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madd-information · 3 years

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Have you watched Kati Morton's new video about Maladaptive Daydreaming? What do you think about it?

[intro]

For years, I believed maladaptive daydreaming to be a form of dissociation, but it could also be added to the DSM as its own diagnosis, since it does have its own set of unique symptoms. Either way, at this time maladaptive daydreaming is not listed in the DSM as a diagnosable mental illness.

I was concerned because her last couple videos on the topic were very confusing to watch and seemed to conflate MD with the inner-worlds of DID. It looks like she has done some more research on it and is going to make a more informed video. This is great and I deeply appreciate that she’s taking the time to do a proper dive into this.

The closest diagnosis would be DPDR, or depersonalization derealization disorder. And this is the diagnosis given to those of us who struggle with dissociation. [explanation of DPDR]

Gonna need you to source that Katie, I’ve never heard an MD researcher say something like this. When they talk about MD they call it a behavioral addiction with OCD features which is related to dissociative absorption (different from derealization and depersonalization, these two dissociative experiences are not particularly significant in MD, though they can happen.)

These experiences are extremely common. It's estimated that half of all adults have had at least one episode of DPDR. 50% of people. That is a huge amount of people.

Cool but not sure it’s at all relevant to the video topic.

Also, it's important to mention that in 2016, four researchers put together the Maladaptive Daydreaming Scale, or MDS. This is a 14-item self-reported scale, meaning that you as the patient answers 14 questions based on your own maladaptive daydreaming experience.

It’s a 16 item scale now, it was changed very early on and has been 16 for years. This is a very small and forgivable knitpick, just fyi.

The MDS focuses on the content of our daydreams, how intense the urge to continue daydreaming is, and how much it impairs our ability to function in our lives, and the benefits and costs of our daydreaming. I am not personally familiar with this scale, nor have I used it in my practice, but I've linked the research article in the description if you wanna learn more about it.

A good description, and here’s that link again for anyone who wants to read about the finer details of this scale.

When it comes to maladaptive daydreaming, it isn't just feeling out of body or environment. We can create very intense and detailed daydreams with plots, characters, and very lifelike issues and storylines. Some people will get the plots for their daydreams from their real lives, while others can create a utopian place unlike their current experience.

Yep, decent overview of content, though content doesn’t matter that much. Also, use of “we”. Is Katie Morton an MDer or was this a creative choice? I don’t know, just a passing thought.

We can find ourselves staying in these daydreams for various amounts of time. And some of my patients have reported staying in them for hours. And many of you have let me know that you struggle to get out of them at all, spending days in this other life that we've created.

Yep, good overview, but more importantly she’s listening to her patients and the feedback of MDers in her audience.

...there are many causes for this, and the first I wanna address is trauma triggers. If we've experienced a trauma in our life, things that remind us of that time or situation can pull us into a flashback, cause us to dissociate, or in many cases push us into our maladaptive daydreams.

When our brain and the rest of our nervous system feels overwhelmed and unable to deal with what's going on in the moment, it can pull us out of our current situation through dissociation. I always talk about that, like our brain pulling the ripcord. And it can also utilize maladaptive daydreaming. It's a way to cope or get through an overwhelming situation when we don't have other skills to help calm our nervous system down. So we just rely on what we know, and that can be daydreaming or dissociating. It's almost like this coping skill protects us from having to feel traumatized again and so it takes us away, you know, drops us into a much safer and happier place.

Trauma is always talked about first when people do overviews of MD. She’s not wrong but just to add more information; about a quarter of MDers report trauma, the other 75(ish)% don’t. It’s a significant number but trauma is not the only pathway to MD. Sometimes people walk away from these videos feeling like “well, I don’t have any trauma, maybe I don’t really have MD”. That’s not a comment on what Katie has presented, she does go into other things below, just adding on.

Another cause or trigger can be high levels of stress or anxiety. We can slowly feel ourselves become more and more overwhelmed until our brain pulls us out of our reality and into a new one, aka our maladaptive daydreams. In short, we can want to stay in these daydreams to feel better and safer, but it can get in the way of us functioning in our life.

Yep

[audience anecdotes]

...Which is why even the term maladaptive daydreaming is used. Maladaptive means it's not providing adequate or appropriate adjustment to the environment or situation. So the daydreaming is only holding off the bad things. It's not actually making anything better or helping us process any of the upset. It's really just a temporary check-out, which can be helpful sometimes, but if it's happening all the time or making it hard for us to focus at work, school, or with our friends and family, we should find other, better ways to cope.

Exactly.

Which moves us into how we can better cope so that we don't get sucked into our daydreams for hours, days, or even weeks. And first up is mindfulness. Now, I know that term is overused now and super annoying but in order for us to know when we even need to use other coping skills, we have to know when the daydreaming urges are happening. So often we aren't aware of what we were feeling or thinking until it's too late and we're already pulled into our daydream. And at that point it's more difficult or even impossible for us to pull ourselves out. Therefore, we have to start being more aware of what we're going through.

[continues explanation]

Perfection.

And so next is figuring out ways to calm our system down. This can take the form of a distraction technique like going for a walk or organizing a part of our home, coloring, watching a show, playing a video game, you name it. These calming things could also be more process-based, things like journaling or talking to your therapist or a friend about it, or even using an impulse log. [Continues with calming things]

Good examples, MD researchers specifically recommend keeping a log.

We're also going to have to find some coping skills that we can use when we're starting to feel overwhelmed and wanting to go back into the daydream. Maybe we hold an ice cube in our hands, clap our hands, count the number of things in the room that are blue, brown, black… whatever works for you, do it.

Good stuff.

And it's okay for something not to work. We just have to try it to know and then move on to something else.

Important point to make, happy to see this.

Once we have a few things that work, write them down in your phone or on a post-it note so that you can see it and be reminded when you need it. We will also need to come up with some ways to pull ourselves out of the daydream. And I know this is gonna be harder and we may even wanna call upon helpful and supportive people in our lives to assist us.

Good advise.

We could, because it's our daydream, right, we could put a big door in our daydream and we can choose to go through it and pull ourselves out, or have people in the daydream that remind us of our real life and tell us to go back.

A good suggestion. Q, on the Parallel Lives Podcast (I can’t remember which episode off the top of my head), did something like this by turning to his characters and saying “ok, take 5 guys, we’ll pick it up at xtime”, and many people have found that to be a clever and helpful method.

Now, I know this is really, really hard… which rolls into my final tip, which is to work with a therapist to heal from the trauma or to learn how to better cope with the anxiety or stress we're feeling. Working to heal or process through the reason our maladaptive daydreaming exists in the first place will ensure that we don't need it anymore.

Absolutely seek professional support if you can.

... if we heal the issue we're struggling to cope with, the urge to use those unhelpful coping skills will go away altogether.

[outro]

I think this last point will frighten a lot of MDers. It’s probably the brevity of the video that didn’t allow her to really expand on this, and I certainly don’t want to put words into her mouth that she may not have intended. Don’t be afraid of losing your MD. “Curing” Maladaptive Daydreaming does not mean “I’ll never see my world again.” You’ll always have the capacity to daydream like this, you were born this way, but it *doesn’t* have to be maladaptive. Like overeating, you will never not eat, you will fix your relationship with food.

Good video overall, brief but accurate and includes the standard helpful advise.

#maladaptive daydreaming #actuallymadd

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shattered-catalyst · 3 years

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Intro to OCD for the RPC part 1/?

This is a balmy 6 page document on the VERY BASICS of OCD by a person who has had OCD for over 15 years and knows their shit.

If you want to write a character who has OCD this series is going to be a good starting point. If you dont know much about OCD I encourage you to read it so you can be an ally to those of us who have the disorder.

OCD is made into a cultural joke and when there isnt the ‘Obsessive Cat disorder’ bullshit its an angst off with other people and their non-ocd intrusive thoughts. Its different. Do your research and be an ally.

This will cover the very very basics. The next post will look into subtypes of OCD and how those are experienced.

Whomst can write it?

Literally anyone as long as you

● Do so respectfully and not make a mockery of the disorder and the harm it causes in peoples lives

● Dont make OCD the characters single thing or boil them down to it entirely ● Do respect the experiences and opinions of muns who have the disorder if they have concerns about your portrayal.

● Dont milk it for angst - unless you have OCD in which case release some of your angst.

● Dont try and say you know what intrusive thoughts are because they have *insert any other neuro a-typical thing here*

● Dont police how Muns who have OCD choose to portray it. Its our experience not yours. I like to write out my characters OCD as I experience OCD so my experiences are different from other muns. OCD is very diverse in its effects but always ask if you arent sure.

. What isnt OCD?

● Cleanliness or organization- OCD is NEVER an adjective.

● Planning/ Hypervigilance/Organized/Methodical

● Turning light switches on and off, unplugging things (find out more on later time)

● “I have to organize my pencils otherwise it bothers me” “ I have to make sure my mattress is straight” “ my nails have to be the same length” are all typical responses from people WHO DO NOT have OCD.

● Making sure objects are lined up neatly

● Having things go in a particular order like the letters CDO as the joke goes

● Really loving Cats, Corgis, or Christmas; if you own any of these items i urge you to reflect and also send me 10$ (jk but do reflect)

The Barest minimum

Google OCD this will be an advanced version of OCD. This will be long but if you want to be aware of others or want to write the character you will read it.

OCD is made of Obsessions. Triggers. Anxiety, Compulsions/Rituals.

1. Obsessions are the thoughts

2. Triggers are the object/person/image/situation/smell ETC

3. The Anxiety occurs is at uncomfortable levels to the point of panic or anxiety attacks

4. Compulsions or Rituals are performed

*There is a variant of OCD called Pure O. In this individuals have the obsessions triggers and anxiety but there is NO compulsion or ritual. This is still valid OCD.

Obsessions are the precursors to the flawed unwanted and harmful intrusive thoughts:

Im going to use you so you really understand this because its important.If you misunderstand this you are basically encouraging a mental health condition and dont get a sticker for reading this far.

First check out this link as it has ALL the subtypes and examples.

Obsessions can be hidden by the intrusive thought and teasing them out can be difficult to do if you have the disorder because well its a disorder okay thats why. It boils down to ‘i could harm someone’ ‘i could cause harm’ ‘ i may have accidentally harmed ___’ ‘ i may accidentally harm’ etc

This is the flawed powerful belief that predate the Intrusive Thought.

Intrusive thoughts appear in every brain on earth. They are not special or unusual however intrusive thoughts with OCD get stuck in the brain- meaning they stay there no matter what you do. So yes , they are different from intrusive thoughts in other conditions.

The thing about OCD is that it latches on to what you hold dear; it may be you are a caring person and love children and animals- your OCD would give you intrusive violent or sexual thoughts or images. These are horrible to experience. They are not welcome nor appreciated and there is no benefit or positive side to having them.

If say social justice is something you hold dear your ocd may take the form of intrusive thoughts of slurs, jokes, visuals etc. These are horrible to experience and lead to high levels of anxiety and are not positive nor beneficial to have in any way shape or form.

Maybe you would not harm someone or you value others; your OCD may present as graphic intrusive images or thoughts around poisoning, stabbing,accidental..ly murdering (yeah you read that right), hitting, insulting etc someone else

I must emphasize this because it is critical that people understand POCD: for the sake of those of us who have OCD read this until its burned into your brain.

This is the fucked up awful Obsessive thought that you are/were/ or could be sexually attracted to children. This is NOT pedophilia. People kill themselves over this because they are afraid that these intrusive thoughts are true. People isolate themselves and dont have families out of fear of harming a child. People take work in different fields or avoid areas with children out of the absolute terror their obsessive thoughts could be true. This is NOT pedophilia. There is NO attraction present.

Most people who experience POCD intrusive thoughts would rather punch a sharknado than even THINK of hurting a kid in any way shape or form. That is why the OCD does its thing it is like having an abusive brain.

Again for clarity's sake

If you value social justice -> the intrusive thoughts violate social justice stuff

If you value animals -> intrusive thoughts come up with harming animals

If you care about the protection and safety of children -> POCD

Triggers would be the situation, scenario, object, person,creature, context etc that is related to the Obsession. It can be literally anything.

What follows is a hell of a lot of anxiety that can range anywhere from discomfort to full on panic attacks.

Everyone has different intrusive thoughts and everyone experiences different amounts of distress upon being triggered.

● As a side bar. Do not ever try and expose someone to their triggers or write about a character being exposed to their triggers as a way to help ‘cure them’ or ‘expose them’ to ANYTHING. What you are doing is literally taking someone with a mental illness and shoving them into a breakdown and thats a piece of shit move. Exposure therapy does exist and is done by professionals TRAINED in ERP. My parents did this a lot and I am positive I am not alone in that experience.

Compulsions or Rituals: Now you may be saying ‘hey i know what those are’ yeah dude me too and I have had ocd for over 15 years and trained in mental health for 7 and guess what. They teach ya wrong.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object.

This can be as passive as ‘i am leaving the room’ ‘ i am checking my body sensations’ ‘ i am trying SO HARD TO HEAR MY HEARTBEAT’ .

It can also be repeating the same thing over and over. To illustrate this I once mentally chanted the same song lyric line on a 3 hour plane ride because otherwise we were all going to die. I took one for the whole team.

It can be somatic things like counting your heart beats, focusing on your breathing, swallowing, staring and not blinking for so many seconds.

It can be readjusting clothing until the seams fit. It can be checking god yes checking IK its a common trope but it IS a compulsion that has ruined my life and can be as passive as checking my reality or texting for proof my cat is still alive. It can also be checking yourself for assurance you wouldnt do the intrusive thought or that the intrusive thought isnt going to happen.

Compulsions are mentally painful and sometimes physically painful;

● Washing your hands with scalding water for 5+ minutes can lead to horribly dry and cracking skin to down right BURNS.

● If you do the same movement you can mess up joints and ligaments. So if you pray constantly you may have knee issues from standing and kneeling.

● If your compulsion has you doing movement against an object ie say gripping and regripping something you get callouses.

● If you compulsively exercise you may get trapped doing something above a healthy amount or say going from not working out to running a five minute mile and wiping out on a treadmill because your brain demanded it. Totally didnt do that...

● If your compulsions make you rub against any object you can get friction burns and scars.

To put this in perspective 15 years of compulsions have left my hands and finger joints a complete mess, damaged my arm tendons, friction scars on my arms that only now faded, and scars on my legs from doing too much of an activity.

Its not lmao I gotta fix these pencils its real agony and real torture.

In short compulsions and rituals are not fun they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder.

OCD disrupts relationships with social components such as ;

Obsessively checking in with partner/friend if things are ‘okay’ (this feels horrible to do too fyi like you KNOW things are fine but you cant NOT because the anxiety is SO BAD),

Relationship OCD is a WHOLE category itself! this ties into sexuality OCD where your obsessive thoughts prey on your sexuality (regardless of your orientation), your relationship, cheating or being disloyal etc.

OCD causes significant withdrawal from others, fears of being a monster, intense guilt over intrusive thoughts, disgust with yourself over the intrusive thoughts sometimes leading to self punishment.

OCD leads to strange behavior which more often than not leads to bullying and ostracization. To exemplify this I have an intrusive thought that I have stolen something when I am inside stores, my check-check-check-check-check-recheck! of my pockets gets me store security called so often its criminal.

OCD limits activities that may expose them to triggers or influenced by intrusive thoughts ie: not being able to take the train to work or only getting off at bus stops with even numbers.

OCD impacts where they spend time, who they associate with, what jobs they take or even if they have a family or not

OCD leads to overwhelming feelings of guilt, shame, and fear over having intrusive thoughts or images that they experience which causes them to socially isolate or have difficulty in social situations.

OCD leads to Hyperfixation: like a lot of other things but thankfully it is just hyperfixation and not different from other diagnoses.

OCD leads to rigidity or structured routines: I have listened to the same CD in my car for 5 years now. Every single day. 5 Years.And Im not okay with that.

OCD impacts standards we hold ourselves to and others: its like regular perfectionism but like add on 5 extra layers of anxiety!

OCD according to NIMH statistics

1.2% Occurrence among US adults

2.3% Lifetime Prevalence among US adults

34.8% Of Adults who have OCD suffer moderate impairment to daily functioning 50.6% of Adults who have OCD suffer serious impairment to daily functioning

OCD has strong co-morbidity with the following:

Tourettes Syndrome- is a genetic friend of OCD and if you have tourettes or OCD your chances of having someone else in the family is high

ADHD

Autism

GAD

Eating Disorders

Depression - this is a big one along with low self esteem because of the intrusive thoughts

Writers like to make jokes about characters “being OCD” well now they have clinical OCD and you should consider fleshing out your character with this information just as you would any other disorder.

Batman (DC)

Riddler (?)(DC)

Domino (Marvel)

Cyclops (Marvel)

#this took a lot of emotional energy and i am now terrified

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littleoddwriter · 4 years

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Damaged | Dan Torrance x Male!Reader

Whoo, another vent fic! I’ve been writing on it for a couple of days now and decided to quickly finish and upload it before my next zoom meeting, lol. If you should read my ZsaszMask fics on Ao3, you will recognise that the title and subject matter are the same. That’s because I’ve vented by giving Roman my problems before. But the same problem is still plaguing me. By now, I’m legitimately scared of showering each night. So, yeah, vent fic. Which is gonna be rather specific again, ‘cause OCD and neurodermatitis.

summary; Your wounds on hands and wrists are distressing you, new intrusive thoughts appear and make it even worse. Dan is there to reassure you and just be the wonderful boyfriend that he is.

notes; TW // Contamination OCD, Self-Harm (unintentional and implied intentional); Intrusive Thoughts (rather graphic! Be cautious, please); Bleeding wounds on hands and wrists. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Neurodermatitis; Cuddling; Showering; Reassurance.

It had been a nice day. Dan had a day off. You were home, too, but you had some work for university that you needed to get done. That work was quickly finished, though, and so you ended up on the couch together, watching some movies and just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the day. It was nice. Relaxing.

Eventually, late evening was approaching and you still needed to take a shower. It was so set in your routine, on top of medically needed, and also forced upon you by your OCD, so that you couldn't wait till morning. You hated it. You didn't want to leave Dan's side, nor did you want to shower as it was. "I can feel you're stressed. What is it, sweetheart?" Dan asked, pulling you out of your head. "Just... Showering?" You replied, a little unsure if he would get it. "Right, right," he murmured, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss on your forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" "No, I don’t think so. I'm sorry. And if I put it off any longer, it's only gonna get worse." "Alright then. I'll be right here when you get back, okay?" He kissed your forehead again, then your lips and then he gave you a little nudge to make you get up. You tried to calm yourself while you got everything ready for the shower. You didn't have to look at yourself. You were pretty good at looking up to the ceiling or just closing your eyes, when you were showering. Yet, you weren't sure if any of that would help that day. No thanks to your OCD, you excessively washed your hands too many times a day to keep count of. On top of that, you were suffering from neurodermatitis, so your skin was even more prone to splitting open and getting bloody and raw from washing it so much. And at the moment, your wrists and the backs of your hands were full of little open wounds - some even a little bigger - and dry and angry red patches of skin that looked like rashes. It all hurt a ton. Burning, pulling your skin open with each movement, stabbing pains and so forth. You wished it wasn't like that. You really did. It was upsetting. You felt like people would look at your hands and see how broken you were. How beyond repair you were. You hated it. Eventually, you got into the shower and started following your routine. It went well until you caught a glimpse of your wrists, both such an angry red, the wounds standing out like they were actively trying to get attention from people. Suddenly, your mind's eye was filled with these images. You got them a lot. Self-destructive. Hard to resist at times. Yet, those were new. They showed you how you would turn the water to its hottest level and just stand there until it scalded your skin, starting to burn it off even. They showed you how you would take a knife and just slice it all off, getting rid of the evidence. It was utterly distressing. You didn't want to do any of this. You didn't! It wouldn't make your problem any better. It would make it worse if anything. You knew that. You also knew you wouldn't follow through with it. At least you hoped you wouldn't. You weren't so sure anymore, when you noticed that the water was pretty hot already, almost unbearably so. Had you turned the handle after all? You quickly turned it to make the spray lukewarm, finished off with your routine quickly and got out of the shower. Drying yourself was hurried, so was putting on your clothes. You did your hair a little and washed your hands again, like you always did. Then you pulled the sleeves of your sleeping shirt over your hands. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so you had hoped. The thoughts, the images; they were haunting you. They played in the back of your mind, over and over again, distressing you further. You got back to the living room, to the couch, where Dan was still sitting. Immediately, his attention was on you, when you entered the room. His face had concern written all over it. So he probably felt your distress. Fuck. With a sigh, you sat down next to him again, pressing into his side. You couldn't talk, you realised, as you tried to tell him that you were okay. It would have been a lie and he would have known it, but he knew not to pressure you and to accept your lies sometimes. Dan wrapped his arms around you, pressing your face into his chest. It was calming. Reassuring. Grounding. His hands were rubbing your arm and your back respectively, soothing you. Can I do anything for you? You closed your eyes, when his low, soothing voice rang through your head. You tried so hard to think, to see past the hurt and intrusive thoughts, if there was anything he could do. But you came up empty-handed. You always did. Shaking your head, you whined. You were so fucking exhausted. Tired. Broken. Subconsciously, you had started scratching your wrists. Your neurodermatitis was triggered by distress, your skin was itching and prickling all over, but your wrists were the worst. They were burning with it. Dan put a hand over the one you were scratching yourself with and stopped it. He took your hand into yours, intertwined your fingers and squeezed it gently, reassuringly. It's okay. Should I get your lotion? You shook your head, getting up yourself instead. You needed to wash your hands before putting your lotion on them anyway. So you did just that. It hurt. Your open and bleeding wounds burned and stung. So much, so that you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut and exhale forcibly to push down the pathetic whine that tried to escape you instead. Afterwards, your sleeves were pulled over your hands again; both as to not see them and to be able to cuddle back into Dan. You hated the lotion on your forearms and hands. It was a thick, sticky layer that didn't help you in the end anyway. Dan put his arms back around you, going back to rubbing you soothingly. You noticed that he had put in one of your comfort movies without question. In thanks you nuzzled his chest, kissing it briefly. You were so tired. You would have loved to just go to sleep and leave everything behind yourself; but you knew you wouldn't be able to find any rest if you were to go to bed in such distress. When the film was over, the two of you got yourselves ready for bed and crawled under the covers eventually. Dan was spooning you from behind, one arm around your middle, the other under your neck, pillowing your head. Your legs were intertwined and one of your arms was griping onto the one he had wrapped around your waist. "Do you want to tell me what upset you?" He whispered softly, gently kissing the back of your neck. "New intrusive thoughts," you answered shortly, a frustrated sigh leaving you. He nuzzled your hair on the nape of your neck with his nose, pressing another gentle kiss on your skin. "Would you elaborate on that or would you rather forget about it for now?" "I don't know. It's just... It's about the wounds on my wrists and such. I- I'm fucking damaged, Dan. Anyone who sees these wounds will know I'm beyond repair. I just want it all gone. I want them gone. I want the skin off of me. That's- That's what these thoughts- images rather - were about. And I don't know what to do because they're so hard to resist, even though they'd only make it all so much worse." "Y/N, let me say that you are not beyond repair. Nor are you damaged. I may not be able to fully understand this particular problem you're facing, now, but I'm determined to help and support you through it." Swallowing thickly, you squeezed the arm you have been gripping the entire time, wordlessly thanking him. "And listen, darling. We'll find solutions for you, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. If you need me to shower with you, I'll do just that. If you need to talk to me before, during and - or after, I'll be there to talk to you. Even when I should not be home and at work instead, we can always talk over the phone, okay? If the thoughts should become too much and you're afraid you're gonna follow through with them, I'll be there for you and help you, okay? You're not alone, I promise you." A pause. "You're such a strong man, you know? Each day, I am so proud of you. You've come so far, despite every stone that's been placed in front of you - and you keep on going. I love you, y/n and I admire you." Tears were shining in your eyes and as so often, you couldn't fathom just what you've done to deserve an understanding and amazing boyfriend, such as Dan was. "I love you, too, Dan. Thank you. I- I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. You take my breath away and make me speechless. You know how proud of you I am - each and every day for fighting so hard, for surviving like you are. You truly amaze me, my love," you responded softly, your voice breaking a little on every other word. Dan squeezed you tightly, pressing against your back and kissing the back of neck once more. Go to sleep, my darling. I'm here. I'll protect you. You heard his voice in your head again, smiling softly as you did. Then you nodded and closed your eyes, getting comfortable. Your mind was mostly quiet for the first time this evening.

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hoe-doroki · 4 years

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Alright, friends, your local demi is going to take one last bow before ace week is up.

I’m going to talk about myself, because I the lived experience of ace and acespec people isn’t talked about enough and, well, this is the week to talk about it!

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s bring in a good ol’ frame of reference:

78% pure. For those who don’t know this is the rice purity test, where high scores mean you haven’t participated in many “racy” activities and low scores mean you have.

First, let’s state that I don’t want to put too much stock on this test. Only 3/4 of the questions are about sex and dating while the remaining 1/4 is about alcohol, drugs, and illegal activity. (Part of the reason my score is so high is because I, unrelated to being acespec, don’t drink or smoke.) But, like I said, it’s a place to start.

Stats. I’m a 24-year-old woman. I am cisgender, straight, and demisexual/demiromantic (not asexual or aromantic). I have never had a boyfriend, I have never enjoyed kissing, I have never had sex.

Oof, and right away, I’m embarrassed saying that.

And that’s the whole problem.

(This post clocks in at ~1.6k, so the rest is under the cut. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation.)

Well, not my whole problem, haha, but it is why I’m bothering to talk about this instead of keeping it secret, like I prefer to. I want to dispel some myths that harm the way I view myself and keep me from being honest with others. Because I fear that when people look at me and hear “24-year-old virgin” they assume things about me that just aren’t true.

First thing’s first. The fact that I’m a virgin means nothing except that I have not had sexual intercourse with another person. There are no other assumptions to be made.

It hurts when people are surprised by this. I happen to fall mostly into the barbed categories of American conventional attractiveness, so when people hear that I have never had a boyfriend or that I’m a virgin, they assume there’s something wrong with me. Or that past men I’ve been around have missed an opportunity or something.

This is shitty on two levels. One, the assumption that my stats are the way they are because of some failure sucks. All it should be is a reflection of my agency and the fact that I am the queen of saying no. (In fact, it was my first word.) But then people are assuaged by the fact that I have, in fact, been approached for sex, as though that confirms for them the value that they assumed I had. As though that’s where any of my worth should be coming from.

Two, these assumptions, when flipped, imply that it would “make sense” for me to have my stats if I looked different or was less neurotypical.

Media--as it does--has played a role in these assumptions. I think about the characters who are “later-in-life virgins” and I think of Emma Pillsberry from Glee, who deals with extreme OCD and germophobia. Or Sheldon and Amy from The Big Bang Theory, the former of whom might very well be acespec and is likely on the autism spectrum as well, but who is shown to be very antisocial with many difficulties forming interpersonal relationships and the latter of whom comes from a very conservative family and a mother who ensured she couldn’t learn social skills until well into her thirties. Or the “what if” episode of Friends that basically asserts that Monica would have been too fat to get laid. Or The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which I don’t wish to talk about. (Oof, all such problematic examples)

And yes, these characters are all white (I am not) and that’s a discussion for another post better made by someone who is more of a media expert than me.

These characters are all portrayed to have something that “explains” why they haven’t yet had the privilege of having sex. And we see in movies like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, or a whole host of teen movies, that virginity is something to conquer--especially for male characters.

I don’t look how people expect virginity to look. I’ll be real--I have high self esteem. I think I’m awesome inside and out and I don’t see any reason why I should be shy about that. I know that if I wanted to have sex with a stranger, I could do it tonight (covid notwithstanding--be safe, friends).

And even if I were a different person who had less self confidence or looked different or came from a different background, that wouldn’t mean that I “deserve” to be a virgin or whatever it is media is telling us. Virginity still wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with the other things that make up a person.

So, louder for the people in the back: being a virgin doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with me.

Next point. Being a virgin doesn’t mean that I’m innocent, a prude, or that I’m “waiting for marriage.”

Gosh, I’ve been asked if I’m waiting for marriage too many times. Two things. 1. No. I’d rather know my sexual compatibility with a partner before marriage and 2. I’m an atheist. So no.

Also, I am not innocent or a prude.

My lack of experience makes me feel infantilized. It does. That’s a personal issue of mine and, ya’ll, I don’t have many answers for how to overcome it. But I have done what I can to change that.

Guys, some of the best choices I’ve made in my adulthood are the things I’ve done to reclaim my sexuality (meaning sexualness not orientation) for myself. Not gonna get super nsfw here, but I’ve invested in about a dozen sex toys and I intend to buy more. They always makes me feel so much more adult and sexy. And I’ve done things with them that I feel pretty confident that many of my sexually active, allosexual friends haven’t done. This kind of thing isn’t for everyone acespec, but it helps me reclaim my worth as a sexual being, without needing a partner to validate that.

I’m also fully valid to write erotica! I love erotica and it’s another way I take back my sexuality. It is just as valid for me to write as it is for anyone else. I am capable of research--both on my own body and from resources, experts, and classes. I don’t need to have had sex for my opinion to matter.

Oh, and being acespec has nothing to do with my sex drive. It seems that I have a libido that is either average or slightly above average--I’m also a person that the more I’m engaging with my libido, the higher it gets.

This often feels like a curse. I, unlike many, but not all, acespec people, strongly desire sex. Like, I’ve bundled up a 35-pound weighted blanket on top of myself whilst engaging in self-pleasure just to try and make the activity feel more partnered (pro tip: that didn’t work.) The truth is that I’m really sick of having to take care of my libido by myself and would much rather have a partner.

But it’s not easy.

I’ve tried online dating, guys. Many times. I can’t do it. That’s not true of all acespec individuals, but it is for me, at least right now. For me, my demisexuality means that the idea and experience of going out, even on a casual date, with someone I’m not already interested in is nearly intolerable. And my current lifestyle, for many reasons, doesn’t lend itself well to me naturally forming crushes.

I’ve only had one major crush in my life. And it was 10 years ago. So you understand the difficulty.

I hate being demisexual, guys. I do. I wish that I could write this post with the intent of spreading pride and positivity, but I can’t. That’s not where I’m truthfully at yet. I’m lonely to the point of suicidal ideation. I’m too young for it, but I’m already making contingency plans for freezing my eggs or trying to imagine a future where I could be a single mother and...I can’t yet reconcile it. I know that part of this is my dreams being created in society’s image, but all I’ve ever wanted is to be a wife and a mother. And it’s hard to see that future when I can only look at my past and see images of silicone and sexual repulsion.

Remember when I said I’ve never enjoyed kissing? I’ve had more stage kisses than “real” kisses and, I have to say, the staged ones were more enjoyable because at least I wasn’t forcing myself to do them. Forcing myself to try to kiss someone so that I could feel “normal.” Forcing myself to kiss someone just because I was curious about what it was other people were talking about. My first “real” kiss was at 20 years old and it was a night where I forced myself to do a lot of things for the sake of catching up with my peers and I’ve been deeply uncomfortable with that experience ever since, and I can only be grateful that I stopped it as early in the evening as I did.

Everyone’s experience is so different, ya’ll. I haven’t heard a story like mine before, so in no way can I claim it to be an experience that widely represents demisexuality. It certainly doesn’t represent asexuality, nor how queerness (or many other things) intersects with either of those things.

But, at the same time, I’ve never heard a story like mine before. Do you know how helpful it would have been to have been able to see a story like this a few years ago? Ten years ago? It would have been life changing. Because even though, in the middle of all that self-confidence I spouted off about paragraphs ago, there’s this kernel of self-hatred stuck in my teeth, I would have felt validated. I would have felt seen. I would have been able to DM someone who could have told me, hey, it hurts and I know no one seems to understand you, but I do.

That’s to say, if anyone is going through something similar and wants to talk about it, my DMs are always open. I’m no expert, and I bet some of the things I’ve said here aren’t going to hit some people right, but this is my experience. This is the most intimate part of my life. It is a privilege that I’m sharing this with you all, so please, hold it with care. I hope this means something to someone.

Happy ace week, ya’ll.

Oh, and the rice purity test doesn’t mean shit. It’s good fun if you want, but if it makes you feel any kind of way because your number is too low or too high, throw it away. That’s not where any part of your value comes from.

#i promise this has nothing to do with the fact that today is my brother's wedding day #not bitter at all #asexuality #ace week #demisexuality #demisexual #demiromantic #asexuality spectrum #acespec #nobody asked ana #personal #tw: suicidal ideation #tw suicidal ideation #cw: suicidal ideation #cw suicidal ideation

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callioope · 4 years

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I’ve been vague about what has been going on in my life intentionally, both because I needed to tell some people offline first and because it’s a lot to process.

But here is what happened: I am in the process of miscarrying.

I thought it might help to share my story. Miscarriage is more common than people realize and rarely talked about. If someone can benefit from my story, all the better, but mostly this is to help my grieving and coping process.

This is pretty detailed, so trigger warnings and all that.

Exactly one month ago, I read the results I had longed for: pregnant.

Today, I’m sprawled out on the couch in the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced.

They don’t tell you that miscarriage is a process.

We’ve been trying to conceive since the end of last June. It was taking so long, I was convinced I’d be scheduling a fertility consultation this coming June. They tell you if you’re under 35, to give it a year. Before we started trying to conceive, I’d tell anyone about how time speeds up the older you get. It makes sense logically, of course, when a year is 1/5 of your life, it sure seems long, but went its 1/32, well...

But this has been the longest eleven months of my life. The first month we started trying, I had an unusually long cycle. 39 days. I was so sure I was pregnant. My breasts had been hurting for two weeks. Husband and I were vacationing in Minnesota to see Aston Villa play. I bought a pregnancy test, beaming, excited, and was puzzled by the negative result. A week later, when my period came, I cried to my mother, and she said something about the universe saying I wasn’t ready or something. Whatever it was sounded bleak and ominous to my ears. It sounded like it meant I’d never be ready.

The fall was busy and stressful, and despite all the tedious ovulation test strips, nothing happened except somehow, my period got lighter month by month. I was pretty sure something was wrong with me. I thought I had a UTI. (I was actually stressed and dehydrated, which I eventually remedied.) While I cried at a Sara Bareilles concert in November, my mother told me that her OBGYN said it can take as much at 9 months for the body to recalibrate after being on the pill.

Speaking of which. I’ve been taking the pill for over a decade. For the most part, I took it correctly. There is some leeway to taking it incorrectly, for the record. You can miss two pills in a row and it still has instructions for what to do (while cautioning to be safe and use extra protection). Maybe only once did I ever have to throw out a pack for missing too many in a row.

(This is maybe neither here nor there, but rebelcaptain accidental pregnancy fics have become a bit of a pet peeve for me. Jyn and Cassian are far too careful and intentional to let that happen, and it is so easy to be responsible since there are so many birth control alternatives these days that don’t even require reliance on routine or memory.)

So, of course, the concern lately is that clearly 10+ years on birth control has messed me up. I do not know this objectively (what I do know is that I have OCD and anxiety and obsess over Everything That Can Go Wrong), but the point is that birth control really can have consequences that I don’t think are necessarily fully understood or studied. DO NOT GET ME WRONG, USE BIRTH CONTROL. My only regret is what I didn’t know.

I learned too late, but a lot of conception advice articles tell you to quit the BC as soon as possible. Even if my mom’s OBGYN is wrong, the general advice does seem to be that it can take up to 3 months for your body to recalibrate. So, if by any chance someone reading this is thinking about conceiving soon, if you take nothing else away from this rant, take this. I wish I had stopped taking the pill a few months before we actually intended to start trying.

After ten months of all this worrying, I finally got what I’d longed for. The moment I saw that positive result, it felt so surreal. There had been little things leading up to that moment, strange hints and signs, like I knew subconsciously even before a test would have been positive. I wrote that Howl’s Moving Castle pregnancy fic before I knew. I started learning “Here Comes the Sun” on my ukulele before I knew (it’s... silly, but I decided I wanted to learn the ukulele because I wanted to be able to play that song for my kids some day). It involves finger picking, so I’d been putting off learning it, but one day I just decided it was time. And finally, I decided to watch the latest season of Brooklyn 99. I’d avoided it because I knew Amy & Jake were also trying to conceive, and it was too emotional for me to watch that when I was so frustrated for how long I was taking. (Of course I didn’t realize they also had trouble, and watching it actually felt cathartic for me.) I got that positive result literally the next morning.

I spent Monday, April 20, making checklists and spreadsheets. I set my first prenatal appointment for May 8. Those two and a half weeks were the slowest of my life. They stretched out like a rubber band. I couldn’t really focus on anything except this pregnancy I’d waited so long for. That’s probably why time moved so slowly. I wasn’t filling it with the hobbies I enjoyed, writing and playing my ukulele. All my overwhelmed brain could handle was the hilarious distraction of Community. Yeah, this is also around the time I disappeared from fandom. It was originally for a happy reason, I was just too excited to focus!

I know many women who have miscarried. The data seems to vary from source to source, but anywhere between 10% to 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. I couldn’t wait to get to the doctor to confirm everything was okay. I wondered if they would do an ultrasound; I dreamed of seeing a fetus on that screen.

We started talking about how we were going to tell our family. We wrote a pretend promotion letter for my sister, promoting her from “sister” to “aunt” (she’s a badass at her job and we had recently been talking about her promotions so it was thematically relevant). We planned to do a video call with my parents where we played Quiplash and created custom answers related to the pregnancy.

But we never got that chance. On May 8, I went in for my first appointment. I’d spent the last three days sewing a mask because the ones we ordered still haven’t arrived yet. So all the time I would have spent preparing myself for the worst (as is my way) was spent instead distracted by sewing and finishing up Community.

They took me to an office first and went over medical history questions. “Any morning sickness?” the nurse asked. “Not at all,” I said. “Should I be worried?” “No,” she answered. “Consider yourself lucky!”

(For the record, many women who carry to term do not ever get morning sickness.)

(It was just one of those unfortunate exchanges.)

Then the exam with the doctor. All in all, it’d probably been 30 or 40 minutes by this point, all of this excited talk. I was going to tell my parents on Mother’s Day. My due date was Christmas.

I video call my husband just in time for the ultrasound.

There was no embryo.

The doctor said a lot of women are ovulating later in their cycles due to the stress of the pandemic. At the time, I thought maybe. Hope is funny like that, in the face of logic. It started to grow like a weed in the cracks of my breaking heart.

But the thing is, even with that stubborn hopeweed, I knew. I’d been doing this for ten months. I knew when my last period was, I knew when I ovulated. I was 7 weeks and 1 day, and there was no embryo, and that was it.

The beginning of the process of miscarriage.

Technically, it’d started a few days before that appointment, but I was distracted at that time. I’d noticed one morning that there seemed to be more hair in the shower floor than there should be.

Dots started to connect. My breasts had stopped aching. Now, they started to shrink back to their original size.

This happened over several days. I felt certain I would miscarry on Mother’s Day; fortunately, that did not happen. No, enough days had to pass for that hopeweed to prosper. Only then, when it whispered maybe would I start spotting and cramping.

On Tuesday, the second ultrasound confirmed what I already knew. Not viable. Missed miscarriage. Technically, the prescription the doctor hands me reads “missed abortion.” “It’s just the technical term,” the doctor explains, acknowledging that many women might find this triggering.

I don’t cry as much as I did. I only cry when I tell people. It seems important for people to know, just in case. Just one person in the relevant circles of my life. I had to tell my boss to explain the sudden uptick in unexpected doctor appointments. (I’m Rh negative, so I needed to go to the hospital to get bloodwork and a Rhogam shot -- and being in a hospital these days in anxiety-inducing enough without this trauma.)

It still feels surreal. All of this happened in one month. Somehow my life has changed completely and then reverted back. This is just a blip in my life, relatively, and yet it seems the longest month of my life.

In movies, in stories, miscarriage seems to go the same way: a flash of bloody sheets, a shout of shock and pain, and then grief. I never knew how it really goes: that it would stretch out for weeks, from the moment I saw that first ultrasound to now, twelve days later, just starting to bleed. I’ll have to go back for another ultrasound to confirm it’s done, and if it’s not, then I’ll need surgery.

This speaks nothing of the grief.

And then it’s back to square one, a whole year later: ovulation tests and endless waiting.

It’s been a whole month; it’s been only a month, and miscarriage is a process.

#tw: pregnancy #tw: miscarriage #the latest with liz #this is detailed and specific #not for everyone #it's part of my grieving process #it's been a month and i thought it might help to say something

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ethereal-not-occult · 5 years

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hhh okay I need a few moments to yell about This Scene:

What strikes me the most about this particular exchange is just how much Aziraphale’s response reads like my own dysfunctional, OCD-driven thoughts when I’m having an episode. It’s actually so scarily similar to how my OCD manifests that the first time I read Good Omens -- several months before I was diagnosed and in therapy -- I nearly put it down again because that particular description was so triggering.

I’ll elaborate. Obviously OCD appears in a variety of different forms and symptoms, and it’s not the same for everyone. But one symptom that can appear in OCD is all-or-nothing thinking. Basically it becomes impossible to look at the “in-betweens” of a subject -- there are Only Two Sides of Right and Wrong and Nothing Else (sound familiar?) Maybe the one logical part of you can recognize that this kind of thinking is not quite right, but that part is drowned out by the brain gremlins yelling that it can only be one or the other and you’re evil and wrong for ever daring to think outside that box.

Now, as to how this applies to Good Omens, and this scene in particular. Aziraphale has his world divided neatly into Good and Evil. If something is said to be Good, then it is Good, and anything that is not considered Good must therefore be Evil, with no room for exceptions or error.

Crowley here is the voice of logic, the one that some part of Aziraphale secretly knows has a solid point. But Aziraphale is unable to accept it. One part of him wishes to, but another part of him so deathly fears that he would be sympathizing with “Evil” if he agrees that he immediately retreats into denial as a safety net. It must be bad. Even if he doesn’t understand why it’s bad precisely, this is what he knows to be true, so he shouldn’t argue against it because otherwise that means he’s Evil too, and God knows he doesn’t want to be Evil.

When it comes to OCD subtypes like scrupulosity (c’est moi), this kind of thinking can be so overwhelming that you basically get caught up in a perpetual moral argument with yourself, trying to find one “right” answer or condition that doesn’t exist. Eventually you retreat to the “safety” of extremes; if you just stick to the Good side, then you won’t be Evil. Of course, that also means that any questioning of the Good side whatsoever automatically = evil, and the fear that that causes makes it difficult to break out of these harmful patterns of thinking (and that fear is very strong, and the guilt of thinking you have done “evil” is even stronger).

I always felt that Aziraphale’s struggles with Heaven and the ineffable plan throughout the book mirrored OCD’s distorted lines of thinking in a way that was painfully familiar. He makes mistakes based off these thoughts -- making excuses for Heaven’s conduct (because questioning it otherwise must mean he is allowing Evil to happen, or else committing Evil himself), retreating behind the safety net of extremes when his firmly drawn lines are threatened.

But at the same time, let’s consider incidents like the flaming sword. For all of Aziraphale’s internal debate over whether the banishment of Adam and Eve was the right thing to do, he still gives them the sword to keep them safe, then lies to God about it afterwards. Then, of course, we come to the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, in which Aziraphale finally shakes himself free of the tangled web of all-or-nothing, good-or-unforgiveable ‘logic’ that has kept him trapped for millennia, steps forward, and dares to say, “This Great Plan... this would be the ineffable plan, would it?”

There’s a lot more I can say here, and I’m not even sure if what I wrote makes sense or not. I’m just... emotional at how he manages to break himself free of that futile cyclical way of thinking and forge his own path. At a time when so much seemed hopeless with my own mental health and no help was forthcoming, and I was breaking down over believing I was a fundamentally unforgivable person, Good Omens was such an anchoring story.

Many thanks to @goodm-omen-ts for their wonderful post here that finally motivated me to write this meta.

Now for some miscellaneous Aziraphale with OCD headcanons:

Intrusive thoughts. Just lots of images and urges and thoughts that are so horrifying and contrary to Aziraphale’s morals pop into his head all the time and no amount of trying will make them go away. When it gets really bad, anything that reminds him even distantly of these thoughts can be a trigger, and if he isn’t careful he can get lost in his head struggling to get rid of these thoughts for hours at a time. But what helps with this are mindful activities that keep his hands occupied and his mind focused on the present, which I feel is how he got into doing stage magic. He gets so focused on executing the tricks and being in the moment that it allows him to forget (or at least sufficiently ignore) the intrusive thoughts until they subside on their own.

Also consider Aziraphale getting involved with other mindful crafts, like knitting.

I feel like at some point Aziraphale would also have distressing intrusive thoughts about Crowley. Cruel whispering thoughts and urges implanted into his mind, saying this is a demon, you must smite harm hurt, along with old prejudices popping into his head that he knows are untrue but somehow he’s thinking them anyway -- the thought of harming Crowley in any way shape or form is simply sickening, and Aziraphale argues against the thoughts constantly, presents all the evidence he has at his disposal (over six thousand years of it) that Crowley isn’t evil, that those are all lies, but of course OCD refuses to listen to logic. The guilt of thinking such terrible things about his friend is crushing, so Aziraphale starts avoiding Crowley out of fear that he will succumb to those awful thoughts and hurt him. Of course that just makes him even more miserable, but the shame prevents him from telling Crowley what’s wrong. Eventually Crowley knocks on the bookshop door himself, and when Aziraphale, teary-eyed and shaking, finally confesses, Crowley holds him and says I’m not angry, angel. I know you never actually believed those things, and I know that you would never hurt me or anyone. Those thoughts don’t represent who you are or what you believe.

Compulsions. okay but also Aziraphale fearing that his relationship with Crowley will get Crowley punished by either Hell or Heaven and dealing with the crushing guilt that comes with that, and the rituals he sets up in an attempt to avoid such a thing from ever happening. Spending hours brooding over short notes from Gabriel trying to determine if the wording of that particular sentence means Gabriel knows something he shouldn’t, or combing repeatedly through his memories of the Arrangement to see if he’d ever somehow accidentally betrayed to the Powers That Be that it was he, Aziraphale, who had carried out that particular temptation in France instead of Crowley who was in China at the time... just lots of questions of what if, what if, what if. Through this, he also tends to blame and beat himself up over any small thing that goes wrong.

When Aziraphale is overworked or overtired it gets worse, and he finds himself slipping into his head more and more often. That relaxing sit-down with a book becomes three fraught hours of second-guessing his actions from an event that happened two centuries ago, or he’s at the Ritz with Crowley but can’t focus on the conversation because every time he blinks he sees horrifying images behind his eyelids, and the crowds of people at the tables around them aren’t helping to clear his muddled mind. But then he’ll be roused by a touch to the shoulder, worried yellow eyes beneath dark sunglasses and a questioning “Angel?”, and they’ll pay the bill, drive back to the bookshop in the Bentley while Aziraphale presses his flushed face into the cool window and tries to focus on Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy playing softly on the radio instead of the frantic nest of bees in his brain. He can’t stomach any more food that night, but Crowley miracles up a pair of pyjamas for him (tartan, though Crowley would deny it if you asked) and grooms the tension out of Aziraphale’s wings until the angel manages to fall into a sound sleep.

Just... Aziraphale with OCD. It traps him in a snarled web of indecision, terror, and guilt, and the abuse he receives from Heaven only worsens it. And later, when he realizes his past mistakes, the crushing remorse that that causes makes it difficult for him to forgive himself and move forward. But he works at it, and learns to break out of those lines of thinking, and it’s never a quick nor easy process, but he’s getting there. He’s staying afloat.

(I also have lots of thoughts about Crowley dealing with similar symptoms, especially after his Fall. In my mind he’s more accustomed to dealing with it by now than Aziraphale, and has developed good coping mechanisms, but it still gets hard at times. They help each other.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #hc #otp: ineffable #weiwritesfic #sorta #ocd!aziraphale #ocd tw #intrusive thoughts tw #compulsions tw #ocd mention #actually ocd #mental illness #please let me know if you need anything tagged #scrupulosity tw #meta

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mental-health-advice · 5 years

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Hi. I have Pure O and have recently formed a negative association with something I love out of nowhere (it’s a TV show which sounds stupid, but I have this fear that I will lose the ability to enjoy things I know I love because that’s connected to my first OCD trigger). I constantly emotion/thought check to see if I still love it; I imagine different scenarios to test my emotional reaction. (PURE O PART 1)

It seems like such a stupid thing to stress over, but I want to know why I suddenly can’t feel happiness over something I love despite still wanting to talk about/watch/enjoy it. And it sounds like an OCD trigger, because it feels like I’m not thinking like myself. It’s just not the typical trigger. I just don’t want something I love to be destroyed, because I don’t understand what could’ve caused it nor does it line up with some of my other thoughts/desires to enjoy it. (PURE O PART 2)

Hey lovely,

This doesn’t sound stupid at all! I promise. Liking a TV show is something everyone experiences from time to time, so it’s something that a lot of people can relate to. And suddenly losing the ability to enjoy that is really scary. And since that seems to be connected to your first OCD trigger, it sounds understandable that this is part of your OCD as well. Especially since you’re constantly emotion/thought checking to see if you still love it. To me, that sounds like a compulsion (which I think you’ve realised as well). Although I do want to point out that we are not professionals at MHA. We also don’t recommend self-diagnosis for the reasons listed here.

When dealing with intrusive thoughts (or intrusive-like thoughts), this four step program can be very helpful. It can help you remind yourself that these thoughts don’t mean anything and can therefore help for them to affect you as less. At some point it might even help enough so that you don’t feel the need to carry out the compulsions (emotion/thought checking to see if you still love it) anymore. CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) with ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention) can also be very helpful when dealing with OCD. It’s focussed on challenging those thoughts (the CBT part) as well as exposing yourself to situations that would normally cause you to carry out compulsions, but not carrying them out (the ERP part). That might sound scary, but you start small and slowly work up towards bigger situations.

Would it be possible for you to start treatment? I really think it could be very helpful. You can visit your GP / local doctor and explain to them briefly what’s been going on. They can then arrange a referral to a therapist or other mental health professional. You can read more about getting help here.

We also have an OCD page series that has a lot of information, including self help tips. Hopefully you’ll find some helpful info on there.

Is there anyone you’re close to that you could open up to? Sometimes it can really help to let out your thoughts so that they don’t swarm around in your head as much anymore. Having to deal with it all by yourself can be really exhausting.

It might also be helpful to see if there are rational thoughts that can soothe your mind a little. For example, you can remind yourself that it’s wonderful that you can enjoy it now and that you only focus on the present as that’s what matters now. I sometimes (not always, it’s a bit of hit or miss) also find it helpful to think more through what the worst case scenario would be. In your case that would be that you wouldn’t enjoy the TV show anymore. And yes, that would be difficult and very frustrating. But you could look for something else you could enjoy for a while. It would be something that you would be able to deal with. I’m not saying that it wouldn’t be hard and I’m not denying your fear or anything! Your struggles are valid

Sometimes what seems impossible, is just hard.Love Pauline

#PURE O #mental health #advice #advice blog #OCD #obsessive-compulsive disorder #tv show #pure o ocd #pure ocd #compulsions #intrusive thoughts #mhapauline #anonymous

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flowersofjannah · 5 years

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Salam sister. First off thank you for your time may Allah reward you. This is so embarrassing to say even tho the question is anonymous I just feel so ashamed. I’m a Muslim female who masturbates like once every week and I hate it so much. That one second of pleasure is not worth the guilt I feel afterwards but I don’t know how to stop. I ask Allah every time I pray to protect me from those kinds of desires but it just never works out.

I really want to stop but it’s so hard. I’m not a bad person, masturbating is the only sin weighing me down. This is so bad but sometimes I am aware that Allah is watching but I still do it. I hate it so much it’s bringing so much depression into my life. Any tips?

____________

Wa ‘alaykum assalam wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh sister.

Subhanallah I’m not sure if I could be of much help in this issue. When you’re aware Allah is watching you, I personally feel that should be enough to stop you. I mean, obviously you would never do a thing in front of your parents than Allah is far above your parents. But if that doesn’t help you sister, hmm I honestly don’t know what will simply because I’ve never been in such a situation. Well actually I guess I can relate with my ocd - excessive use of water...that’s my addiction that I have extreme trouble getting over. So I think we both need help.

“I ask Allah every time I pray to protect me from those kinds of desires but it just never works out.” Remember, Allah will help you, He will answer your duas. Don’t lose hope in your duas nor be hasty with them - I recently posted this hadith:

Abu Hurairah narrated that the Prophet ﷺ said:

“One of you will be responded to, so long as he is not hasty, saying: ‘I supplicated, and I was not responded to.’”

[At-trimidhi & Sunan Ibn Majah; Graded Sahih]

Look into what triggers your desires and try to cut it off...it could be not lowering your gaze, having fantasies, listening to music, etc. Look at the source of it and work on that.

Try busying yourself too...go to the gym, hang out more, start a new hobby, these things can help a lot!

It’s also possible your hormones are a bit wacky, try regulating them with hormone regulating foods or by medicines.

Whenever you feel the urge go off to do something else, maybe sit with your family start watching a video, paint/draw (in a halal manner ofc), go cook/bake something, read the quran. Whatever helps you get distracted. Also say a'oodhubillahi mina-shaytan-nir-rajeem and have a glass of water.

I don’t know what else I can say to help you my dear sister, maybe try counseling? I don’t know..May Allah help you to control it sister, ameen.

If anyone can give advice, please do in sha Allah!

8 notes · View notes

gotboredwrote · 5 years

Text

Chapter 8: The Morning After

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 5.8K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a few references to the previous chapter’s sexual themes (nothing explicit), references to OCD diagnosis Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: Me: This chapter is bad. Like, I am acknowledging it now and admitting I was so distracted the whole time I wrote it. I’m sorry :\ Also me: Lol it’s long :P

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

Both of you were still trying to catch your breath. You at least have the necklace John gave you to ground you back down to Earth from your high. John did not have anything like that, so all he could do was grip the headboard of his bed. You were both reeling, thinking about what you just did. Both of you were having aftershocks that were so intense you could not believe it. While it was some kind of mix of lust and love that drove you both to your breaking points, neither of you felt that you were ready to admit those feelings to each other. You both felt pathetic and desperate. But oh-so in love. Hopelessly. It took over five minutes for each of you to catch your breath and calm your minds down, but the calms did not last long. Your eyes went wide and John slapped a hand over his mouth, the realization of what day of the week it was hitting you both like a ton of bricks. Tuesday. That only meant one thing – tomorrow was Wednesday. You two would have to face each other because of work.

John made it a point to go to the studio extremely early so he could already be there before anyone else, hopefully ignoring the butterflies swarming his stomach. No one needed to be there before 9:00am. He made it there at 6:30am. He told himself he would just practice the stuff they had already done, but there was a part of him that wanted to work on that song. He figured if there was a time to do it, it would be when no one was there. Except he was afraid of what would happen to him. Clearly, it was not the song that triggered the episode of last night, but the words came from those feelings. His way of admitting the truth. Not denying the feelings that bubbled over the previous night. He starting adding backing instruments and vocals, trying to think of the rhythm the words came in versus the words themselves. Maybe that would be a distraction. Except there was a problem – he got to a section of the song he literally could not remember. He sighed to himself, and proceeded to rummage through his bag to see if he could not find the sheet music. He knew he brought it with him, he remembered the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he picked them up this morning to stick in his bag, so that meant the only place the papers could be was his car. He looked to the clock, 7:30am. He had only been here an hour? It felt like so much longer than that, stuck in his daydream-like state of thinking about the song. He was not worried about running into anyone except maybe some overnight cleaners. They were extremely used to seeing some of the artists that float through the building because they know inspiration can strike at any time. He made his way to the door and reached for the doorknob when it turned on its own. He retracted his hand and went to step off to the side to let whoever it was in the building, and the feeling in the pit of his stomach from that morning returned full-force. He came face-to-face with you and your growing mound of paperwork. Well, shit.

“Oh, good-good morning, Deaky. I really didn’t expect any of you to be here already. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, love. I was just going to get something from my car. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Sounds good, I’ll just be in the booth working when you come back.”

You shot each other innocent smiles, and made your way to your destinations. As soon as the door shut between you both, yours and his breathing became ragged. Apparently, you both had the same idea about getting to the studio early so as to calm the nerves down before the other arrived. Clearly, that was not going to happen. John got to his car, and when he found the sheet music he had written out, the intensity of his heart rate got stronger. He loved that he felt this way about someone, because he never thought he was someone who could feel that way, or have someone feel that way about him, even though it was in his dreams that you would return the feelings. It was one of the few insecurities he had, and you knew about it. You and him had talked about love before, neither one thinking strangely of it at all. You had had deep conversations on many previous occasions, but they were usually in the same room as a bunch of other people, and clearly you had not had one since you had gotten off to the thought of one another. He was afraid that he would lose the opportunity to have those conversations again, especially if you found out what he did. He loved those conversations. He took a couple deep breaths as he made his way back to the studio, where he assumed he would see you sitting at the coffee table pulled up right to the couch, all your papers methodically placed out to work on them throughout the day. He knew you, how you worked, how you focused. Ninety percent of what he thought would be the case was, but there was one thing missing from the scene in the studio. You. He walked in and looked through the giant pane of glass and saw you lightly swaying back and forth in front of his bass. Lightly plucking at the strings creating a quiet but deep sound that barely made it to even your ears. You had a look on your face of longing, and while John had still not shaken the feeling in his lower stomach, he was more concerned with figuring out what was going on inside your head. He also wanted to let you keep plucking away, the gesture making John feeling warm and fuzzy seeing you take that much interest in his instrument. But again, the concern he felt overtook all the other stuff. He quietly folded the sheet music to put in his pocket, that way you would not see the words, and stuffed them in his back pocket. He lightly turned the knob to the booth where you were, so as to avoid startling you, which ended up happening, anyway.

“Oh gosh John!” You paused to let out a deep breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your safe space. We just haven’t had a lot of time to ourselves in the studio in a while, and I was just thinking about all the times you would play for me when the boys weren’t here. I just… miss that.”

Y/N had mentioned something that brought a wave of nostalgia through John, and he understood the face you were making. You were right – another thing that would happen throughout these past couple of weeks when it was a normal day with no meetings or dinner would involve John quietly practicing and giving you a private concert. Ever since he sat you down to play “Misfire” for you, he slowly got more and more confident about playing in front of you. It was always something you two would look forward to. Some days the boys would offer to grab some lunch for the lot of you, and you would say to them that you would stay back and just keep working on your portfolio. John always offered to stay back and keep you company, and he would quietly practice his parts or create new riffs in the background while you worked on your paperwork. John was afraid that if you found out about what he did last night to the thought of you, all that would go away, too, just like your deep conversations.

“You looked peaceful, and happy. Why would I have stopped you?”

“I know how you feel about people messing with your bass, even Brian. I… didn’t think I was any exception.”

“You really think that lowly of yourself?”

“It’s… not that, John. It’s just that you have treated me best of all the boys throughout this partnership so far. The boys are lovely, don’t get me wrong, you are just different somehow. You gave me my favorite little possession for forcing me to come to that awful dinner, and you took a lot of shit that night that you didn’t have to take. You were also nice enough to show me a song you had written before you even showed the boys. You’ve just been so nice to me and I didn’t even think about how what I just did might have crossed a boundary that ruined all of that.”

John wanted to cut her off with a kiss, but he could not bring himself to do it. It would flood him with emotions that he was starting to ignore, so he did not want to trigger them again. He also felt that this would have been a good time to confess his feelings, but that would also bring back the feelings from last night. There was so much he wanted to do to, but he was so petrified that you were going to find out what happened last night, that he could only muster out a few sentences.

“I appreciate that you know I have my boundaries, love, but I thought by now you knew that you do not have to worry about them. You are one of my few exceptions, and I want you to know that I honestly thought you…looked… cute doing that.”

You were flabbergasted at his response because you had been doing a really good job so far at hiding the fact you were feeling just like John was. You were just as petrified that something you did would make him realize what you did the night before. Up until he saw you plucking at his bass, you had no concerns at all. Now he was calling you cute for messing with the real version of what you wore around your neck and you felt like you were going to explode.

“R-really? Well, thanks, Deaky… um, it was kind of my subtle way of telling you I am really missing you-hearing you play, hearing you play by yourself again.”

“Oh… well we have about an hour before the boys are gonna show up.” He was having a little bit of trouble speaking because he caught your slip up, and it honestly gave his heart a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there actually was a chance something could happen before this manager thing is over. “Would you like me to play for you while you work? Like old times?”

“I would love that, John.”

You two exchanged sweet and small smiles, and you made your way over to your paperwork while John looked at his bass for a moment before picking it up. You did not catch it, but John gazed at and lightly slid his fingers over the frets and portions of the strings that he saw you playing. He chuckled out a small breath, and picked up his bass to start playing for you. Little did you know that the repeating tune he started with was the bassline to the song he wrote for you the night before.

The hour went by with hardly a word spoken between the two of you, but you two would not have had it any other way. John was able to get more done on the song he wrote for you without you having a single clue, as well as tweaked and practiced stuff for the new album. You, on the other hand, were able to get so much of your paperwork done, and was even able to officially complete Brian’s personal publicity portfolio. You were making binders for each of the boys, while making a copy for your master binder, that included everything they would need for their upcoming PR run before the tour. It had everything in it from outfits they could choose between, recommendations on what parts of the personalities to emphasize during interviews, which ones to hide, and which topics to not discuss for fear of controversies. There were also notes of encouragement, tips and comments you had heard over time from people about things the boys do that they like, and a number of other things. You were going to wait to give the boys their binders until you were completely done with all four so you could see the joy on their faces when they saw everything for the first time. You had so much planned for each of them, you could not wait to see how things went. John would once in a while throughout the hour poked his head in to make sure you were enjoying the music he was playing and made sure you did not need anything. You would always just smile up at him and tell him how good he sounds and let him know you were good. One time you did ask him to go grab you a water from the vending machine, and by the time you could reach in your coin purse to get him the money, he was already gone. He did not want to keep his favorite girl parched. Except when he got to the machine, he noticed there were two types of water and he did not know which one was your preference. He got both. When he walked back in with two bottles in his hand, all you could do was laugh with a confused expression at his panicked face.

“There were two, I didn’t know which one you liked more so I got both and-”

“John, it’s okay, let me pay you for both and you can keep one. You’re going to need it eventually, anyway.”

After he grabbed the water, he planted himself down next to you and rested his chin on your shoulder to try and get a better look at what it was you were working on. You quickly closed up the binder that was off to the side of Brian’s, considering it was John’s, and you had just pasted in a picture of a particularly low-cut button-up that you would love to see him wear. He did not really notice the motion, which you were thankful of. He genuinely seemed interested in both what it was you were doing and how you were doing it. It made you happy that John genuinely cared about you in this way. Ever since the diagnosis, and even before as well, he was always supportive of the way you did things, and he made it obvious. He wanted to make sure you were always comfortable, and if organizing a desk in the office or straightening up his section of the studio made you comfortable, then so be it. It did not scare him away from you, and you were so thankful for that. He sat there listening to what it was you were doing for them, and skimmed through Brian’s portfolio to explain the basic set-up of the binder that he would eventually be receiving.

“So, there’s not a thing I could do to get you to show me the progress of my binder, love?”

“Not a thing, Deaks. Not a chance.”

“Not even a peck on the cheek?”

“Not even tha- what?”

“I- I meant to say… not even… um…”

You felt like John could physically see your heart beating in your chest, and he turned as red as a steamed lobster. He had zero explanation as to where the confidence he just had came from. He just sort of said it, and the funny thing was, he did not want to take it back. He had been fighting the urge to tell you about his feelings for weeks, so if now was the time, now was the time. One could argue his moment was ruined, the other side of the argument is that he was saved by the bell. Just as John was struggling to find something else to say, the door to the studio swung open to reveal Roger arriving earlier than the other boys, extremely uncharacteristic of him. Despite it all, you were still thinking of the boys and your job, and you hated yourself for it. John had just said something that could change the dynamic of your friendship forever, and you were thinking about the fucking personality traits of his bandmates who truly did not matter in this moment.

“Well, am I interrupting? I know I’m early, but I happen to pass a donut shop each time I drive to this studio and I wanted an excuse to try it so I brought everyone breakfast. I can leave for a minute, if you need-”

“No, Rog, it’s okay. Y/N was just showing me what she is currently preparing for all of us. My bass is already warmed up, so if you want to get started, I can play with you until Brian and Fred get here.”

John shot up from his seat quicker than you would have liked. It almost hurt. But you were still in such a state of shock at the fact that he caught your slip up earlier and essentially responded to it, reciprocated it, that you were easily able to ignore the feeling. You watched as John grabbed a donut, a jelly, his favorite as you recall, and made his way to his bass. Roger looked at you first with a wild expression of shock at the emotion that was seemingly flowing through John at the moment, and then he looked at you with an expression that you could not place, because you knew that Roger had no idea about your feelings for John, and he certainly did not know what you did last night. You slowly made your way up to grab a donut, a boston crème, your favorite, and you noticed that it had been separated from the rest of the bunch. John was the only one in the box thus far, so you knew he had to have been the one that moved the donut over. You lifted the donut and glanced up into the booth where Roger had now made his way over, hoping John would be looking in your direction. He was. You softly smiled at him and lifted the donut so slightly, so as to say “Thanks for not letting Roger take this one.” He swallowed aggressively but forced a smile in return. His heart was beating a mile a minute, so he just wanted to get back to playing and let you get back to your work. He really did not regret it, despite how he was feeling, but he hated not getting to know what your response would have been. Would you have told him that maybe the kiss would have earned a peek at the binder? Would you have said that a peck on the cheek would not do it, but one on the lips would? Would you have slapped him? It was killing him, and Roger could tell. He did know about his feelings for you. He wanted to talk to John about it, but that was when Brian and Freddie walked in, so he did not get a chance. He would have to keep all the boys aside after rehearsal. Maybe he could even have Freddie talk to you so the three could plot something to get the two of you to at least admit your feelings. Better yet, trick you into going on a date or something.

“Good morning, beautiful people! You cannot make fun of my tardiness today because look – our favorite astrophysicist is late too!”

You looked up and laughed at Freddie’s comment, while Brian just rolled his eyes. The two of them made their way back to the studio, Brian ruffling your hair a little before making his way back there. John saw how your hair looked after the “little” ruffle, and could not help where his brain went. He was still reeling from the night before, and his half-confession, that he imagined that was what your hair might look like if the scene that played out in his head to help him the night before had really happened.

Practice went without any more super obvious connections between Y/N and John. There were little moments when Y/N would pick up on a particularly intoxicating bassline John would play. She would try her hardest not to, but her eyes would pry themselves away from the new binder that was sitting in front of her, which happened to be Roger’s, and look up toward the sound, only to be met with a pair of eyes peering deep into her own. These small moments went completely unnoticed by Brian and Freddie, mainly because they had only had their suspicions that John had feelings for the American. Roger stayed loyal to his friend and never breathed a word to them. They, now including Roger, were also completely clueless as to what had happened the night before, as well as the full story about what happened when Roger walked into rehearsal earlier. Besides the conversation John and Roger had weeks prior, there was no official confirmation of feelings between John and Y/N, except for what was said earlier in the day. Everyone was completely oblivious about what was really going on. At one point, Brian had called you into the back to help with something, which completely caught you off guard – none of the boys had ever wanted you to help with a recording session, including John. No offence was ever taken about that, mainly because the thought of helping out with the music never even occurred to you. You were there to manage, and get their name in the public. You also considered yourself instrumentally inept, but felt you had a somewhat mediocre voice. Something you were even scared to show John. Slowly but surely, after you had marked all the places in Roger’s binder with reminders about what exactly it was you were doing, you moved into the booth, hesitantly. You gave John a smile before turning your entire body and attention in Brian’s direction, sending him a smile as well, but not one as intimate as the one you gave John.

“Look, I know it’s weird for me to ask for your help.”

“It’s okay, really! I only know a small amount regarding John’s bass, so this is all new territory to me. I’m eager to please!” You regretted those words as soon as they came out of your mouth. Something in the back of your brain said that those words should be reserved for personal situations with John.

“Well, basically what I need you to do is simple. I’m going to play this riff:” Brian flawlessly plays a riff to a song you do not believe you have heard before. “Then, when I strum the last chord, I need you to place your fingers on these frets. When we do this live, it won’t be done as smoothly as on the record, but the sound will end up the same. Once your fingers are on the frets, I just need you to stand there as quietly as possible until the take is over. Do you think you can do that?”

“I think so, Brian. Let’s give it shot!”

Miami gave the cue to the boys that he was going to roll the tape and for them to begin whenever they were ready. Roger and Freddie were a little distracted at first, because they could not help but feel heat radiating from one portion of the booth, like someone was fuming at something. Their suspicions were answered when they looked at John. John was completely red in the face, gripping the neck of his bass with his left hand, head hung low toward his chest. Something was clearly bothering him, but they did not have a chance to ask if he was okay because Brian started the count off. John was fuming because of the close proximity you and Brian were sharing. He normally did not mind if you were with the boys and you happened to be seated to the other side of one of them and your knees would touch accidentally. That was the key word – accidentally. Whenever the five of you went out together, you always made it a point to sit next to John, and depending on that seat, sometimes you were seated next to another band mate, and they were all a lot larger than he was. They would end up taking a lot of the seat and occasionally bumped into you. It was harmless. This was the opposite. John knew he had absolutely no reason to be this angry with Brian. He knew that he was seeing someone, but for some reason it made his blood boil. He just wanted to get the take over with, make sure it was done flawlessly, and get you back to your spot on the couch where he can see you in your element. It would calm him down immensely to see you doing the thing that keeps you the calmest. During the course of the take, Brian, Freddie, and John had all moved around a little bit, force of habit for musicians when they get into whatever it is they are playing. John, completely unintentionally, had hopped his way towards you, his front to your back, Freddie had made his way backwards toward Roger’s drumkit, and Brian had shifted so his body was even closer to yours. Your feet had not moved a muscle. The take had finished, and Miami said that it was great. You remained still, until a large force knocked you off your feet. Brian had meant to take off he guitar from around his body, but instead of lifting the strap, he missed and his arm went straight to your gut. The force was strong, him being so tall and you being so short, and it knocked you backwards. If something had not been there, you would have landed straight onto your ass. Except you hit something strong. Solid. Unwavering. You fell backwards into John. As soon as your entire backside from your shoulders to your ass hit John’s bass and torso, his strumming arm wrapped around you reflexively. The top of your head bumped into his chin, and John let out a small whine of pain, indicating that it was not real painful, but it smarted a little bit. You turned around as best you could while still being enveloped in John’s arm to look at his face and make sure you did not hurt him again like you did all those weeks ago.

“John! Was that your chin? I’m so sorry, I didn’t break one of your teeth or something, did I?”

“’s okay, really. Just a surprise, is all.”

“John, we’ve been here before, don’t lie to me if you’re in pain, love.” As you called him the nickname he had reserved for you, your hands came up to caress his lower face. Your thumb lightly grazed his chin to feel if there were any bumps forming, while lightly poking your tongue through your lips. Unknowingly the way that drove John insane. You two had been here before. John knew it. You knew it.

Why were your hearts beating so much faster than last time? Eventually your examination of John’s chin had finished, and as he solemnly released you from his hold, you gave his chin one more rub with your fingers and breathed out a sigh.

“Well, I guess you’re okay this time. If you start to feel a bump, please tell me love, I can’t see you hurt again because of me.”

“Will do… love.”

As oblivious as the boys can be, it would take a real dumbass to not notice what just happened between you two. Roger had known there was something going on in John’s heart, but he, frankly, never imagined that there would be a reciprocation. Freddie and Brian were just as shocked. Not because they did not think John would ever find love, but just the severity with which the feelings hit him over the head. It was like he had been reborn under your spell.

The boys did just a few more takes, only allotting you about twenty more minutes to work on Roger’s binder, so most of the sticky notes you made remained in their place. Miami told the boys that he was leaving, so he would see you all in the morning. You all exchanged your goodbyes, and you began to pack up your papers as the boys packed up their instruments. Roger riskily tested the waters for a minute to see if Miami had turned off the speakers that were in the booth so the musicians could speak freely to those in the studio. He said your name while you were looking down at your papers, and if your head shot up, he would have made a grave mistake. But your head did not budge. He knew this was his opportunity.

“Lads, c’mere.” Shuffles of feet towards Roger were heard by everyone but you. “I hate to do this to John, but that little exchange earlier gave me all the evidence I needed. Deaks has fallen head over heels for our little American gal, and we all know he is too damn shy to do anything about it.” While Roger is speaking, John had made his way into the studio with you to let you know that his chin was actually okay. “I think the three of us, meaning you, Brian, and myself need to come up with an excuse as to why John cannot walk Y/N to her car tonight. Freddie, you need to be the one to walk her to her car and you need to grill her the way you know how. Figure out if she’s into him, and then say you forgot something and come back and report here. I have a plan to keep John in here.”

The two of you were the ones who were completely oblivious now.

“Deaky! C’mere!” John pried himself away from you and made his way into the booth. “Look, I hate to do this to you man, but I need you and Brian to hang back with me for a minute to look over this part. Miami cut us off before I could ask and if I don’t do this now, I’m going to forget all of it.”

“But I need to walk Y/N to her car, Rog.”

“Nonsense, darling, she can come say goodnight really fast and I will walk her out and keep her safe. No harm done, it’ll be fine.”

“Fred-”

“I won’t hear another word from you! It’s settled. Y/N, sweetheart, come bid us goodnight, these gentlemen have to stay back and work on something, so I will be your escort to your car tonight!”

You had just finished packing up all of your paperwork in your backpack, and made your way to the foursome standing behind the glass. You stood in your normal spot next to John.

“Well, darling, let’s get this show on the road. You will see them tomorrow, so no need to look so glum!”

“I’m not glum, Freddie, I just like having my routine with John. He makes me feel safe. But… I do understand if this is a pressing matter. Goodnight boys, and goodnight Deaks.” You lifted your hand to cup his chin again, to which he immediately leaned into and lightly held the hand that was on his face with his own. Humming lightly in response.

“Goodnight, love. Sleep well.”

Freddie then took you by your arm and walked you to your car. Once there, he offered to place your backpack in the passenger seat for you so you could get your car up and running. You let him do so, and while he was walking back, you heard him as a question but it got muffled by the sound of your car starting.

“What did you say, Fred? I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, I just said it seems like you have a little bit of an attraction to our dear Deaky, yes?”

You went red at the bold assumption that was clearly the truth. How were you supposed to respond to such a blunt question like that?

“I’ll take your facial expression, color, and lack of words as a resounding yes. Darling, I am not going to say a word about it to our dear friend John, nor the boys. I just wanted to know if you were like that with all guys or if our John was special, and now I know he is! That’s all I wanted to know. But it looks like you’re all strapped in and ready to go, and I’m realizing that I forgot something in the studio, so I’m going to run back and grab it. Drive safe, darling!”

“Wait! Please tell John to call me when he gets home, okay?”

“Will do!”

With that, you drove off, anxiously awaiting and counting down the moments for when John would be calling you. All you wanted to do was make sure that everything he stayed at the studio for was okay, considering Roger seemed a little bit frantic about it. Freddie made his way back into the studio, and then all the boys walked out together, babbling about whatever. They all walked to John’s car first, since he had the heaviest stuff to take home, and they said their goodnights as they watched him pull away.

“Alright, Fred. What’d you find out?”

“She’s into him! You were right, Roger, you sly dog!”

“Well, Rog, if you are so smart, what do you suppose the next move should be then?” Brian was looking at Roger with a disapproving face, while Freddie was giddy with glee about playing matchmaker.

“A scheme of sorts. We need to arrange it so they can go on an adventure together, and then somehow end up needing to stay together, preferably at his house. They need a push to confess, because honestly if I see another gushy moment between the two of them and they aren’t official, I am going to shove their faces together myself.”

“Amen, Roger, amen.”

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selfhelp-ocd-blog · 5 years

Text

My Story

Hello, my name is Hannah. Currently I am 19 years old and am a sophomore in College studying to become a Forensic Anthropologist. I am a devote Christian, I love Harry Potter, Supernatural, The Walking Dead, etc. Yet I have this secret, one that I felt ashamed of and guilty over for quite some time now.

I struggle with HOCD, an obsessive compulsive disorder in which brings forth intrusive and unwanted thoughts of being gay.

2015-16: Change Begins

This particular year was huge for me. Second year of high school, finally making friends in the new area my family and I moved to, and learning of the possible move to Germany. During this period of time in my life there was so much happening at once, to be quite honest I did not know what to do with myself.

With all this change, my anxiety was being tested. Limits were being crossed and walls were being broken. And not in the good way.

December of 2015 would mark my first very scary, very real severe panic attack. One that had been building up for weeks and unknowingly to me, sneak up from behind and grip it’s rough hands around my neck. I should have been happy, I should have been calm. I was at youth group, spending time with my best friend, planning a goofy game with everyone. Yet, while everyone else was laughing, I was crying.

Strange.

I wanted to laugh, goof around, continue being a kid. Yet my body was breaking down, my breath becoming shallow, my hands increasingly unsteady. Everything was numb. From my toes to my face, numb. Before I knew it I was guided into the parking lot where my body had a mind of its own, jerking me around side to side as my mother stared at me with horror. A stroke. She was petrified I was having a stroke, calling the paramedics just to be told I was simply having a severe panic attack, OD-ing on oxygen and simply needed to regulate my breathing.

(The 2019 me is now a pro at stopping a panic attack as soon as they come on, no one knows and no one will ever know that one is happening.)

2016-17: The Move, Medication, Therapy.

Fast forward by about a year and I am now in my Junior year meeting with my psychologist and therapist for the first time. It was this session in which I was diagnosed with Severe Anxiety and OCD, although at the time they simply thought I wanted things nice and tidy, that was not the case whatsoever.

2018: Am I gay?

This was the intrusive thought that snuck into my mind and completely numbed it just like a panic attack.

At the time, my best friend at my new school was notorious for dressing guy-like and being quite the Tom-boy. Neither of us had ever been in a relationship nor were we looking for one. Of course, that never stopped me from having an occasional crush or obsessing over some celebrity, in fact, at the time I was head over heels in love with Tom Hiddleston and Adam Driver. But no one knew this except for my bestie and being a person with severe anxiety, I never made it a point in my life to have more than around one or two good friends, so it was very common for it to be just us roaming around everywhere. Little did I know that many people believed my Bestie to be a lesbian and that she was either trying to make me a lesbian or I was in fact her girlfriend.

Now, with knowing that information, that very key life-threatening (to me) thought became very real as I was eyeing this guy I had a crush on and was with my bestie and hoped he didn’t also believe that I was a lesbian. Which then triggered the thought, “Could I be a Lesbian?”

Silly, I know. Especially for someone who was sporting quite a major crush on this attractive boy, yet I still let it hit me, and boy did it hit me hard. From that point on I worried that perhaps I was a lesbian and that everyone knew except for me, that somehow I was the one missing the key bit of information.

From then on I was becoming obsessive. In the beginning, especially when I had no clue what was happening, I thought that perhaps using hypnosis guides from youtube to essentially ‘erase’ memories would help. But it didn’t, instead I was thinking more and more of it. I remember looking down in the comments to see if it actually worked for someone and a couple comments stuck out regarding HOCD. Other people were worried about their intrusive thoughts and found the life changing label: HOCD.

The search began: What is HOCD? How do I know I have HOCD? Is it HOCD or denial? How do I know for sure it is HOCD and I am completely straight?

Which then triggered the ‘tests’. You know the ones, the stupid: ‘Are you straight/gay/lesbian?’ ones. The ones that even if you get the ‘straight’ answer they will backhand slap you with the; ‘Don’t limit your options, you could be bisexual. You did after all search up a quiz so there could be a chance your into the same sex’.

With this the intrusive thoughts became more intense. Where I would be reassuring myself I was in fact straight but then would accidentally say lesbian instead of straight. Or homosexual instead of heterosexual. Or into girls instead of into guys. The answer was simple: I was saying homosexual, lesbian, and into girls, substituting what I actually wanted to say and think because those words were what was on my mind the most. Those words were causing me such unbelievable anxiety and the intrusive thoughts were taking over my entire way of thinking.

And with that, the intrusive thoughts became even worse. From then on I was constantly checking my bodys reactions. I would compare my emotions between a guy and a girl and would constantly check to see how my brain and body would react.

Big Mistake.

Because in this stage of such unbelievable anxiety and HOCD your body begins to produce false attractions.

Essentially, this means that because I was struggling with such crippling anxiety over possibly being a lesbian, I was unable to look at men anymore and view them as being unbelievably attractive, instead I would see girls and think what I would always think: Wow they’re really beautiful, I wish I looked like them.

And with wishing to look like them I would assess the rest of their body, I would compare their body to mine like I would before unknowingly, but this time it felt like I was checking them up as opposed to comparing them to me. Which then triggered the unwanted thoughts of calling girls pretty, beautiful, and hot.

I have friends who are completely comfortable with saying a woman they see is hot, which I didn’t think twice about when they would say it and would simply comment that yeah they are pretty or beautiful. Yet after struggling with HOCD when a girl would call another girl Hot I would immediately wonder if they were bisexual or a lesbian. Which in turn affected how I reacted to saying another girl was pretty or beautiful. When I would see a girl who was in the range of ‘hot’ standards and would mentally say ‘wow she is hot’ I freaked out. This was the beginning of a new stage of HOCD in which I turned the phrasing of ‘hot’ into a sexual form.

This may seem odd, but I never really thought of anyone as being ‘hot’ because before it was never something that was used in my vocabulary or my friends until I moved. So suddenly thinking this of girls really freaked me out because my brain was introducing new crippling intrusive thoughts.

For months this went on, in fact it almost went on for a year and in that year I had graduated and started a new job and was going to college online. These new areas in my life tugged my anxiety and thoughts in a different direction and before I knew it the HOCD was gone. It was as if one day I woke up and it was as if I had never even had it.

2018-19: Out with the New and in with the Old.

My life was fantastic, no more intrusive thoughts and brand new friends along with being paid in a job I loved. It was all fantastic until a girl at my job decided to open up to me and tell me that she thinks she might be bisexual. Sure she was dating our supervisor who was a great guy, but she also was reminded of how when she first met her best friend she kind of had feelings for her.

This reminded me of my HOCD and suddenly my fresh smile was replaced with the trained fake one.

The only person who knew I had struggled with HOCD by this point was only my mom, who while had told me a couple years ago that if I was a lesbian it was completely okay also informed me that she believed me to be 100% straight.

(Mothers do know best and do not get the wrong idea about her believing I was a lesbian a couple years ago, at the time I had never dated a guy and still have yet to, but in that period of time it was around a year after her sister came out on her fathers deathbed and then disappeared because while he was alive she was so scared of being judged. My mother just wanted to let me know that no matter what she would not judge me and love me for me despite the gender I liked. Of course,a couple months after that she saw how boy crazy I was for one guy and informed me during my identity crisis that I was in fact straight.)

So after my co-worker confided in me, I decided to share something personal about myself to her. I told her about the period of time in my life how people would make fun of me about being a lesbian even though I wasn’t and then one day I thought: what if I was? and it felt like my entire world was caving in. Then I told her about how that feeling was silly as I do check out guys and I do find their bodies quite enticing.

During this time wrestling season had begun and my brothers were on the team, there were more than a couple shirtless guys who made me blush.

After telling her this information, she informed me that she believes and knows I am straight, that she could tell despite me sharing the wrestling bit and how terrible people are to accuse someone of being gay or a lesbian when they know they are not.

Fast forward a couple months and wrestling season is just about over.

Only now I am sporting more than just a small crush for a guy on the wrestling team. I liked this guy, like really liked him. I thought he was unbelievably handsome, loved his voice and body, loved how he treated people, how kind he was, how he wanted to be a nurse and was also misinterpreted by people. Many thought he was stupid because of the slow way he talked, by the way he acted, but he was actually incredibly smart.

I loved how he made me forget about the bad and think only of the good.

It wasn’t until months into this ‘crush’ that I had realized the HOCD was fully gone, that I hadn’t thought about it for months. Hadn’t had any issues with talking to girls, was able to watch TV and not worry if I was attracted to the obviously beautiful women on the screen. I was able to read romance novels again and fall in love with the male leads.

In fact, I was able to find men in general attractive again. Celebirties were becoming enticing once again, I finally got around to watching ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ and fell in love with the devilously handsome Noah Centineo. Who I ended up becoming obsessed about and watched anything that had him in it.

I felt cured, in fact, I believed I was cured.

No longer was I looking at others and immediately struck with the thought of if they were a lesbian or if they were gay. Other people were normal again, I was normal again.

Or so I thought.

July 2019: The Cure No More

With OCD and intrusive thoughts comes shame and guilt, while a couple weeks ago I was not concerned about HOCD, I was obsessing over the fact that I have viewed Porn in the past and the recent present and how I was a terrible Christian over it and didn’t deserve anyone. (That story will be for another day).

My depression over this got so bad that my parents could visablly tell something was wrong and pulled me to the side and were trying their best to force it out of me. For hours that day I had repelled them and refused to tell them.

My mom, in turn, tried guessing. She asked if I was pregnant? No. Did I commit a Murder? No. Was I doing drugs? No. Was I Gay? Because a while ago I was worried about being gay so that could be what I was worried about. Again, No. I told her there was no way I was Gay, that I 100% knew I was straight because I fell in love with a guy where we just moved from and was doing my best to lose my feelings for him since there was no chance we’d see each other again.

By the end of the day I finally confessed and they informed me that all my shame and guilt was for nothing because what she asked me earlier was a hundred times worse.

And with that all the thoughts returned.

Does she think I’m a lesbian? Could she have been lying to me when she told me she didn’t believe I was a lesbian? She asked if I was specifically stating that a while ago I was worried about it so does that mean she actually does think I could be or am a lesbian?

And with that I was back down the rabbit hole over something that was so incredibly silly.

She also asked if I was pregnant multiple times saying that before we left I was gone for several hours so how could she know what I have or have not done, it was the same situation yet I was not worried about being pregnant. This was the same situation with the drugs question, I didn’t do drugs but she didn’t know that, so why wasn’t I freaking out over her thinking I could have possibly done drugs? All of these things are situations in which she has to take my word over it, yet I was only worried about the question about my sexuality.

Her only proof was that a year ago I had questioned my sexuality because of other people, but that does not mean that I am a lesbian.

But that is the thing about HOCD, you want 100% confirmation on something that only you can give 100% confirmation about. You want other people to tell you that you are straight, or gay if you are having intrusive thoughts about being straight when you know you are gay or a lesbian.

Intrusive thoughts cloud that 100% because you feel that they are your own when in reality they are not. Through out the day our brain produces millions upon billions of thought, most of which we don’t even remember because as soon as they come up in our heads they disappear and we don’t even know it. Yet, especially with those that struggle with anxiety and self-esteem, these intrusive thoughts sometimes surface and cloud our judgement.

This is my story, my struggle with HOCD. I have beat it once and I will beat it as many times as I need to. I know these thoughts are not mine and I know who I am. Having read many other’s stories with their struggle, I’ve decided it is finally time to share mine and help others as they struggle with me.

I am not sure anybody is going to actually read this, but if you have, thank you. I hope that my story has helped you and give some relief that you are not alone. If you want to talk I am here.

#HOCD #Intrusive Thoughts #OCD #Severe Anxiety #Help yourself #Self Help

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borrowedfeathers · 5 years

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(no reblogs, replies encouraged though)

Do you think it would be too much to ask people to tag any posts that concern pessimism about the future, along the lines of "we're all doomed" or "there's nothing really that can be done to change the current situation" when it comes to the environment or politics or anything else for that matter? I don't want to look like I'm being willfully ignorant or selfish but activist posts that use that kind of language are a major trigger for suicidal thoughts for me, or alternatively they make me wish I would go terminal despite my generally good response to treatment since dying of cancer would allow me a "convenient escape hatch" from a collapsing planet - essentially what extreme pessimism makes me think is "well if that's the case, why the hell should I wait around for the apocalypse to come crashing down if I could just die right now??"

I don't want to think that way, especially since there are some evil people out there that I'm determined on outliving, but those thoughts are incredibly persistent and anyone who's followed me long enough knows that I've written about this mental pattern (largely driven by OCD) several times in the past few years so this isn't new, nor showing any signs of going away. But even thinking about asking people to tag that stuff makes me have the worst kind of "you don't know how to handle the real world" thoughts, which just digs the hole deeper.

If people are willing to tag posts with that kind of language, would "future pessimism" be an okay thing to ask people to label it as? That feels less loaded than "doomsaying" since although I'm often inclined to call it that I doubt that anyone who isn't running a death cult would openly admit to doomsaying.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #suicide #cat in convalescence

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artgirllullaby · 5 years

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The truth below this... “me”

So another year huh? And all I did was… mostly be absent.

Come on, I think by this point every single one out there who follow me noticed, either you’re close, far, if you follow for my work, fanfics, or whatever, you saw that last year I did pretty much… nothing.

That comes partially from procrastination, I won’t lie, but… There’s a whole lot that was happening that I kept out to very few, and when I say this I mean that even my parents, brothers and best friends didn’t know some stuff. Only recently I got better to get in contact and talk it out to them and say all the good and the horrible that had been on my mind.

And while I know most want to share the good that happened in 2018, I need to say it wasn’t that good year for me, and to get it out, I want to say it all out and be honest. Then I know there’s nothing I need to hide or be scared of sharing because… if there’s to be known, it’s just to click to read.

That’s why I’m writing this. And because of of the stuff here is very sensible and can be triggering to some, I’m putting on the below. So… avoid the triggers by reading the tags if you have any of them, and if you do but still wish to know how I am, feel free to contact me, ok? I assure things are better now, but if you need a bit more of ease, I don’t mind doing so.

If you decide not to read, just know It’s been a very hard thing on me, but I’m getting better and I’m taking care and getting help and trying my best to keep my hopes and myself up. I’m thankful you cared to read this and I understand if you can’t read any further because of the tags. Thank for considering yourself too and not taking a hit “for my sake”, it makes me actually happy that you consider putting yourself in the position to know where your limits are and to know you can’t go further. Proud of you, little one. If you feel like, don’t think twice before hitting my ask or inbox, ok? Hugs, thanks for being here still.

#personal #me #lullytalks #venting #anxiety #depression #stress #mentalinstability #TW #twseflharming #twsuicide #twanxiety #twdepression #twstress #twgad #twdd #triggering #Triggerwarning

For you who decided to click the button to continue reading anyway, Please remember I’m writing this at once and also that you’re free to stop at any signals of discomfort, unease or triggers. Thank you for taking time to read this anyways.

2018 had been many things, it had been fun and tiring and stressful, and even enjoyable for a bit. But as many other stuff in life, when silence keeps to long it can be taken as a bad omen to bad happenings.

If you ever played Jenga, then you know how it works; if you don’t, it’s basically taking a piece on the base and putting on top and hoping that it doesn’t break down in your turn. Which in the game is fun because you have to think over your decision to what piece to move and not move the tower and the pressure you have makes it fun… In real life? makes you wonder “why one takes the weight in the base of a structure to move to the top if that overweights the top which will obviously make the project/structure fail because the base cannot hold that weight and so it will go down eventually?!”

And well, that was my in 2018, a whole big game of Jenga in which my life are the pieces, and people around me are players as me and the game is ok to everyone but me.

Some of you know, I had a co-worker who had been basically unbearable to work with from the moment she found herself pregnant, and by the law the company can’t fire her until her baby is born and a bit older (around 6-7 months older she gets the licensed and secured), and so after her time secured was over the company did fire her because of her behaviour borderline toxic/abusive toward others. Things finally where getting a bit better with the substitute and things going better in company.

I had been having difficulties with my mother, who has becoming more controlling and hovering over me. If wasn’t enough our communication that was bad begins to go to ruin to worse, rotting to the point I’m back to when I was 15 and I saw her as a stranger. I try to change and get closer. Here is the funny thing about relationships, if doesn’t matter if it’s a friend, a lover, your soulmate, your husband, your sister, your parent, your cousin, your godmother, your father-in-law or whatever that person means to you, as an universal law, it takes both parts and effort to make it work and flow.

And there I was, trying to arrange something we do, we try to speak, to voice out things that hurt and annoys me for us to change for better, because that’s how it should work. One speaks, the other listen, then it’s their turn and so after both saying their sides they try to come in a middle term or a point they can agree on to live better and no one is bitter over the matter.

But that was not what happens. Mom takes the cards I lay on the table and use against me, she takes things on the past against me, she flips the table and now she’s being accused and she’s the victim and I’m the one who’s blind to see how hard she tries to make us all happy and ungrateful, on how I keep pulling distance and I stop talking and avoid talking. I’m the one who doesn’t know she gave up her college, to work and make an career on her own, that father comes tired and deserves to rest for working hard everyday to never miss anything at home, and that she has to bare my sister OCD and ADHD while I’m not there, that she has to keep the house well and do everything… And so, yet again, my voice is cut. I lose courage, my anxiety rises, and I’m afraid of saying anything to anyone, I’m afraid to be a burden, to bother anyone.

I laid on bed that night in silence as I stare at the blank wall and listen to whatever music is on my playlist. Because I know, I fucking know how much their lives could be different for a number of factors, one of them being the fact if I wasn’t born on the worst timing as I did, I know in numbers how much that could have changed, even if my father makes sure to assure me it’s nothing he regrets or I did wrong, I know it wasn’t planned and I know too, it could have changed everything.

Piece moved by mother, my turn is skipped. The player can’t play with shaking hands.

The temporary at work was dismissed, not because someone was finally contracted, but because the boss thought we could do without it. Now, how a company survive without it finances department? Yep, it doesn’t. So they pick someone they think they can reply on to do the job, and then guess what? There I am. Working with numbers and money and it’s stressing more and more since I really didn’t applied for this and it does make me nervous. Then I find a list of mistakes the temporary left and I have to fix, plus more work… and meanwhile I am doing that, my own work papers are there waiting in my table just piling up to the moment I finish up and go do them. Which makes me more stressed, because as long I take to do them, the rest of office needs to wait to keep the workflow. So there I am, working for two, being paid for one, getting some extra hours, and getting exhausted.

My boss moves another piece.

Therapist notice I’m getting more stressed, and things had been getting me easier and some triggers are getting back. I’m getting more and more unstable. She makes some tests and takes another look on my whole history with her on the last 2 years, she also takes a look on my medication and notice there was a change for a higher dose, and now it’s twice a day. She’s worried, she tell my parents to show up and talks to my father (cause mother didn’t show up - a piece of my Jenga went missing), only after a few more sessions she gives me a diagnosis: GAD, aka Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I’m not progressing in my treatment, in fact, with everything going on with me, I got worse and instead of moving to eventually not need therapy, I need the sessions now more than ever.

My mind moves a base piece, the tower balance a bit.

Things continue going on, everyday begins to be harder and I find myself more tired. Sometimes I get home from work and just take a bath and sleep. I’m missing my appetite, I’m slowly cutting ties with friends and stop talking to them or most of them and taking distance without anyone noticing. I hardly access social media for exceptional to check a thing around here or there. I begin to get anxiety when I try to write once again and begin to be ashamed on myself and my cycle of self-punishment for not being able to write any longer or often, nor I have courage to say anyone besides the therapist all that’s going on.

Even so I try to make an apology and explain at least the part that because I’m working by two and being too stressed and tried is sadly taking out on my creativity, many agree and support and decide to give me the space am I thankful for… Still the two people I considered dearly as readers hurt deeply as I come to known their true meaning. That they already disliked the story on the point it is, that I should have just put as finished and given up and stop writing, and then suddenly other people who I didn’t even know begin to say things on the back and… I just wonder what happened to the respect and honesty I had asked from the beginning. To see so much hate suddenly going out of nowhere was surely discouraging, and on the state I was, I was not only discouraged as I was intimidated to even think on continuing.

Next thing I know is that just as my originals, I am unable to open any of my fanfictions and work on them. I shake, I break down on tears, I get too nervous, I’m unable to concentrate, I begin to question if they were right and if everyone else was just sorry of pitying on me or if they just played along. Then all the files stay in there with the originals, blocked in my unstable mind unable to product anything worthy.

Unknown people move some pieces, the tower shakes.

...

A week can be such a long period of time for some things, and a short for another and sometimes, for the very same reasons. To be fair I still don’t know to say if was a quick or a slow week since there are blanks in my memory and I just have the impact ones. But one thing I can tell for sure, it was a hell of a week.

Monday begins with my mother waking me up and hurrying up to get ready, she still doesn't notice that I’m not well. I try my best to get ready fast as I can, I take my purse to get in the car and get a ride to go to therapy and then go work. I open the door, she already took the car out and look at me; I just have to climb and it will be fine.

She look to me, than take a turn and accelerates the car, so there’s no time for me to catch up. And I am left there with my hand on the door looking on the empty place where I could have climbed the car just by few seconds, but she couldn’t wait because her class was more important than my therapy session. Because her appointment was more important than me in that moment there.

Another piece goes missing.

I’m taken by such sudden sadness and hurt that I wasn’t able to stand or breathe, I stay in the couch for a bit, my sister offer to take me to the therapist in her way to college, I just shake my head. I find out I got no voice, not even strength to talk or even look at her, but she shrugs and go. I somehow make to the bed and lay in there, sleeping. It’s the first time in 3 years I miss a day of work - I didn’t miss even when got sick -, I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t eat, I don’t have water, I don’t go out the bed, I just stay in there and sleep or stare at the blank wall trying to understand what is the feeling inside me. My therapist text me and I lie saying I had a problem, but will show up later in the week.

The next event is after I am able to speak better again, which I’m not sure if was next afternoon or two days. I walk into my therapist office and then find out my health insurance decided to cut the therapy sessions I still had, they want the word of any other doctor saying I do need the therapy and I need to do that in every 3 months or they won’t allow me to continue my treatment. I try to argue with them and reason that I wouldn’t be going if wasn’t necessary, still they say it’s a new rule to everyone so no exceptions. I can’t go to therapy, nor my therapist can treat me out her office, to pay each session it’s out my reach and I already pay for health insurance that should and does cover my treatment, so these rules make absolutely no sense… All I know is that I need my other endocrinologist to give me permission to get treatment, even if there’s nothing to do with her, and the appointment I have is a month away.

Health takes a piece. The tower starts shifting.

I make a huge mistake at work. Because my head isn’t in place I misunderstand the information I am given and end up messing up part of the payment I needed to do. I paid the wrong provider, the other one who does need the payment is stuck and now the central need to find a way to locate the other guy because until the right provider gets the payment he are getting behind track. I get stuck the whole day stuck between fixing my mistake, calming the provider and having to listen silently my boss calling me angrily for a solution.

Work moves a piece. The tower is barely standing.

It takes the next day to put my paperwork in order. the problem of paying the wrong provider still on going, but seems on a way to solution, so I could take a bit of time to focus on getting the work flowing and laughing in a way to avoiding to cry.

Last day of the week, so I can take a bit of rest, I just need hang in there a little bit. Just a few more hours and I could be home so another piece could go missing.

As we get home, my mother gets out. She starts arguing with me and father, ordering we don’t even leave the car, cause my sister needs assistance. I immediately think of the worst as she just is learning to drive and than my father replies it’s not that big deal the car failed her. I am between angry and confused, angry for worrying for a minute that it was something dangerous, confused to why my mother is making such a fuss over the car simply failing on my sister trying to turn it on and making such a fuss on having my father go there.

Things begin to scalates as she raises her voice and begins to argue with him and she tries to calm her, only making her angrier and then threatening to make a scandal and break the car window if he didn’t go. And then changing her mind to do it if he didn’t get out and let her go alone and get out the car.

Neighbors were already starting to look, I was the only in home by them aside the two, tired, getting triggered by all the stress and situation, anxious and then… something snapped.

The tower fell down as I touched to move a piece.

Somehow I took my mother hand and said determined enough for her to get in the car that they both should go. That I wanted them out the house, out of my reach and out the house. She listened by some miracle and I got inside breaking down right after before blanking out.

August 13rd, 2018. I probably won’t ever forget this date. It was a friday, I can remember clearly because it I just had laughed on the irony that it was a friday 13rd and it was being so bad on me at work. It was night and the dog was around me as if he sensed something was wrong… or he just wanted to go for a walk.

Things are blank, as if for the moment I broke down I wasn’t really there, like wasn’t me in my body, or taking control, or too shocked and overwhelmed to notice anything and just let it move and do whatever my brain decided it was best to.

Now that I used Jenga example I find it as a perfect example to explain that blank moment. It’s the moment a player found themselves holding or just after placing the piece and everything comes tumbling down, there’s a paralyzing moment that everyone around stay still in shock watching the tower fall in a mix of wonder and confusion to move only after all the pieces stopped to fall, then you and others try to evaluate how it failed the strategy before picking the pieces around to put the Jenga together again for another round.

That was that blank moment, the moment of wonder and confusion, of complete loss in which I lose myself and the control to the point I don’t even remember how things happened exactly.

All I know is that suddenly I had a knife on my hand and was standing on my kitchen and looking on my other arm.

;

I took one breath, I had went to the kitchen and started to something to relief myself. I took a second breath, I decided to hurt myself because the punishment of all my wrongs seemed like a way to relief back then. I took a third breath, I was just about to cut myself; I don’t know if would be a deep cut on my wrist, arms, lightly or whatever, but definitely wasn’t a good thing that I was up to take hurting myself to that point, and worse, to have no idea on how far I would have gone if I just suddenly get back into my senses in that seconds. I took another breath, I put the knife back in the drawer and close it.

I start to cry again, but for another reason.

Because it had been 10 years. Ten fucking years I had celebrated and considered successful just to find it this demon back again on me. I’m not just depressed and anxious as I thought. I’m back to when I was 15, in this very same kitchen when I sat in the table with a knife on a hand and a bunch of mixed medicines on the other side as I watched the clock and decided when I would put the end.

I’m suicidal again.

;

It’s enough, and I’m done. I just… couldn’t. I put myself on bed, in a way of self-grounding, I decide I will not leave the bed for the next days or talk to anyone unless necessary. And I did well, because I seriously had no idea what I would be able to do if I left that bed in the state I was.

Only in the third day I speak to my closest friends about it all and get some relief, I listen to music to try keep my heart from failing me. I am unable to be back on me again for months, I get back on therapy. I get diagnosis that my depression got in the stage of Deep Depression and at this point, my therapist alone isn’t able to do much alone. I’m somewhere between trying to recover and accepting things are just as they are. She recommends me to get assistance in a group with my family and send to my father, I decide to give a try even if not giving much hope.

My father doesn’t receive the message. Therapist mistook for my mother number and sent to her, my mother dismiss the message and says it’s no big deal and I should not mind about it. I feel hurt she dismissed so easily without talking or even looking up to it, but on the other side I’m also accepting the fact she doesn’t take me as her daughter anymore. And little by little I realize that’s not just something from my mind, as she doesn’t talk that much with me, but with a friend she has with my age and often tries and offer help to her, and then there’s me there. I set in my mind I need to leave home so she can take the daughter she wants to adopt in, and because I need my own air.

My father realizes I’m not well and that my relationship with mother is going from bad to worse to even breaking. He tries to help, my therapist call her in once again to try warn her and tell her. She avoids and miss the meet ups just like a thief runs from the police, and I decide that if she’s not even trying at all, then I won’t either.

My medicine changes to twice a day, I’m still bad, but with therapy back I’m getting a bit better by the days. I decide to travel alone in my vacation to somewhere new and where I know no one and no one knows me.

So I find myself in Curitiba in December.

The city is pretty and with gentle people with smiles and colors around, or so I’ve seen. Maybe it was the feeling that I had space for myself, that I could take a breath and not worry about it. Which also led myself to taking a walk in the grass.

Bad things happened still, true, but to be sincerely? The worst has passed for now, other still to come and, it’s ok in a way. I’ll fall down and cry and be on the ground for a while as I need, and then take my time to recover and look up and be able to talk about too.

So it may had been I took a blind eye to the world and to the rest of you, but the truth is that I don’t. But it’s hard to discuss when there’s too much pain and hurt inside you. and as much it was egoist of me to focus on myself and turn my back to the world, sometimes is necessary. and I learned that now, sometimes it is necessary to be egoist in reason to get better and it’s ok, as long you do get better and know where are your principles.

Taking the trip made me realize that. It also make me realize that taking a time away for yourself, taking a bit to breathe is ok. That my absence in order to not hurt anyone else might have been a void, but was a void necessary for me. I needed to relearn that taking a time to walk on the grass, to look in the sky, take a breath, to look around and take a moment in life… to do any of that wouldn’t destroy the world or anyone else.

The world wouldn’t end because I needed a break. No one would die because I wasn’t able to finish or accomplish something as I wish, just as no one died so far. the one one who has been dying with all this it had been me, killing myself slowly inside out.

Now I do realize that. I’m still far from recovering, I do realize that and know very well, I still have depression episodes and anxiety attacks often, I’m still on a long way to say I’m alright. Maybe I’m never gonna be 100% fine or sane per say, maybe some part of me will always have anxiety and depression because of my brain or whatever but… I hope in that in my lowest moments I am able to look at this moment where Lullaby wrote this about the real me and I can remember to step down a bit.

I’m 25 now, I celebrated 10 years over giving up on suicide when I was 15, and after that… even if I still have suicidal traces for now and dealing with them, and even if I had a recent episode… I guess I can celebrate and count over again, so in ten year I can celebrate 2 times, right? This may be stupid and sound optimist but really… It’s just me trying to take the needle of good in the pile of garbage this all had been. Doesn’t erase the garbage and all it had been, just... trying to desperately find a little thing useful so I can say it wasn’t all Hell and throw it away like I did with my teenage years.

So this is it. I was absent and I’m recovering, right now I’m trying to get on track of writing and reading again. I am 25, diagnosed with Deep Depression, GAD, I have to take medicine to keep in control. I have to change jobs and hope to do soon. I try as much to listen and comfort everyone and make laughs because the last I want if to anyone else to feel the way I do.

And with that being said, I can breathe out and finally put the last year as it is: the past.

As I always say, let’s prepare for the bad and always hope for the best, and onwards to 2019. :)

#personal #me #lullytalks #venting #anxiety #depression #stress #mentalinstability #TW #twseflharming #twsuicide #twsuicidal #tw: suidice #tw: suicidal thoughs #twanxiety #twdepression #triggering #triggerwarning #triger warning

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issasideblog · 6 years

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Introduction!

Well, um hello lolol~

How’s it hanging?

This is my first post on this blog, I’m not even sure if I’m going to post anything, but I guess it’s a good place to post my feelings and other things.

I have no idea how to start this, so I guess I’ll just link this post on my other blog, it’ll give a shorter explanation of what’s happening right now heh.

Okay, so hopefully you’ve read that if anyone does read this, or if future me reads this then hello, hope you’re Gucci now~!

Like I said in that post, I’ve been feeling quite down recently.

I’ve always been like this, but recently it’s gotten worse and I’m not entirely sure why, the only reason I can think is that I’m changing medication.

But it doesn’t really explain why I’m constantly sad, or empty/numb

Don’t get me wrong, I do feel happy sometimes, but not a lot.

I don’t have many friends, but I don’t mind to be honest.

I’ve always struggled with friends, this is apparently because I have Autism (there’s that too lolol~), so I’ve never really had friends for a long time.

But, I have one close friend (my best friend) the others are just people I hang out with at school, since I don’t really leave my house.

I don’t really like the others too much, I know that sounds mean. But I’ve always struggled with attachment.

I don’t get attached easily, especially after I found out that they were talking about me behind my back.

Every single friendship I’ve ever had has ended like that, so I kind of don’t trust many people.

I said above that I rarely leave my house, this is for many reasons I guess.

1. I’m scared of people.

That sounds kind of weird in a way if you don’t understand.

I hate meeting new people, and being around other people makes me incredibly nervous, but I don’t really show it.

I can’t make eye contact with people (another thing to do with my autism heh)

2. It triggers my OCD

This also sounds kind of weird, but I’ll explain.

I have really bad OCD (Which could also be part of my autism apparently) but I hate being touched, and as soon as someone touches me I feel contaminated and have to wash.

I can’t sit in any place, beside my bed without feeling dirty and having to wash.

Nobody can sit on my bed, or I have to change my bedding.

If I don’t shower I feel disgusting but sometimes I have no motivation to shower which makes me feel even worse.

3. I’m paranoid

I constantly feel like I’m being watched, no matter what I’m doing. I could just be sat in my room (like I am right now) and feel like I’m being watched. It stops me doing certain things (like exercising) and I have to change really fast.

Being outside triggers this even more, I feel like everyone is watching me and judging me, or that I’m being followed.

To be honest, I just prefer being inside. I feel safer I suppose, but not entirely safe.

My school life is even worse.

My grades are terrible, so is my attendance.

I struggle to get out of bed on a morning, because I’m exhausted, I have no motivation and I honestly don’t see the point, I feel like I’m not going to live long enough anyway.

That sounds like I’m going to kill myself, but I wouldn’t because it would hurt people I care about, I guess.

I find it hard to believe people care about me, but I don’t want to risk them being hurt.

But, I’m very clumsy and kind of self-destructive. I don’t really look after myself, and often miss meals and don’t eat or drink for ages.

Recently, I’ve started sleeping in school.

I’ll just be listening to the teacher talk and lose focus and just fall asleep.

I fell asleep in my exams, which I failed.

That made me sad, but no one knew heh, people that knew got mad/judged me heh.

I literally have no energy, so I try sleep whenever I can.

Min Yoongi who?

I have no motivation to try in school, even though I want to.

I haven’t done homework in three years, nor have I tried hard.

I don’t have good relationships with teachers because of this. They hate me heh.

I sometimes skip lessons, which makes them hate me even more.

My maths teacher now despises me because me and my friend didn’t go to her lesson and gave us a detention (which I couldn’t go to because I wasn’t at school because I was too depressed heh, but my friend did so she doesn’t hate her). But another girl skipped the lesson and didn’t get into trouble which I found rude.

Now my maths teacher treats me like crap and will pick on me any chance she gets which makes me feel like crap and stops me going to her lesson.

I’ve nearly been expelled three times, which was a rollercoaster lmao.

But the latest was last year:

Like I said in my other post, I have Bipolar disorder, which gives me severe mood swings.

During this incident, I was in a manic state, I literally couldn’t control myself it’s kind of like being drunk in a way?

Anyway, me and this teacher were messing around in maths and he said something that I can’t remember and my manic self (please remember I had no control over this, I couldn’t control myself) said

‘Screw you too’

I don’t even know what happened, but he got pissed and yelled at me.

Then sent me out.

A while later, my best friend brought my bag out and I got sent to the deputy head (I think that’s who he is I honestly have no idea lmao).

I later found out she brought my bag out because my actual maths teacher (not the one that sent me out) said if she brought me it, I’d accuse her of doing something to it.

Probably not wrong tbh

Yeah, so I got sent to the maybe deputy head, I don’t know guy for the rest of the lesson (it was my last period, so I could go home straight after). He made me, my best friend and our ex best friend stay behind, except my ex best friend ran off.

We both had to give a statement of what happened????

(This is kind of turning into me talking shit about my school whoops)

But then yeah, my best friend said she didn’t want to do it in case they lied against us, but she was forced to.

THEY DID LIE AGAINST US IT WAS RIDICULOUS.

Around this time, I was being forced to stay behind because I was missing school.

Apparently, it was to ‘catch up’ but I didn’t do anything besides sit there???

So, it was basically a detention, even though my reason for missing school was my mental illness.

Anyway, I was forced to write an apology letter to both teachers, even though I didn’t do anything to one of them?

The whole screw you was literally a joke??? I thought we were messing around which we were.

Anyway yeah, they refused to let me leave until I did it.

(I couldn’t get out without them letting me)

I can’t remember what I wrote but my head teacher had to help me because I refused to write it, because in my mind (and many others) I didn’t do anything wrong, I couldn’t help my actions and they knew it.

But yeah, I was forced to do this, and went home crying.

My parents were pissed.

I’m pretty sure they called the school and told them to retract the apology or something. I don’t wanna ask now lmfao.

So, them both the maths teacher and the other one that I said it to (he’s now my physics teacher and is nice to me??? but it’s gucci) hated me and so I stopped showing up to that lesson, and form (she was my form tutor)

EVERY MATHS TEACHER I’VE HAD IN SECONDARY HAS HATED ME WTH WHY AM I SO UNLIKABLE???

Anyway, my school didn’t believe me when my parents told them I had bipolar disorder.

The school phoned my doctor without us knowing, and asked if I actually had it.

My doctor phoned my parents because it’s confidential and they needed permission, which we gave.

But yeah there’s that too.

I have so many bad incidents in school what even

Because of my disorder and other shizzle, I have a lot of appointments, I miss a lot of school.

At one point my teacher (the physics/screw you guy. Why is he always in this? He’s nice now but still) told me I should cancel them.

I can be really suicidal and put myself and others in danger do you really want that, buddy?

But now, they’re demanding all letters of my appointments, but it’s confidential????

Like uh no go away, my mental illness don’t get your own they suck.

My PE teacher (I am so tempted to give her name because I really don’t like her but I’m not actual that mean, she also might see this and sue me lolol) is one of the worse for dealing with my illness tbh, despite the fact her brother killed himself.

This next part is probably gonna sound really attention seeky but meh, I’m just going to be honest here, because honesty is the best policy.

She treats everyone else really nice (except a recent incident with my best friend) but it comes to me and she’s horrible.

She ignores it, and/or blames it on me (this is another thing entirely ugh).

One time I was really depressed in physics (ITS THE SCREW YOU TEACHER AGAIN FGS LMAO) and he was like ‘I’ll email pe teacher and tell her’ but instead of telling her I was sad, he said I refused to work????

I was sat in the changing rooms, basically crying and she comes in and yells at me for not doing pe.

(side note: I don’t do PE because of my paranoia, insecurity and OCD heh)

I haven’t done pe in three years wth you know this???

Then she goes

“Do you want to talk about it? Never mind you never do.” and walks out.

I don’t like talking to others about my feelings, because in my mind they don’t care and I’m just a bother to them.

In year seven, I was forced to go to the school councillor.

She brought another girl (who for the record, is horrible and I really don’t like her).

She then started talking about my bipolar and saying stuff meaning the horrible girl knew all aboout my private stuff.

The councillor then went on to say my disorder is my own fault????

Apparently, I was just hanging around with the wrong people and not having enough confidence??

No, I have a mental illness, I can’t prevent it.

Trigger warning: self-harm

A few years ago, I used to cut myself (I don’t anymore) and my teacher was trying to force me to take my jumper off, and at some point, I got in trouble for cutting myself h e c c.

A few weeks ago, I told my teacher about how I was struggling with body issues and starving myself. She asked me how I was once but did nothing else.

If it wasn’t for my friend and parents realising I could have starved myself to death, and she would have watched it happen.

I even wrote a song about it recently and it was obvious it was about me, but my teacher read it (it was for an assessment) and said nothing.

Alas I cannot think of any more incidents at school, there are literally too many.

Ever since an early age, I’ve struggled with sleep.

I can go days without sleeping or sleep all day.

This sometimes actually depends on my bipolar.

If I’m manic, I can stay up for days, if I’m depressed I can and most likely will, sleep for days.

I also have something called delayed sleep phase syndrome (Jesus I have a lot of problems)

So, my sleeping schedule is messy.

It’s literally 7:30am and I haven’t slept even though I’m exhausted.

My whole life I’ve had low self-esteem.

I hate everything about myself.

This could be because I’ve been bullied my whole life.

One of my biggest issues is with my weight (You can probably tell where this is going so trigger warning)

I’ve always gone through phases of not eating for days, or rarely eating but recently has been the worse it’s ever been.

I was barely eating, I’d go days without eating, sometimes I would force myself to throw up.

I was constantly over exercising and sometimes I would lose all energy and I’d just collapse to the floor and couldn’t get up, but I’d still push myself.

I lost all my energy, which led to me sleeping at school, as you read above.

I even nearly fell asleep while walking home once.

I told my teacher this too once, not the whole thing, just that I was insecure and wasn’t really eating (like you read above) and she didn’t do anything.

Like I said, I have low self-esteem so I rarely like myself.

I constantly think my friends hate me, this is also because almost everyone prefers my best friend to me and leave me for her.

I think I’m unlikable, and honestly, I’m sure it’s true, no matter what others say.

No matter how many compliments and things I get, I never believe it, they just make me think I’m being pranked and people are laughing at my reactions.

I also get intrusive thoughts sometimes.

I’ll just be doing something and thoughts about me being worthless and other things like that will bombard my mind, or I will get thoughts about killing myself or killing others and I can’t stop it.

It’s just something that happens to me now, to the point it rarely bothers me.

I sometimes, not often, hear things and hallucinate.

This is rare though but has been happening more and more often recently.

They’re usually voices telling me my friends don’t like me, I’m worthless, stupid, they insult me and things like that. They also just repeat things I’ve heard during the day really loudly.

I’ve never really told anyone this.

I sometimes see flashes of faces and people in my sight, I’m not sure if that’s hallucinations but yeah.

Above I said that I’ve always had bad friends, besides now.

One of my worst was being bullied constantly, I don’t even know why I tried being their friends, I was very naive.

One of them still hates me rip.

He’s dangerous now so you know, kind of paranoid.

Another friendship was when one girl’s mother was a drug dealer and they all tried pressuring me into doing drugs and smoking with them.

I never did, I just came up with a lie it wasn’t hard to be honest.

They probably knew but who cares?

Earlier on I said I have paranoia (if it can be called that).

But yeah, I feel like I’m being watched all the time, no matter what I’m doing.

I’m not sure who, but I just feel like someone out there is watching me either through my window (so I always have my curtains closed), through my camera (so I always have them covered) or through a hidden camera in my room which I can’t do anything about.

I once hid under my covers because it got too much, but the feeling was still there.

I’m suddenly exhausted.

My mind has gone blank, but I’ll try post more I guess, if I remember, or have something to write about.

Thank you for reading!

I hope you have a good day/night! ^-^ <3

I’ve probably made loads of mistakes here because I suck hEH SORRY

#I need a nap #Mental health #mental illness #bipolar #bipolar disorder #anxitey #depression #paranoia #hallucination #hallucinatory #auditory halluctionation #insomnia

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michaelmotorcycle2 · 5 years

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My solution...OCD, part 3A and part of 3B revised on 11/2

Part III,a

I suppose I should give several examples, because the method called disassociation I use is not as easy as first glance may suggest. The difficulty associated with a method of disassociation depends on the user. If one struggles to see how on earth anyone could find a solution for x when 2x + 3y =25, 4x - 2y = 34 and x +2y = 23 then you may not see what makes disassociation a challenge and will think it is as they say, easy peazy. Good for you, and I am not being sarcastic, because ignorance of... can, with certainty, be bliss.

As a matter of fact, I am certain I am glad I am ignorant of seeing the future, because on one hand it would be nice to know what horse would win the race, but more importantly I would not be emotively equipped to deal with knowing of the horrible event that will occur in 3 days. Why? Presumably the event is one that I have no ability in which to effect an outcome. Knowing in advance my best friend is going up in flames in an airline crash 3 days from now with out the ability to effect change would be too much for me to handle.

The next two sections will explore two examples involving disassociation. The first example primarily has (is) as the culprit. The second example has (not) as the culprit. In each, I will show the reader why the part of me that is reflected in my finding the solution to x in the preceding example easy makes disassociation more of a challenge for me than perhaps with others, but if you can pull it off the method is excellent with respect to sending anxiety to zero almost immediately.

Before I start the first example let me high-light or summarize several observations:

1st:

In general my issue is with patterns of speech such as (is) which has as its source multiple meanings such as our allowing the term to mean what follows (is) has an association with what precedes (is) where this association is very general and can be many things including by being a constituent part of the preceding object or by perhaps being an emotive attitude regarding... or name used as a stand in for the preceding object. In sentence form there is no apparent difference between (is) meaning part of, and (is) meaning has as its name. For me this creates the same effect that one would get by letting alive mean both 'alive' and 'dead' followed by saying, "my child is not alive." This often is too emotively disturbing, at least for me, and has been one of the triggers involved.

What I find interesting is knowledge is not sufficient to attenuate the disturbance I feel when an object is being suggested as having an objective property which in reality is false. What do I mean? Were alive to be allowed to have two meanings where one meaning is 'alive' and the other meaning is 'dead' in spite of knowing what was meant when I said "my child is not alive" its not ever emotively OK with me to verbally model reality in this fashion, at all. I want to at the very least remove such a definition for me, if no one else. Additionally, I do not want to change or desensitize myself to misleading language such as what is being highlighted in this essay at all. In terminology I recently read, I'd rather drink acid before desensitizing myself to triggers such as these I am writing with respect to.

2nd:

In general my issue with (not) also is due to misleading meanings that have been allowed by not having well-defined be much of a priority by those that gave us our current language. Rather than spending any time on this specific issue I will let example 2 explain the problems caused by (not) being other than well defined. Again this issue is not one that desensitizing myself to misleading language is something that I will tolerate.

3rd:

In general, had language been well thought out in a manner that mathematicians must utilize otherwise conjectures can not become proven theorems I doubt that OCD would be a term I was intimately familiar with. Oh well I am, and I have had to adapt to the triggers and the examples are two fold in that they exemplify the structure that serves as the trigger and how I have been able to, in a sense, remove or deactivate the trigger.

4th:

There will be some that having read this essay would like to lecture me like a wayward school child for welcoming belief/denial and removing for myself language that suggests emotive attitudes that they prefer to see portrayed as objective properties of the object being referenced... Good for them, and here I am being a bit sarcastic, because all they would accomplish is relaying their feelings in a manner that most likely was presented so as to suggest objective and I would inwardly think of the photograph of the individual holding a sign that read "Thank You for Sharing Your Feelings" behind the protester holding the sign, "Homosexuality is a Sin!" Otherwise, I get it, some or many are hardwired to view the world in a manner that coincides with their emotions and for them this is not a problem because they can't see the edge of their emotive lens that otherwise would tell them differently. Plus, like me they are not willing to change their emotive attitudes or responses either. And, of course they consider their attitude as right, probably where right is somehow the objective-right. Why, because evolution hardwired them to do so, since the scheme often but not always leads to more likely to survive regardless of the intellect that accompanies the faculty for emotion.

Example 1:

In this example I am using the symbol Nigger because it is very emotively disturbing, especially for those of the black race. However, to show subtle but important differences the symbol is being utilized two different ways. The first use is rather easy to disassociate but the second usage is challenging if you can easily see abstract structures in a manner that is clear and comprehensible. In my examples I am being pedantic so as to most convey what others may not see so that perhaps they too can, for the first time, see the challenges that may, depending on the individual, be involved?

To provide preliminary required information I need to share the following. Why this information is required will become apparent once we look in detail at the examples I have provided.

{

1: Previously I had mentioned that (is) has multiple meanings which I have more or less consolidated into four classes or four general meanings. One meaning indicates what: precedes (is) has what follows (is) as a constituent part of it the object that precedes (is). This meaning is seen in: "The 1963 Kennedy half dollar is silver." Another meaning of (is) indicates: the object, let's call it alpha, that precedes (is) has associated with it what follows (is) by what follows (is) stands in for or represents alpha. This second meaning is seen in: "He is Joe."

2:A: Suppose you wanted a symbol to stand in for the concept of an object having 4 sides and a bottom assembled in a specific manner such that the object has a volume of space within the 5 pieces making up the object.

B: Let's not be unique and let the symbol that represents the concept from above be 'box.'

C: OK, we have this:

'Box' refers to our mental integration of side1, side2, side3, side4, and bottom, into the concept or model of an object assembled in a specific manner.

D: If we were teaching a child we would find an appropriate object and while pointing at the object say, 'box' represents or stands in for it, the object pointed at, understand Joey? Since 'box' stands in for the object that is being pointed at by the adult; the adult will also say to Joey, "It is box." Here the meaning of (is) indicates what 'it" is pointing at has as a symbol of representation, 'box.' We all have been on both sides of this phenomenon and through repetition the symbol takes on meaning within our mind.

*E: With the above in mind and using the parts involved in 'box' as an example: If you had a stack of bottom pieces to an un-assembled box and picked one of the pieces up you would have in your hand a part of what 'box' represents or stands in for. Why? Because by allowing (is) to indicate representation as in, [(the four sides and bottom assembled as...) is a (box)] we also allow for (the bottom I hold in my hand) is part of a (box) or partially a (box). This last observation may seem to be "why bother" at the moment, but later in this essay it will take on importance.

}

Part A of example 1:

Let us use Nigger as the symbol and let us give this symbol only the attribute of being a name that stands in for a specific person or subset of humanity. Here we can simply disassociate the symbol from both the group and the individual as easily as changing your name. How do we do this? We think: Nigger does not represent the specified subset of humanity. What we just thought is true for our self because representation is a property of one's mind not a property of the symbol or the object that someone is allowing the symbol to stand in for.

However, I emotively need Nigger to have no meaning, period. I suspect I am not alone. Hence, I will allow my self further disassociation by choosing to belief Nigger does not nor can it stand in for anything at all. Did I bend reality to obtain the removal of an emotive disturbance? I sure did. As a comparison, I imagine that many would say "It's not right or correct" to use Nigger as a representation of them or another. I also imagine their not-right for them is being seen as a constituent part of what is being referenced otherwise some how objective.

Unfortunately, their not-right is emotive and in reality amounts to saying the key does not match or partially match the lock because I don't want it to. This view really is not much comfort without the added on belief that the 'not-right' being used is objective, meaning a constituent part of what is being referenced. I don't bend reality like those that turn an emotive not-right somehow into an objective not-right because it offers problems elsewhere. I bend reality by believing what I find emotively disturbing is completely impossible and therefore objectively not-right meaning false as a result of can not exist. The end result is essentially equivalent except I am not a fan of envisioning subjective views as being somehow objective, but I am not opposed to believing objective attributes such as false or true are fitting when emotively necessary. So, yes, we bend reality to remove emotive disturbances, not just myself.

The first half of this example was essentially easy and amounted to removing Nigger as a symbol that referenced an object or any object in one's environment. The next piece of this example is where disassociation becomes a bit more of a challenge.

Part B of example 1:

Now suppose Nigger stands in for an internalized concept/model that I will later call Z so that I don't have to retype the verbalized model multiple times. In this part of the example I am letting Z stand in for: "ape-like, human-like, dumb, black, two-eyed, two-legged,..being." Here, Nigger is more than just a name for it carries with it a concept as well and the symbol Nigger only serves to deliver the concept to whomever Nigger is directed at. Simply disassociating the symbol would not be sufficient for one also needs to disassociate the concept as well. One might think that, I am not Nigger nor Z is sufficient? Is it? Let's examine the question:

1st:

If you are like me then you need more than "I am not Nigger" because you emotively need "not at all" attached to the denial because any link to or association with Nigger is emotively disturbing for you. Let me explain this a bit with a mental experiment:

Imagine you and your mates taking what is strictly pejorative such as asshole or worse followed by each in the group attempting to strip away the pejorative. Now ask yourself, how well the following resonates within you: All your mates in the office use asshole in lieu of other pronouns for each other from then on.

I don't think what I asked you to imagine will succeed for long; if it even were to get off the ground. Why? In a sense the pejorative meaning is like radiation that takes a very long time for its harmful effect to be neutralized, where time needed may be measured in generations. We, certainly me, can not, nor do I want to, divorce negative associations on whim or by will and they have a way of poisoning what ever is attached to them as well. Hence, I am not comfortable at all with out having "not at all" attached to the denial.

One also must remember that issues or sensitivities like this are idiosyncratic and, by example, just because I was OK with riding down the steep hill from Altamont NY when I was 18 years old did not mean my friend Jim felt the same way. After all he had a different set of emotional associations that came from having his face peeled off by going thru a windshield on the very same hill. And please let us not become pretentious by saying an-others sensitivity is not-right where this phrase, by the language used, is meant to suggest not-right is objective. The not-right is emotive and simply is indicating you are not in emotive agreement with one having the particular sensitivity and I feel more than a bit arrogant although at times I prefer feel more than a bit stupid to think or pretend otherwise.

2nd:

Needing 'not at all' attached to the denial creates a problem of its own when using language that treats Nigger and its associated concept like they are real. The issues at first glance may be unseen but are emotively disturbing once seen. What do I mean? Remember item E which I placed * in front of the E and had said this will be important later on, well now is where its significance manifests itself. If we treat, as real, the concept I called Z that Nigger referred to where the symbol Nigger serves to deliver the concept to whomever Nigger is directed at we have an issue to deal with:

Issue:

How well does being part or partially a Nigger resonate with you? I ask because in the same way that the bottom of the box one held in their hand was part of or partially a box as seen in item E, the way I structured Z we have (two eyes) are part of or partially a Nigger. I can do without this being a fact of life I have to live with as much as any woman can do without women being inferior to men is a fact of life they have to accept and get over. So one way or another I am removing what otherwise is a disturbance that I just can't tolerate.

In one sense the issue of being part or wholly a Nigger is easy to remove and that comes from we need to recognize Nigger as a realized being is as real as the Unicorn and change our language to reflect this. Hence like the Unicorn, where real, does not exist and not-Unicorn, where in not-Unicorn, Unicorn is real, also does not exist we have: I am neither Nigger nor not-Nigger nor am I part Nigger nor not-part Nigger. Essentially what the previous sentence is saying is I am not nothing nor am I part nothing.

OK, are we done with this issue? Unfortunately not. Why?

Because, what I can't forget is that the Z someone created in their imagination is like the case involving the Unicorn. Where Unicorn can also represent a conceptualized structure having specified or inferred attributes. Where this structure is real only as a concept but not real beyond just being an assembled and imagined structure out of one's imagination much like a fictional vehicle in a movie or novel. Again, I am not really fond of saying I am somewhat or partly the conceptualized 'Z which has two eyes and two legs." Frankly, I don't know anyone, certainly not me, who would really tolerate "I am somewhat or partly, "ape-like, human-like, dumb, black, two-eyed, two-legged,..being." Do you?

What do we do with this last issue? There are some I imagine who will let their emotive objection to having partially being the concept of a Nigger be fitting for them be translated into "it just is not-right" and somehow believe this removes their being partly the conceptualized Nigger. If they can, fine. I can't. So, what do I do. One of two things.

Either

I allow via belief the concept to also be as real as the Unicorn, hence, because I allow my self to believe the concept completely does not exist, I think once again: I am neither at all. Followed by if necessary: there is an alternative that does not provide me with what I can not tolerate and that is what I am, where I take this on faith and do not try to build the structure that supports the belief.

I simply think that there is no I am a Nigger and its components, at all, no meaning of; followed by there is an alternative to the components or structure of language in the conceptualized Nigger that does not provide me with what I can not tolerate and that dictates what I am. I take this on faith and do not try to build the structure that supports the belief. Why not? Because, the whole idea behind disassociation is to quickly end the trigger's capacity to turn on anxiety. By trying to figure out a suitable structure for the belief to be realized as in detail all one accomplishes is igniting anxiety and once it burns its harder to put out. So, again I don't try and it is remarkable at how well the method works and here I'll send my thank you card to evolution for having given us denial and belief in our tool box.

Both methods in the preceding paragraph for addressing the issue is very much the use of faith as seen in conjunction with various religions. If being partly a Nigger did not disturb me in a manner that a woman would surely be very disturbed by from needing or being required to accept men as superior, then, I would not need to use belief as a tool or disassociation as a tool. However, that is not the case and I am not in emotive agreement with changing my emotive sensitivity at all, so it is this or nothing and I'd rather live and be productive than live as the tormented.

This particular example may or may not be extremely upsetting to me and I was merely using it to convey the concept, however cases that I kept private are very emotively upsetting to me. Regardless of how I end up disassociating the disturbing issue the result is the same in that almost immediately the anxiety goes to zero and from having built from scratch the electronics device that changes a computer's memory from 1 to zero I recognize that what disassociation thru belief has accomplished is very similar to sending the electrical signal feeding the machine's memory of 1 to ground such that the memory now is zero.

Part III,b

If you think I was a bit abstract and therefore hard to follow when I presented example 1 then maybe you should stop reading. By reading this far, for the outsider, one has conceivably learned a lot or recognized their self. I have a need to be both pedantic and still readable in this section and will try my best to do both although I admit what I have written is certainly not the light reading I wish it could have been. Unlike example 1 here the issue is essentially (not) where in example 1 the issue was primarily (is) which if it had not been used to assign representation and also indicate properties it probably would have never been an issue for me.

Example 2:

I will not give a precise case that triggers the unrelenting need to remove the unwanted in this example because it is liable to be distracting by raising the question, why the heck does it disturb you followed by your nutty. None of us had any choice in how evolution emotively wired us; rather, evolution can be thought of as an ongoing science experiment and much like a software engineer that tries out mapping a different color to the monitor the end result is we all tend to have our idiosyncratic differences. Hence, I will use a structure that, except for differences in the elements within the structure, are essentially the same structure where this is referred to as they are isomorphic. For example any pair of lovers sitting on a park bench is isomorphic to any other pair regardless of their unique identities or ages or...

First, will you agree with me that given a house is imaginary that inside the house is also imaginary and outside = not-inside, (where inside is real), is also imaginary? What happens were the house real for somethings but not others? Our common language does not easily account for this and often what ends up being used as a verbal model is very lossy with respect to the information it contains and in a sense is like a kid's crayon sketch of your house when compared to the actual house.

Let us create a realization of the concept:

Suppose there are two lots on a street side by side. Call these 1550 Main street and 1552 Main street. Suppose there are two houses where house-A is located on 1550 Main St. and house-B is located on 1552 Main St. Suppose ball-A strictly belongs to house-A and ball-B strictly belongs to house-B where each ball can only be 'inside of', or 'outside of (where inside is possible)' their respective houses and being 'inside of' or 'outside of (where inside is possible)' the other house is imaginary.

Sure, we can envision the space containing both houses and since ball-A is absent from inside house-B we can say ball-A is not-inside house-B; but is what we just said precisely faithful to reality? No it is not and the reason for this is that it is being one dimensional much like modeling you by your height alone. Additionally, the phrase has multiple meanings where one meaning is real and the other meaning is not real for both states.

I suspect, you may be having a hard time wrapping your head around this because you keep seeing house-B as real in reality and ball-A being outside of it, right? So let us create a formal but short proof to show what I have said is not wishful thinking on my part:

Given:

ball-A being inside house-B where: inside house-B is possible for ball-A is real,- does not exist.

ball-A being not-inside house-B where in (not-inside house-B): inside house-B is possible for ball-A is real,- does not exist.

house-B is real in the big space of Existence.

Question: if we look is ball-A inside house-B? No.

Question: Does the above indicate ball-A is not inside house-B?

Let us check using * as a guide:

{Please note: possible and possibility here is defined as being both free to be and free to be other than. ie They have the meaning that coincides with being in a sample space and therefore a potential for being realized. There are other common meanings where one meaning coincides with: essentially imagined as free to be or not and the other simply denotes existence somewhere}

*Find me something in reality that is not a unicorn where a unicorn is real for this thing to not be.

{here the above is totally impossible and not-a-unicorn where unicorn is real is totally as imaginary as the unicorn everywhere in Reality}

OK, let us apply the same check with respect to not-inside-house-B.

Find me a something in reality that is not inside house-B where inside house-B is real for it to be.

{here I can only find one thing and that is ball-B; on the other hand: [(not-inside-house-B) where (inside house-B ) is real for ball-A] is as imaginary as you or I being not-a-unicorn, isn't it?}

QED ie. that which was to be shown valid has been shown valid.

OK, what is happening is that for ball-A the states inside & not-inside, where the later state being real strictly with respect to ball-A is determined by the first state called 'inside' being a real possibility for ball-A, are both imaginary. However, house-B does exist in the large space called Existence. Sure, ball-A is outside of house-B, but ball-A is also outside of (not-inside-house-B) where in this state, (inside-house-B) is a real possibility for ball-A.

In this example an accurate model of this case involving ball-A is seen in these sentences:

With respect to each, (inside-house-B/not-inside-house-B), being a real possibility for ball-A; there is no ball-A is either (inside-house-B or not-inside-house-B).

-------------------------------------------

Ball-A is outside of (inside, not-inside house-B) where each are real possibilities only for ball-B and otherwise do not exist as real possibilities for ball-A.

An example that is isomorphic to the emotive free example given by ball-A..., but does have a fairly strong emotive impact is seen in this extra example. Here I'll ask the reader which verbal or internal model of the following cases are capable of being disturbing:

1: I am not having same-sex sex today.

2: I am outside of (having, not having) same-sex sex today, where each are real possibilities only for others.

3: I am not wearing diapers today.

4: I am outside of (wearing, not wearing) diapers today, where each are real possibilities only for others.

I am almost certain I would know your selection and while two of the verbal models and their associated internal models are capable of being disturbing, they are not even close to specific examples that strongly effect me.

What I find interesting with respect to (1) and (3) are two observations.

First, again knowledge is not sufficient. What do I mean? Knowing that (1) is indicating the state of being seen in (2) is not sufficient to turn off disturbing, at least for me. For me, this situation is similar to letting alive mean each of dead and alive. Essentially I don't care if I know I am not alive means I am not dead; its simply not emotively OK with me to either verbally model or internally model reality in this manner.

While I had no choice in how I emotively respond to to either model; I have no desire and I am totally opposed to altering my emotive response, where this reaction to the concept of changing myself also is hardwired into my essence.

#pure ocd #ocd #ocd problems #ocd recovery #living with ocd

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