#even though i've been to that hospital for in person treatment for all kinds of things

[grapehyasynth]

has anyone in the US had to pay a "facility fee" for telehealth and did you find a way to get them to remove it from the bill

[star-anise]

Currently getting my socks clean blown off by Rethinking Narcissism, by Dr. Craig Malkin. Which I found, in a roundabout way, from this video on Midsommar, grief, and narcissism.

Tonight I woke up from a nap and accidentally took my morning meds, so I'm going to be up for a few hours because of the meth. In place of sleep, I'll try to roughly sum up some basic ideas proposed by the research the book is based on:

That traits of "narcissism" like entitlement, grandiosity, and feeling special are not inherently toxic. There are times and places they are appropriate and beneficial. If you show up at a hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest, you should not sit and wait to be seen after people with earaches and coughs. (Actually, medical systems are designed to prioritize people with more urgent needs, and you qualify under that system. You are special and are deserving of different treatment than those others, which is why making your needs known, even insisting on it if you're not listened to appropriately the first time, is an extremely good idea. It keeps you from bleeding to death on the floor, and keeps the hospital from getting its pants sued off by your heirs.)

It is more useful to view "narcissism" not as an inherent immutable personality trait, but as a cluster of coping mechanisms. As previously stated, there are times they are exactly the right coping mechanism for the job. However, people we call "narcissists" tend to cling to these ones even when they become detrimental to themselves and others, often because they lack other ways of regulating their emotions and getting their needs met. And that is something they can change, if a person is willing to put in sincere and difficult work. It is not usually fast change; it's a matter of years, not weeks. But a skillbuilding approach turned Borderline Personality Disorder from an immutable curse to a fully treatable (though not quickly treatable) condition, and there's a lot of hope that it can do the same for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Meanwhile, there's an opposite end to the narcissism spectrum, and it is also pathological and destructive to hang out there all the time. It's an aversion, or even a resistance, to expecting yourself or other people to treat your own feelings, thoughts, ideas, needs, or preferences as important. For Greek mythology reasons, its proposed name is Echoism.

Unfortunately, because most of the damage echoism does is, by its very nature, localized to its sufferer and their own personal relationships, its downsides aren't often talked about. In fact, it's often seen as an ideal moral state, a kind of altruism or saintliness everyone should strive for. As a pathological coping mechanism a person is trapped in, though, it's often more a fear-based reflex than a conscious and deliberate attempt to achieve some real and specific good. It's not actually as beneficial as being able to recognize your needs, desires, positive aspects, and areas of competence or excellence, and bring them forward in your relationships with other people and yourself.

To me this has all been a cross between a gut-punch and a cool, sweet drink of water. There have been other ways to describe echoism over the years, but this feels like the most concise and useful one I've seen in ages.

It specifically puts its pin down in the middle of the moral debate a lot of people struggle with—"What right do I have to put myself forward? What hope do I have of being seen and accepted? Isn't it better not to burden anybody else?"—and says that the problem is not feeling in touch with either side of the equation, but specifically, the inability to move from one part of the spectrum to another when it's merited by circumstances.

When I was a child, I thought Echoism was the answer. It was my ideal. I thought it was what would get me the love and acceptance I wanted, and would keep me safe from the pain of rejection or not being understood. I had no idea it would actually, in fact, be the primary cause of alienation and loneliness for the rest of my life.

Now I'm so deeply thankful I couldn't fully achieve it, in practical terms. As hard as I tried to erase myself, there were always things I loved too much to suppress. I still found ways to express and discover myself in the books I read, the stories I wrote, the intellectual work of school and the experience of pursuing hobbies I loved, my ambitions to be helpful even when they demanded I stop being selfless, and the relationships where I felt safe enough to experience love and acceptance even if I didn't think I deserved them.

There's this question I found a while back that echoed in my bones: Who am I allowed to be around you? Because that's what I felt like, as a child. If I wanted to engage with other people and minimize my risk of harm, it was my job to bend into a pretzel and fit the shape they wanted. And thank god, thank god, thank god, I couldn't fully do it. Despite everything, there were parts of me too strong and bright to lop off completely to get my arms and legs inside the carriage. I was able to take care of myself and let them grow in secret until I found social places I could let them out again. Despite myself, I found ways to grow and thrive, well beyond the trauma that said I shouldn't have.

[daidi-dragan-glas]

Just a quick update.... Oncologist has confirmed that I'm one of the most stubborn people she's ever run across.... Almost 2 weeks ago I had my 41st infusion of FOLFIRINOX (chemo cocktail for stage 4 colon cancer with Mets to liver, lungs and lymph nodes)... I'm told that most people have to stop taking it at infusion number 12 or 15, and the most she(my oncologist) has ever had a patient handle was 38.. until me. I've NOT allowed them to reduce my chemo for "their" fear of MY side effects ... Hell, half the questions from them are "is this side effects getting worse?" Whether it's nausea, neuropathy, energy, bloodwork levels, etc, and always seemingly with an eye towards "we should cut back on this drug so you FEEL better... FUUUUUUCK THAT! I want this fucking cancer GONE... Not just reduced and I feel great until it kills me... I'll HAPPILY go thru the neuropathy that makes it hard to think, hard to work, hard to even type on a keyboard or work with a mouse, yes, that's coming from an IT person, I'll HAPPILY feel unsteady, feel like shit all day, up 5 to 10 times a night to run to the bathroom, and half of those times to actually have to clean up grrrrrrrrrrrrr, I'll happily take the vitamins, the injections, the pain pills and patches, the sore burning ass, the weakness and the frustration of it all, AS LONG AS I'M DOING EVERYTHING I CAN TO BEAT THE FUCK OUT OF THIS SHIT. And that means DO. NOT. DECREASE. MY. CHEMO. SO. THAT. I. FEEL. BETTER. TODAY. AND. TOMORROW..... YOU KILL THOSE GODDAMN CANCER CELLS, I got it, I can deal with the rest, I'm my own Huckleberry!!!

It's not as effective anymore though.. and the Mets in my liver are growing fairly quickly in some concerning spots...

I pushed my oncologist for alternatives.. even 2nd or 3rd opinions and experimental treatment... And she wrote a letter to the Mayo Clinic. I'm told the Mayo will not even consider giving an appointment unless they feel there is something they can do for you that is better than what you're getting. I had a phone interview, they got all my records, had a care team review my case in detail and a week and a half later, they called to set up an appointment.

I'll be doing some packing today (Sunday July 14) to leave Monday morning and be in Rochester MN at the Mayo Clinic facilities for appointments there on Monday, I'll stay overnight (quite probably in my car since things are fairly tight lately) and more appointments on Tuesday.

So, we will see what they say and what kind of treatment plan they come up with.

(yes, things are tight... Cancer treatment is NOT cheap y'all. Each and every one of my infusions gets billed to the tune of $42,000 per... Not including the testing, the Dr appointments, the hospital visits, the drugs to combat the side effects, the drugs given in combination with the chemo to combat the "essentially" allergic reactions to the chemo... {Yes, I had to ring the bell beside my chair once and had every nurse in the facility converge on me and work to reverse what was going on}... So, so far, me and my insurance company have been billed somewhere upwards of 2.2 million dollars since November of 2022. My insurance happens to be pretty good, so my portion is somewhere around half a million at this point, and as stubborn as I am, when they ask for payments, I stick to my guns and pay an affordable amount each month, to show that yes I'm making payments, and fuck you if you want more. I'm lucky!)

I would like to add... IF you are in a position to be charitable, please do one of the following:

go to one of your local oncology clinics, ASK them what their patients might need (I know there are many of you that found fulfillment in making masks during COVID, put that same effort into making hats for patients losing their hair, donate button down or zip down Henley style shirts (most of us have a port installed in the upper right side of our chest and easy access to that for blood draws, infusion and other treatments without having to fully remove your shirt is NICE), donate homemade afghans or blankets

And if you're really squirrelly, pick a local patient and befriend them, take them to appointments, make sure the snow is cleared from their driveway (chemo takes your strength and endurance away and it makes it HARD sometimes to do the simple things around the house). Rake the leaves, mow the grass, vacuum, Help them out with whatever they need (MORE THAN JUST ONCE). find out what they CAN eat and take it to them several times a week, you cannot imagine just how much that one small thing you do for them can make a HUGE difference in their actual survival!!!

Find an organization close to you that you can donate money towards local cancer patients medical bills.

Sorry, turned out to be not so short of an update and there's some rant in here too, sorry not sorry.. lmao!

but I'm sure hoping for the Mayo to pull something phenomenal out of their hat... I don't even care if it ruins my health or quality of life for awhile, I don't care about short term, I can deal with the shit of it, but I DO care about sticking around until people can honestly say... "Thank GOD that fucker is finally dead, let's PARTY!" Yes I still plan to live until I'm a total pain in the ass for even those few that love me, and then when I've died at 103 yrs old, they can spread my ashes on the Appalachian Trail across TN NC and VA and if they wish to visit they can go into the mountains and woods and I'll come to them as the breeze and whisper of the beauty of nature to them

[marshmallowgoop]

Isn't hilarious how Heiji parents are a lot more similar to Shinichi (much more composed and professional) and Shinichi ones are more similar to Heiji (much more eccentric and bizarre)???

I maybe find it a bit sad!

Both boys seem so disconnected from their parents. Episode 263 reveals that pizza bagel mom didn't even know that Heiji is the kendo captain for his school because he "doesn't tell [them] anything at home."

And at the end of Episode 221, we learn that she purposefully didn't go see Heiji in the hospital after he got shot (in Episode 118)!

Meanwhile, Shinichi gets poisoned and nearly killed, and he doesn't say a word about it to his parents. In "The Desperate Revival," there's a rare bit of emotion about his parents' absence, too. He expresses that he is upset that they've left him all alone in Japan for the past three years (Episode 192):

And of course the treatment that Heiji and Shinichi get from their parents may have nothing to do with a personality clash... but maybe it does. Maybe Heizo and Shizuka and Yukiko and Yusaku find that their children are nothing like they expected, and they distance themselves as a result.

I will say, though... I think there's something particularly tragic about Yukiko's few appearances across the series (that I've seen). The first time that she lays eyes on Conan, she looks absolutely distressed—as though she didn't want to believe that her son had nearly died and told her nothing about it, but she can't deny it any longer when she finds herself face to face with the truth (Episode 43):

And while it's maybe more overt in anime-original material like Episode 418, the plot-heavy Episode 345 does reveal that Yukiko worries about Shinichi... but she doesn't approach him. In that special, we learn that she's been hiding in their house and watching Shinichi secretly (and then promptly terrifies him when he investigates). In 418, it's practically the same scenario; Yukiko disguises herself and spies on Shinichi because that's the only way she believes she'll really know how he's doing. If she were to ask, she knows he wouldn't be honest with her.

I get the sense that Yukiko knows she's screwed up as a parent, but she has no idea how to "fix" it, and she goes about trying in... some less-than-ideal ways.

This is all long and rambling, but I was recently able to digitize my Detective Conan VHS tapes, and—at the moment! I've ordered the ones I'm missing!—that includes six of the eight Shogakukan Illustrated Encyclopedia Series releases (which you can find more information about here). They're kind of obscure Conan content because they were released on VHS only, and, well, spoilers from here on out, so do stop reading now if you don't wanna know.

But the ending of "A Written Challenge from the Pyramids!" got to me. I can't say I super understood the story, but I did understand that Yukiko seemingly can't announce to Shinichi that she's returning to Japan. She has to send riddles for him to solve rather than just say, I wanted to see my son.

And, sure. Maybe I'm thinking too hard. Shinichi likes solving codes. But I do find something kind of sad about how Yukiko feels like she has to connect with Shinichi through games and pranks rather than, you know, honesty.

Also, these tapes are a wild ride. I feel like everyone needs to experience this ending.

[dropintomanga]

My Mother Saved Me

I got to spend some time with my mother yesterday for an early Mother's Day celebration in New York City. Before then, I was in deep thought about something that happened to me about 23 years ago. It's something I haven't really talked about and it involved my mom to a huge degree.

I was once hospitalized because of my mental health issues and if it weren't for my mom, I think my life would not be where it is right now for the better.

When I first got my diagnosis of clinical depression at the age of 17-18, I leaned into a bit too hard. Or more like I wanted to not do anything at all. One time at the first university I went to, I talked to a counselor and told them I heard voices. I mention this right now because now that I think about it, I don't think I was really hearing them. I think it was just thoughts instead of voices.

But I leaned into the "hearing voices" motif a bit too hard. In 2001, a year after my diagnosis, I tried switching colleges and still felt out of it. I felt so depressed that I decided to get voluntarily hospitalized. I don't know why I did it, but I was so worried I would kill myself. So off I went into a hospital. There I was surrounded by people much worse than me mentally. It also led to a pseudo-revelation - I don't think I really had it that bad because I was actually optimistic during my time. I eventually was discharged after about a week as my mom fought to get me out with determination.

I thanked my mom yesterday for what she did in 2001. But the story didn't end there. I found out that my mom fought hard because she personally saw what the hospital unit I was staying with was like. She saw the number of people with SMI (serious mental illness) and felt that I really shouldn't be there. My mom told me she was horrified. She even told me that the doctors above were saying I was writing stuff that I wanted to kill/hurt others when that wasn't true. My mom never believed what they said. She was worried that doctors would drug me and force me into bad treatment solutions. She said she signed a release form saying she would take full responsibility for me if things went south (spoiler alert: they didn't, even though I did have a close call).

As some of you who follow this blog know, I've been more critical about what constitutes as mental health care. I've been listening to perspectives from people with mental health conditions who get hospitalized and end up worse after. People who are supposed to help didn't/couldn't do their jobs. We got a hotline number, great. But a lot of people don't know the full truth about how broken the mental health system really is behind closed doors.

And I think about the statement "It's okay to not be okay." I dislike that statement because if that were the case, then we wouldn't be throwing a lot of the mentally ill into jails, prisons, and/or the streets. Certain mental issues (bipolar disorder/schizophrenia/psychosis/etc.) sadly are ignored.

I could have been one of those people if it weren't for my mom. I know I stressed her a lot and feel like I haven't done enough. But she has seen how much I've grown mentally over the last few years. I strongly have been questioning my own response to my circumstances decades ago as a mental illness. I don't want to pretend that ignoring trauma/vulnerability/dependency is going to make me stronger. My mom has noticed this.

I have a lot of empathy and good amount of compassion from my experiences, but I believe some of it came from my mother. I noticed how many friends she has and how she's helped various people over the years.

I know some of you have all kinds of thoughts about Mother's Day, but for me, I'm lucky to have the mother that I have. Someone who allowed me to be myself, stuck with me through my bullshit, and saved a naive version of me who didn't know that they needed to be saved.

I hope you all have someone like that in your life because even as we get older and wiser (I'll use recent events of My Hero Academia as an example), we're still all children deep inside who need maternal love of some kind to truly make us flourish. Mothers are the real heroes we truly need.

[felgueirosa]

if it’s not too triggering, why were you institutionalized for being picky? (If it’s too personal feel free to delete this ask, sorry)

Hi! It's no problem, it is triggering, but i think about it a lot, and it is something i sometimes shared on here, after it just happened, because i was in shock and had to let people know and to reach out like hey? has this happened to anyone else? but right after that it became too hard to put words to and too triggering to talk about so i talked about it less.

but its a story i want to tell now and am becoming more okay with telling, because i want people to know what happens to people, what happened to me, and what could very well happen to me again

and also, it just so happens i have been thinking about it a lot recently and thinking how to tell my story because i have been psyching myself up to tell my girlfriend.

so like. suuuuuuuuper long story below the cut. can be very triggering, its a very upsetting story. tw for like. institutionalization (obvs), suicide, medical abuse, eating disorders, psychiatric abuse, parental abuse (?)

I was kind of institutionalized. At first, it happened almost 9 years ago, I remember the anniversary every year. I was 16, my doctor recommended I be put in a childrens hospital eating disorder program. I have ARFID, no one really knew what it was at the time. I've had it since i was an infant and went from doctor to doctor and no one had ever seen anyone like me or knew what to do. One doctor said I wouldn't live past 21 if I continued to eat the way I do, but clearly that was not the case.

I am forever astounded by the amount of people I run into on here and online in general who identify as having ARFID or being that level of picky eater, though talking with some of them more in depth, it seems like they are often not on the level of pickiness i am on and seem to have experienced less shame and be more open about discussing it though everyone is different and impossible to tell.

I was excited for the program at first before it started. I thought they were going to help me and I would finally be a normal person. I was so tired of being harassed by random strangers, laughed at by waiters, and ridiculed by my family. Every person I made friends with I had to at some point make a terrifying confession to and going on dates (for the small regrettable amount I did it in high school) was near impossible when I had to show the part of myself that I was most ashamed about and hated the most on the first date.

I thought at the program I would find specialists who would sympathize with me and help me and would fix me. And when I got there, before anything even happened, I had to sign all these papers, and my parents did too, and I didn't know what they were, I didn't question it. What I signed didn't even really matter anyways, I was 16. And the first day I brought my phone with me and a book, and my bag with some other stuff. But after I signed everything, they took everything I had away, and we went to this room with all these doctors, 'my treatment team', I had never met them before, they barely looked at me or talked to me, but they talked about me and my 'treatment plan' and they were never caring to me, never talked to me like a person.

The plan, as it was for everyone, was that they give you three meals a day, of whatever food they bring you, you have to eat all of it by the time an alarm they set goes off, you have to drink every drop of water they give you, have to use every packet of sauce they give you. If you don't do this, you get moved down a 'level' and you get privileges taken away. Things like watching tv, or being around other patients, but most of all, I found out that being moved down a level just meant you usually get locked in a room by yourself for a few hours because that happened to me. a lot.

i was very upset when i found this out. this was not helping me. because as i found out, it turns out no one really knows a fucking thing about helping people with mental illnesses or eating disorders or developmental disabilities even though the medical establishment likes to talk about how much it has progressed. they don't know a single fucking thing.

so i finally went out to the common room with the other patients. i was crying very hard and told the doctors that was it i wanted to leave i didn't want to be part of the program. but they told me it was too late i already signed the consent forms. so i don't know if medical consent/institutionalization is still like this almost 10 years later, if someone was lying to me or if this is true, but my mom also told me the same thing, and apparently if you consent to this kind of thing you cannot take it back. which by definition, makes it not consent.

i remember sobbing in the common area with the other patients (they were all girls, about same age as me), and there was another new patient, also sobbing. the other girls tried to comfort us and talk to us, but the orderlies (i don't really know what else to call them, all they really did was sit and watch us and make sure we didn't do anything that wasn't allowed. they were all college girls. they were extremely mean to us, they thought we were being dramatic) wouldn't let them, we weren't really allowed to talk to each other much and we weren't allowed to touch each other and we very specifically for some reason were not allowed to comfort each other.

i was crying especially hard because i knew that this program was expected to last for a couple months. but as i talked to the other girls there the small amount i was able to, i found out that most of them had been there for much longer than a couple months, many of them for over a year. i managed to catch my parents as they were leaving from dropping me off and talking with the doctors (i had only been there still only like 3 or 4 hours) and screamed at them to get me out of here. my mom seemed really shaken by the way i was acting and the doctor told her not to worry and i specifically remember him saying "they all act like this at the beginning".

it is something i will never forget because every time i tried to convince my mom to get me out of there she seem conflicted based on the fact that the doctor said that. and it hits me every time that all the doctors, the nurses, the people working there, can see children. children. acting like that about what they are doing to them and think they are doing the right thing. i will never forget it ever. and every person who came in after me did the same thing! because it was prison! it was punishment! for having a eating disorder! for being autistic! when i was able to talk to my mom, she kept saying "we are not trying to punish you" and the more times she said i realized she was trying to convince herself.

i ate some of the foods they gave me but i never got used to them like they said i would. i just got knocked down a level every time and got locked in a room. and the thing is, unlike most media and reports about mental wards or asylums. it was a nice hospital. it was brand new. the room i was locked in was not a padded room. one of the walls was just a window. and in some ways, that made it worse. because it looked out on a highway and i saw all the cars going to and from work, going to the store, going to eat. and they were so free and they could go where they wanted and eat what they wanted and when they wanted and they weren't locked in a room. and they passed this hospital and had no idea what was happening to me or to anyone else here and it made me so angry and so defeated. i felt so close to being away from a waking nightmare but i knew i would never get there. a year!!! i could be there for over a year.

a year without going where i wanted when i wanted. no access to my phone. i wasn't allowed to see my friends. i wasn't allowed to read my books. i wasn't allowed to eat what i wanted when i wanted. i did therapy a few times a day but it was more like an interrogation. when i was a high enough level to be in the common room, i sat in the corner and did puzzles obsessively so i could just dissociate and focus on the puzzles. eventually the therapist told me i wasn't allowed to do puzzles anymore because it was "distracting from my recovery" and i "wasn't thinking about my eating" (i don't know what the fuck i was supposed to be thinking about). it got to the point where i felt like i didn't have ownership of my own mind anymore. i wasn't allowed to dissociate. i wasn't thinking about what they wanted me to be thinking about.

they told me if i "was good" (aka if i reached a high enough level, not going to happen) i could write them a list of 100 songs. they would load all the songs on an ipod shuffle to loan to me. but only after they listened to all of them first to make sure they were appropriate. they told me if i "was good" maybe i could see my best friend for a few hours for one weekend. a few hours. for one weekend. i was understanding how truly controlling the program was. seeing a friend for a few hours once a month is a privilege. listening to a few songs they approve is a privilege.

but it didn't matter. i realized after the first day that obviously i had to kill myself. i was already in a pretty bad place before the program and was passively suicidal but i realized instantly that i could not live like this and if i was going to be stuck here indefinitely then my only way to escape was to end my life. i didn't have a plan at that point but i knew for certain i was going to do it. the loss of control, the violation, the loss of body and self was unbearable.

every morning they had us strip and then weighed us and did an ekg. why did they have us strip and do an ekg? it doesnt seem like it has much of a point. they watched us go to the bathroom. it all seemed like humiliation and violation for the sake of it.

even after the second day i had realized that i didnt want to be fixed or get better and i had to come to the very quick realization that there had never been anything wrong with me. when i went to therapy they asked me questions like "don't you want to be able to go to restaurants?" "don't you want to be able to eat with friends?" and i realized none of that had to do with my health. the reason i had problems with restaurants was because they didn't accommodate to me and the reason i had problems with friends was all social. all these reasons i had for wanting to be fixed and all these reasons they had for me to want to be fixed were other peoples' problems. the way people treated me was not my problem.

for your treatment plan, one of the first steps was to admit in group therapy that you had an eating disorder and what your problems were (i fucking know) and that would get you more privileges but i decided i wasn't going to do that because i didn't have a problem, my "problem" was everyone else's problem and the way they treated me. so i refused to every session and got locked in the room every time for this. they fucking hated me for it.

if you can't tell how long i was there for based on this. i was only there for a week. because after a week our insurance came back and declined to cover the program. i always hate myself that it was a week. it doesnt feel long enough. for the amount that it did for me. for how much it does to me almost 9 years later. it doesn't feel like enough.

i got home and screamed at my parents. i was so angry. my mom had allegedly been trying the entire time to get me out of the program, but my dad had been trying to keep me in. when i got home my dad had taken away my phone and my laptop and said he wasnt giving them back. i screamed at him and cried and he threatened to call the hospital and have them lock me up forever. i was terrified, i tried to get away from him, to hide. and he got out his phone and took video of me, at my worst moments, he claimed to show to the doctors. i ran away. for a few hours. i had nowhere to go. i ran about a mile. and then sat down outside the rec center and cried until it got dark. and then i went home.

i had nightmares that i was still there for months. it never ended. i was so paranoid about everything. i thought people were coming to lock me up. i couldn't draw any attention to myself or i thought i would be locked up. every time we drove anywhere near the hospital i thought my parents were taking me back there. i was so paranoid i couldn't sleep i couldn't sit i couldn't do anything i had to be looking out for everything and i trusted no one. i walked around, angry at everyone, that they were so carefree in everything and they had no idea what happened to me. i was angry it happened to me and they were worried about things that had no importance. i was angry when adults thought they knew more than me and i felt i had been through more in life at 16 than they had at their age. was it true? i'm not sure.

i think the most important thing i learned, whether true or not, besides not needing to be fixed, was that i could never trust anyone and never ask anyone for help again. i thought they would help me and i was excited. for some time, i thought it was my fault. at least partially. but now i am angry. i was 16. who would do that to a 16 year old who was looking for help because of how people had treated them?

for a while after i talked about arfid a ton on tumblr and also on wordpress. i created the actuallyarfid tag but became disillusioned when so many people in the tag just talked about wanting to get rid of it or their progress in getting rid of it. and eventually i couldn't even talk about it anymore. it was too tied to everything that happened and i was still so ashamed of it. it was to triggering. i stopped.

i think for similar reasons i have stopped associating so much with the autistic community online. i think it has jaded me so much to see so many people who have only had the slightest negative consequences of being autistic and do being autistic like putting on and taking off a coat after something like this happened to me. it was in this program that doctors first told my parents they think i am autistic though i wasnt diagnosed until later. i recognize now that having arfid is part of my being autistic but i don't like to talk about it in the context of having arfid because i don't feel like i 'have' anything. it is just me being me. and i use autistic as a label when i need to explain my needs and differences to people quickly and its fun to make jokes about being autistic sometimes but i dont like to constantly identify myself that way.

my parents are "health" nuts (fake garbage health bullshit) so they were still convinced my eating was going to kill me and many years later have taken me to see several nutritionists. and all these years later, after doctors many years ago declared i had a problem and would die, most of them did not see a huge problem with the way i eat. one of them in particular who i love and have seen over and over again at the behest of my parents has pointed out many things to me. there are plenty of adults who don't eat or barely eat fruits and vegetables. there are plenty of adults who eat the same thing every day (bring the same thing for lunch at work everyday anyone?). the world does not end. if you are different and you do it. then you are a problem and you need to be fixed. but if it is within socially acceptable norms, then it's okay.

i've always thought that some day i wanted to write about what happened to me publicly. in a paper or something. i want people to know. that this happened to me. that this happens to people. still. that it could very well happen to me again. though i'm not sure i could take public response if i did write about it. and after i got out of the program, i wrote it all in a journal, but then ripped it up and shredded it because the words weren't enough. they were so insignificant and i could never ever find the words to capture how horrifying it was what happened to me and how badly it ruined me and destroyed me. it changed my whole life and my perspective on everything. but i think now, almost 10 years later i am starting to find the words. and i think now i am less scared.

[opheliajupiter99]

MLP Broodmother Virus: Dr. Gumdrop's notes

*Contained are the personal documentation/notes of Dr. Gumdrop, in chronological order.*

-

"We've been getting a dramatic increase in incoming patients in the last week or so. I knew my first year wouldn't be easy, but I was hardly expecting -this-. They're all displaying similar symptoms, though oddly, only adult ponies of young adulthood or middle age seem to be falling ill."

"These symptoms include:"

Bloodshot eyes

Abdominal swelling

Irrational behavior

"Thus far, these are the only symptoms, but the number of ponies afflicted has been staggering, so we are working overtime to figure out a solution. We've managed to isolate the cause of the virus though; some kind of bizarre parasitic insect. At first, we tried to terminate them with magic, but they're proved surprisingly resistant to magically treatments, and drug-based treatments aren't fairing much better."

"Worse still, it's become not uncommon for ponies to refuse treatment, though some are more agreeable than others."

-

"Things have only gotten worse - much, much worse, in fact. The afflicted have begun to produce the larvae they were carrying, and as most were in similar stages to each other at the time of admittance, we're rapidly being overrun with these creatures. The swarm has been relocated to the hospital's basement, which has been tightly locked and is being observed by guards around the clock, where they are safely contained and monitored."

"On top of all that, what was at first mere agitation or reluctance has turned into full-blown aggression, most of the patients needing to be restrained at least part-time to avoid an escape or attack attempt."

"From what little we've heard amongst all the chaos, it seems beyond the hospital walls aren't doing much better, though we seem to be stemming the tide a bit, at the very least - at least in Ponyville."

(Body horror warning beyond this point)

-

"And here I thought things couldn't get worse..."

"We've been getting shipments of food directly from the Apple Farm itself, per Twilight's orders, and have been assured the food is clear of all contaminants. But..."

"But somehow, they weren't."

"Most of the hospital staff, and the few uninfected patients, have been infected...including myself. The only ones not infected were the ones that did not eat, though if the virus can even penetrate the Apple Farm's well-guarded stock, it's only a matter of time until they're infected as well."

"The abdominal swelling has already started, though thankfully I can still walk. I've also been having...very odd dreams, the few times I get a chance to sleep, anyways. Dreams of motherhood...of fields of happy, smiling faces...of peace, and serenity."

"They're happy dreams...but I can't shake the feeling I'm not thinking my own thoughts, if that makes sense. I'm going to try and keep writing down my thoughts, but given how others have been fairing, I'm not sure things will turn out that way."

-

"They're beautiful."

"So beautiful."

"The basement is open."

"They're all free now."

"We need them."

"Join us."

"Love them."

[talesofesther]

It's kinda tough to come in the search of.. unburden, I suppose. I talked to you a little while ago, about some friends and unfortunate things. I wanted to ask, again, how's everthing going.

I am going to use you as my personal... therapist, lol, and take what you said as that I could text here in your requests whenever I needed to, you know, speak about these things.

Things with my best buddy didn't get any better, to be honest.

I still adore them, and I would still kill or be killed for them, but to be honest, knowing that they don't seem to even care at least partially how much I do care for them is dragging me down. Feels almost like a betrayal, you know. I was so careful, building this friendship of mine. Careful of hurting them, of scaring them off, of making them feel comfortable and safe. Turns out, they never seemed to reciprocate those kind of things.

And I am just noticing because I am a clueless idiot. To be honest I've always been kind of.. not dumb, but you know, I just don't take hints haha. I am kind of dumb, actually. It's not even their fault, really, it's mine. That's the worst thing. I could never blame my guy for that. I do love them, still, and I still, as said, would do anything for them. So, guess I have that figured out, even though it still hurts like hell. But to be honest, it's not that bad. It would be worse not to have them at all.

Perhaps they don't adore me as a friend as much as I do adore them, but that's okay. It still brightens my day a little to see them, even if all I can think about is how clear it is that they don't care that much for me, and that I am the blindest person on earth.

About my other friends - haven't talked to them since they haven't talked to me. I am not gonna be the one who runs behind them even when I didn't do anything to deserve this. Not anymore. Not me asking what's wrong, what did I do, when even I don't know what could I have done. It's not fair that I respect them and love them and they just exclude me of their lives, and like if I am some kind of love sick puppy I go behind them like a dog, tail between it's legs.

Today I got this notice, though, from my grandma. I don't have the best relationship with her. Things have been tough with her. But I love her and respect her.

She told me that uh, my mentor is dying. From cancer. She has a 25cm x 15cm tumour, and little ones spread all across her body. Ironic as it is, it's almost 25th of the month; the day when my great grandmother passed away from cancer. The woman who raised me.

This uh, mentor, she used to coach me. I was an athlete. I started when I was 3 years old. I did it for over 10-12 years, with the same woman, going to competitions with her all the time. Now we don't see eachother often, but turns out, I'll never see her again, haha! yeah, go ahead, Mila, joke about your trauma, you lil' asshole.

She is in the hospital right now. Getting treatment. To give her a decent life quality for the time she has left. And I am so, so fucked up. Everything, everything I thought I might have left in the past is just resurfacing right now and I feel so damn stupid cause hell, I can't be that fucking stupid. I don't know how to get over things, and it just makes me feel pathetic. Cause let's be honest, after all, I kind of am.

Everything reminds me of everything and even the slightest thing makes me think and think and think and I feel like I can't breathe. Like if someone has a hold in my heart and is squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and at some point that hold is gonna make it all explode.

My uncle, through my grandma, gave me his backpack to use temporarily yesterday (mine broke and I've been using it anyways for almost a week). That's the closest approach I ever had to him over what? one? two years? I haven't even counted them, to be honest. He abused his wife. My aunt. My grandma made me watch, or well, listen to the audio of the video that she recorded and used in the court after that. He sexually abused her there, and I still can't get over it even if it shouldn't be my place to be mad, but I just can't, because I can't forgive that. That and the fact that it brings me back to times that I don't want to revive. And yet, here we are, and all I can do is go back again and again even if I don't want to.

I can't trust him. Worst thing, is he's been nothing but kind to me all the meanwhile. He used to be my heroe, you know. Someone I loved. Like my father, just that he didn't leave for cigarettes haha! He actually was someone I looked up to. A safe place with my aunt, you know. Someone I trusted, who I actually saw as a father. Even when things got a little hard with my mom he and my aunt would be there. But I just keep going back to my aunt crying, to the own fear I felt when I was in that situation, and when he brushes it off, all I see is a hypocrite. He told me himself of when he hit her. That he knew it wasn't okay. But he never said anything about the other things he did to her.

He used to come home, tell me his version of the story. I felt disgust. Because I, myself, heard the story from my aunt after she reported him.

My grandma didn't stand up for my aunt. She said she would, that what my uncle did was wrong, but first time I said something and laughed bitterly when she defended him she jumped at me. She defends everything and covers him up like if she herself didn't make me listen to that freaking video after she took me outside crying to tell me that her son was a abuser. Of his own wife.

Everything just bottles up and I don't know how to let go.

My mother told me she would talk to me when she is home and I am kind of scared she is gonna kick me out of the house again and I am so, so tired of everything. But it's okay. I'll get out of this.

Guess I just need to put all my shit together, get a job and keep going. It's not like she has the balls to kick me out of the house. Right? my birthday is close though! another day closer to death, yay 👹👹!! and I'm also getting a drivers license, courtesy of my grandma! she always gave the best gifts, even if she sometimes is.. well. You know, family. Everything's gonna be just fine. Everything's gonna get better, I'll just work and try everything I can (that is, if someone finally hires me cause damn, I've been loking for a job for months). I can do this. Or at least, I hope so.

Well, I'm not feeling like if I am going to explode now! I mean still I do, kind of, but not as much, even it it's still there. Guess talking about this really helps after all! have a good night, pal. You know, you don't have to answer. You can just leave this hanging around if you wish, or delete it. It's not a big deal, you don't need to bother yourself with this kind of stuff after how kind and attentive you've been. Take care!

Hello, honey, I'm sorry I took a while to answer you, it's been a busy few days.

But let me tell you one thing first, I wish with all my heart that I could give you a hug right now, genuinely, I just want to hold you and tell you everything is gonna be okay. So imagine I'm giving you a big hug right now, okay? <3

This situation with your friends genuinely breaks my heart, because I've been there, I know how you feel. I've had, and still have, so many friendship that meant the world to me, only for me to realize later that I'm just an afterthought to them. And it hurts, it hurts a lot. There's nothing worse than loving someone and feeling like not even a fraction of that love is being returned to you.

I'm sorry this is happening to you, honestly no one should have to go through something like that. Friendships are not meant to hurt. But I know that, eventually, you'll find someone who appreciates you the way you deserve.

I'm also so sorry about your mentor, I've lost family to cancer and it is such a horrible disease, it's something I wouldn't wish for anyone to go through. Again, feel yourself hugged by me.

And about your uncle. For me, that kind of thing is simply unforgivable, nothing less. I would never be able to see past it. So don't feel bad if you can't forgive him either, and don't feel bad for feeling disgusted at what he did; any sensible person would feel disgusted. It is not your obligation to forgive him, much less accept what he did. Though I understand the struggle, especially if he was someone you looked up to. I'm so sorry you're going through this.

Lastly, you're not dumb, you're not pathetic. You're someone who's going through so much shit they don't deserve to go through, and yet you're doing a damn good job of handling it.

Everything will get better, I promise you.

As always sweetheart, I'm here whenever you need to talk. Know that there's someone out there who cares about you and loves you very much; and that's me. <3

[depressedtransbian]

Well, it's been a minute, hasn't it? Time has certainly gone by since my last update. So, I'll fill y'all in on things:

-I started SW properly, posting stuff on Reddit. Have a decent-ish following on there, and I figure once I reach 500 followers or so I'll start a proper OF and see how that does.

-I broke up with Ellie (out-of-state partner). No matter what I did, or said, or tried, she would not seek any kind of help for her crippling depression and anxiety. My first wife went through a very similar thing, refusing to seek treatment even though I implored her to, and it took the threat of divorce to get her to a hospital where we discovered her kidneys had shut down completely. I wasn't about to go through that hell again. I can't. Call me what you will, but I can't.

-Moved. Beginning of January we got a notice from our landlord that our rent was going up by $100/mo, and that place was NOT worth that price. So we decided to move. In the process, we got rid of a lot of stuff we didn't need any longer, fixed the bedbug problem (or so we thought; they just popped back up in the last few days after a few months of living here), and managed to find a house to rent as opposed to an apartment, which is what we've been wanting.

-Started seeing a proper psychiatrist in an effort to regulate my meds and boost my mental health.

-Tried to start dating one of the people from our D&D table, who seemed really interested, who then suddenly turned cold right before our date and hasn't shown any romantic proclivities since.

-Got back into online dating, via HER, and found a REALLY cool person whom I'm meeting for coffee (and more than likely more than that) tomorrow evening. And bonus, they also really like Uni, and if things keep progressing like this we might just be in a triad sooner rather than later! Which is awesome!!!

-Had my 40th bday, and Uni got me a stuffie I've been wanting for a while, the Squishables Lich!!!

So yeah, the past few months have been HELLA busy. But things were still going great-ish. Ever since moving Hanna's been super tight about money, which is fine, and she's also been looking at changing jobs to a less stressful one, which is also fine (even though I think the job hunt is causing her more stress than her current job is).

But all that's what it is. I'm just trying to be the best mid-tittied Semi-goth girlfriend/housewife I can possibly be. Some days my energy levels are shit, some days I don't get anything done. But I still try, and that's what matters most.

Cheers, y'all. See y'all soon!

[diamondsarefriends]

TW/ for depression and other. small testimony:

sometimes i marvel about where i am in life.

is it perfect? no.

however, when i think things are getting too hard for me to handle, i remember when i was so suicidal and depressed. how i jumped out of my mom's moving car and she had to call the police on me- a black 20-something woman in the climate we are all too familiar with in the states. how that was her only choice and it could have hurt me but i could have also hurt myself. how i spent the night in a locked hospital room before they moved me into involuntary treatment. how i was there for a whole month of my life.

i don't even look remotely like that girl when i look in the mirror. some how i survived so well, i forgot that's even what i once looked like. it's easy to forget what you've survived. it's kind of a coping mechanism. push to the back of your mind. keep going.

sometimes depression still likes to come and visit me but it's not visiting the same person i once was. wow!

so next time you hear that depression or that self hatred. look and listen instead at what your life is whispering to you. listen to it even in the smallest of things. because our small steps are so under-appreciated but it is in our small steps where we find our biggest victories.

the fact that you even got up and showered. the fact that you went out for a walk. the fact that now you consistently show up for your job. the fact that you don't drink as much. you don't smoke weed anymore. the fact that you even decided to go to school again even though you feel like 'what am i doing? why did i think i could do this,' that is a small step but a large victory.

our small steps will be what eventually shows us how far we've really come and if we were able to make that small change in the middle of our defeat, then there is still hope to keep going, even when we don't believe it. even if we don't think we can. even when we want to lay down in our defeat. even when we don't do well one day:

if you give yourself tomorrow, you can try again. give yourself a chance, another tomorrow, no matter how much you fail in that tomorrow cause there is another one waiting.

i don't say this lightly. i have been through so much and what i have been through, i have lost people i love dearly, family, to. the same things i've managed to keep going in spite of, someone who was a part of my heart, flesh and blood, could not and i could have easily joined them. i could be with them. dead. lost in my mind. lost in addiction.

i don't even look like what i've been through. so the fact that you are even still here with all you're going through: i am so proud of you! i love you. you are amazing. it is no coincidence you woke up today even though you didn't want to. you survived! i love you. i'm so happy you did.

let's take these baby steps together.

milk and honey is on the other side.

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

cishet white guy nursing student had a fascinating (and endearing) reaction to my experiences with hospitals

thinking about last week when i did the second queer-centered patient simulation for the new LGBTQ+ program at our university hospital. this is the same one i helped develop, and it's the first of its kind in our state (which is crazy!! i'm part of something groundbreaking!!)

at the end of it, the two other "patients" and i had to join the debrief, to share our impressions and advice with the students.

for the most part, as with any student, they were all nervous to interact with something new without any of the history or context, and all of them held a sizable fear of offending us. but each of them did wonderfully and treated us like any other patient: like humans.

one of the students was a guy in his thirties, and though he wasn't assigned to me he still listened to everything i had to say to all the students.

first i went "Congrats, y'all just met some queer folk!" as an ice breaker, bc i got the impression that most of them hadn't interacted with (openly) queer people before.

i also let them know that 1) they had the hard job when it came to pronouns; i don't refer to myself in the third person, as it's just me, myself, and i. and 2) don't worry about being accidentally offensive, bc if we got offended every time we got misgendered then every day would be exhausting.

and then, i ended with something a bit more personal but explained that many, many queer and trans people went through something similar.

i said, "Please understand, going to the hospital is a frightening experience for a lot of queer folk. Sometimes, the only way to ensure our safety and treatment, is to pretend I'm a girl. Until I know for sure I can trust you, I remain "undercover". It's not comfortable, but it's better than fighting for my identity every time I see a doctor."

the student mentioned before, the cishet white guy in his thirties, apparently got stuck on that. during the final round of comments, he spoke up and looked at me with a genuinely distressed expression.

"You mentioned you have to default to your assigned gender just to go to the doctor?" he said. he's a tall, broad man that had to twist and fold into the desk chair, and i guess he'd been working already from how frazzled and sweaty he was. nothing about him looked comfortable, but his expression, though pinched with concern, was open and listening.

"My current PCP still believes I'm a girl," I replied. "I've known him almost my whole life, but he's never given me any indication I can trust him. He's a kind old man, but there's always a fear that if I come out to him, then I won't receive the treatment I need. It's not a guarantee, but this has happened to many trans people before."

The concern in the student's face turned to genuine frustration. "I'd never considered that before, that's just," he tried. "That's just not right."

i'm reminded of the first time i read "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" in high school. our English teacher wanted us to decide for ourselves, would we stay in the utopia that depends on the suffering of one person, or leave?

a surprising amount of my classmates said they'd stay, bc there was nothing to be done about the one in suffering. and yeah, most of the class were white middle/upper class cishet people

i was horrified. when it was my turn to answer, i said, "I would leave."

"Why?" my teacher asked.

"Because it isn't right," i insisted. i couldn't put words to the disgust i was feeling. how could i possibly remain somewhere i knew for a fact relied on suffering to exist?

the teacher tried to get me to think past "right and wrong", or at least to find words to explain why this scenario was so wrong to me. and even then, i knew he was in agreement with me. but it was a philosophical question designed to make the reader think, to examine their beliefs when faced with a choice that many claim impossible. and the teacher informed us that our society is already like this due to colonialism and capitalism.

but i was stuck, because this was the first time i saw just how many people were ok with Omelas, and i got sick to my stomach so couldn't get past "This is just wrong, it's wrong!"

my twin brother, who had the same class with me, had what i thought was the best and most practical answer (and i was so so relieved)

"I'd walk away," my brother said. "I'm not going to rely on someone else for my happiness, not if I can help it. My home and health will be my own responsibility."

that nursing student had his Omelas moment. he'd never had to consider if he could trust his doctor or not, he'd never had to fight for treatment just because of his gender or sexuality. but he finally saw the metaphorical unnamed human being suffering in silence as the rest of society went on with their blissful lives.

i don't think i've ever been so happy to see someone so frustrated. and i made sure to tell him how much i appreciated it, it's not something you can easily explain to cishet people but he caught on fast enough that i'm fully convinced he's going to be a kind, compassionate nurse one day.

[heartshattering]

/// venting about the psychiatric center again :')

I've been thinking about my mental health again, and how I really want to pick the pieces up and stop feeling like a mess. I know therapy isn't always good and definitely isn't for everyone. But it sucks that I was written off as "too extreme" of a case without even being given a chance. All it did was make me feel worse and I've always been haunted by the fact I'm seen as too unstable, too traumatized, too damaged... just too much overall, I guess.

Anyway. Turns out I likely dodged a bullet with that shitty place I went to, because I read other people's reviews, and sounds like some of them had it worse than I did. One person said the center sent them to an Alzheimer's/detox hospital even though that wasn't appropriate treatment for their mental health conditions. And basically they just do whatever they can to not have to deal with you themselves. They ship people off to random local hospitals without researching them in advance, just because they want someplace to put you away and then say the case has been closed since it's no longer their problem anymore. At least having them turn me away was better than getting sent to the wrong hospital but fuck I don't know how they are even allowed to get away with that kind of stuff anyway. I wish it would get shut down already, the only people who leave positive reviews of it are people who work there (lmao it's pathetic I know) and then pretty much everyone else talks about how they either didn't do anything to help, or did something that made their situation worse.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW: suicide, self-harm, medical abuse, hospitalization, ableism. Asking for advice.

Is there anything I can do about my school? I graduated, but have a family member that works there and I know people who still go there because it's the main school in my community. At the school there is a counseling center where I had a traumatic experience. My school is known for having a high suicide rate amongst students (it's the source of many dark/inappropriate jokes I've heard about the school). Every once in a while I look up the counseling center again because it's such a big "thing" there (the school is always promoting the center online and in-person, and while I was a student they drilled into us that if we knew someone going through a crisis, our first response should always be to refer them to the center and "Let professionals handle it"). However, everyone I know has had a bad experience with the counseling center. The reviews for it online are all messed up (the people who leave positive reviews for it are counselors who work or previously worked there, and dismiss the complaints students and former students bring up in negative reviews). One person was sent to the wrong hospital by the center and given inappropriate medical treatment but they were told they can't do anything about it because they lost their rights after being hospitalized. Other people I know of were just turned away even after expressing high levels of distress, and went on to do things like self-harm or attempt suicide due to feeling hopeless and not heard by the people who supposedly "care" about us. And then every time someone at the school dies by suicide, the school will release some bullshit statement to the community saying "Don't forget to reach out to the counseling center! We take our students' mental health seriously!" Like I said I graduated but still know many people associated with the school and my experience was genuinely traumatizing to the point where I've been scared to get help from any other center due to how terrible it was. My parents tell me not to tell people what happened at my school's center because it makes me sound "crazy". And I know I shouldn't dwell on the past but I still have so much hurt, from both my ongoing mental issues and the way I was mistreated. Is there anything I should do about this? Is there even anything I can do? I feel powerless but it's not right for them to keep doing this to vulnerable mentally ill students trying to seek help. It hasn't gotten any better since I graduated, if anything it sounds worse and worse, and it's just not right.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear about what you've been through and the issues at your school. It's understandable that you feel frustrated and powerless. Please know that your feelings and concerns are valid.

It is important to acknowledge that the experiences you described are not appropriate or acceptable. The fact that you and others have had negative experiences with the counseling center raises serious concerns about its effectiveness and the support it provides to students. It's frustrating to hear that students who reached out for help were turned away or had their distress dismissed. It is completely understandable that you still carry hurt from these experiences as they can have long-lasting effects on your mental health. It is not easy to simply move on from such deeply impactful experiences, and it is important to give yourself permission to acknowledge and process your feelings about this.

I'm not sure what kind of action you could take though I can imagine there's something you could report this to. I absolutely agree that this shouldn't be happening as it jeopardizes the mental health of the student body. If anyone has any suggestions or recommendations, please feel free to add on.

If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional, such as a therapist, can be helpful in your healing journey. A therapist can provide a safe space for you to process your experiences, address the ongoing challenges you face, and develop coping strategies to navigate your emotions and triggers.

Please remember that you are not alone. Your experiences matter, and you deserve adequate care. I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[bookio]

There's Nowhere to Run (2016) by Ester Eriksson

Read for literature class. Olivia, a young adult, starts developing severe paranoia and anxiety. Her boyfriend is ashamed of this state and becomes verbally abusive. With help of friends she signs herself into a mental ward where she receives treatment for a short while and medicine. Her boyfriend breaks up with her because of this. After a huge anxiety attack she tries to eat all the pills and later wakes up at the hospital. She's later sent to the ward for a longer time.

The comic then follows her life in the mental ward, getting treatment and talking out about the overwhelming fear of death after her mother's passing, and a classmate who died in their sleep. Olivia tries to hang herself in the bathroom at the ward but fails, and gets restrictions like not allowed to go out. Weeks later she's granted a permission and uses this time to visit and have sex with her (still asshole) ex. A while later she finds out she's pregnant, but due to her mental state and medicines, quickly also experiences a miscarriage. Through art and help from staff, she's able to slowly heal her mind and seem to get better. She connects with one of the male caretakers, sadly thinking it's love. The caretaker is however quick to inform the higher ups and through a meeting makes it clear for Olivia that there's no romance.

The epilogue shows Olivia back to living in her own apartment, but police bust into the door saying that her friends have been calling and calling, thinking she finally gone through with suicide. This is not the case and she gives affirmation to the officers that she's fine, but realize she's never going to be free from this label of being mentally unstable.

Despite the dark theme i thought it was a great book! The pacing is really captive and had details i've never heard about before. I found myself wishing for Olivia's wellness even though i first got really frustrated with her illogical fears and behavior. But humans are like that!! I've been there too! The mind is really fragile and need caring for as well, and i honestly find her so brave for actually seeking help voluntary instead of waiting for something devastating to happen. 4/5 stars

- - - - -

Buddhism in 10 minutes

Got this book from my grandma who was very religious in Buddhism, and she passed away 2019 which means during these 4 years (now's 2023) i couldn't take 10 minutes out of my life and read a short book of my grandma's wishes? Wow, I'm a disgrace.

Beside history class and serval temple visits with my relatives, i've never actually spent time reading about Buddhism views and rules on life. What i gathered from this short book is generally that you should be a good person towards others and yourself, and karma works like a point system. You're might be going through bad things today because you were a bad person in your former life so you have to work extra hard, but the book also mentions the confusion of rich people doing bad things but still live in luxury, to which this book excuses it that they might have done something positively big like donate a ridiculous amount to charity, gotten high karma points through that, and so is able to live on peacefully despite oil drilling or something. The part about people being born with disabilities was also a bit troubling to read about....

The book had specific rules of living for every kind of human (examples: the parent, the child, if you're a business owner, if you're a husband, if you're a student etc) but they all comes down to "be a good person, help and respect others". I however really disliked the outdated view about the wife is suppose to basically obey their husband and do housework, while the husband is to make money and buy necessities for the family. When partnership is suppose to be teamwork?

Honestly this copy is really weird. It's obviously a self printed book, probably sold from a small specific temple my grandma temporary visited (our local temple to which she went to frequently didn't have these kind of books?) or maybe handed out for free. But many of it's chapters continuously mentions how important it is to SPEND MONEY and DONATE, the words are mentioned suspiciously frequent between the rules of living a Buddhist life. But i don't think money is suppose to take up this much space?

Either way, i liked this bit:

"Chap 11. Success. Everybody wishes to be successful in whatever in attempted. The Buddha recommended 4 kinds of practice called Iddhipada as follows: Preference, the willingness and gladness to do: Patience, the willpower to exert efforts towards the aim having been set forth; Perseverance, the undaunted courage in the face of baffling difficulties or threatening danger: and Pondering, to be able to weigh the pros and cons carefully, to consider or approach the matter in question from all angles. These from Pātikavagga of the Long Sayings."

It fits into the everyday life of struggling to find motivation - like me! I'm not gonna rate this one, but can finally check it off my TBR-list.

[seraphtrevs]

this question's been asked everywhere for years but i don't get how "family is everything" salamancas let Hector stay in that nursing home instead of getting him a live-in caretaker or something? or why Lalo didn't let him live with him? particularly lalo bc he clearly loves his uncle the most yet he didn't see him for months until after the incident too

It's a real head-scratcher. I mean, the "real" answer is that as a prequel, they were locked in - Hector HAS to be in a home because that's where he is in Breaking Bad. But I've cobbled together some in-universe reasons, too, because I live for headcanons:

Lalo's job in the cartel seems to be cleaning up messes. Maybe he was in the middle of something he could not walk away from, even for a minute, and this was the soonest he could make it. But who knows, maybe Lalo flew in for a few days to see Hector when he was in a coma and correctly determined that the only thing to be done was wait and see, which he could do from anywhere

Gus hooked Hector up with the best medical care money can buy. Without the intervention of the fancy doctors he hired, Hector would likely still be in a coma. We as the audience know that Gus instructed the doctor to lay off once it was determined that Hector was mentally alert but trapped in a nonfunctioning body, but the Salamancas don't know that. All they know is that Hector's recovery was a longshot and he pulled through. Lalo might feel like he's getting the best possible treatment and doesn't want to move him away from that

Lalo also might think that being in the US is safer for Hector. Lalo severely underestimated Gus, right up until the end, assuming he was a meek little house cat. I'm not sure he was ever able to make heads or tails of why Gus saved Hector's life. Maybe he thought Gus was trying to kiss Eladio's ass by proving he was a team player. He certainly didn't guess that Gus wanted him alive because he viewed his condition as torture and it pleased him to see Hector powerless; Lalo definitely would have moved him if he knew that was the case

It's extremely painful for Lalo to see his powerful tio as an invalid. Lalo might have put off visiting him because he knew once he saw it for himself, the reality would set in. It would be unusually cowardly of him, but for all of his larger-than-life traits, Lalo is still a fallible human being in the end

Lalo might have had plans to move Hector to his hacienda - there isn't really any evidence that's the case, but there's not any evidence that it's not the case, either. Maybe when he took Nacho home, he also planned to get things set up for tio...

...but maybe not. We don't get an exact location for Lalo's home, but I get the feeling that it's in the middle of nowhere. What if Hector had an emergency and they couldn't get him to the hospital on time? Lalo could, of course, hire doctors and nurses to give him round-the-clock care, but short of building a hospital wing off his hacienda, it's still a risk to his health to keep him somewhere very rural...

...and maybe Lalo doesn't really want him there. He's very devoted to his tio and doesn't seem to shy away from his disability, but it's one thing to visit a sick relative and another to have them in your home. Lalo's home is his sanctuary - where he goes to get away from stress. Having tio there, even though he loves him, might be too distressing. Again, this is selfish and cowardly, but he wouldn't be the first person to fail an ailing family member, even though he loves him

None of the other Salamancas we meet are capable of handling Hector's care - like, not even in a hiring the right people kind of way. Maybe at one point Tuco could have handled it - he seemed to do a pretty good job with abuelita - but by the time he got out of jail, he was severely unstable, even for him. He did take Hector out of the home, and we all saw how well that turned out. I don't know why Hector's child/ren didn't get involved (we know he has at least once since he has a grandson). Maybe they're dead or estranged. We don't really know anything about his grandson, but there could be a host of reasons why he wasn't up to taking charge of Hector's care. And there aren't any other Salamancas. He really is alone in the end.

[melanielocke]

Alastember - day 24 - freedom

This one is a sequel to day 3 where Alastair ends up voluntarily admitted to a mental hospital after a suicide attempt. I have currently started my psychiatry internship at the psychiatry ward of an academic hospital, which is not completely the same as a mental hospital like where Alastair currently is, but I am basing how things work on what I've seen so far. CW: mental hospital, PTSD, depression, past suicide attempt @alastair-appreciation-month

‘We’re almost done,’ the medical student said, Alastair had long forgotten her name. ‘The last part is how you see yourself. Could you describe some of your personality traits?’

Alastair was feeling drained after the conversation, but apparently it was something all patients had to do here. The med student had spent almost an hour asking him about his childhood and life, and for Alastair there was a lot there that he found difficult to talk about.

‘I am very protective of people close to me,’ Alastair said. ‘I care a lot about them. I find it difficult to be kind and tend to be rather direct or mean when I talk to others, even though I’d rather not be. I used to get angry or frustrated easily, but not lately.’

While at first the doctor had concluded this was likely a worsening of c-PTSD symptoms, now they believed it was more likely a depression. Alastair had known he was at increased risk for depression, and he believed it was likely too. He wasn’t really experiencing flashbacks or overwhelming anger like he used to before he’d gone to treatment for his PTSD. Instead he just felt numb, empty. He found he couldn’t enjoy things like he used to, but that was something he’d also struggled with when his PTSD was especially bad.

‘And how would you think other people view you? How do your friends?’

‘Different from most people, I presume. Most people tend to dislike me, they find me abrasive and uncooperative. My friends would describe me as grumpy but very caring underneath it, I guess. I don’t know, I think they overestimate how likeable I am and I’m not sure why they want to stay with me.’

‘What are things you’re good at?’

‘Playing the piano. Singing. I’m very good at making potions,’ Alastair said. ‘I really miss being able to use magic inside here.’

The mental hospital was completely warded against magic. There was one room that was the exception, which was a room where some doctors used magic to treat patients, but that was all still very experimental and primarily used for treatment resistant patients. Alastair was still on mirtazapine and he had started to feel a difference. Not much, but something was happening. He was sleeping a lot better at least.

‘What are your hopes for the future?’ the medical student asked.

‘I’m hoping I recover. I have never really been able to picture my future far ahead. At job interviews people always ask me how I see myself in ten years and I just can’t. I do hope to get a new job in potion making, preferably somewhere that doesn’t require a lot of interaction with other people.’

‘Are there any potion making jobs you could do from home?’

‘I do have a small set up at home for simple potions, but I’d need a bigger lab and my boyfriend doesn’t appreciate it when I use the kitchen for potions. Maybe if he makes enough money to move into a bigger house that would be a possibility, he’s a doctor, but I’ll need a job until then too and I don’t really see the point in working in a different field than potion making.’

‘Do you have any hopes or dreams beside your job in potion making?’ the medical student asked.

‘I wanted to get married,’ Alastair said. ‘I hope Tom will want that someday. But I feel I’m too much of a burden on him. Someday he’ll notice that too.’

‘Has he ever expressed something like that?’

‘No, and he’ll deny it. I guess it might not be the most rational thought I’ve had, but it does make sense. Realistically, I might never become completely stable. Even if the depression goes away, I’ll still have PTSD and autism and I’d still be at increased risk of another depression. He worries about me a lot, and he says he doesn’t mind and that he likes taking care of me, but I know it’s going to weigh on him eventually.

He's coming here in about five minutes, by the way. Did you have any other questions?’

‘No, that was everything,’ the medical student said. ‘Thank you. I know this can’t have been easy for you.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Alastair said bluntly. ‘I was also wondering if it was possible to increase my freedom. I feel I’m doing a little better and I’d like to be able to leave the ward with Thomas and go outside.’

‘I’ll discuss it with the doctors,’ the med student promised. ‘But it’s not my decision, and it’s not something that’ll change today for when your boyfriend comes to visit.’

Alastair nodded. ‘Okay. I hadn’t expected any different.’

The med student left and Alastair returned to his own room in the meantime. There was a living room where he had a little more space to sit but he felt too drained and ever since Matthew had gone to the open ward he didn’t really have anyone here he enjoyed talking to. One of the most difficult things about being in a mental hospital was not having his own space. Even his room didn’t feel his since the people working here came inside whenever they needed something. He couldn’t wait until he got to go home for the weekends. Matthew had been allowed to go home on weekends when he was still here. He’d moved back in with his parents to work on his recovery was the last thing Alastair had heard, and would go there when he was discharged from the open ward.

When Thomas texted he was almost there, he went to the entrance of the ward to wait there. There were two doors, which Alastair felt was a bit excessive, and one had to be closed before the second could open. A nurse let Thomas inside and Alastair took him back to his room.

‘I missed you,’ Thomas said, pulling Alastair into a hug.

‘I missed you too,’ Alastair said, allowing Thomas to hold him.

He found it did comfort him. It hadn’t a couple of weeks ago. Back then everything had felt hopeless and awful. Now he was feeling a little better. Not good, exactly, but Thomas did make him feel better.

‘How are you?’

‘A little better. The doctor wants to talk to us about the diagnosis sometime next week, but she’d said she’d call you about the time.’

‘Do you have any idea how much longer you’re going to be here?’ Thomas asked. ‘I miss having you home.’

‘I don’t know,’ Alastair said. He sighed. ‘It’s just not a quick process. I’m happy my medication is starting to work, but after that going home would still be a big step. I’m scared things will just get worse again there, since I’d still have no job and would still be useless.’

‘You’re not useless,’ Thomas said. ‘And it’s perfectly okay if you need to stay at home for a while before you start working again. We have enough money for that.’

‘I think I’d be happier being able to make potions again,’ Alastair said. ‘I miss doing magic.’

‘In that case, Henry might have something for you. Matthew suggested it, actually. Henry is a potion researcher, he has his own lab with Grace and Christopher. They’re getting a bigger potion lab, and Henry would have space for another research position. Henry knows you’re a brilliant potion maker.’

‘I’d still have to work with other people,’ Alastair said.

It just wasn’t something he was good at, working with people, and he hated that no matter where he applied that was something people found important. No one was going to hire him if he said in an interview that team work was his weak spot.

‘Yes, but Henry, Christopher and Grace are all neurodivergent,’ Thomas said. ‘I thought that might make it easier for you. Besides, you’re free to work on your own project.’

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ Alastair said. ‘Henry is also Charles’ father. I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.’

Thomas’ expression was pained. Alastair knew Thomas struggled with the knowledge of what Charles had done, the urge to protect Alastair, being unable to do more. Neither of them had seen Charles in some time, he’d gone onto his own path and had stopped bothering Alastair, possibly after finding someone new.

‘Charles barely speaks to his parents anymore,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s difficult for Henry and Charlotte, but not something Henry would talk about with you at work. He’d generally pretty good at getting caught up in potion work, and he’d much rather talk about potions with you than his family.’

Alastair nodded. ‘That doesn’t sound too bad. Let Henry know I’m considering his offer, but I have no clue when I’ll be ready for that.’

‘Does it help? Knowing that there is an option when you feel up for it?’ Thomas asked.

‘A little. It’s good to know I have an option, but it kind of feels like they’d hire me out of pity.’

‘It’s not pity. Henry knows you’re a brilliant potion maker, and you’d fit in the team better than most other potion makers.’

Alastair hated the whole fitting into the team thing he’d encountered a lot at work. At university, being kind of a loner had worked. He’d had Thomas, was friends with Kamala, he didn’t need to get along with others from his class. But at work, being social was far more important and while it had taken some time until someone had actually fired him for it, he’d regularly heard he didn’t fit in with the team well and needed to be more cooperative.

‘That does help,’ Alastair said. ‘I wish people would just stop judging me for not being good with people.’

‘Everyone has different skills,’ Thomas said. ‘And there are very few people as good with potions as you are. You cause a lot less accidents than Henry and Christopher.’

‘Fire safety isn’t that hard,’ Alastair said. ‘My mother has never blown up anything while making potions.’

‘Tell that to Christopher,’ Thomas said with a laugh, and Alastair smiled too.

‘I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in months,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

‘Me too. You knew, didn’t you? That I wasn’t doing well.’

‘I didn’t realize it was so bad you’d try to die. I thought if I could encourage you to seek help and be home more for you, it would be fine. But it was obvious to me you weren’t doing well. I didn’t see you smile anymore. You didn’t eat unless I encouraged you too. You never initiated sex.’

‘I didn’t really feel like having sex. Sorry about that.’

‘You don’t have to be sorry. It’s just a noticeable difference. Normally I can barely keep up with your libido, so it was unusual that you didn’t really care to have sex anymore.’

Alastair never liked talking about his feelings and he found having sex with Thomas could be an easier way to deal with stress and put bad thing out of his mind. It was very effective except when Thomas picked up on something being wrong and wanted to talk about it anyway.

‘So if it happens again, you’ll know what to watch out for.’

‘Exactly,’ Thomas said. ‘And if we work on a good plan for when things get worse they might give you more freedom sooner.’

Alastair nodded. ‘We can work on that next time. How have you been?’

‘I started going back to work,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m mostly just helping out wherever they need me. The ER was really busy yesterday so they were glad I could come help. Lots of babies with viral infections. I had to go home after a fifteen year old girl was announced who’d attempted suicide.’

Alastair felt guilty. At the time he’d done it, he hadn’t considered that Thomas might be hurt. He’d believed Thomas would be better off without him, that he’d be free from the burden of taking care of Alastair. But Thomas was struggling with what he’d done, and if he’d died he would have caused so much pain. That was never what he’d wanted.

‘I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.’

‘It’s alright, they understand at work,’ Thomas said.

Alastair wished his old job could have been so understanding, but one PTSD related breakdown had been enough to get him fired. The difference was, people liked Thomas. Thomas was kind and empathetic and while he was a little shy, he was good with people. Sometimes Alastair didn’t understand why Thomas loved him. He wasn’t kind or likeable.

‘That’s good,’ Alastair said. ‘Have you seen Matthew again?’

‘I went to see him when he was on leave at his parent’s house,’ Thomas said. ‘We talked for a long time and I guess we’re friends again? Matthew apologized for his behavior in the past, and I apologized for abandoning him and I think we’ve forgiven each other.’

‘It was my fault you two lost each other,’ Alastair said.

‘Don’t say that,’ Thomas said, pulling Alastair against him once again. ‘You only did what you did to protect Cordelia and me, you did the best you could in the circumstances. It was never your responsibility to look out for Matthew’s well being, I should have done that.’

‘I’m glad you two are friends again,’ Alastair said. ‘I think it’s beneficial to you both. Matthew’s matured a lot.’

‘He has. He seems to actually like you,’ Thomas said.

That was news to Alastair, although Matthew had been a lot kinder to him when they’d been in this ward together. He guessed being admitted to a mental hospital together had to change the way you viewed each other.

Someone knocked on the door, and Alastair went to open. It was the med student from earlier.

‘I discussed with the doctors and they agreed that after the weekend you’ll have level 2 freedom, which means you’ll be allowed to leave the ward when accompanied by someone else.’

Alastair smiled for the second time today. ‘Thank you for asking, I appreciate it.’

He closed the door again and sat down next to Thomas. ‘Next week we can take a walk through the gardens together.’

He had been outside in the past few weeks, but only accompanied by a nurse. He hadn’t asked to go outside again, it was too humiliating. Being allowed to take a walk while with a visitor was already a big improvement. He missed his freedom, and felt ready to take another step.

‘I’ll be there on Monday,’ Thomas promised.

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