#just a few weeks ago my anxiety was worse than even and I got diagnosed with depression

[femme-et-traditionnelle]

Family keeps telling me there is no point in trying to look cute as a SAHM, and that I will always looked absolutely disheveled at the end of the day doing chores. But the truth is, I might not be a perfect looking woman, but I sure will never stop trying to look my best for my husband 🥰

Also, I was feeling rather cute today being busy in the kitchen 🤭🌸

[rustbeltjessie]

It has been a hell of a few weeks. (Putting the rest under a cut because there's a lot of hard stuff.)

First I had a CoViD scare (was exposed, tested a bunch, never got it, thankfully); then I got some writing rejections/found out I didn't win some writing contests that were a big deal to me, and that made me super sad. (Sometimes rejections and losses just roll right off me, sometimes they hit me hard. This time they hit me hard.) Then I was busting my ass at my money-making side-hustle to make sure I could afford birthday presents for my youngest kiddo and Xmas presents for both kiddos + my partner, and I managed it, but I burned myself out. And then I basically had a nervous breakdown—it started on December 20, I had a really bad panic attack, the worst I've had in about 20 years, it lasted for over twelve hours. I felt a little better on the 21st and managed to hold it together for my kiddo's birthday celebration, but then the 22nd it started up again. I got the shakes really bad, like I could not stop shaking, and was also dizzy, and even though I was like 90% sure it was 'just' anxiety, I started worrying it was something neurological. Which of course made the anxiety symptoms even worse. So I went to urgent care. The doctor ran me through all the tests they do to check for neurological problems, and I passed them all. They diagnosed it as an anxiety attack and got me to a referral to the hospital system's behavioral health center. I haven't had an appointment with them yet, but hopefully I will soon. I was diagnosed with both Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder (or w/e it's called now) like 20 years ago, and did talk therapy + had a prescription for Xanax, but I haven't had any kind of anxiety meds or any kind of talk therapy in like...over 15 years. So it's probably a blessing in disguise that all this happened, because now I'll finally be treating my anxiety again instead of just trying to ignore it. Because that uh...doesn't work. In the meantime, I've been keeping my caffeine intake really low, because while caffeine isn't the cause of my anxiety, it certainly doesn't help.

Then on Christmas Eve, I had a flare-up of my chronic sinus issues, and I took another CoViD test, because a lot of my sinus symptoms mimic various CoViD symptoms. But I was CoViD-free, and despite feeling half-sick for it, I managed to have a nice Christmas Eve/Christmas despite it. Those symptoms cleared up on the 27th, and I was like: "Oh, good, maybe I can have a relaxing few days leading up to my birthday." And then I got into a big thing with my mom, it's a long story and I don't feel like rehashing it right now, but we were both hurt and angry. Fortunately, we worked through it the same day. Since then, things have been pretty good, but...now I'm having the anxiety shakes again. I drank more coffee today than I have been lately, and that's probably why. (Note to self: don't do that.) At least this time I know it's just anxiety, so I'm not spiraling thinking it's something else. I'm drinking a bunch of water, then I'm going to make myself a hot toddy and hopefully finally finish this fucking installment of my newsletter that I've been working on for a month now. It's been kind of hard to focus on writing with everything else that's been going on. And my birthday's in two days, and I'm tired. The end.

[polyacrylamidepensieve]

Today I was at work late because I needed results / data to come out the flow cytometry lab to figure out how to work up two different patient cases, and if I didnt order the right stains by 6 pm the patients’ cases wouldn’t be resolved until after the long holiday weekend. Because of the timing of pathology. And the lab techs were super sweet and pushed those two cases out for me first simply because they like me. And I helped them resolve a specimen swap mistake a few weeks ago.

Anyway that’s not the point. What happened was, I was sitting at my desk worrying and working and the janitor girl saw I was alone. She came up to me and said, I hate to bother you but… do you have any insight on lupus? I just got diagnosed.

I had about fifteen other patients swirling around in my head. I had half an hour to interpret the data correctly, double check with my attending, and order the stains.

Her question was so out of the blue - normally all the janitors and I say to each other is “thank you” and “you’re welcome” or “good morning”

I didn’t manage to do more than blink at her, pull up uptodate (“doctor google”), print out three articles on lupus diagnosis, treatment, etiology, etc, and ask her to get them from the printer because I was truly that dead tired. I pointed her in the right direction toward the printer. She thanked me on her way out a few minutes later. I completely forgot that any of this happened until literally just now when it hit me, four hours later in bed.

Fuck. Is this what it’s come to? Being too burned out and busy and exhausted to actually stop for a second and hear a person’s story and explain their situation to them in spoken words, with compassion? I gave her only a handful of kind words. I used to have so many. I don’t have any idea if she’s going to understand the articles whatsoever. I’d never seen her before, she wasn’t one of the usual janitors.

What is happening to me. I am barely functioning this week. My attending is horrific. Worse than my mom, but similar in so many ways that I’m constantly triggered. I can see she has ADHD signs and symptoms like I do, but can’t talk to her about it bc she’s old school and likely to respond poorly. she’s rude, constantly expecting too much of everyone else, slow, and her overwhelming anxiety is mostly expressed via shouting at and belittling everyone with “this won’t fly” and “why did this happen? Who did this” when anything goes wrong. We’ve had over 20 marrows four days in a row, which is busier than any other week so far, marrows-wise. I’m just trying to survive. Am on call for two weeks straight (which is a duty hour violation), even though my PD is getting actively yelled at for duty hour violations by the ACGME. I just. Completely forgot about this human interaction. It just fell out of my head as it was happening. I mean. I know I’m dissociating but fuck.

[she-karev]

Diagnosis (Andrew DeLuca One Shot Angst)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Grey’s Anatomy Season 16 Episode 14

AN: Hey guys I just learned that it’s Mental Health Awareness month so I decided to do one shots of Amber Karev bearing witness to Andrew DeLuca’s declining mental health in Season 16. Mental health is nothing to be ashamed of guys, it’s hard but with the right therapies and medication you can live your best life with the help of the people who love and support you. I’ve included a list of websites if you or someone you know is experiencing a mental health crisis.

Mental Health Resources: https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

Summary: After diagnosing Suzanne and inserting steroids in her IV without asking for a second opinion Amber confronts Andrew at their apartment where things get intense and Andrew says something he can never take back.

Words: 2014

I sip my second glass of wine so I can prep myself for the inevitable fight that is about to erupt between me and my boyfriend. I look around our apartment that we got together a year ago so I can pick out the best escape route in case he gets physical. The thought makes my stomach tighten even more and memories of my childhood flashback in my head.

The foster homes I was bounced around in when my mother had to be committed and the fear I felt every time I stepped into a new home. The paralyzing terror I felt when I saw my mom lying in a hospital bed after she drove into a stop sign convinced, she saw an alien about to kill her. And worst of all the pain I felt the morning after my brother, Aaron, beat me up and broke my jaw because he inherited our mother’s horrible illness. And now…now I have to come to terms with the man I love possibly inheriting his father’s mental illness.

For the past few weeks Andrew has been working nonstop on a single patient named Suzanne Britland. She came in for a routine lap appy conducted by Andrew but then she experienced complications after and was showing multiple symptoms that don’t usually come from having your appendix removed. He’s been working with this diagnostic specialist until his behavior sparked concerns. His function so far has been to walk and work, it’s been shown based on the dark circles under his eyes and how baggy his scrubs got telling me he’s been skipping meals.

It got so bad that Dr. Grey went to the chief with these concerns and Bailey handed the case over to Grey, which made Andrew furious given how he snapped at me when I went to him after. He told me that there are more important things in his life than me and that I should stop being selfish for once in my life. His harsh words caught me off guard, those weren’t the words coming from the sweet and sensitive man who slowly got me to let my guard down and let him into my heart.

It got even worse when he went full cowboy on his bosses and inserted high dose steroids into Suzanne’s IV without even consulting Grey or Bailey. His diagnosis was right but that doesn’t make what he did okay. It was only okay because Suzanne got better thanks to the drugs. She was on deaths door when he made that call and if he was wrong, she could have died. The thought of that happening brings me back to the day he told me about how his father killed four patients because he was manic and refused help from his coworkers. The outcome is different but him refusing to work with his superiors to make sure the diagnosis was accurate is the same. It supports Carina’s theory more and more.

Carina talked to me today while Andrew was working and told me he’s the same age his father was when he started showing symptoms. When I heard that everything in me stopped and I felt my anxiety climbing up but I was able to breathe through it and dismiss her concerns. I thought he was just being a surgeon working hard to save his patient. I was hoping that was the case but now I’m not so sure.

Suddenly the door opens and a loud slam is heard from the kitchen table I’m sitting at. I chug the last of my wine down before Andrew walks into my view but doesn’t even look at me. He just heads straight for the fridge that he slams closed loudly as well causing me to jump. From his expression I can see that he’s angry most likely at Bailey and Grey for telling him off after what he did. I take a moment to plan on how to navigate this problem I’ve had so much experience in and decide to cushion the blow with a compliment on the outcome before I point out the flaw in his actions.

“Um…good job with Suzanne you finally found out what was wrong.” Andrew heard me but he ignores me as he takes a sip from his beer and sits in the armchair in the living room with his back towards me. I take a deep breath before I stand up and approach him with back of the chair facing me, “Look I’m glad you were right but what if you weren’t? You didn’t take a second to talk to Grey and Bailey to make sure your diagnosis was accurate you just took the drugs and ran with it.” Andrew groans under his breath and leans forward on his knees clearly agitated, “If you were wrong those drugs could have wiped out her entire immune system and she would have died. And if that happened you wouldn’t have just lost your job you would have lost your license.”

Andrew puts his beer down on the coffee table with a loud thud scaring me for a moment before he speaks clearly frustrated, “You know what I really don’t need this right now and not from you. You weren’t Suzanne’s doctor I was and you didn’t know what was going on the entire time I have been busting my ass trying to fix her. I’m getting sick and tired of defending myself to people after I saved her life! Can I just get to my home without being attacked for Christ’s sake!”

“No one is attacking you, look Andrew you have always been this pillar of calm and logical thinking. We all know that and you doing what you just did understandably sparks concerns from all of us.” Andrew rubs his temple clearly struggling, “I’m just trying to tell you that you don’t seem okay.”

“And how the hell would you know?!” I am startled by his sudden need to scream as he stands up to face me fully with a furious face, “You weren’t there you don’t know what happened or what I’ve been through these last few weeks! What makes you think you have the right to judge me?!”

My anxiety is getting higher but I try to push through it and soothe him, “Okay look Andrew you’re getting hysterical let’s just take a breather and-”

“I saved her life!” He ignores my attempts to calm him down and continues to scream at me, “I did that, okay?! Against all odds, it was a one in a million diagnosis! I did the job that needed to be done!

“Listen to yourself you sound like your father!” My words definitely got through to him because he stops his tirade and just stares at me hurt and shocked by my words. I put my hand over my mouth shocked I said them too. I guess dealing with another mentally ill loved one has pushed me over the edge and my mouth says the first thing my brain thinks, “I’m sorry that’s not what I meant you’re not him but…the way your acting is alarming and…Carina thinks you are at a mental breakdown and that you inherited his illness and I’m starting to think…I’m starting to think that maybe she’s right.”

Andrew’s face goes back to being angry and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve, “I missed a couple of days of sleep and suddenly you think I have a mental problem? Do you know how crazy that is?!”

I sigh at this rapid decline, “Listen to me please listen to me you need to get ahead of this before it gets worse.” Andrew chuckles darkly as I continue, “You know the history in your family and you know what your dad was like in a manic state. You’re not yourself right now and I know what the signs of a mental breakdown are. You need to calm down so we can figure this out.”

“The only thing I need is for you to back off!”

“Back off?!” I ask incredulous over his behavior, “You’re telling me to back off?”

“Yeah, because what you are telling me right now is crazy!” I rub my face in frustration as he continues, “I did this great thing on my own without anybody’s help and you have to take it away from me. Are you really that much of a shark?!”

I reach screaming levels too as I get frustrated by my boyfriend’s inability to see my point of view, “This isn’t about me being a shark! This is about you not considering the consequences of your actions!”

“The consequences were that Suzanne would have died because of a waiting people and her kids would be orphans!”

“No, the consequences were that Suzanne would have no bone marrow at all and that would kill her before the disease did. You made that decision to risk her life when you were exhausted to death and didn’t consider what the outcome would be if you were wrong.” My emotions get the better of me as my voice quivers, “Please tell me that you can see that.”

“What I see right now is a woman whose childhood of horrors gave her serious control issues.” I almost scream out loud as I feel like pulling my hair out, “Tell me something did you go up to your brother and tell him that he was crazy before he bashed your face in?” I widen my eyes in shock at him using the worst moment of my life against me that he ignores as he continues in a tone of voice that tells me he is trying actively to hurt me with his words, “You think I need your help that I can’t survive without you well let me ask you where do you think you would be right now if I wasn’t around you and your flaws and insecurities? Let me tell you.”

I finally found my words so I can stop him from saying something else he is going to regret, “Andrew DeLuca you are angry and tired. So, you better think about what your gonna say before-”

“You would end up like your father.”

I stand in front of him frozen by his cruel statement calling into question every time he told me I was nothing like my family and comforting me when I was worried about inheriting my mother’s illness or my father’s drug abuse. I get angrier at him by the second as he continues to debase me and point out what would happen to me if he left.

“You’d get in your car and leave the people that you’re supposed to care about behind to pick up the pieces. You’d pick up odd jobs wherever you could, ignore what you did, hell you might even-”

I stop his words with a hard slap to his face before he finishes that sentence. When he brought up my father my emotions took a 180 going from sad about losing him to this illness to angry about him throwing the worst moment of my life at my face just to hurt me. He was the first person here I talked to about my brother Aaron beating me up when he had a psychotic break. And about my father and how he left me when I was a baby after abusing my mom and brothers. I trusted him with that knowledge and now he took that trust and twisted it and it angers me more than I thought I could be.

He flinched at the slap and it stopped his tirade. He turns to me and we stare at each other, a red imprint spreads across his left cheek. I inhale sharply as my whole world tilts off its axis, everything I’ve known and believed in for two years suddenly in brutal doubt. Andrew’s chest heaves his expression a mask of fury. He pushes past me. A few seconds later the door slams shut. 

I slide to the floor and sob until I can hardly breathe.

[kingproteus]

What’s PMDD then?

Informational post by a post-hysto trans guy :) (btw terfs fuck off and burn in hell)

For me, PMDD was a circular pattern of my mood randomly going to shit, and pulling my life in after it. I’d then, for reasons unclear to me pre-diagnosis, have a few days (normally three or four) where I felt really good. I hadn’t noticed this circle followed my cycle for most of my early to late teens, because why would it? I’d never been told about PMDD, and all the uterus-havers in my family had the same issues I did.

I went through doctors, was cleared for bpd, borderline, asd, adhd, ibs, high blood pressure, and finally was settled into the “depression” and “anxiety without social anxiety” camps. Yay.

Of course, when I put the pieces together at 16 or so, it became clear to me that PMDD was the reason for this. The monthly times at which my life got shittier and shittier were placed before my period started, and evened out when I got my period, and went away a few days before my period ended. Then I had a few days of feeling good, a few days of feeling just okay, and then it was back to hell.

The first doctor I went to about my PMDD diagnosis immediately diagnosed me. She said it was obvious I had it. It was crazy, I had expected a fight over it.

This, of course, made getting on antidepressants a stupid hard task. I’d go on something and think it was working, but jokes on me that was just my PMDD letting up. Or I’d switch meds in a panic only to realize my extreme depression was my PMDD fucking me over.

In the end, I just got a laparoscopic hysterectomy with ovarian removal. I’m about two weeks post-op now, and I feel better than normal. I’m back to jogging and doing all my normal stuff. 10/10 surgery.

So… why the fuck does PMDD do this?

I’m obviously not an expert, just a sufferer, but the basic reason is my body freaks out when my hormones fluctuate. My body couldn’t figure out that my sex organs were doing a natural cyclical job, one they did every month. So my body went on high alert. People can have a mix of physical and emotional symptoms. Extreme depression, difficulty concentrating and remembering stuff, anxiety, insane back pain, some people even have worse vision.

When I got on T at 15, my symptoms were lessened by 50%. It HALVED my symptoms. It was a godsend. Seriously, I can’t stress what a good decision it was for me.

As it’s only been a few weeks for me, I can’t speak to how hysterectomy has effected me. I’ll definitely write some follow up posts about it all once I’ve gathered my thoughts.

The reason I post all this is because I’ve spent my whole fucking life, well, since I was 9 and got my first period, feeling like the only fucking trans guy with PMDD in the whole world. This shit was confusing, all the experts didn’t know what to do with me and my T levels, and I wasn’t welcome or comfortable in any PMDD-specific space.

It felt like shit, and I was lonely, and I literally only realized I had it 3 years ago.

Being a trans guy can already be an insanely lonely experience, but being a trans guy with a VERY uterus-specific problem even more so. But I’m done being embarrassed about it, or assuming people will use it to discredit my identity.

I’m just posting this because I want my account of it SOMEWHERE. Just to say that being a trans dude with PMDD is survivable, and normal, and fine. I’ve a good life and a great boyfriend and a kickass family. If my nine year old self could see me now he’d be amazed.

But yeah, shit gets better and PMDD can go fuck itself right beside my ovaries in the medical waste dumpster at the hospital.

[transwicky]

Ok I feel like the whole metaphysical knowledge would fuck a person up, so here's my thoughts on John Johnson post Samwell (with some Johnson/Tango bc fuck it IT'S CUTE)

TW: mentions of self harm but not explicitly what kind is said, just mentions scars. Mention of a stint in a mental hospital, and faking mental wellness to get out of it.

After Samwell, John doesn't mention the whole. Comic content side character thing. He'd tried once, with his mother.

It didn't end well, and the hospital made things kind of worse. His arms bear the proof

He was able to lie about things after a while, and he was there for less than a month in all honesty, so really, it was fine.

He was fine.

He moved out, got his own place, worked a few odd jobs, before getting a job at the local community college to teach the basics of philosophy. It was great, and he didn't even always have to speak for more than five minutes at a time in class.

He gets texts and emails from Ollie and Wicky, objectively the 2 frogs he'd been close to in his senior year, and they start hiking together at least twice a year, if not more (usually more honestly).

They see the scars on his arms, and ask how he is. He smiles and says he's good, he's got a nice job at the local college. Ollie and Wicky are doing some finance job that John doesn't understand the mechanics of.

Then, a few years after graduating from Samwell, he meets Tony, another Wellie, one of Ollie and Wicky's Taddies, and he's instantly attracted to the younger man, because he's cute and earnest, and Johnson learns the other is really smart, despite asking questions.

He asks John about the scars.

John doesn't know why, but he tells Tony the truth, that after graduating, he did a stint in the local mental hospital, and they didn't peg him for it, so he hurt himself.

Tony asks why he felt the need to hurt himself, why he was there to begin with.

John is quiet.

He doesn't want to go back

But Tony is genuine, promising he won't hurt him.

So John tells him.

Tony doesn't call him weird, or insane. Instead he rambles about how there's a vast number of religions, and religion is just a system of belief, so who is he to knock on what was essentially John's religion, because who knows, maybe John's right? Maybe the Catholics are right, or the Jews, or atheists, or Mormons.

As Tony rambles, John's eyes water, and he wonders what he'd done to deserve someone in his life so easily accepting and not weirded out by what John said about their lives.

He asks Tony out a week later.

They move in together 2 months later, even though Tony still has a year left at Samwell.

They're together for almost a year, when at Tony's graduation - which John goes to, thrilled for his boyfriend - Tony asks John to marry him.

John cries, and says yes, as he pulls out the ring he'd bought a week ago, to propose to Tony when they'd gotten home to their tiny apartment, after the graduation dinner the WTF parents insisted they have.

Tony grins, and says yes too, and John laughs.

For the first time, he doesn't feel the weight of an author dictating his life, because he was pretty damn sure Ngozi didn't have a plan for him to marry another side character, and especially not Tony.

They adopt a puppy that summer, as an emotional support puppy for the two of them, and as a service dog, when John is formally diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety.

[festeringneondistraction]

What slipping though the cracks feels like

So im back on my bullshit. Life has just seriously been kicking me while im down. At this point I wouldn't mind moving back in with parents but unfortunately thats just not a fucking option. Sure my brother gets to live at home for the first few years of adulthood but i dont!?!?! He tried alaska, it didnt work out. he tried new mexico, it didnt work out, he tried the Navy and then that didnt work out. Im not shaming him I just feel like my family has given him a lot more grace. He has a lot of credit card debt and now that me and jacob are bringing on the debt people start judging.

Im so fucking frustrated, it genuinely feels like there is just no place for me in this world. It sucks. Its absolutely crushing. I have so many things that I want to do and be but zero reasources. Theres no money im so alone. its not fair to try and force jacob to try and get a job when i cant even find a job. Hes been unemployed for a while.

The main thing pissing me off is bureaucracy... I absolutely do not possess the skills needed to be able to access the services I need. Everyone ALWAYS says "just get on disability, just get a social worker to help you" okay HOW. HOW do i get that? Its not as simple as go to the website or make a phone call. Im terrible with phone calls, the websites just straight up do not work sometimes, and I don't have all the documents. Im Autistic, I was diagnosed late senior year of highschool (during covid). They attempted to get me services but there was not the time. I was full on failing and nobody at that school really should have let me graduate. It was an incredibly poor decision on there part. Honestly over 50% of the class should have not graduated. I kind of dont have basic math skills as well? Due to my learning disabilities (which also went undiagnosed for years) I have the math skills of a 6th grader (potentially worse) at 19.

I want to do collage but im worried I couldn't handle it. I also just cant afford to go to school and not work. Im done. Im so sick of this country (U.S). Slipping through the cracks sucks so much. I honestly wish I was more visably disabled so maybe someone might help me. I really need help. We cant navagate this. I DONT HAVE LIFESKILLS I CAN BARELY TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. How do you tell people that?

I dont like borrowing money from people but we really haven't had much of a choice. I feel like im taking advantage of people but im really not trying to. I have this deep impending fear that this is all my fault, im not trying hard enough and i just need to get my shit together. Or that im self sabotaging or enabling jacob or some shit. I feel like a fucking criminal sometimes. It hurts. It doesn't help that our families treat us like criminals sometimes. I hate that ive lied so many times about having a job but im sick of the fucking lectures, I really do appreciate all the people who have helped and all the money ive been given but goddamn it i hate taking peoples money but im literally forced to. Ive had my rent paid for me a few times now,,, its embarrassing. The worst part is people see that you have had other people helping out with rent and immediately judge you. If I didnt have food stamps I would have legitimately starved by now.

I went to the hospital a few weeks ago. I was already having a severe panic attack then got news that my uncle died in a car accident. I still dont know if im in a place where i can write out exactly what my brain felt like in those days but it was terrifying. I was hallucinating harder than I ever had before. They gave me the option to stay or just take some anxiety meds and go home. I took the meds. Part of me wishes I had just stayed. It really feels like that was the only way I was going to get real help that I need. I get really bad intrusive thoughts so thats how I actually got admitted.

All I want is some peace of mind and stability. Thats fucking it. I dont even need to be happy right now i just need to catch my fucking breath. Ive been unemployed almost 2 months now. It took 6 months last time for us to get settled into this god forsaken apartment. Im grateful I HAVE an apartment for sure because its not lost on me how easily I could lose it. I know I should be paying my own rent. im more than fucking aware. I feel bad lying to people because it stresses me out but mostly because we straight up cant afford to have people mad at us right now. I need every support system I can fucking get. Its not fair none of this is fair I don't think my family understands how disabled I actually am let alone jacob. I constantly trying to figure out ways to make money its just not fucking working.

[dearlordsanta]

Work, school, rosacea, and community

It's been a while. Thought I'd pop in with a little update!

I won't go too much into work because I don't want folks to be able to guess where I work. That being said, work has been a little tough lately, like it has been at a lot of places, we've been impacted by the recession. Hiring freezes, layoffs, being short-staffed, the whole bit. I recently even had to reapply to keep my job. It was stressful. I like my job, and this is the best company I've ever worked for. On top of all that, this job is the only reason I can keep going to school because they are paying for it. I mentioned my anxiety a bit in the past, but not in every post, which is saying a lot, I feel because I'm anxious almost all the time. I did interview practice with a third-party company that was made available to us during the time of layoffs, met with my mentor, and prepped as best I could for questions I thought might be asked. I did well in my interview, better than almost any other interview I've had, so I'm happy to report I'm staying employed! Yay!

School is still going great! I'm in my second math class and it's actually pretty neat. We're learning how to do equations in Google Sheets/Excel, which I thought was interesting. It's practical learning that I can apply to my current, and any future, jobs that I may have. I am also learning that the work I've done in Excel so far is barely scratching the surface, so I'm excited to learn more. Still holding steady at a 4.0 too, by the way! Woot woot!

I have never been officially diagnosed with rosacea, but my face (especially my nose) is red ALL the time, and my mom has been diagnosed with rosacea, so we've always assumed that's what it was. I used to try to cover it with make-up, but that is worse. I gave up on coverup a long time ago and try new things now and again, but it never goes away. That is not why I am bringing this up though! A few months ago, one eye started being really red almost constantly. I thought it might be allergies, so I tried allergy medicine and allergy eye drops to no avail. It was also starting to hurt. Finally, after about a month/month-and-a-half, I went to the optometrist. She informed me that I have rosacea ON/IN my eye! Honestly, I almost cried. I almost cried because I knew this was one more thing that would be forever. There is treatment, but no cure. If I didn't want to be in pain, I was going to have to work at it and I knew even then that there was no guarantee. She told me the treatment, scheduled a checkup in four weeks, and sent me on my way with a promise to call if it got worse. If you read my blog, you know everything else that is on my plate, and I was having a bad day. It was too much. I have eye wipes, eyelid spray, and eye drops. I have to do the wipes and the spray twice a day and the eye drops four times a day. I've been doing that, and it's helped. Again, not gone, but better. Until a few days ago. Three nights ago, I couldn't sleep because my eye hurt so badly. No matter what I did, nothing helped. It was red and swollen and it hurt every time I closed my eyes, even if it was just to blink. After a sleepless night, I called the doctor. She told me to keep doing the wipes and the spray, to up the eye drops to every two hours while I am awake, and to add eye gel. It's annoying, but it's helped. I was able to sleep, but it still hurts to blink sometimes. My appointment is in a few days now. Hopefully, nothing else is going on.

Lastly, I know I've written about my dogs before, but it's been a while. When you have a dog, you become part of a community. I realize this the more I go to dog parks. Even at the pet store, you get people who are rude about your dog, even if the dog isn't doing anything. However, today at the dog park, my girl was running and playing like normal and then she tripped and started crying. I don't mean the sad pitiful crying, but loud, high-pitched, I-think-I'm-dying type of crying. I was close by [obviously] and immediately rushed over to her. She didn't even stop crying when I picked her up and she was favoring her leg. EVERY SINGLE DOG OWNER RAN over to see if my dog was okay. They watched as I carefully, followed by not-so-carefully, felt her leg for injury. Once my pup realized it didn't hurt anymore, she ran off to play. Everyone there asked if she was okay or if I needed help and distracted her by petting her while I was checking her leg. When she ran off again, they all said how glad they were that she wasn't hurt. Y'all...I hadn't met a SINGLE person there before. At that moment though, they became my people. It was so comforting, and it reminded me why I drive a smidge further to this dog park than going to one a little closer to home.

PS: No real updates on my husband. He was doing really well for several weeks and was talking about going back to work part-time, but a couple weeks ago, he had another flare-up that is still going on, so I'm back to barely talking to him because he's mostly sleeping, or too cranky/sick to talk. Feeling really lucky to have my dogs <3

[summerpoison]

Whining under the cut.  Burnout, depression, super high anxiety.

Things were fine a week ago at the end of September, but now that October came around I’ve been a mess. Work has been going great generally, but I feel panicky and struggle with prioritizing. 

Was so close to applying for therapy last month or so but didn’t do it (”””because it wasn’t bad enough””” to be important enough to take the time out to do it) and now that’s biting me in the butt. VERY certain I have ADHD or trauma-related ADHD symptoms and should definitely get diagnosed.

Anxiety got so bad I had a panic attack on saturday because I thought I didn’t book a Hotel (I did, everything was fine), ex was (to no one’s suprise) not very understanding but kind of weirded out by it and then teased me about it the next day like “Oh, and by the way, did you book that hotel??” My guy stfu please and thank you. Depression and burnout going hand in hand, no energy whatsoever, only guilt and the inability to rest. I’m constantly thinking about to-do’s and my heart is racing for no reason (there is a reason, it’s called stress) and jfc I get so self-concious about the stress that it turns into being stressed about the stress!!! Like, my body is literally freaking out (I’m pretty sure I’ve had a stress fever the last couple days) and not to mention all the side-symptoms like my skin-picking getting worse or my lack of appetite/lack of interest.  A few things holding me over the water but fuck I’m a mess lately -- and so is my apartment. Ngl it’s so bad and it’s making everything else worse, you know? If I’d only be depressed in a clean apartment than it would be easier to handle but no. Dirty dishes everywhere, plants close to dying, some already died (not the ones I care about thankfully) and the floor... let’s not talk about the floor lmao. Personal hygine is... okay I guess, I take showers regularly and wash my hair even if I sometimes don’t brush it and only put it into a messy bun (sidenote hair loss!! Either I’m freakying out over nothing or I legit have stress related hairloss because I can just run my hand OVER MY HEAD and have like 2-4 hairs in my hand immediately even after a shower and even after brushing so???) Also brushing my teeth is an issue but I try to at least chew some gum or something but last time I didn’t brush my teeth for a week I think? And when I told my ex I’d be in the bathroom to brush them he was so surprised and kinda weird about it like “Well, I don’t know why you suddenly have to brush your teeth but fine I guess??” MY GUY HOW ABOUT YOU STOP COMMENTING ON MY SHIT JESUS CHRIST it’s bad enough I can’t go anyway IN THE HOUSE without him going “Where are you going?? Why?? Why again? You just went to XYZ” like LEAVE ME TF ALONE So yeah. I’ll try to kinda get through the week and pull myself out even though I feel like reverting back to snail and isolating in solitary confinement where some entity feeds me three times a day and makes sure I drink enough so my body doesn’t give up on me. Yes I’m thinking about both a clinic and subspace. Maybe if I could just stop thinking for a while I might calm down but well. Can’t have everything can we. I’m so fed up with my own shit, that I’m letting this stuff happen to me and that I’m bottling up so many of those things and god it’s about to blow up in my face I can just tell. I’ll keep you all updated as things progress.

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

Thoughts on Separate Tides and Allergen Representation; an Essay

“No appleblood. I spent the money on gryphon eggs for Luz. There’s not a lot she can digest here, so I make sure I have her favorites around.”

“Because you stuck with me, you lost your magic! You almost got turned to stone, and now you can’t even afford your appleblood because you’re worried about what I need to eat!”

This episode had a very surprising, and very sweet display of allergen representation. I really appreciate Luz’s issues and anxieties in this episode. While it’s presented in a fantasy way, when she explains how upset she is about her food restrictions, it speaks to a real issue affecting people with allergies and digestive problems. As someone with a food allergy growing up, the moments really spoke to me. I have Celiac Disease, which means that my body can’t digest gluten, a protein in wheat. I can eat the stuff physically, and the symptoms aren’t obvious like a peanut allergy. This makes it difficult to detect. The way it manifests is that my stomach can’t digest the protein. It will go through my small intestine, and tear up the lining of the organ that absorbs food, and what remains of the lining has a hard time absorbing other nutrients, causing me to essentially starve. These symptoms don’t appear immediately, taking days, weeks, or even months to register, making it even more difficult to detect. While gluten is something health nuts are obsessed with lately, it is a very real threat to people with my condition. My food can’t share the same plate, can’t share the same space; if they even so much as come into contact I have to scrap the whole meal just for safety’s sake. When I was younger, before I was diagnosed, I didn’t grow an inch for two years because my body had gone into maintaining the bare minimum needed for survival. My bones think they’re younger than they actually are. When I was diagnosed and I recovered, I grew a lot. What spoke to me in this episode was Luz’s discomfort and distress at Eda’s money troubles when it comes to food. It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t mean, it was really meaningful, it’s a fact of life. It’s much like how Eda’s condition was treated in the first episode she appeared, just a part of life. Gluten free food is expensive, finding places that won’t actively poison me is exhausting, and I’m constantly worried about cross contamination. Even a few crumbs can be a problem. Frequently I will feel like a burden, like I’m being pedantic even though this is vital to my health. I cannot live off food with gluten, I will die. Yet it still feels as if I’m a burden. I’m right there with Luz; hearing people having to talk about our food sensitivities, and having to accommodate us, even if it's in a loving way like Eda said, is upsetting. I’m also going to guess that like me, Luz is also a picky eater even amongst stuff she can eat. On school trips, I always needed special treatment; it tended to be something that I don’t care for even if it was gluten free, or dry sandwiches I brought from home while my peers chowed down on pizza. I remember the looks everyone gave me. I have to explain to every single restaurant I find my condition. Even if they’re understanding, it’s a pain. Luz has been confirmed to be neurodivergent, and I am right there with her as well. It takes an immense amount of mental energy to find restaurants, to find the right menus, find the ones with the right accommodations. Food can’t even be cooked in the same fryer if I want to avoid cross-contamination. It’s terrifying and upsetting to constantly have to go to the front of the line and ask for what feels like conspicuous special treatment. As a neurodivergent person, social anxiety makes this so much worse. I constantly fear the cooks are cursing me under their breath for inconveniencing them, I fear that people behind me are whispering and that any moment a hand will land on my shoulder and demand I get to the back of the line with everyone else. Sometimes I will get food that I simply don’t like, or hasn’t been cooked right. Asking to have it fixed is terrifying, and I fear the people around me even more. Luz may not be super poor on Earth, but she voiced a lot of anxieties and frustration that people like me have. I'm from a well off family that could afford the additional expense of gluten free food, but I can’t imagine what a nightmare it is for real families who can’t afford gluten free food, or who can’t even

afford a diagnosis. To add insult to injury, many people will mock or dismiss us as being liars, pedantic, or just picky. It is a common thing to mock people with gluten free preferences; the Angry Birds movie made fun of it. I hear people complain about how expensive the food is even if they don’t have to eat it. People will offer me bread even after I explain to them what it will do to me. Dennys seems to have adopted a chain-wide proclamation to refuse to accommodate gluten free people. I have not eaten there in three years, because we experienced serious food problems in restaurants in Virginia and Vermont. Virtually every time I entered a Dennys three years ago, I would ask for a plate of plain and simple chicken that normally comes with toast, and I ask them to remove that; somehow, they would always screw up the order by putting glutinous bread right on top and ruining the whole meal. Yes, we are that sensitive to contamination. If it even touches the food the meal is ruined. Once, it was understandable because the waiter had been awake for eighteen hours. The other times were not. I saw the waiters argue with the other staff, I had a manager once come out to explain my own disease to me, even as two pieces of toast just sat there stewing on my chicken. That feeling of being a burden, of hearing people argue about trying to help you, stings very much. Some people will assume that we just don’t like wheat; I’ve heard horror stories of people trying to “prove” someone didn’t have Celiac Disease by secretly putting it in their food. The fact that we don’t go into anaphylactic shock when we consume it makes this a common problem as it leads them to assume it’s not an issue. It being a fad diet has also made my life worse; I have to constantly specify that I am not just gluten free, that I have an actual medical condition. I have to carry cards in my wallet to explain the situation. It feels like the world around me conspires to keep me from being healthy. And it feels like the world hates people like me for it. The best representation I’ve ever gotten for Celiac Disease was a CollegeHumor sketch. Most of the time, allergen representation is a joke, even if it’s informative and not meant to be mean. The Owl House breaks that trend with these two little exchanges. “No appleblood. I spent the money on gryphon eggs for Luz. There’s not a lot she can digest here, so I make sure I have her favorites around.” “Because you stuck with me, you lost your magic! You almost got turned to stone, and now you can’t even afford your appleblood because you’re worried about what I need to eat!” Luz’s snap at Eda about her food sensitivities is something I feel. I don’t often get allergen representation like this, especially any as loving and kind as this. Even to family, who love and support me, I can feel like a burden, as if there’s something wrong with me that is somehow my fault, and not the fault of a genetic disease dating back thousands of years. It’s deeply upsetting and frustrating to experience this. No matter who it comes from, it hurts a lot. I’m glad The Owl House captured this feeling perfectly. It’s good to know I’m not alone here. I’m glad to see representation where facts of my life aren’t seen as a joke.

[probably-enjolras]

r.e. disabled les amis headcanons: omg please add yours

yay someone wants to hear mine! some of this will be projection on my part. i’m disabled myself, i need a cane to walk because of a condition called Amplified Musculoskeletal Pain Syndrome (AMPS) which is very similar to fibromyalgia. i’m also going to include some neurodivergent and mental illness headcanons, but i know some people don’t consider those disabilities, but from my own experience with them, i do, so that’s why i’m adding them!

jean valjean has chronic back pain, specifically a problem with the discs in the upper spine, from his time in prison. gradually gets worse as he gets older because of lack of treatment and him triggering the pain himself by lifting the crashes cart and then marius in the sewers. in my modern aus i like to think he gets an upper back/neck and shoulder brace that he wears, and he’s a bit insecure about it so that’s why he’s always wearing big coats even in aus where he’s not being pursued by javert

javert, marius, and enjolras are autistic. javert has known most of his life but marius wasn’t diagnosed until his late teens due to lack of familial support. enjolras would have been diagnosed as a kid but he’s afab and there’s lack of diagnosis for afab children and he doesn’t get diagnosed until he’s in his 20s after doing his own research.

enjolras, grantaire, courfeyrac, and bossuet have adhd. enjolras and bossuet have more hyperactive traits, enjolras’ manifesting in his need to constantly be doing something and chronic boredom, while bossuet doesn’t display his as physical hyperactivity but more racing thoughts and an inability to slow his mind down. courfeyrac and grantaire have more attention deficit issues. they can’t focus on one topic for a while unless they go into hyperfocus or it’s a hyperfixation. grantaire has a lot of self worth issues because of his adhd because growing up he was seen as a bad student and a bad child because of his attention issues and executive dysfunction. courfeyrac got medicated really early on in childhood. enjolras did too and it becomes a bit of an issue between him and grantaire because grantaire doesn’t start medication until he’s about 24 and enjolras has been on medication for a long time and he’s kinda forgotten about how difficult it can be being unmedicated so he thinks grantaire isn’t trying enough. that changes when the pharmacy won’t refill enjolras’ medicine and he has to go a week without it. it’s a really humbling experience he apologizes to grantaire once he’s back on meds (this is based on personal experience actually… i didn’t start meds until a few months ago and i had a friend who started meds in middle school do what enjolras did and ur sucked)

joly had to get his knee joint replaced through surgery and still can’t walk properly without pain in the area so he walks with a cane. he also has an autoimmune disorder that makes him get sick really easily, as well as chronic fatigue and brain fog that makes it hard to complete daily tasks even when he has a low pain day. he also has very bad anxiety that sometimes manifests in worrying about his health excessively and vigilance about staying healthy because he knows that if he even gets a cold, it will be worse for his body than someone without a chronic illness

cosette and eponine both have c-ptsd from living with the thenardiers, and i have so much to say about this that i’m thinking about making an entirely separate post about it. just know that both of them have trauma responses, with cosette becoming very docile and a chronic people pleaser because she doesn’t want to get in trouble even though she won’t be punished like that anymore, while eponine has become hardened by her trauma and puts up walls so she doesn’t get hurt. she also gets frequent nightmares about her siblings being hurt and wakes up sweaty and almost screaming. gavroche came home late one day and eponine was on the verge of a panic attack even though it had only been half an hour

combeferre is blind in one eye and his other eye is partially damaged so he doesn’t have very good depth perception in what he can see, and he also has very limited color vision

feuilly is deaf and grantaire is HoH. feuilly’s primary form of communication is sign language, though he can lip read but not very well. all the amis know basic signs like how to ask if he wants some water/food, hellos and goodbyes, and how to sign their names. once feuilly becomes close with them, he creates signs specifically for their names, which at least in the american d/Deaf/HoH community is very special. a very close family friend of mine is HoH and he gave me a name sign when i came out as trans (it’s a quick movement of the letters R and Y up in the position where male signs are signed like “father”) grantaire is hard of hearing and has hearing aids. sometimes when he fights with enjolras he just takes out his hearing aids and just lets enjolras keep going until he realizes what’s going on.

this next one is very personal to me and is something i don’t think i’ve ever seen before, but i hc jehan with having schizoaffective disorder (bipolar type). i personally have this disorder and i have found some comfort thinking jehan has it too. they started having mood symptoms first, which started as a depressive episode and then suddenly they felt like they had been shocked into a manic episode. once the mania started they began having delusions of grandeur and the belief that they were a prophet sent to help the world. they began thinking people were after them and they heard voices from “angels” telling them what to do. they started writing poetry as a way to get the voices out of their head and onto paper. it took two years to get a diagnosis and a some very rough nights where they weren’t sleeping and would show up to meetings with delusional ideas, and they were scared. they refused to go to the hospital but needed help, so grantaire took them to the community out reach center that he goes to for alcohol addiction treatment and jehan got a psychiatrist who started them on antipsychotics and a mood stabilizer. i like to think that jehan got better quickly, just because i’ve had this disorder for a very long time and i’ve tried almost every antipsychotic out there and im not really better, so i want them to not have my experience. they were accepting of treatment pretty easily, but they did worry that their poetry wouldn’t be the same afterwards. fortunately, they channeled their frustration into poetry as opposed to writing what they were hearing and even though their poetry changed once they got on medicine, they didn’t lose their ability to write it. they’ve also learned how to have confidence in themself and the revolution without becoming delusional, which did take time because hearing enjolras’ strong ideas, it just felt like too much for a while. but the longer they’ve been stable and connected to reality, the easier it becomes to believe that yes, some things may seem improbable, but they can still happen AND some ideas are delusions and can be differentiated between the improbably ideas

bahorel has hypermobile joints and has to be careful when boxing with grantaire because he has subluxed or even fully dislocated his shoulders, elbows, and finger joints while boxing. jehan bought him some colorful finger braces and has stitched patterns into his knee and elbow braces

that’s enough for now because this is getting really long but yeah. lots of projection on my part (whoops) but what is this blog without me projecting my issues onto les mis characters? is this not what this blog is based on 😂

[positivelyadhd]

can you tell us more about your recovery with social anxiety? 🥺❤️‍🩹 love your blog!!

thank you anon! and yes i'd love to!

so firstly, this is going to be long and I don't exactly consider myself fully recovered since I definitely do still get very anxious in certain situations but compared to where I was when I was first diagnosed (around 4/5 years ago?) I'm better than I honestly ever believed I could be! it's definitely taken some time and a lot of therapy and kind of forcing myself to do things I was terrified of but the fact I can now do things I didn't think I'd ever be able to do has made it worth it.

since this is long the rest is under the cut!

the first thing that really helped was medication, it didn't stop it but it made it seem slightly more manageable. I went from being extremely anxious the entire school day, and having all of the other wonderful symptoms ,to still being anxious but in situations like talking in class or to someone or walking into school rather than the whole time. I also started having counselling which again didn't seem to stop it in any way but helped me understand it and also helped me with some other mh stuff at the time. the next few years after that i was mostly on my own with it. my school did allow me to get out of presentations and speaking in class (apart from one teacher who seemed to not get the memo) and I remember a different teacher who pulled me aside after class one time and apologised and never called on me to read in class again after seeing the panic™ which was nice and definitely did make it a little more bearable?

so during that time I honestly think it got slightly worse since I just started avoiding all situations and stopped talking to any one. i got to a point where i physically couldn't speak even if i wanted to (it felt like the words really where stuck in my throat like i was choking which again only made the anxiety worse ect ect) and i fell down that rabbit hole of thinking that i'd never be able to do anything or speak to anyone.

I'm really lucky that before I went to university I was able to see another therapist and she helped take me through a lot of the anxiety, come up with coping mechanisms and realise that I could recover. I saw her for around a year and i think the thing that helped the most was this kind of "exposure therapy". we went into town and asked me to ask strangers questions like "do you know the way to the train station" ect while she stood further away and then we'd talk about it. it was terrifying but i think having to actually do the thing that i'd spent most of my life avoiding and realising that it actually wasn't as bad as i thought made me start to become more comfortable with the idea of doing it again. also going to university and being in situations where I had to talk to people combined with the pandemic meaning that I could more easily ease myself into social situations slowly meant that over time I got more comfortable with it.

also strangely I think that dying my hair bright pink somehow helped? a lot of the anxiety was around people judging me and looking at me or "not blending in" and after I dyed it it got easier to just brush off people looking at me as "they're looking at my hair" rather than every other spiral I used to have. (strangers also randomly tell they like it once a week or so so I guess that also helped with exposure since I had to speak to them haha)

I still probably get anxious more than people without anxiety but I've kind of learned to have a "fake it 'till you make it" attitude forcing myself to do things I want to do and dealing with the consequences later. I think the real thing that helped me to recover was to realise that I could recover. I spent so long trapped in the fears my social anxiety taught me that it became a part of who I was and in a way I was afraid of recovering and honestly didn't want to. I was miserable but it was what I was used to and recovering was this unattainable unknown that i didn't believe existed. It wasn't until I faced that and realise that I did want to recover and that I could recover did I start to feel a little better. I also think it was partly stubbornness, I'm currently determined to get better or at least not let it get in the way of doing things that I want to do because I spent to long being terrified of everything and feeling generally awful that I don't want to live my life like that again. I know it's what everyone says and I know how deeply frustrating it is to hear when you're struggling with it but it really is possible to recover! if I could tell my past self all the things I'm doing now and that she can get better if she lets herself she wouldn't believe me I understand why but she can! I feel like social anxiety creates this belief that you're the expectation to everything, other people can recover sure but not you and I know its impossible to believe when you're going through it but you absolutely can recover! you are not the exception! I really think learning that was the first step for me.

[stimmingbabie]

My Dad/Ab*ser Passed Away.

TW de*th, ab*se, dr*gs, mental health awareness

On March 4th at around 5:48 in the morning, my dad, who some of you may known has been very ill, passed away. Some of you may also know from my many vents that he was abusive, and that my whole life I’ve struggled consistently, have DID as a result of repeated trauma, and that I wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. Here’s the story of why now, although I can rest from this and begin to heal, his death is not as simple as that, and why I still love and miss him.

My dad was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 1963 and 17 years old. Unfortunately, back in those days, it was considered something dangerous and was not researched half as much as now. When he went to a doctor a couple years later, he was told he did not have schizophrenia and that it was the result of drugs. Because of this, he went on with his life receiving no help, and no medication. In 1981 he had his first child. Before she was 4 years old, he kidnapped her because the voices from his television told him that they were going to kill her and he needed to take her away and hide her. He was put in a mental hospital, but after showing good behavior, he was released with no diagnosis and no medication. He learned from there how to mask his symptoms. In 2002, I was born and adopted by him and my mom. He had learned to mask so well that everyone had a different view of him, that he was kind, quiet, shy. But my mom and I knew differently at home. It wasn’t until I was 15 that I was told about his schizophrenia, and any mention to him would cause him to have an outburst of anger and defense. He was embarrassed, and he knew he wasn’t violent like they said schizophrenics were in his time. So, he continued to shove everything down, and taking it out on my mom and I verbally and mentally for many, many years. It only worsened with age.

Just two months ago, I was ready to move out earlier than expected, scramble up some money and pack my things. I was ready to give up trying to help him, I was ready for the reality that I may never want to speak to him again. Then, he got sick. He had already been complaining of chest pains for months, but it was never checked out, because he was too scared to go to the doctor. He got so sick, he was finally ready to go to the emergency room, and was there put on a ventilator and sent to ICU, diagnosed with COVID, pneumonia, and upper respiratory distress. The hospital wanted to do heart checks, but they kept sending him home with any slight improvement, and of course he’d end up right back. A few weeks ago, I had a week with him I’ll never forget. He was clear. Clear, as in he remembered all of my interests, he was kind, he was loving. He wanted to know everything and do everything with me. I watched and enjoyed my first full Super Bowl with him, and I felt like I finally had a father, for the first time since I was a child. But of course, this didn’t last long, because as soon as his anxiety medications and antipsychotic given from the hospital, he was right back to being mean, only worse than he has been in years. He was brought back to the hospital. He was in the beginning of sepsis, but they sent him home with antibiotics the next day. The following couple of weeks after that, leading up to his death, he was almost childlike. He admitted to hallucinating, to having strange delusions, to everything. He would cry and run around the house saying he couldn’t breathe, that he was panicking, and he needed my mom there 24/7. Given the fact that his doctor sent him home, we thought it was just the stress of everything causing him to have intense panic attacks.

He died of congestive heart failure, with no prior tests done, despite suspicion. Part of his death was caused by waiting too late to get help, and caused by his mental illness.

I want his story, or even my story, to be a lesson to all about how important it is to get help. You are not alone. You are not a burden. Medication and therapy DOES help, given time.

You are so incredibly loved, please, do not turn out like him and many others with stories similar to his. The reason for posting this is to spread awareness. My father, deep down, loved me however he could. That week I had with him was the one of the best times I’ve had with him in my whole almost 20 years of being alive, and I know he’s no longer suffering, and we can all finally rest, him included.

I’m not excusing his abuse, and that is why I’m not deleting any previous rants about him. I deserved this space to vent about it, and it’ll stay up, because regardless of this, it was my reality.

[wtfevenismypage]

Observer, Not Profiler PT4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: maybe a curse word or two, mentions of death, anxious/nervous ticking, tic attacks, mentions of rape, mentions of child rape, sassy Garcia

A/N: this is kinda just a filler chapter, the next one will be better!

Drums pound in your ears as you step into Hotch’s office. He used his serious voice to get you in there, which gave you unwanted anxiety. 

Thump thump. Your wrists bruise together as you step into Hotch’s office. His eyes dart up to yours, motioning for you to sit, which you do, sighing as your left palms claps against the arm of the chair.

“Yes sir?”

“You are going to be staying here with Garcia during our next case.”

Confusion poked your ribs, that wasn’t bad at all? Why was he so upset? It didn’t make any sense.

“Alright, is that all? You look upset...”

“An agent from the CIA is coming to observe your performance for this case only. Higher ups are still concerned that you will use the equipment here to get into the government, so they sent an agent to keep you supervised. He’ll try and give you a hard time so that you end up lashing out, but just keep your head down.”

Your eyebrows furrow. A CIA agent? They were sending an agent to keep you in check? You were shocked that they even cared at this point, that was a long time ago, and now you were just an anxiety riddled girl trying to start a new life.

“Oh... Um, I don’t know what to say... Why... They’re sending... Ugh...”

You groan as your neck twitches to the side aggressively. You could already tell that your tics were going to be a bitch until the case was done. 

“This isn’t ideal for any of us, I tried to convince them that this wasn’t necessary, but they refused to listen. I understand that this is going to add immense pressure to both you and Garcia, but I ask that you try your hardest to ignore him and his petty comments that he’ll most likely make.”

“Yes sir...”

He sighs, standing up and patting your shoulder.

“Let’s get to the round table.”

Less than two hours later, your sat next to Garcia in the bat cave, a tall and intimidating CIA agent standing at the doorway to watch your every move. It was distracting ad terrifying to say the least. 

He was originally standing directly behind you, but Garcia saw how purely uncomfortable you were and yelled at him to move back. She really was a savior.

“Alright my dearies, Mr. Paul Ways was married four times, has seven children that were taken from his custody, and has gone through ten dogs that all died within a year of being owned by him.”

Garcia spoke on the video-chat, everyone else on a jet. 

“His laptop is disgusting by the way, purely covered in filmed rape tapes being sold on the black market. Some of it is of children by the way, and the others are of girls that were barely over 18.”

The agent spoke up.

“Is that not illegal what you’re doing? Hacking into his laptop without his consent?”

You grimace, struggling to keep yourself from ticking. Garcia speaks up.

“The laptop actually wasn’t owned by him, it was owned by his husband who gladly gave us consent when he heard that we were trying to catch his husbands killer. Now please stop speaking, it’s taking away time that we don’t have.”

You smile at Garcia, who simply pats your shoulder once and turns back to her computer.

“What about the second victim?”

“That would be a resident arsonist Mr. Rickardson. He set four massive fires to buildings and got the security footage to watch it back. Ten people have died in total because of his fires. The footage of each person’s death was labeled and saved to his computer.”

“I hate to have to ask this, but watch the videos, all of them. Mark anything you can find.”

You groan as they hang up, clicking on the first video of the fire and watching every angle, trying not to turn your head in disgust as the screams of a burning woman fill your ears.

“Oh god... This is horrible...”

You say as you take in the victims information.

“She’s eighteen. Lisa. I can’t... She was... Oh god I’m gonna have a tic attack...”

You stand up and run out of the room immediately, ignoring Garcia’s concerned yells as you plop down on the floor, letting your tics take over. Your wrist slam against each other, your palms smack any wall they can find, and your head just keeps jerking to the side.

The door opens next to you, the condescending agent walking out.

“What are you doing?”

You whimper, knowing this is going to dampen your chances of staying with the team.

“I-I’m having a tic-tic attack... Just... Just le-leave me alone. Ple-please.”

He doesn’t budge, rather than shoo him off though, you opt for the smarter option, letting him witness your break down. And as soon as it’s over, you stands up, looking him in the eye with a furious glare.

“I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me.”

You whisper out before marching back into the computer filled room and plopping back down next to Garcia.

“I’m alright.”

You said it more to yourself than to Garcia, but you clicked on the video again, whimpering, but taking in everything you can.

This week is going to suck.

-

-

-

-

-

You click away at the keyboard of your computer, searching for a Mr. Paul Nees and any information you can find on him. 

“C’mon my sweet computer you, don’t start slowing down on me now.”

The CIA agent is still stalking over you, making sure you don’t ‘hack into the government’ A.K.A jabbing insults into your brain any chance he gets.

“I mean, a little girl like you? You won’t make it.”

You sigh out at his comments continue.

“Why are you so concerned with it? I mean it isn’t your life so, you shouldn’t be so concerned. I’ll survive.”

“You really think you’re gonna be able to survive with those freaky tics of yours?”

You try to make it seem like his words don’t affect you, but they hurt so bad, they seeped into your brain and stuck with you, making you groan as they swim in your mind.

-

-

-

-

-

You were right, it only got worse as the Agent’s constant condescending comments kept sneaking their way into your brain.

“A little girl like you? You won’t make it.” “You really think you’re gonna be able to survive with those freaky tics of yours?”

You had broken down into sobs many times over the week, desperate to avoid the man, but he was everywhere that you went. It was one of the worst two weeks of your life. 

“Just give me a few minutes to myself! Just a few minutes!”

You shout at the smirking agent, tears trailing down your face.

“Why would you need time alone? To hack into the government?”

That really set you off. You didn’t understand how someone so dumb was a CIA agent. It made no sense to you. 

“Are you fucking joking? I spend six years running and you think I’m just gonna up and do it again!? I’m human! I just want to spend a bit of time alone! How is this an issue!?”

“Because you hacked into the government. Of course we need eyes on you. I don’t understand it however. You seem harmless.”

That’s it. You finally crack.

“Oh I’ll fucking show you harmless.”

You lunge at him, trying to tackle him to the floor, but a body slamming into you stops you. You writhe on the floor under the heavy body, trying to get away.

“Y/N. Calm yourself down. Take a breath Y/N!”

It was Spencer, hearing his voice ring out in your ears made you less squirmy, but you were still breathing pure adrenaline. 

“He- I just! He kept!”

You could barely form coherent sentences as the smug smirk of the evil agent poisoned your brain.

“I know Y/N, I know, but you have to calm yourself down okay? I know it’s been rough with him all this time, but just calm down alright?”

You couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears and broken sobs that erupted, but goddammit you were going to try. You struggled to keep yourself from screaming out right then and there, but your brain gave you a second option.

Knock the fuck out dude.

So you did. You passed out right then and there, like no ones business.

-

-

-

-

-

You woke up with a panicky start. Not quite sure where you are at first, but as you look around you realize it’s an empty office. You’re laid out on a couch, a small blanket thrown on top of you.

“Hey, good morning.”

You look up at the voice, seeing Derek, Emily, and Spencer sitting on the table. Concerned expressions on their faces.

“What happened? Is that evil agent still here?”

Derek chuckles, but shakes his head.

“Nah, he’s gone. You managed to get off with a warning by the way. You can’t just attack agents like that Y/L/N.” 

You hang your head low, guilt climbing up your throat, or acid reflux actually. 

“I’m sorry. I was just... Just tired of his constant teasing and all of the comments he made... I know it was wrong, but I just couldn’t handle it anymore...”

There was a small silence, but it ended quickly when a second body sat next to you on the couch. It was Spencer. Spencer who, no matter what managed to stay calm around you and calm you down, Spencer who never raised his voice around you, Spencer who was always so patient with you, Spencer who was currently hugging you.

You tensed up when his arms wrapped around you initially, which made Spencer panic and almost pulls away, but when you sink into his warm chest, he relaxes, letting you cry into the crook of his neck. 

He knew this week was difficult for you, Garcia kept them all updated on how horrible it was, providing camera footage of the agent taunting you, and Spencer hated seeing you so distraught. 

Truth be told, when he saw you again in the interrogation room, his heart stopped at the sight of you. Yes, you looked like you hadn’t slept in years, and yes, you looked absolutely terrified to be there, but he was so entranced by your skill of knowing a person just by looking, he couldn’t notice how much of a mess you looked like.

You were beautiful in his eyes and that was that.

“It’s alright Y/N. You’re alright.”

And for the first time in six years, you believe it.

A/N: I realize that ending makes it seem like the actual end, but oh baby we’ve just begun!

Taglist:

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[scientia-rex]

Reporting back on this whole "how is life as a new attending" thing: well, the good news is I have money and a lot more time. The bad news is I'm still me.

So we're buying a house--it's taking forever but it's also a really great house that's not like a mansion-mansion but is light-years beyond what anyone else I know my age who isn't a doctor or the child of rich people can afford--and I'm really, really excited about it. But I'm also still depressed, on an SNRI for it, getting godawful night sweats because of the SNRI for it, and prone to severe acid reflux and chronic nausea. Also, there's a random spot in my right lower quadrant that occasionally hurts like hell for no apparent reason and deep down I'm terrified that it's my appendix thinking about getting real infected and rupturing, or an ovarian cyst that starts to torse and then de-torse, or an endometriosis explant that's going to finally burrow all the way into my intestines one of these days and give me, I dunno, sepsis or a hemorrhage or something. Any one of those could spontaneously become a life-threatening surgical emergency with no warning. So yes, I still have anxiety.

I have started to resume something resembling a normal human sleep schedule. I only took a week (technically just under a week) off after graduating from residency. I'd already passed the boards so as soon as residency was officially over and my program director submitted the final things I was board-certified. Which is fucking bananas! I'm still me! I'm still just a weird chump with frizzy hair, two to three chins at any given time and slowly developing jowls, a mustache and over the last couple of years a beard I savagely beat into submission with my favorite tweezers every fucking day, the short-term memory of a goldfish, zero ability to remember anyone's face or name but a near-godlike recall for bit-part actors in television shows based on just a few seconds of hearing their voice, a long-term obsession with Sherlock Holmes since the 4th grade back in the early 90s long before Moffat put his greasy mitts all over them, and some weird kinks I literally never talk about because I don't want to. I am such a peculiar, obsessive, hoarding, strident freak! And now I'm a board-certified physician. Jesus Christ. The only thing worse than knowing that I'm a doctor is knowing that my classmates are doctors. Not the ones from residency, they're all cool, but the ones from my actual medical school. You know! The ones who accidentally boned the same woman on an away rotation they did sequentially and then made homophobic jokes about sloppy seconds! Those ones! The ones who wore shirts with boner jokes on them to class while being devout Mormons who thought women belonged in the kitchen! The one who said awful things about Tamir Rice and then said he couldn't be racist because his nephew was black! THOSE ASSHOLES! THEY'RE PROBABLY ALSO DOCTORS NOW! I don't know for sure because I'm not friends with any of them on Facebook because they're horrible assholes and I called them all homophobic and racist and sexist to their fucking faces, but DON'T TRUST DOCTORS UNTIL OR UNLESS THEY SHOW YOU A REASON TO.

Anyway, I've been finding some solace in obsessively looking at different things I might get for our house. We're closing soon, thank God, but the current owners wanted to stay until the end of August because they're building a new house and it won't be done until then (and do I believe it will actually be done then? No.) and we wanted to be very attractive buyers in this godforsaken housing market where you have to bring an elephant's weight in gold and several wine bottles of your own blood to even get a chance, so we said sure, so we're still a month and a half from moving in. UGH. It's worth it, but it's giving me all the anxiety. I feel paralyzed, because I can't do shit about most of the planning and decorating until I'm actually in the space. And somehow I can't do any of my other hobbies, either. I can't write. I can't bake. I've been getting stoned more often than usual, but I did that on Friday night and frankly it just annoyed me because I didn't enjoy losing the ability to string my thoughts together. Sometimes I'm really in the mood to get stoned and it feels lovely and freeing, and sometimes it's just an annoying hindrance.

And I can't drink because my acid reflux is so bad right now. I doubled up on the omeprazole, which I never tell patients to do, and it did help some, but I'm still always one acidic beverage away from feeling like I'm going to die. I threw up a couple of months ago and I honestly think it was from just having too much acid in my stomach for my body to cope with. So naturally I'm worried I've got one of those crazy tumors, starts with a Z, Zollingers? that tells your stomach to make acid. Do I? Almost certainly not! Will that stop me from worrying about it? Boy howdy, no!

However, I have had some really nice moments. Last week I had a patient who had a history of migratory polyarthralgias. He'd never been definitively diagnosed, though he'd been tentatively diagnosed with gout based on presentation and placed on allopurinol. He was sitting in my office with a huge, swollen, painful knee, and I thought, well fuck it he needs a knee aspiration. Have I done one of those before? No! But I've put enough corticosteroids and hyaluronic acid into knees that I figured I had a good shot at getting something out, and it wasn't pretty but I did it. I got a good sample of knee juice all by myself. It felt great. For me. The patient was in a substantial amount of pain. However, it did give us a definitive diagnosis--birefringent monodium urate crystals! That's gout, baby! Sure, it presented a little weird, but because I stuck a big-ass needle into his knee now we know for sure and I wrote him for colchicine, which somehow no one else had???? despite the diagnosis of gout on his chart???????

I haven't really felt completely at sea much at all these first couple weeks of being an attending. I have an MA who is a sweet ray of sunshine and she is very determined to do a good job, and we get along well. I'm slowly settling in. I feel more and more like a real doctor and less like some crazed impostor wearing a doctor suit every day.

There's bad stuff, plenty of it, but overall I'm feeling pretty lucky. Mostly. Except for how today I had a bunch of caffeine and dairy, so my stomach is telling me that this was a Mistake. But! In counterpoint, the Baskin-Robbins Flavor of the Month was really delicious, and I regret very little. Not nothing, but very little.

[angelic-vinyls]

She’s Worried About You >> REACTION

Warning: This reaction mentions anxiety, depression, PTSD, and OCD. Please do not read if you are easily triggered.

Feel free to request!

Jisoo:

• She has always been very observant of the way you behave

• She knows your routines and how you like things done because she cares so much about you

• Jisoo also knew of your ongoing struggle with depression

• She's been used to seeing subtle signs of it, how sometimes you don't want to go out or sometimes you just want to be left alone

• She understood that and respected your boundaries

• But she really started to worry when you wouldn't leave your bed, not even to eat or use the bathroom

• At first she thought maybe you would feel better in a day or two but when it had been 5 days and you showed no sign of improvement she decided to intervene

• She came home one day with a bouquet of your favorite roses and an envelope filled with brochures for different therapists

• Jisoo kisses you tenderly before making direct eye contact

• "I love you more than anything in this world and I won't sit back and watch you be in pain. I've done my research and I've found the best therapists and psychiatrists in our area. I'm going to help you get better baby. I'll be here every step of the way.”

Jennie:

• You've had anxiety since you were young, and you were familiar with the fact that at certain points in your life, for whatever reason, it can be much worse than other times

• Jennie knew you had anxiety, but she didn't understand that it wasn't as black and white as it may seem

• That's why she was so worried when you started rejecting her offers to hang out

• Normally you would love to go get dinner and shop at Chanel with her but lately, it seemed that all you wanted was to stay at home

• Jennie confronted you about this, asking if she did something to upset you and why you seemingly didn't want to spend time with her

• She wasn't yelling at you by any means, she was speaking softly and concern was written all over her face

• Seeing her like that flipped a switch in you, and you collapsed into your girlfriends arms as you started sobbing about how anxious you were and how you were sorry

• Jennie simply hugged you tightly and kissed the top of your head while attempting to shush your cries

• "Angel I had no idea. You can always tell me if something's bothering you. I want to help you. You're going to get better and I'm going to help you. You're so strong my love, so, so strong."

Rosé:

• She knew that you had depression, but she wasn't aware of just how bad it could get at times

• You had always shown the world a bright, bubbly personality filled with love and ambition, but underneath that you felt broken, insecure, and scared

• Rosé was the best girlfriend you could've asked for, she was always looking out for you and making sure that you were doing okay

• She just loves you so much and wants to see you thrive and be happy, she wants to see you be the version of you that you show the world

• Lately you had been going through a rough time and have been feeling extremely depressed and Rosé, while she is your rock, knew that you needed professional help

• It had been a few days since she last saw you smile or laugh, and it was tearing her apart, she was determined to help you get better

• One day while you were lying on your bed, in your pajamas mindlessly scrolling through your phone, Rosé walked in and sat across from you

• She explained to you how concerned she was for your well being, telling you how much she loved you and missed seeing you laugh and smile and at least somewhat enjoying the world

• Rosie kissed you tenderly on the cheek, taking your hand in hers before staring into your eyes

• She told you that she had booked an appointment for you with the best therapist she could find and had asked about getting you some medication to help you cope

• As your girlfriend continued her long speech about how much she loved you and wanted to help you through this, you couldn't help but tear up at just how thankful you were that you had someone like her in your life

• You hugged her tightly, relishing in the warmth her body gave you and basking in the scent of her perfume, while you mumbled to her about how happy and grateful you were for her

• "You have no reason to thank me. I love you and want you to be happy again. I'll be with you throughout all of this, you're going to get better sweetheart."

Lisa:

• You've had anxiety pretty much your whole life, but up until a few days ago, you were perfectly functional, you were just anxious while doing things

• You had a really bad experience while you were out in public a few days ago, and ever since then you've been terrified to go anywhere

• While she doesn't have any personal experience with anxiety, Lisa tried her best to understand what you were going through and be there for you

• However, as your condition worsened Lisa found herself becoming increasingly concerned

• She would start to notice the little things your anxiety caused you to do, such as pacing around the room and taking deep breaths, even counting to a certain number to help yourself calm down

• Lisa comforted you through this hard time and tried to be a supportive girlfriend but when you started getting more anxious, she decided to bring in the help of an expert psychiatrist, who diagnosed you with anxiety, PTSD, and OCD

• He prescribed you medication, asked for you to see him twice a week and gave you a list of things you could do at home to help yourself get better

• As soon as you got home from the doctors office you wrapped your arms around Lisa's neck, bringing her into a tight hug

• Lisa hugged you back, smiling as she heard you thank her for helping you get better

• Once you pulled away she pecked your lips, arms still wrapped around your waist

• "Of course I'm going to help you get better. I love you so much baby. You're going to get through this. I'm right here with you, you're going to feel so much better."