes and belongings, were unable to get to work or school because the floods prevented transport, and many were forced to evacuate, staying with friends or family for months after the floods. Catherine-Maria was still staying in a temporary flat with her friend Fern 5 months after the floods at the start of the book, and would most likely have to wait another two months before her house was habitable again.

People’s mental and physical wellbeing were greatly impacted too, with many fearing the rain as a sign that the floods were starting again. People were afraid, but there was hope and planning for the future. “The flood had not won.”

References:

Beech, L. (2017) Maria in the moon. London: Orenda Books.

Goodreads (n.d.) Cover of Maria in the Moon by Louise Beech [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/34886124-maria-in-the-moon [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Hardy, E. (2022) How to make Hull more flood resilient. Yorkshire Post, 15 February

Hull Daily Mail (2007) Canoeists take advantage of the floods in Beverley during the 2007 floods [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.hulldailymail.co.uk/news/hull-east-yorkshire-news/gallery/12-iconic-pictures-hull-2007-124435 [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Hull Daily Mail (2007) Newland Avenue in west Hull under water during the 2007 floods [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.hulldailymail.co.uk/news/hull-east-yorkshire-news/gallery/12-iconic-pictures-hull-2007-124435 [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Hull Daily Mail (2007) The army arrive at Westcott Primary School, east Hull, to put down sandbags during the 2007 floods [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.hulldailymail.co.uk/news/hull-east-yorkshire-news/gallery/12-iconic-pictures-hull-2007-124435 [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Hull Daily Mail (2007) Flooding in Burstwick with Darren Anderson and Gemma Lowsley during the 2007 floods [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.hulldailymail.co.uk/news/hull-east-yorkshire-news/gallery/12-iconic-pictures-hull-2007-124435 [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Manit321 (2012) Virgin Mary stock photo [Photograph]. Available online: https://www.istockphoto.com/photo/virgin-mary-gm471391387-20114123 [Accessed 24/5/2022].

Merriam-Webster (n.d.) Disability. Available online: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/disability. [Accessed 23/5/2022].

Ramsden, S. (2021) Living with Water Hull Household Flood Survey Autumn 2018. Hull: University of Hull. Available online: https://www.hull.ac.uk/editor-assets/docs/hull-household-flooding-survey-final-report.pdf [Accessed 22/5/2022].

Sikkema, K. (2017) Traffic light sign partially submerged by flood [photograph]. Available online: https://unsplash.com/photos/_whs7FPfkwQ [Accessed 31/3/2022].

[rosefyrefyre]

Sorry to give you negativity here, I really enjoy your fics and the time you put into such thoughtful stories. I just think in unhinged, if Katniss was truly dealing with that kind of trauma where she can't even look at Darius's uniform without having a reaction then she would do absolutely anything to not be forced to repeat the tramatic event. She wouldn't be thinking she didn't want to hurt Darius, she would take his offer or a counter offer.

(2) I get that you want her in a tough spot but there’s a miss here. I too have suffered a traumatic experience and in that moment of panic, thinking it could happen again I would do ANYTHING not to have to put myself in a similar situation ever again.

(3) She needs time to heal but she wouldn’t actually start healing fully until she was taken out of the potential situation again. She would be defensive, On high alert and overly paranoid for Prim and herself. I’m sorry I’m bringing this up, I don’t mean to be annoying, i just think you miss a few elements of trauma. Thank you for your time.

One of these messages came through not anon, but out of respect for what the intent was, we’ve removed the name and simply replied to the anon.

Thank you for your critical review of Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged.  We understand this couldn’t have been easy for you as a survivor of sexual abuse.

Trigger warning: behind the cut there is a lot of discussion of sexual assault and trauma.  If you don’t feel comfortable reading, please do not.

So this is where I, Rose, need to level with you.  I have no experience with this.  That being said, I’ve shared the ask with FanficAllergy, who does, but doesn’t have a tumblr.  So what you’re about to read is her response.

So, each person reacts to trauma and stress differently.  Katniss’s reactions to things are how I reacted when this happened to me.  Here’s a little backstory.  When I was fourteen, the first guy I officially dated stalked me and attempted to rape me.  The only reason he didn’t succeed in raping me was because I got a lucky kick in. (I was later raped by a different boyfriend [I woke up to him having sex with me - which he thought was sexy and I really disagreed because I didn’t consent to that ahead of time], but that circumstance was very different and not nearly as violent or traumatic. By that point, I had coping mechanisms. And I was in a different place socially.)

Mike was popular.  I wasn’t.  Mike had power in the school.  I didn’t.  When I informed the school of what happened, the school social worker asked me “Why don’t you like Mike?  Don’t you think he’s cute?”

Mike was Donaldson.  Mike’s violence escalated to the point where his parents had him committed because he was harming himself and harming others.  I was blamed for that by the popular kids at school.  Even after he was committed, his stalking didn’t cease.  He’d call me regularly from the center, leaving voicemails, including “I used to love you.  I wanted to marry you.  But now I don’t want to do that.  I just want to fuck you.”

About a month after Mike’s commitment, he escaped from the private center for troubled people he was confined at.  This place was on the other end of town.  I remember being woken up by the cops banging on our door to tell us that Mike had escaped.  Apparently he’d made threats against me.  When they caught him, he was less than a block from my house.

While all of this was going on, two other guys came into my life.  Nick and Bill.  Nick was like Darius; he too was a popular kid in school.  He even was on the shortlist for Homecoming court.  He had power.  He wanted to date me.  Nick and Mike looked a lot alike. Both were track athletes. Nick was considered cute. Nick was also part of the drama club. Bill?  He was sweet and patient and kind.  He was part of the nerd trust.  Everybody liked him, but he wasn’t really popular or unpopular.  Bill was stocky. Overweight. Both of them wanted to date me.  Both of them, in their own way, liked me/loved me.

While all of this was going on, I could barely stand to be touched.  I couldn’t handle anybody coming up behind me - I still don’t do well with it.  I feared the sound of the telephone, because every call (just like in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged, every knock of the door) was my stalker until proven otherwise.  It didn’t stop after Mike was sent away out of state.  It didn’t stop after I ran into him just three years ago at my church, right around the time when we started writing Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged. Mike still haunts me, but I refuse to let him dictate my life and my feelings.

I’ve often stated Katniss is me, and for those people who know me well, they agree.  But Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged Katniss?  She is me.  Her reactions to Darius’s uniforms were my reactions to Nick and his expectations of dating, which were more in line with what Darius expected. He wanted to kiss me. I wasn’t ready for that. He wanted to fool around. He let it be known that sex was on the table. Nick was a sweet guy, but he took the lead in the relationship like Darius did. If I had met Nick before I met Mike, this would be a very different story. And in a very real way, Nick saved me, just like Darius saved Katniss.  In order to escape from Mike before he got committed, I weirdly ended up involved in the drama club.  As I mentioned before, Nick was part of the drama club.  Nick rallied the drama club seniors and juniors into protecting me.  They gave me rides home from school, they looked out for me in between classes, they made Mike go away and didn’t let him follow me.  As a random note, one of the people who helped protect me was the guy who went on to write American Pie.  So the people from American Pie?  The guys and girls you see them partying with and doing stuff with?  Those were the kids who were, at the same time, protecting me, a low unpopular freshman, from my stalker.  Much like the other Peacekeepers that Darius rallies to protect Katniss.

But back to Katniss and Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged.  Her reactions to Peeta were my reactions to Bill.  It’s thanks to Bill that I didn’t die, and I’m not using hyperbole.  It’s thanks to Bill that I had the strength to let Nick down while still remaining a friend.  And we did remain friends, all the way up until he graduated.  I still think of Nick with a smile on my face.

I completely agree with you that Katniss needs time to heal.  Bill gave me that time, while at the same time letting me know that I was desirable and wanted, but also safe with him.  He let me set the pace of our relationship, and let me tell you, I burned hot and cold with him.  For about a year and a half, until he graduated, I burned hot and cold with Bill, and if circumstances had been different, Bill and I could have ended up together.  Long distance relationships suck, yo.  Especially when you’re sixteen and living in the early 90s.

I didn’t have a choice about putting myself back into a similar situation ever again.  Where my attempted rape took place was literally only a couple of houses away from my own home.  My high school was one giant trigger.  There was the stairway where Mike cornered me and one of my friends had to physically extricate me from his grasp.  There were the lockers that people used to throw other kids into me at.  There were the classrooms that Mike used to hang out in, waiting, coming closer and closer just to catch a glimpse of me.  Changing schools wasn’t an option, not in this location.  So I had to learn how to deal.  I had to learn how to survive.

I understand your point about being hypervigilant, and Katniss certainly is.  If you’re not seeing that, it’s because for me to describe what it’s like to be hypervigilant is actually traumatic.  Because I have to relive what it’s like to go through that in order to describe it.  And I don’t think any fanfic is worth my mental health.  So I’m doing my best.

One thing about Katniss and myself is that both of us have the extreme ability to compartmentalize our life.  When we’re in the middle of a crisis - which Katniss is right now, do not think otherwise, what with her mother and the food situation - what both Katniss and I do is we focus on the immediate, on what’s needed to survive the next minute, the next hour, the next day.  And then after will we allow ourselves to break down.  Katniss has not had the opportunity to break down.  I didn’t fully break down until I was out of high school, because high school was essentially one giant crisis for me that I couldn’t escape.  Every time I reached out for help - to my psychologist, to the school - I got told that Mike, and then later the bullies that made my life miserable, were more important than I was.  I lived essentially on high alert and in trauma until I graduated.  Let’s just say that my freshman year of college was a complete and utter disaster.

So if we’re not showing the trauma, it’s because I, FanficAllergy as one of the authors, can only show so much before I can’t deal with it.  And that’s the way it’s going to be.

Rose mentioned this as we were typing this up, but in a very real way, I use fanfic as a form of therapy.  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged is my therapy for running into Mike again at my church and essentially being forced to relive everything that happened to me in high school.  I’ve written other fics that are essentially therapy for when something bad happens.  A good example is The Parting Glass, which was me dealing with the very sudden death of one my longtime friends, Big Danny T.

I really appreciate that you like our works, and I really appreciate you having the bravery to speak up.  But on this instance, I am going to put my foot down.  This is a fanfic.  This is something I do for fun.  For free.  I don’t owe anyone my trauma, and no one has the right to expect me to go through and relive what was essentially the worst time in my life beyond which I’m willing to share.  And that includes my emotions and reactions of that time.

Thank you for understanding this, and I’m really sorry that my experience doesn’t jive with your experience.  But it’s something my psychologist said: each person reacts to trauma differently.  Each person’s emotions and reactions are going to be different.  What one person goes through is not going to be what another person goes through.  If you want to see this in action, I really recommend you check out I Am Evidence, an HBO documentary about the untested rape kits and how law enforcement treats rape victims.  It might open your eyes.

Note from Rose: while I agree that Katniss will do a hell of a lot to avoid rape happening again, a hell of a lot isn’t anything.  And while Darius can protect her from everyone else, the one person Darius can’t protect her from… is Darius.  She’s seeing his similarities to Donaldson as much as his differences, and he’s making it clear he wants sex eventually.  She’s not ready or willing.  It has to be on her terms at this point.  So she’s saying no.  It’s the choice she has to make for her sanity and to be able to continue to function and not let herself die.  It’s the choice FanficAllergy made with Nick - not to be with him, as nice as he was, because she couldn’t divorce herself from the similarities.  

We hope our readers understand.

And we respectfully request that you not reblog this post.  Thank you.

[your-dietician]

Family of Marine 'Iron Man' from Jefferson advocating for mental health help | Jefferson

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/health/family-of-marine-iron-man-from-jefferson-advocating-for-mental-health-help-jefferson/

Family of Marine 'Iron Man' from Jefferson advocating for mental health help | Jefferson

Ryan Nelson helped others around him.

That is the person he had always been.

Friendly and outgoing, he found it easy to talk to everyone, including fellow Marines who found out he was a true “Iron Man.”

After a stellar athletic career in high school, he headed to Marine training the day after graduation, outperforming all of the other recruits in the grueling, 54-hour-straight Crucible challenge. His first-place finish out of 600 recruits earned him “Iron Man” honors and the honor of leading the full procession of recruits as they were accepted as full Marines.

In his Marine journal he wrote a quote at the top of his priority list: “God above all else.”

The product of a close, warm family and well connected in his home community, Nelson nevertheless struggled when he re-entered civilian life after his training.

He did everything he was supposed to — seeking professional help, enlisting his family for support, talking to his minister and praying.

But on a dark night in September 2020, Nelson took his own life.

Several months later, the family still is reeling from the loss, and Ryan’s parents, Ken and Jill Nelson, are seeking to direct their grief in a positive way by advocating for others who suffer from mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

Family members remember Ryan as a funny guy, “the life of the party,” but also sincere and personable.

He got both of his farm jobs on the spot just by approaching the farmers to see if they were looking to hire help.

“He was very gifted, very skilled, and a loyal and dedicated friend,” said Ryan’s mom, Jill. “We heard from so many people after his funeral, so many people who said Ryan had saved their lives.”

As a Bible camp counselor for many years, Ryan apparently had served as a listening ear and a comforting heart for many young people in trouble. Some said his support helped them to turn aside their own suicidal thoughts.

Friends Ryan’s own age told the family that Ryan actually had walked in on a friend’s suicide attempt and intervened to save that friend’s life.

Iron Man

Ryan graduated from Jefferson High School in 2019 and immediately entered boot camp, going through 13 weeks of training to become a Marine.

In the initial part of Marine training, Ryan said when he spoke of the experience in September of 2019, recruits learned to obey orders instantly and were stripped of their individual identity to build them up as a team.

Later in their training, recruits focused on the skills they would need as a Marine, including shooting, hiking and troop movements. Ryan, an experienced hunter, proved an excellent shot with the military weapons and earned “sharpshooter” honors.

The recruits’ experience culminated with “The Crucible,” in which Marine hopefuls undertake a grueling slog under adverse conditions. The sleepless slog takes place over 56 hours and 48 miles of foggy mountainous terrain, all while carrying a 45-pound pack.

Ryan performed superbly, not only leading his fellow recruits but also going back to carry others who fell along the way.

Named the most physically fit of that class of 600 recruits, Ryan earned the honor of carrying the flag at the forefront of their whole group at the ceremony where they were accepted as full Marines.

Several of those who became Marines alongside Ryan later relayed to his parents, “I am a Marine today because your son carried me.”

After being named a full Marine, Ryan came home for 10 days leave, then headed off to combat training. He was there eight weeks, returning in November. of 2019

After completing his training, Ryan entered the reserves, moving out of his family home and moving in with friends in Madison while continuing his education.

It was on Christmas Eve 2019 that Ryan opened up to his family that he was struggling with his mental health.

The family immediately worked together to try to get him some help. They wondered, however, whether he had to work with the Marines (no, they later found out) to access this help.

Just a few months later, COVID-19 hit, and the pandemic year brought blow after blow for the young Marine.

Nelson was planning to become a police officer, but backed out of pursuing that field when talk of “defunding the police” left him wondering whether that was still a wise career choice.

Then his job at the airport car rental business dried up as air traffic stalled in the wake of the pandemic.

“It was a perfect storm,” Ken said.

Ryan, who had already been struggling, attempted to regain his balance in this very unsettling and isolating time.

“We know he did seek help. He did talk to our pastor,” Jill said.

By midsummer, when Ryan’s depression was not getting better, he asked to set up an appointment with a doctor.

His mom remembers responding, “We don’t care what the Marine stance is. We don’t care whether you are a Marine anymore. We just want you to be healthy.”

Ryan made an appointment to see his regular physician in August and started taking prescription antidepressants, though he was told to be patient, as they don’t take effect right away but only make a difference over time.

The doctor also recommended that Ryan enter counseling.

Not finding the energy to advocate for himself, Ryan asked for Jill’s help in setting an appointment, and she attempted to do so but was told since he was legally an adult, he had to make the appointment for himself.

“I did reach out to him to ask if he got an appointment, and apparently, he was getting some resources through the military,” Jill said.

Ryan did take steps to address his depression. He started on a prescription aimed at alleviating the hopeless feeling he was experiencing. He talked with family members and his minister.

But though he was just 19 and in the depths of depression, the law required that he take charge of his own care. His parents could not legally step in and schedule doctor’s or counseling appointments or fill prescriptions.

“With anyone who is struggling with any illness, to ask him to do it on his own, I don’t think is realistic,” Jill said.

The family kept in regular touch by telephone and frequently invited Ryan to join in meals and family get-togethers.

Ryan turned 20 Sept. 7 and the family marked the occasion with a get-together.

But his parents noted that their son’s emotions seemed flat. They knew this could be a side effect of his new medications, still in their trial phase, but they worried.

On Sept. 12, his folks again invited Ryan home for a cookout, but the young man declined, saying he had a date.

On Sept. 13, this promising young man, who had helped so many other people out of their own depths, took his own life.

In the interim, his family learned, Ryan had received some misinformation from a fellow Marine who relayed that he had been kicked out of the service over mental health issues. A higher ranking officer later told the Nelsons this individual had been discharged for another reason, and that when it came to mental health, “We take this very seriously. Marines stand by our own.”

The culmination of all of the year’s doubts and disappointments weighed heavily on Ryan. He struggled to the end.

“The crisis line for the military was in his car,” Jill said.

But the family didn’t know quite how badly Ryan was suffering. He was still talking about the future, making plans, looking forward to buying a motorcycle.

In the early hours of the morning Sept. 13, Ryan made his last phone call, to his commanding officer (who was himself only 21 years old.)

The family did not even want to know the content of that call — they’re only thankful that the young officer went above and beyond to listen to their son at a time of great trial.

It was later that day the family received news of Ryan’s passing. Suddenly, the family was thrust into its own “Crucible,” which only other grieving parents will fully understand.

CELEBRATION OF LIFE

So it was that family members who had so recently gathered to celebrate the anniversary of Ryan’s birth found themselves planning the 20-year-old’s funeral, which they preferred to view as a “celebration of life.”

Some 600 people came to the outdoor event, even though the area was then at the height of the pandemic.

The Nelsons are grateful for the stories mourners relayed — so many of them — about the ways, small and big, Ryan had touched and enriched others’ lives.

They also heard from many other people they never would have guessed had also suffered experienced mental health crises and thoughts of suicide.

Among the guests at the funeral was a woman they had never met, whose son had lost his own battle with suicide five years before.

“She came to Ryan’s service out of love, graciousness and mercy, and offered to help in any way she could,” Jill said.

Many, many people donated money in Ryan’s memory, every penny of which went to help others in similar straits. The family split the donations they received between Phantom Ranch Bible Camp, where Ryan had served as a counselor in years past, and the counseling fund at Real Hope Community Church of Lake Mills, which pays for independent (not affiliated with the church) Christian counseling for church members and non-members alike.

DEALING WITH THE LOSS

It has been only months since their son’s death and the Nelsons are still processing the loss.

On Memorial Day weekend, a small group of family and friends gathered at the Nelsons’ home to create a memory garden dedicated to Ryan right outside the kitchen windows.

Ground Affects Landscaping had refused to take payment for the materials, and family and friends were all pitching in to help with the work.

The Nelsons said they’re so grateful for the outpouring of support they received from friends, neighbors, the school district, their church community and the Jefferson area as a whole.

Still, the experience has been isolating. As the pandemic lifts and people engage in all of the celebrations of spring, for the Nelsons every occasion is punctuated with a Ryan-shaped hole as they go through these milestones without him.

“It’s a burden for us to walk through every day,” Ken said.

“We are strong in our faith in Christ,” Jill said. “We know going through the path of guilt and blame is not going to bear good fruit.

“I wish this weren’t our story, but it is our story,” she said. “We only hope by sharing, we can help someone else.”

The experience has raised their awareness of mental health issues in general, including the subtle ways our society minimizes or even contributes to the problem.

For example, the old-fashioned term of “committing suicide” is hurtful and puts the onus on the person who is suffering, as if they were committing some crime. The more acceptable phrase is “died by suicide.”

“The fact that we still say ‘commit’ makes people more hesitant to seek help,” Ken said.

Then there’s the way that suicide, and mental health issues overall, are “hushed up,” as if they’re some kind of fault or weakness.

As a society, we ask people how they are, but don’t want an honest answer. The only socially acceptable answer still seems to be “fine.”

“You can’t do a blood test and see how much a person is suffering,” Jill said.

Because mental health struggles are not visible like many physical injuries or ailments, people who have mental health concerns are reluctant to step forward — perhaps even writing themselves off as “crazy.”

And without acknowledging the problem, how are people to gain the help that is out there, the treatments and therapies, which while not a panacea, are proven to help?

“At the end of the day, being an ‘Iron Man’ was irrelevant,” Ken said, noting that despite his great fitness in other areas and the strength he had exhibited for other people in crisis, Ryan was still vulnerable.

“We are not looking to assign blame anywhere, but it is important to shine a light on the issue,” Jill said. “As a society, there are ways we can improve to better help people who struggle.”

Looking into the future, the Nelsons hope to establish a Ryan Nelson Memorial Fund to pay for extended counseling for people in mental health crisis.

This fund would be supported by fundraisers like a 5K, a memorial walk, or sales of T-shirts the Nelsons initially printed just for their own family members. They were soon surprised by hundreds of requests for reprints.

The shirts feature a handwritten quote from Ryan’s Marine journal, on which he had written at the top of his priority list, “God above all else.”

Eventually, the Nelsons would like to see a more concerted outreach program for people struggling with their mental health, and for the families of people who have lost a loved one to suicide.

And finally, they want to help erase the unwritten taboo that prevents people from talking about mental health. They want to see depression and related conditions discussed as a disease, like cancer, not a source of shame.

“We really want to thank God for getting us through the past eight months,” Ken said, “God and the true friends who have stuck by us, who have shown their commitment and concern.”

Meanwhile, a phrase Jill uttered while sharing her son’s Ironman experience with the Jefferson Rotary Club back in September of 2019 echoes with added meaning.

At the time, she had said she was looking forward to her son’s service as a Marine with equal parts pride and trepidation.

Though his service would mean long absences and untold sacrifices, she said at the time, she had to keep in mind that “he is not ours; he never was. God gave him to us on loan for a while.”

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[myshatteredme-blog]

I’m a senior in college... and I’m having an identity crisis.

I know what you’re thinking. College seniors don’t have identity crises. We’re about to graduate. We’re supposed to have our lives together by knowing exactly what we want to do in the next five years with a career, significant other, and names of the next three currently non-existent children lined up in a crisply wrapped box with a shiny red bow. And yet, here I am, about to enter my senior year without a single clue what I want to do afterwards because what I thought I wanted turned out to be shattered cookie crumbs at the bottom of the Chips Ahoy box I'd hoped to consume as my daily nutritious breakfast. Hey, I’m a stressed college student and Chips Ahoy is delicious.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked.

When I applied to colleges during my senior year of high school, there was only one thing I wanted in my four year university: a good dance program. I started taking ballet lessons when I was five years old and continued to try different styles throughout elementary and middle school. Some years I did lyrical, or tap. Others I went back to the basics of ballet. But I never stopped or took a year off. I never even switched dance studios. I loved it way too much to ever put it behind me, and I still love it with the same amount of passion, if not more.

However, things got a little more complicated in high school. Ever since I was eight years old, I’d struggled with my body image. Around that time, my pediatrician informed my parents that I was “overweight” and needed to go on a strict diet. My mom, who trusted doctors, as people should be able to do, just wanted the best for me and therefore became obsessed with the food pyramid which was still widely accepted as healthy and legitimate. Her efforts kind of backfired though. I remember the strict restrictions she put on my food intake only made me want sugar and potato chips and candy more than ever. One time I snuck downstairs to our kitchen and snatched a bag of Lays from the top of the refrigerator where she thought I couldn’t reach them. My plan was to run upstairs and consume the whole bag, but unfortunately I was caught. Instead of taking them away from me, my mom decided to play the guilt card.

“What would Dr. (insert name here) say?” she said as she stood over me with her hands on her hips. Now, my mom is a short woman who has always had a difficult time saying no, especially to her kids. Luckily for her, I’ve always been a people pleaser so it didn’t matter much. Not this time though. I ignored her, ran upstairs, and ate the whole bag while watching Disney Channel on my parents’ TV. I was the poster child for couch potato, or at least that’s how I felt.

That memory ingrained itself in my brain for years.

If only I’d just lost weight then like I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be so fat and ugly now.

I lived in constant guilt and shame until I was 15 and decided to do something about it, thus marking the beginning of my six year battle with various eating disorders, anxiety disorders, and depression. It was also around that time I decided I wanted to be a professional dancer and joined my studio’s competitive team.

I could go into all the details about how difficult that time was, but I think you get the point and that’s not really what this story is about, even though it is a very important component. I will say that there is something incredibly disheartening and heartbreaking about the one thing in the entire world you want seemingly requiring a very specific body type and not being able to achieve it even through extreme, life threatening measures. Additionally, being constantly evaluated and having your body scrutinously examined in class everyday can very easily break you. It broke me.

I asked for help before coming to college, but I didn’t really start to get better until the end of my sophomore year, and I still struggle a lot today to the point where I often skip class simply because I can’t handle being seen in public. It’s a lot better though, and my mental and physical health have both improved immensely. Which I guess brings me to the present day and my ongoing identity crisis.

Part of me wonders if I only loved dance because my eating disorder made me addicted to exercise and I couldn’t imagine a career where I didn’t push my body way past its limits everyday. Another part of me knows that those thoughts are just my eating disorder (I call him? Her? It? Ed) trying to take away something that matters dearly to me. Ed is a jerk like that.

What I do know is that I am in love with dancing, but going to class everyday and facing my reflection in the mirror while being constantly judged by teachers and peers is one of the hardest and emotionally draining things I’ve ever done. I do it because I refuse to give in, or give up. I want to show the world, and myself, that any body is capable of being a talented dancer.

But I do wonder what the point is if I have way more difficult classes than joyful ones. It’s cliche to say, but life is way too goddamn short, and I’m not sure if I want to spend it doing something that doesn’t make me irrevocably happy, at least most of the time.

I actually had a counseling session with my therapist yesterday where I brought all this stuff up. I was a little reluctant to do so because saying it outloud made the doubts and possibility of change real, and I’m not a huge fan of change or decision making. Thank you, anxiety. It actually ended up being a really good conversation though. She said something that really resonated with me and that was that I didn’t have to quit dancing if I decided not to major in it. She told me that it seemed as if it wasn’t the dancing itself that was triggering to me, but the fact that grades and constant evaluation were taking the joy out of it. I thought about it for a while, and realized she was probably right. I’d stop saying “I get to go to dance class” and started saying “I have to go to dance class or I’ll get an F.” I started thinking “I have to be good at this so I can pay off my student loans” instead of “I hope I get to do big performances someday because it sounds really fun.”

For a long time I defined myself as a Dance and Creative Writing double major, and I was proud of that identity, but I think I’m coming to the realization that maybe I can still be a dancer without studying it in school and that’s okay. During the school year, I’m a Resident Adviser, and I tell my residents and friends all the time that almost everyone changes their major at some point at least once. I never thought that person would be me considering I had my whole life planned out before even arriving at college, but maybe I should start taking my own advice and accept that things change and people change and that’s okay.

I don’t plan on ever quitting dance, even when I’m 80 years old and can barely walk. In fact, I actually looked into different dance companies, studios, and programs in the area so that I could still take classes even if I stopped taking them with my university. The prospect actually made me really excited because the studios I looked into offered a variety of styles from hip-hop and tap, to salsa, swing, ballet, and contemporary. Something I’ve never liked about my university’s Dance Program is their lack of variety that branches off from contemporary and ballet, and I think I would actually be a lot happier taking classes in a plethora of styles.

A couple weeks ago, a friend confessed to me their struggle with bulimia because they knew I’d had an eating disorder and wanted a bit of advice for how to tell their parents. I’ve always enjoyed supporting other people and learning about their diverse experiences, especially when they connect with my own because I can help them feel less alone. It’s probably the main reason I love to read. I’ve also always defined myself as a good friend. I try to keep my phone volume on at night so my friends know they can reach me at any hour (despite the fact that it makes my roommates hate me a tiny bit) because I know that sometimes our darkest moments happen in the middle of the night when we are alone.

Helping my friend through the terrifying decision to ask her parents for help was incredibly fulfilling for me. I’d been going through a bit of a relapse with my eating disorder and talking to her reminded me of all the self-care tools I’d learned throughout my years. It sounds awful, but it also gave both of us a good laugh to be reminded that some of the things we think, while totally valid, are also sort of ridiculous. In addition to being a jerk, Ed is also ridiculous.

It got me thinking about what kinds of things make me happy.  Reading makes me happy because it allows me to connect with others and learn about experiences different from my own. Writing makes me happy because I feel as if I can share my values and experiences in hopes that they support other people and let them know they aren’t alone. Dancing makes me happy because it grounds me to myself while expressing myself artistically and telling stories with music and movement. I enjoy spending time with nature and taking pictures to appreciate the little things in the world around us. I’m also very passionate about my work as a Resident Adviser because I know I make a difference in the lives of my residents.

Basically the biggest defining factor, the core memory at the center of my islands as they’d say on Inside Out, my absolute favorite movie of all time, is a fascination with the amazing miracle that is humanity, and how we can use stories to spread kindness and awareness into the world.

I’d always had a slight inclination toward psychology. I took a 101 class in high school and another in college. I really enjoyed both and wanted to take more classes in the subject, but wasn’t particularly motivated to go to grad school, which is unfortunately almost necessary if you want to do anything with psychology.

But now I’m starting to wonder if I’d missed my calling.

What if I’m a college senior and I missed my calling?

Ah, there’s the anxiety. We were getting a little too serious and insightful up in here.

But yeah so here I am so close to the finish line wondering if I need to start over. I still want to continue my studies in Creative Writing because it is something I am deeply passionate about. I also want to continue dancing, even if it’s not in a college program. I have this slight dream of maybe opening a body positive studio someday and encouraging dance as a practice for anyone, not just really thin ballerinas. So that’s definitely a possibility for my future. I already have enough credits to change my major to a minor without any repercussions so I’m looking into maybe doing that. I’m also looking into potentially adding a psychology minor to my academic studies.

Somewhat unrelated, but it’s important, I promise. I’m a huge fan of the vlogbrothers, a YouTube channel with John Green (the author) and Hank Green (the science geek and soon to be author). My favorite thing about their channel and their lives is that they do things that make them happy for a living. Hank is a science major of some kind or another but now he’s writing young adult fiction and singing songs about Harry Potter both on stage and on the internet. John  started his education and career as a minister in hospitals, and now he writes books about teenagers and makes videos on YouTube about his garden (among many other hilarious and educational topics). I’ve always admired their ability to tackle new projects and pursue things that matter to them while also raising families of their own.

Basically what I’m getting at is, maybe I don’t know exactly where my life is headed but I think this change might be for the better in regards to my personal growth, mental health, and engagement in well-rounded studies that I’m passionate about. Maybe I’ll go to grad school. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll make it big on So You Think You Can Dance. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll become a bestselling author, or counselor, or mom. Maybe I’ll become all of those things or something entirely different. For now I’m content pursuing my options and trying to participate in the activities and studies that make me happy. (In addition to working with Academic Advising and Career Services so I don’t end up broke, homeless, and alone).

So yeah, I guess there’s me, or at least what I understand to be me.

For now.

[olgagarmash]

Kansas mental health providers look to the future with new hotline looming and COVID-19 pandemic fading – The Topeka Capital-Journal

Decades ago, travelers entering Topeka would have seen an unexpected motto beckoning them as they pulled into town.

“Welcome to Topeka, Kansas, the psychiatric capital of the world.”

The city’s credible claim to that title was in large part predicated on the presence of the world-renowned Menninger Clinic, whose iconic clock tower loomed in the background of the sign.

Karl Menninger’s eponymous institution was a heavyweight in the behavioral health world, bringing top-flight researchers and practitioners to Kansas, although the facility eventually left for Houston in the 2000s.

In 2021, community health centers in Kansas are seeing a marked uptick in interest due to strain brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic and improving attitudes toward mental health more broadly.

That could increase further next year, when the 988 crisis line rolls out, with a goal of making mental health support as easy to access as other core services.

But these forces come after years of funding and staffing challenges. Now, providers are looking to new models as a way to ensure the sustainability of their services going forward.

More:Feeling off? Here is how to know when to seek mental health support and where to turn.

“We have had the history as a state of being a national leader,” said Kyle Kessler, executive director of the Association of Community Mental Health Centers. “And so for us to get the infrastructure back in terms of our workforce and our priorities in behavioral health and helping healthcare overall, we can be a national leader again.”

Demand for mental health services on the rise — even pre-pandemic

It is no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic has prompted widespread concern about mental health, with anxiety and depression increasing during the last year due to lockdowns and uncertainty about the virus and the economy.

Even before the pandemic, community mental health centers saw a 10% increase in patients since 2016.

Throughout much of 2020, those numbers actually dropped off for some groups, with residents confined to their homes. For providers who deal primarily with children and young adults, schools weren’t in session to refer individuals in need of care.

But that trend is beginning to change.

For Family Service and Guidance Center in Topeka, director Brenda Mills noted that the previous high-water mark for calls to their crisis services line was 89. Recently, that number was over 120.

Karen Smothers, director of clinical operations for FSGC, noted that young people who previously had a difficult time in a school environment actually were helped by the pandemic, as they had less of a need to socialize and engage with their peers. 

Students who needed the most support were those who felt isolated without their usual social and school environments when the switch was made to remote learning.

More:Damon Parker is a championship wrestling coach. He’s battling for his mental health.

Now, with a return to physical classes, albeit with disorienting mitigation efforts, both groups of youths are feeling adrift and in need of support.

“When classes resumed, I think it’s just maybe a clash of everything going on between the youth who were feeling really withdrawn before trying now to resume their routine,” Smothers said. “And then in the meantime, the youth who typically would struggle now are being thrown back in the classroom, and are having those same conflicts again.”

Normally, early summer is a quieter time for the clinic, as school ends and families go on vacation. Not this year, however.

“Right now we’re slammed, we’re absolutely bursting at the seams with referrals,” Smothers said.

‘We need to see real commitment’

It is likely that demand will further increase over the next year, with mental health advocates in Kansas well aware of the national rollout of the 988 crisis line.

Lawmakers approved $3 million to help the three crisis lines in Kansas currently operating expand their staff and infrastructure.

But currently 30% of all calls are sent out of state due to high volume, according to Monica Kurtz, vice president for external programming at the Kansas Suicide Prevention Headquarters in Lawrence.

This often comes down to a lack of staffing. More than 100 hours of training are needed to ensure workers, either volunteer or paid, have the tools needed to answer calls from Kansans in distress.

Sending calls out-of-state isn’t ideal, Kurtz said.

“We do pretty strongly believe that Kansans are best served by Kansans,” she said. “We have a better idea of what goes on in our state, and what resources are available for folks.”

But KSPHQ has seen a 50% increase in calls in recent years, and the rollout of 988 could see that number double or even triple as it becomes more established.

The funding, included in the state budget, puts Kansas ahead of other states in getting 988 up and running, Kessler said.

But Kurtz pointed out that a more aggressive funding proposal — which would add a 50 cent-per-line surcharge on Kansans’ cellphone bills — stalled. The extra funds from that bill could have expanded response services, particularly in western Kansas, she noted.

And while legislators can take another whack at the issue next session, Kurtz said she was uneasy with having to ask legislators to maintain funding each year.

“It’s not enough to just say it with your words, we need to see action,” she said. “This is a critical issue, has been a critical issue for the last decade. And we need to see movement on it, we need to see real commitment.”

Staffing challenges hit providers across Kansas

Advocates argue funding hasn’t kept pace for community mental health providers either.

From fiscal year 2007 to fiscal year 2020, funding for community mental health centers fell by 16%, according to the Disability Rights Center of Kansas. That’s despite those facilities serving 30,000 additional patients.

And funding struggles can mean staffing issues, particularly for facilities that compete with other states to attract high-level practitioners.

That includes Four County Mental Health in southeast Kansas, whose offices are mere miles away from the Oklahoma border.

Executive director Greg Hennen said he had an administrator leave to go across the border, where she made more as an entry-level therapist than she did as a more senior worker in Kansas.

“Right now, yeah, Oklahoma kills us,” Hennen said. “Their master’s level therapists are starting out $20,000 higher than we can start ours out at.”

More:Menninger clock tower could soon be demolished; owner hopes buyer will step forward

About 1.3 million Kansans live in an area where the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services deems there to be a dearth of mental health workers.

Even when facilities have an adequate number of therapists, finding entry-level workers can be a challenge. Mills noted that she often has to compete against fast food outlets and big box stores.

“It was tough before the pandemic, but it has gotten worse,” she said.

For Hennen, the struggles have meant fewer personnel in area schools. While districts might want counselors around three times a week, the lack of staff might mean someone is there only once a week.

And in Topeka, Smothers said they have had to lean on more telehealth and group therapy sessions, at least for some patients, in an effort to triage care and deliver the required services.

“I don’t know what to expect a month from now or two months from now,” she said. “It feels like uncharted territory.”

Could new model boost mental health treatment?

Mental health advocates are hopeful that a potential solution is in the cards.

In 2014, Congress approved an experimental program for clinics, one designed to increase partnerships between mental health facilities, hospitals and law enforcement, as well as offer 24/7 crisis care and beefed-up substance abuse treatment.

In exchange for using proven, evidence-based strategies to advance those goals, facilities would get a higher Medicaid reimbursement rate — meaning more money to boost their bottom line.

Kansas wasn’t an initial participant in the so-called certified community behavioral health center model, but two of its neighbors, Oklahoma and Missouri, were. The program has since become permanent and has expanded to dozens more states.

That has compounded the challenges for providers in border regions, like Four County Mental Health in southeast Kansas.

But Four County elected to go it alone, obtaining a grant from Washington to begin the process of converting to a CCBHC model — the first provider in Kansas to receive that backing.

“It really has a nice impact not only on the patient, but also on the community in general,” executive director Hennen said of the facility’s early experiment with the program.

More:History Guy: Topekan Menninger changed how society views the mentally ill

The new model means more of an emphasis on integrating behavioral health with other care. After an individual sees a psychiatrist, they can walk across the hall to a primary care physician to address high blood pressure or diabetes.

And while this may mean more money is spent upfront, providers argue there is a cost savings for society as a whole on the back end.

“You may be spending more on behavioral health care, but all of a sudden, you’re saving money on the primary care side, particularly where hospital inpatient hospitalizations and (emergency room visits) are concerned,” Hennen said.

State lawmakers approved more money to help get Kansas facilities formally approved as CCBHCs, allowing them to eventually access the greater funding opportunities that title allows.

Some providers are already laying the groundwork to become CCBHCs. Central Kansas Mental Health Center, for instance, got a $4 million grant to expand their services earlier this year.

Advocates aren’t yet ready to rechristen Topeka as a global behavioral health capital. But they do profess a genuine excitement for the future for Kansas’ mental health system.

For Mills, the director of Family Service and Guidance Center, the growth in mental health awareness has been building for some time.

“It maybe took the pandemic for people to recognize that, though I think some people were getting it before,” she said. “But this has been a long road to try to get this awareness and education out there about how critical the need is for people to be mentally healthy.”

If you or someone you know may be struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) any time day or night, or chat online.

source https://wealthch.com/kansas-mental-health-providers-look-to-the-future-with-new-hotline-looming-and-covid-19-pandemic-fading-the-topeka-capital-journal/