#ptsd question mark because I’ve never been diagnosed

[midnight-mod]

Ugh I can tell I’m in distress when I drink myself silly to make the panic go away but then start texting people out of a desperate attempt to get someone to pay attention to me pay attention to me pay attention to me pay attention to me

Anyway I’m drunk, in distress, and pretty sure this will subside by Monday and I can return to basically never drinking. Just gotta get there. And I am so fucking powerful you guys! I’m gonna get there. If only to give my PTSD(?) the middle finger. The power of spite compels me!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

[purple-scarf-mistress]

Dark Truths

A Criminal Minds FanFic.

Chapter 5

Summary: Jamie has been missing for a year, subjected to horrible torture. Her friends/team/family aka the BAU team scramble to find her. Once she is found it will be a challenge to help her get back to her normal life.

Master List (Multi Chapter)

Pairing:  ReidxJamie (OC)

Warnings: This story is explicit and deals with s*xual assault and psychological torture. I will add notes for where to skip and pick back up to for those who want to read this but avoid the warning content as best I can.

There are two flashback chapters before this one that can be read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net. They are explicit flashbacks of Jamie’s first days after being taken. Due to the nature I decided to keep them off tumblr. You do not need to read them to follow the story though.

The plane shook as it touched down, scaring Jamie awake. She was used to being scared and not making a sound or a movement. 

Spencer noticed her muscles tighten in preparation for fight or flight, or perhaps an incoming blow. “Jamie? Jamie, Sweetheart, it’s okay. We are back in Virginia alright?” He scooped her up carrying her off the plane. “I am going to take you home, okay?” 

Jamie didn't answer, instead she looked around as Reid carried her from the plane to the SUV. She thought she would never see this stupid ariport again. This airport that always carried them to the darkest places of someone's life, but she loved that it meant she was going to help someone. She just never appreciated the tarmac itself until this moment. 

Morgan opened the door for him and Spencer set her in the car gently, buckling her into the seat. She felt like everything was in slow motion. Reid got in next to her letting her rest on him once more. He actually wondered if he needed to be holding her more than she needed to be held by him. 

“Hey Kid, we're going with you. First shift.” Morgan's voice was affirmative leaving Reid no room for arguments 

It took them about 30 minutes to get to Reid's apartment and inside. Ried watched Jamie in his arms as they brought her inside.

“S-Star Trek... “ she mumbled to herself remembering the last time she was over with Reid and what they had been watching.

“Yea, we watched that before,” Spencer cleared his throat, “the last time you came to visit.” 

Jamie nodded remembering. She felt safer, but the more and more safe she felt the more worried she was that this could all be ripped away again. 

JJ walked in with Morgan watching Spencer set Jamie down on his couch. 

“I think we should get her some food. Maybe a hot bath? Lots of rest.” JJ said concerned. 

“I hear that. We should all eat. I’ll take care of it” Morgan stepped into the hallway of the apartment calling up his favorite late night eatery. 

JJ slowly walked over, kneeling down next to her friends, “Jamie, do you want to take a bath? Or anything?” 

Jamie looked quickly to Spencer for guidance. Not sure how to answer, “Sweetheart, it’s your call, if you want to we can set it up for you.” 

Jamie's mind raced. Showers had not been a particularly good experience she reached her hand up to rub her neck, the bruises from the choke collar the night before clearly visible around her skin.

“Y-Yes?” She said nervously. 

JJ nodded, going to get the cast wrap to protect Jamie's leg. Reid got up and went to his bathroom running warm water into the tub. Jamie sat there watching her friends fuss over her. She wasn't sure what to do. 

Morgan came back inside and stayed out of the way. He was worried too many people swirling around Jamie would set her off. He watched as Reid carried Jamie into the bathroom in his room and JJ followed behind him. He sat her on the counter, and nodded to JJ. 

“I’m going to let JJ help you okay? I will be right outside.” Spencer brushed a strand of hair from her face tucking it behind her ear. 

Jamie didn’t want him to go. She was worried he would go and she wouldn't see him again but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond. She watched him walk out the door. 

JJ gently walked over to Jamie, “Do you need help getting out of these clothes?” 

Jamie nodded, letting JJ help her out of them and get into the tub. Placing her leg on the edge. 

“There we go. Water okay?” 

Jamie nodded. She was glad JJ was here. Over the last year men had hurt her in the shower, she didn’t think JJ would, she really didn’t think Spencer would either.  JJ nodded, “I’ll be right outside the door. Call if you need anything” 

Jamie nodded watching her go before starting to wash up. Her mind felt all over the place. She wanted desperately to be the happy woman she had been before all this happened but she didn’t even know if that girl existed inside her anymore. She was more scared than brave, more sad than happy, more confused than certain. She was nothing like her old self. 

She looked at her body as she washed herself, looking over the marks on her skin, some scars some healing. Her mind went blank wanting to avoid all the memories, her body felt numb too. She sat there. Staring at the facet. 

Part of her mind tried to objectively diagnose her. Much like Reid she was a genius, her mind a trap for memories, it was easier to fracture her thinking and internally talk to herself as a different person to overcome all this. 

PTSD - most likely, acute stress disorder - probably. Stockholm syndrome? Not showing signs of yet. Please don’t get that one Jamie. Great, you're talking to yourself. Fragmentation/ dissociation of thoughts, Check. Diagnosing yourself. We’ve lost it. Doctorates and all - you’ve gone off the deep end haven't you. 

Her mind was like several voices but all of them were here. The part of her that was hopeful, the numb, and the part of her that believed Quinn. 

Jamie didn’t hear JJ knocking on the door. She only saw her when JJ sat right next to her on the tub edge. “Can I wash your hair for you Jamie?” 

She nodded blankly, not really processing what she asked. She felt JJ tilt her head back, a cup full of warm water was poured over her careful to not get on her face. Then came the gentle massage of finger rubbing shampoo in her hair. 

You can’t even take care of yourself now. Can’t make decisions, or answer questions. You're absolutely useless, it’s only a matter of time before they realize it. Stop Stop, you know what this is Jamie, its just the trauma. You know this. Stupid. 

 As JJ rinsed the shampoo out of Jamie’s hair she saw the tears start falling down her cheeks. 

“We’re all done Jamie, ”  JJ pulled the drain, “shhh it’s alright” she got a  towel ready to cover her once the water was gone. Jamie didn’t respond, she didn't realize that she was shivering now that the warm water was gone. 

Jamie looked up seeing Reid kneeling next to the tub not sure when he got there. He quickly scooped her up keeping the towel wrapped snugly around her tiny body. 

He rocked her in his arms, “I’ve got ya, shhh it’s okay” 

Why are you crying?! Do you even know! Stop, stop it right now before they realize they should have never come back for you. Reid wouldn’t ever think that… would he? 

Spencer paced back and forth in his room rocking Jamie in his arms. He watched her face intently waiting for her to break out of her thoughts and be present. 

“S-Sorry,” Jamie said at a volume that was barely audible. 

“Nothing to be sorry for Jamie,” he sat her down gently on the edge of his bed and grabbed his CalTech hoodie from his dresser. He had let her borrow it a couple of times when they were on a case or hanging out. He loved it when she wore it because she looked so cute swallowed up in his clothes. Jamie being 5 foot 4 inches and him standing just over 6 feet, and also because then it smelled like her light perfume. 

“I think this will be comfortable for you to wear until we get some more clothes,” helping her into it gently than grabbing a pair of his pajama bottoms. He slid the pants over her cast and helped her stand enough to slip them all the way on. They were way too long even with the legs folded up.  

“Morgan ordered dinner. Hungry?” Spencer smiled seeing the small nod carrying her out of the bedroom. 

She glanced over at Morgan, it was the first time she had really looked at anyone besides Reid’s face. His face was so serious, like he was worried and angry - his im going to solve this case face. It quickly softened when he realized she was looking at him. 

“Hey Little Red” he smiled. Morgan always had a nickname for her related to her fiery red hair. 

“H-Hi” She smiled before looking at Reid to make sure that was okay. 

Reid was aware she was deferring to him and didn’t want her to feel like he controlled her. He sat her down at the table sitting close to her, “Jamie, you can do and say whatever you want okay? You don’t need permission. Not from me, not from anyone. Okay?” 

“S-s-sorry… I I will try to do b-better” 

“Oh sweetheart that- that's not what I meant.” Reid took a deep breath then grabbed the chicken soup Morgan ordered for Jamie and brought it closer to her.

You're not allowed to eat at a table, remember. This is a trick. No it’s not, Spence hasn’t done anything to make it seem like this is a trick. 

Reid frowned, picked up the spoon and took a bite of the soup, “ it's safe to eat Jamie. See?” She nodded but still didn’t know what to do. 

JJ and Morgan looked at each other than at Reid not sure what to do next. 

“You must be hungry Jamie,” JJ said softly. 

Morgan saw the confused look on the small woman's face, “What is it little red?” 

Jamie swallowed, not sure what to do, she decided answering him was the best bet, “I’m not allowed to eat until everyone else is done, and I am really not allowed to eat at the table, “She said quickly, looking down to the floor. 

“Those rules don't matter anymore” Morgan was furious not at Jamie but at the people who had taught her that. 

“What Morgan means is that it was good that you followed the rules. You did what you had to to survive so we could find you and bring you home. But now that you are home you can make your own rules, like you can eat at the table, or on the couch or in bed. Where do you want to eat?” Spencer asked, wanting to see if she had a preference. 

“H-here is good.” Jamie picked up the spoon and took her first bite. She kept her head down eating in silence for a while. She didn’t eat much but it was more than she had eaten in weeks. 

Jamie was exhausted. She could feel her body starting to withdraw from the drugs. She didn’t want to live that nightmare but she was going to have too. If anyone knew what that was like it was Spencer. She started to fall asleep sitting there as her mind thought through what she knew of withdrawal. 

JJ carefully moved the bowl of food away from Jamie so she wouldn't fall face first into it. Reid gently picked her up, “Let's get you to bed sweetheart.”

He carried her into his room laying her down on the bed. Jamie warped her arms around Reids neck, “D-Don't leave me. P-Please?”

“Are you okay if I lay down in the bed with you?” 

“Y-yes” 

“Okay, but you tell me if you want me to get out okay? Any time.” 

She nodded, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “K-Keep the light on too?” 

“I am scared of the dark too, Jamie, I’ll keep it on for the both of us,” He pet her hair gently hoping she would fall asleep feeling safe. Once she was asleep he grabbed his phone and texted the other two that he wouldn’t be out for a while and to put his food in the fridge for later. 

He pet her hair over and over again, hoping that she would know she was safe in her dreams. Only he wasn't only doing it for her, he needed to remind himself that she was really here with him. His eyes began to water as he realized he had the love of his life back home safe.  

Jamie startled awake from her nightmare only to see Spencer laying next to her asleep with his arms wrapped snugly around her. She felt the tears fall down her face as she griped Spencers shirt in her hand weekly not wanting to let go of him for fear that this could all get ripped away from her. 

Her stomach felt awful. Her head hurt. Her body was weak and the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had yet to come but nothing was worse than the idea that this could get taken away from her again. Her chest heaved as she choked out another sob. She felt the slender arms around her body pull her closer and begin to cradle her. 

“It’s okay Jamie, Go ahead and cry. It will make you feel better if you let it all out.” Spencer’s voice was raspy as he woke up. She had every right to cry for days on end if she wanted too, but he also knew that crying was a withdrawal symptom as well. 

She couldn’t stop crying. Her sobs became more forceful and louder. Her head throbbed with her heart beat and her stomach had taken to doing back flips. She tried to focus on the soft circles being rubbed onto her back and the gentle rocking side to side distract her from the fear, from the memories, from the sickness she felt in her body. 

Hey eyes finally stopped dropping tears down her face and her breathing slowed. She felt like she had been crying for an eternity. Spence’s t-shirt was soaked through where she had her face pressed against him. 

She swallowed hard, “I-Im Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sweetheart.” he petted her hair gently, looking up when his door pushed open more seeing JJ peak her head in. 

“I brought you some water. Thirsty?” JJ asked gently, holding the glass out to her. 

Jamie took it in both hands nodding and took a sip. She kept sipping slowly until all the water was gone. Handing the cup back to JJ. “Thanks” 

“Is there anything I can get you sweetheart?” 

Why did he have to ask that. YES! Get me a shot! Please. You can beat this you do not need a shot. You do not need to be high. Yes we do! Yes I would do anything Quinn asked right now for it, and you know you would too. 

“Drugs” Jamie blurted out impulsively, eyes widening that she actually said that. 

JJ and Spencer shared a concerned look, not sure what to say. 

“Jamie, I know how hard this is but you don’t want that. I know you don’t” Spencer said calmly 

Oh so now he knows what we want? What I want?! Who does he think he is. SHUT UP! He is taking care of us and I am a handful enough as it is! Don’t ruin this or we will have to go back to Quinn. We would get drugs then so thats a bonus. 

“Jamie, you need to calm down. You are hyperventilating.” Spencer watched her chest rise and fall in rapid desperate heaves. 

“I can’t breathe.” Jamie sputtered. “I don't, I don't know what's, what’s wrong with me!” “Nothing is wrong with you Jamie,” JJ said soothingly kneeling down by the bed. 

Liar. 

Jamie saw the room start spinning, she felt like her body was floating, until she felt the hardness of Reids chest pressed up against her back. She didn’t realize he had moved them to a chair. 

“Jamie, sweetheart, try to match my breaths okay? Nice and slow. You are safe, and you have a family to help you through this. Just breathe.” Spencer kept his voice low and even, he took long deep breaths and paid close attention to hers. He watched as her breathing started to slow little by little. 

“That’s it Jamie.” Reid took her wrist gently in his grasp, finding her pulse. Still high but slowing down as her breathing stabilized. “I’ve got you. You are safe. Just focus on my breathing okay?” Jamie nodded her head slowly. She still felt light headed resting her head back against him, eyes shut gently. . 

Morgan stepped into the room quietly. 

Spencer gently mouthed a “shhh” so Morgan knew to be quiet and not startle her. He took a place in front of Reid’s dresser,  standing still and watching Jamie slowly calm down. JJ looked worried. She had no idea what sent Jamie into a panic and the fact she had asked for drugs showed her how difficult a healing process would be. She wondered if they could really pull her though this. 

Once Jamie had calmed down again she felt embarrassed. She truly didn’t want to feel anymore. Every inch of her being felt like a raw nerve. “Want to watch a movie Jamie? We can move to the couch and put something on that you love and you can watch or sleep? Does that sound nice?” Spencer asked gently petting her hair smiling softly at the slow gentle nod against his chest. He carried her gently to his living room sitting her down on the couch next to him. “What do you....” he saw her face panic at the idea of having to choose, “I think we should watch Tangled. I know how much you love that movie and it’s super cute.” 

Jamie nodded smiling slightly. She had forgotten all about the things she liked and  It was nice to be reminded by someone who clearly noticed. 

Spencer clicked it on and looked over at Morgan and JJ who just looked exhausted and out of place not really having much to do, “Go home you two. I know you guys all insisted but I will call if we need anything for the rest of the night, and you can stop in again tomorrow.” Morgan shook his head no, but then thought about it, “Spencer. I mean it. You call if you need anything.” “I know I know” said the genius as he rolled his eyes slightly. 

JJ looked at Jamie worried about her feeling uncomfortable without another woman around but knew that she clearly felt the safest with Spencer. It was so plain the way she clinged to him like he was her life line. 

“Alright, goodnight Jamie, night Spencer,” the other agents made their way out of the apartment. 

Spencer looked down at the red headed girl watching the screen, eyes drooping slightly, snuggled up to him with her head pressed right against his heart. He kept his arms around her as they watched the movie in silence.

Jamie felt so drained by everything. She could feel herself falling asleep but she didn't want to. She fought it so hard. 

Spencer watched her eyes shut and then snap back open and repeat. He adjusted the way he was sitting careful not to disturb her too much and rested his head gently on top of hers.

When her breathing deepened and her eyes no longer forced their way open he couldn't help but say what he had wished he had said a long time ago. Barely anova a whisper in the dark quiet living room Spencer whispered, “I love you Jamie.”  He drifted off to sleep again with her in his arms. 

Quinn paced the floor of the apartment he was in. She had been out of his grasp for far too long while they laid low and waited for the Boss’ orders. He was scheming how he would take her again and how exactly he would make her suffer for her poor decision of going with them. He hoped he planted enough distrust in her team members, the main one being her stupid “adopted” father. He smiled remembering how she would call out for him to save her and the stroke of pure evil that had ensued when he told her he was the one behind all this. From that point on anyone he talked to on the phone about her he referred to as Hotch, it was great when he knew he was talking to her biological dad, and would tell him about how she begged for him knowing full well what he was doing to her. He wanted to make her so broken and so afraid that she would struggle to find the life she once knew even if she was able to return to it. 

“I am tired of waiting. I want my pet back” her grumbled to himself looking out the window at the dark sky of DC. 

~Can also be read on AO3 and Fanfic by anonymouslymine ~

[ellaintrigue]

Photo credit: Julio Cortez/AP

George Floyd's fiance pleads against the violent protests: https://www.thedailybeast.com/george-floyds-fiancee-pleads-…

YES, racism is alive and well. So is sexism, rape culture, and homophobia, but you don't see the Me Too movement hurting people and destroying property...

YES, George Floyd was murdered. But this goes far beyond racism. I never deny racism, the recent murder of a black man by two white guys in a pickup was clearly racist. But this is an issue of MEN. And POLICE. Cops have always killed people, it's all a matter of what gets the most publicity. I see a photo collage going around of black people that have been shot recently by cops and I find it offensive. Where are the white, Asian, and Hispanics that have also been shot by the police? What about the recent shooting of a white woman? We are all equals, right? https://apnews.com/57b423dcf5e54bdb801d7ea564416a0a

Foolish liberal hypocrisy. Meanwhile I am seeing younger democratic socialists applauding the looting as capitalism being put in its place. What the hell? You see the first article above, George Floyd's loved one said he never wanted this. And what exactly is the relevance to his death? What did Target stores do to George Floyd? How is the guy walking down the street with a backpack of stolen liquor bottles contributing to justice?

This is bullshit of the greedy and the brainwashed, race issues and social topics have been long lost. The majority of the protesters seem to be males enjoying violence. Which again, is what it comes down to.

While a huge feminist, I have no problem admitting that men have their own separate laundry list of issues. Difficulty speaking out, and difficulty getting help for whatever problems they may have because of the stigma of society where men are still not allowed to admit "weakness." I see it in my own father who has outbursts from being overwhelmed by various things. Having to be a tough guy and a financial supporter to a disabled wife but unable to accept or seek support himself.

There are A LOT of angry men out there. Shit, they're justified for the most part! I would definitely not want to be a man. And that is where the position of authority comes in... overcoming your struggles as a male youth and becoming a cop or correctional officer.

There are so many great cops out there! But, I haven't met many of them. Because not everyone overcomes their past and becomes a good cop. Whatever they grew up with or were born with makes them relish power, control, and violence.

I, a lower class (former middle class) white woman, have been victimized by the police. If you think that's a fucking joke because I'm white, refer back to the original point: POLICE VICTIMIZE PEOPLE OF ALL AGES, RACES, GENDERS, ETC.

A few years ago I read an article about a rapist cop. He raped more than one woman, but when they reported it, they were dismissed because he was a cop. His peers made sure he was above the law. So then he rapes an older black woman, someone's grandmother. She raised hell and he finally got in trouble. Was she listened to because she was black? HELL TO THE NO, women are treated like shit. A black woman? I've seen black women treated horribly my entire life. It's just how it is.

But no one felt like bringing this pig to justice, because, well, white male cop. Cops obviously deal with criminals and folks they will naturally regard as lower class, and none of these folks are going to be believed over a cop. From dating men of questionable backgrounds, I have heard horror stories of prisoners being beaten by cops and correctional officers and all kinds of shit. But who is going to believe some felon over a police officer?

May marked the 4 year anniversary of my ex-boyfriend almost killing me. It was hell, I struggled all month. My mom having cancer, the anniversary, the pandemic, now everyone running around setting shit on fire because they want free TVs... HOLY FUCK. PTSD trigger much?

I've wanted to talk about that, but I felt I couldn't, because, well, he's stalked me since. How did this happen? People think I was a battered woman but that's not true. Women stay with abusive partners and I did not. I got with this guy knowing he had a record, as others before him, but did not expect the onslaught of mental illness. The guy before him was bipolar and would shut down, lay on the bed and just be totally mute or sob. This new guy, after about 3 months into a relationship, would have manic episodes that would lead to suicide attempts. Over time I found out that he was a diagnosed bipolar, and rumored (unconfirmed) schizophrenic. I begged and begged for him to stick to taking meds, which clearly helped over the course of months, but he would stop taking them because he felt he "didn't need them," which is the cruelest cliche of the mentally ill and why so many don't function at all.

So I ended up having to call the cops on him multiple times in the course of 3 years when he lost his shit. Not once did he ever harm me, although you can see, and I can see, now, that it was unhealthy and dangerous for everyone involved regardless. The first time I dealt with the cops over him was when he got a DUI in my truck with his friend. but the friend was driving. I woke up at midnight to this chaos and remember a black female cop intimidating me and screaming at me because I was standing near a beer bottle on the ground and I was "hiding evidence." Which was bullshit since the driver had already been arrested. Who the fuck cares about a random Bud Light bottle lying in my yard? The DUI was in Ocean City. Whatever.

The same fucking night my shitfaced, manic boyfriend logs onto my computer and reads like 7 years worth of texts between me and a male friend, accusing me of fucking him. After a long night of dealing with the other drama it was like hell never ended. He's on my computer, looking at everything I have and accusing me of cheating. Never met the dude, never tried to be with the dude, but that seemed pretty moot. Even if your partner has nothing to hide, you shouldn't be going through their shit. IF YOU DO NOT TRUST THE PERSON YOU ARE WITH, LEAVE THEM. IF YOU HAVE ONGOING ISSUES WITH MANIA OR PARANOIA, GET HELP.

Well, perhaps I seem a hypocrite in protesting violence against women, and I did something I'm not proud of: I punched the fuck out of him. He then got up and put my shotgun in his mouth. He didn't pull the trigger but obviously that scarred me for life. I called 911 and they chased him down in the woods and took him to the mental ward in Salisbury. I dealt with 3 male cops that were kind to me and said I did the right thing by hiding the gun afterward and calling 911. My neighbor also helped me, which I am incredibly grateful for.

I should have left, hands down. But because I never felt physically threatened by him: I felt I was helping him, he could get better, and I kept trying. I have never been a woman that wanted a "project" as some people want, where they find someone to fix or better as a person. But I loved this man and tried my best, stupid as I was.

He was fine for months after that, another huge factor in me staying. We were just boyfriend and girlfriend, enjoying life, until he had another manic episode. Once he went 6 months with no signs of anything at all. Again, at this point in things, I have nothing to candycoat in my life. I am an open book, and in 2018, came out about being raped by a man in 2011, and got judged harshly. I've had to accept that no matter what I say, I will be questioned and put down because that is how victims are treated.

So in 2015 he came home late at night, screaming the FBI were in the bushes and smashing things. He accused me and a family member of conspiring with the government against him and stripped half of his clothes off, threatening to kill himself. Just like that, he would go from a calm person that worked all day to a raging maniac in the most literal form.

I called 911 and was in tears by the time two very tall male cops showed up. That is the main thing I remember, I am 5'2 and these men were both over 6'0 and stood way too close to me. My boyfriend was running around screaming utter nonsense and one cop talked to him, another talked to me. The two men ID'd me and laughed at the fact I always wore lipstick, in the pic and in real life, a habit since I was 14. Then they told me they weren't going to do anything with my boyfriend, who was still screaming and stomping around. I said, "but he's clearly unstable and threatening to kill himself." Both of the cops stood roughly two feet from me, and the heavyset olive skinned officer moved in even closer, shining his flashlight in my face, his breath bearing down on me, and said, "if you call 911 or anyone again tonight, you will both be arrested."

I felt scared of them at this point and they told me my option was to leave my home, leaving my boyfriend there. They asked me if I had family in the area and I said no. "Well, we can't help you then. Plus we want to go and get dinner," the thick one said, before laughing with his partner, who was a thinner blond man. So they waited until I got in my car and left, then they left, leaving my ex still standing screaming in the middle of the yard.

I had nowhere to go, so I went to his aunt's house and spent the night. At one point in the night I heard my boyfriend's truck screech through Berlin, looking for me, but knew I couldn't call 911 anymore because I WAS threatened. And cops can do what they want, no one is going to listen to some white trash chick with a crazy boyfriend.

I called 911 one other time before things got truly worse (I know, right). I got one of the cops that I had dealt with when he put the shotgun in his mouth and he threw him in the mental ward after a brief car chase.

By spring 2016 my boyfriend wasn't working, binge drinking, and seeming off on a regular basis so I somehow managed to drop him off at a homeless shelter despite him initially standing in a Wendy's parking lot screaming I was out to get him.

Finally, in May he became increasingly manic before literally waking up one morning with this weird hollow look in his eyes and screaming the worst threats against me and his family I had ever heard. First I tried to be calm, then I tried to run from him when I thought he wasn't looking and he ran after me and jumped on me. And that was the first time I felt actually afraid that he would hurt me. I thought he would hit me. Instead, he dragged me through the woods by my ankles so hard my leggings were pulled down and became filled with dirt, leaves, and sticks, threw me on the porch and then dragged me into my house. He tortured me for 1-3 hours. I think it was between 1 and 2 hours. Years later I sat down with a shrink and told her, I can't remember, I truly can't. I just remember the intense fear and shame of what it would be like for my dad to come into my house and find me dead. The doctor pursed her lips as she listened to me and reassured me that people with PTSD often have trouble remembering details. In fact, I couldn't piece together how bad the whole thing was until 2018, around the same time I talked about being raped, because I had repressed memories so hard. There was a point where I vividly remembered everything both men had done to me respectively, including a lifelong physical injury I had also blocked out. Like, I knew it was there, I just never allowed myself to think about why.

Instead of killing me, thank fuck, my boyfriend left me lying on a plastic floor mat he had just put a cigarette out in that he been holding over my eye and walked out of the house, stealing my truck. So I called 911, in a sort of daze I seemed the most worried about the stupid truck. But I really couldn't comprehend anything at that point. I shouldn't have bothered calling, because ding-dong, who is at the door, but one of the cops that essentially kicked me out of my house in 2015, leaving me to wonder if my boyfriend would kill himself or burn the place down. The thin, blond cop. The first thing I noticed was his eyes when I spoke to him that day. His pupils were tiny pin-pricks and it was shockingly noticeable. He looked like he was blind or something, because he had wide blue irises with these teeny tiny pupils. Frankly it was creepy, but wasn't relevant to the situation. I told him my ex went nuts, then stole my truck. He starts screaming at me and asking me what I wanted to do, and why the hell did I call. I completely shut down and just felt scared of him. Thinking about telling him about the assault just evaded my head, all I could think was that I was being cornered and I had to get away. He walked around the yard looking at other shit my ex had torn up, yelled at me some more, then left. This cop was almost manic and I was afraid he would arrest me for annoying him.

I finally got my truck back with the help of my grandmother after watching my boyfriend acting insane in front of his boss, who he had driven to. The man got a restraining order against him that week after seeing the violent instability and I made our breakup official at the same time. I knew I was done the second he dragged me through the woods. That was the first time he had ever put hands on me and the torture session would be the last. (I was lucky in that he had tossed me around and suffocated me in a headlock, etc., rather than getting a knife or something... it could have been so much worse.)

At this point, regardless of what people around him did, my now-ex was clearly gone mentally. Not sure how or why it got that bad, but all of his issues just imploded on him at once, almost overnight. So 2016 to 2018 he stalked me and made my life a living hell. He called me and I was afraid to disconnect my number right away because I felt it was a way of tracking him/how dangerous he was any particular day. After screaming for him to leave me alone and calling the cops even more times failed, I felt I had to be nice to him to keep him at bay, or when he started coming into my job, so I wouldn't make a scene. I finally got a domestic violence order in 2017 and stood before the court and described my assault so the judge to decide if I had just cause.

About a month after that, my ex called me threatening to kill himself so I felt super happy about calling 911. Finally they would put his ass in jail. A cop in his early 20's showed up, flirted with me, called his boss and they told me that there was not enough cause to jail my ex. The cop told me to "just talk things over" with my ex and then left after staring at my tits through my sweatshirt.

More time goes by, more bullshit, afraid to go to work, afraid to come home at night. Mace didn't make me feel safer, guns didn't make me feel safer, having coworkers didn't make me feel safer. My dad was screaming at me that I had brought this all on myself by being with a nut for so long. I felt like a hunted animal. My boss complained about me calling out of work over this. Finally my ex's other ex-girlfriend who he was with after me comes into my job, says he assaulted her, and that he was dangerously obsessed with me and my boss finally took me seriously.

I couldn't do anything about phone calls or online harassment. He would message me online telling me he hated me and stuff and I would just block him. Then, one day in September, during Ocean City bike week, he showed up on a bicycle, cornering me in the parking lot of my job as I walked to my shift. I was in utter terror and for a moment he looked like he would attack me again but I just kept on walking, and did not pause. My coworker wanted to know why I was being confronted and I said "THAT'S HIM, THAT'S HIM. I'M SO SORRY, NIKKI, I'M NOT CLOCKING IN RIGHT NOW. I AM CALLING 911."

Two cops showed up, a male and a female and ID'd me, and looked at my DV order. I asked if it was okay for me to lift the sweater on my front seat up to get my purse and the male cop brushed that off, acting like I was a non-threat. But I knew I had to move slow, because, well, cops shoot people. White, black, male, female, non-bindary-gender, whatever.

They saw I had all my paperwork in order then they started fucking yelling at me! They told me they really didn't have time to look for him since it was Bike Week and they were busy! I don't know what else they said to me, I think they were confused about what phone number I used the most because I had 2 at that point. I broke into tears and the male cop said "you don't have to do none of that." I walked back into the store and they came back in again, and my coworker told everyone later on how nasty the cops were too me. I knew it wasn't just me but it was good to finally have a witness this time around.

They looked around for my ex at two known locations then gave up, I had called and asked. 3 days later he attacked his other ex, the one that I had spoken to and they arrested him on both that and my DV order. He was jailed for several months and since then his stalking has been infrequent aside from him popping up on Tumblr this winter to make fun of my cat dying. Because I left him, for assaulting me, he now, in whatever the fuck is left of his mind, wants me to live a life of hell. During one phone call he screamed "YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY UNTIL I'M HAPPY."

I'd love to count on him staying gone, but I know better. His brother added me on FaceBook not too long ago and I said hi, and he said "you know you're the love of my brother's life, right?" I told him I wanted nothing to do with my ex. "Not even friends?" I told him that my ex tried to kill me then made my life hell and he said he didn't know and the conversation ended.

I'm not afraid of my ex's brother. I don't think he added me purely to help my ex. This man isn't crazy. This man didn't try to kill me, and isn't going to. But the sheer mindfuckery of it: how can you try to get back with the woman you abused? How can you use threats to try and get back with her? Another time my ex called me and screamed over me posting pictures with my last ex, mocking it. Why would I be with him, instead of the guy that abused me?

...Why would I want to be with a guy that I felt safe with that never abused me? Golly gosh, no idea. But it's all just a headfuck that I will be scarred by for life.

Summary: Cops and the severely mentally ill are capable of ruining the lives of anyone, of any color. 🤷‍♀️

[projecthiddenwarrior]

Trigger warning : this post talks about rape, suicide and depression. If this is something that triggers you, then I won't be offended if you want to skip.

I've been thinking about making this post for a long time and never got round to actually doing it. Now I'm deciding to do it. Without planning it any notes, just how it comes to mind, so if there are spelling or grammar mistakes then I'm sorry.

When I was 18, someone that I thought I could trust took advantage of me. He threatened my younger siblings with what he was about to do to me. He told me that if I caused a scene then he would hurt me, he'd make sure that I was practically unrecognisable, so even in the car as he drove us to his house and began grabbing at me, I stayed still and quiet.

I tried to take in as much as possible remember every street name or little land mark, but I was so scared that it all just blurred into one.

I'm not going to go in proper details of what he did to me, but tell you that I felt totally helpless when he raped me. Rape isn't just about the sex, but the power behind it and he used mind games to get what he wanted. In the beginning, I was screaming and crying. Anything to put him off, he told me that all it did was turn him on. So I stopped. Because in that moment I believed that of i didn't scream and cry then he wouldn't be turned on and he wouldn't rape me. Of course now I know just how silly that was, bit it made sense at the time. And after the whole ordeal. He told me of wasn't rape because I stopped saying no.

And I believed him. Now I know that some people might be reading this and thinking but you were 18 you should have known better. Like I said, this kind of thing doesn't just leave physical scars but mental ones too. And I was made to feel like less them dirt, I believed it without a second thought.

For a long time, I kept to myself and I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want anyone to touch me. And my friends and family had no idea cause I let them see only what I wanted them to see. When I finally did tell someone, I was countered with questions like well what did you do? What were you wearing?

Those were the questions I was dreading to hear, and I began to cry. I was already disgusted with myself, I was embarrassed. I felt dirty. I hated myself. And hearing family, people that I thought would protect me, ask me things like that, it pushed me into an even darker abyss. I began to really believe that it was all my fault. Maybe it was what I was wearing, maybe I had acted a certain way that made him think I wanted this.

Was it my fault? I did something that made him believe that I wanted that. I wore something that made him believe that I wanted that. Id gotten to a point where I had started to believe that everything that happened was entirely his fault, but since hearing how my family reacted to what I said, it crumbled.

I, once again, believed that it was all my fault. If my family didn't believe me then why would anyone else. In one last attempt to be heard, I wrote everything down. Told a friend, and I said good bye.

When he found me, I was on my back and choking on my own vomit. I'd tried to overdose on pills and alcohol. And he helped me. Even got me to hospital, and when I told up, he was there. (He would prefer not to be named). He was there with my family. And he tried to bite his tongue as he listened to them talk about why I did this. That it was all for attention and again I tried to tell them about the rape. And they still wouldn't listen. I had just tried to kill myself and still didn't listen and still continued to ask what I had done to make this guy believe that I wanted it.

For months afterwards, I lived on and off with friends. I hated being near the family that made me feel so disgusted with myself. I had a few more attempts until my friend finally convinced me to go to the doctor. After some long consultations, I was diagnosed with anxiety, depression and PTSD.

And as crazy as it might sound, knowing what was wrong with me, kind of helped. Knowing that it was a chemical imbalance in my head helped. For God knows what reason. I think I just wanted to know what was wrong with me, and finally having a name for it helped.

I'll be totally honest with you, I'm not entirely certain why I felt the need to tell you all. But I did, I tried not to go into too much detail but if anyone ever wants to talk about anything I mentioned in my experience here, then I am here. If you want to share your experiences then I here. If you have anxiety or depression or PTSD then I am here. Even if you're just having a bad day then I am here. Talking can help, sharing experiences can help.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

[deadmomjokes]

(Normal? 1/2) I just went to a psychiatrist for the first time today. I got a recommendation from a therapist I used to see for a handful of appointments. I tried to be open minded, but I think they were bad at their job? They didn't tell me what the diagnosis was for sure (I could only assume depression/anxiety), and when I brought up concerns with general side effects, they brushed it off saying all things have side effects listed. They didn't even ask for all my symptoms?

(Normal? 2/2) I brought a whole notebook of information per recommendation of my past therapist, but then the psychiatrist never even asked about my family health history or triggers or coping mechanisms Ive tried. I don’t know, I felt like I was just treated like a body and had a set routine she was going through rather than actually hearing me. Am I just being overly anxious about this? Was this normal? Do they not need to know all my symptoms if I think I know what I got???

(Normal, Bonus) I don’t know, sorry for bothering you about this, I’m just super worried and don’t know anyone I can ask if this is normal for these kinds of appointments/treatments. Thank you so much for your time, even if you don’t answer. Have a lovely day

You’re definitely not bothering me at all! This stuff is hard enough to navigate without having a rotten experience like you did. And I do think your experience was terrible. You’re not just being overly anxious, you’re well within your right be frustrated and confused by your experience, and I would certainly find it anxiety provoking, myself!

A psychiatrist should absolutely be interested in both your symptoms and how they are affecting your day-to-day, as well as family history. As my husband explains it, a psychiatrist is primarily a doctor that also knows some psychology. If you went to a doctor experiencing a bunch of symptoms, and with a family history of certain conditions, and they just kind of brushed them aside and sent you straight to pills, it would be bad form. This is no different.

While it’s true that all medications have side effects, even stuff like ibuprofen, a doctor should never dismiss or handwave your concerns, particularly when it’s a psychiatric medication, where the side effects can be more serious and bothersome. She should have spent time talking to you, too, about what her thoughts were and WHY she was prescribing you a medicine in the first place. The fact that you walked out of there with pills and no clearly stated differential diagnosis is concerning to me. Not to say that the medication won’t help, but she should have taken time to talk to you about her thoughts and what the medicine is generally used for. It’s possible that she wasn’t able to make a definitive diagnosis after one appointment, or that she assumed your therapist had more or less diagnosed you already and she was going based on that, but she should have explained it a whole lot better.

It’s possible that if the therapist referred you, they could have sent over their case notes and that’s what the psychiatrist was going off of. She could have seen things like your symptoms and history in the notes, but since the therapist told you to bring a list to your appointment, and you said the therapist was a past therapist, I find that slightly less likely.

Depending on what the medicine is, I’d say it’s almost certain to be for anxiety/depression. Medicines like SSRIs and SNRIs, which are used for anxiety/depression/ptsd are generally considered safe, and so most doctors are comfortable writing prescriptions for those even after just one appointment. I know you’ve probably been doing a ton of research on it already, but since the psych didn’t take the time to talk to you about these meds, I’ll give you a quick (non-professional) rundown. (Handy graphic I did here!)

SSRI stands for Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor. Basically, when anxious/depressed, your brain doesn’t get enough of the serotonin it needs from what you’re producing naturally. Serotonin naturally gets reabsorbed after a certain amount of time anyway, meaning the places its supposed to go are short because the supply is low to begin with, and then your brain keeps sucking it back up before it can get where it needs to go in the quantities it needs to be in. The medicine stops much of the serotonin from being reabsorbed so more of it floats around free and ready for your brain to actually use. It won’t naturally increase the amount you make, but it does increase the amount that’s available, and sometimes having a good, steady, sufficient supply will allow your brain to get back to normal levels of production, because hey, everything’s working great now and we don’t have a nasty feedback loop! That’s why some people can go off their meds after a while and be fine; their brain has fixed the deficit enough to fix the production problem. (If you’re like me, your brain has something wrong with it where it has never produced enough and probably will never until they make a bunch of medical advancements.) SNRIs do the same thing but with both Serotonin and Norepinephrine (Serotonin-Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitors).

Generally speaking, the first try for anxiety and depression is an SSRI. If, however, you only have anxiety and not depression, or depression which stems from the constant anxiety, they may try an SNRI, which is specifically for anxiety and things like chronic pain. That’s not to say that SNRIs aren’t helpful for depression, because they are (that serotonin again), but it’s generally for a primary anxiety or pain concern. SNRIs can also sometimes be helpful for people with ADHD, but it’s generally not a first try or used alone.

Some common SSRIs that they start people on are Lexapro, Zoloft, Prozac, and Celexa. they have fewer side effects than most, or are most easily tolerated. Generally it’s things like temporary headache and fatigue (which can be reduced by taking the medicine at night). Common SNRIs are Cymbalta, Pristiq, and Effexor. They tend to have more side effects or more annoying side effects, like nausea, dizziness, and sweating.

Ultimately, only you can decide whether you’re comfortable enough with that doctor’s analysis of the situation in order to start the medication that she prescribed, but it is well within your rights both to go ahead and see, and to find a second opinion. Most insurance allows for a second opinion if you schedule the appointment as such, or you could contact your insurance to find out how they’d handle a second psych appointment with someone other than the first doctor.

Your therapist wouldn’t have agreed to refer you to a psychiatrist if they didn’t think medication might be in your best interest, so the question here may be whether you’re comfortable enough with the analysis of your problems to start this medicine. Unfortunately, side effects with psychiatric medication are relatively common, but not all of them last the whole time you’re taking it or are that serious. Sometimes they can also be predicted by your past health history; for instance, if you’ve ever experienced migraines, you’re more likely to get headaches as a side effect when starting or upping dose on a medication.

I’m sorry you’re in such a sticky and anxiety-provoking situation. That’s a lousy place to be in, especially when you’re already having a rough time. Feel free to ask any more questions you like, to vent, to ask my opinion on the specific medicine (I’ve been on a lot of them, because my brain is garbage and likes to build resistances), or to keep me updated on what you decide to do. Also, I apologize if I’ve misread the situation/your asks, or if my response was totally off the mark for what you were hoping. I’m gonna blame that on baby brain and also switching dosage of my own medicine. (I’m starting the Weird Zone today, so hopefully this response has been coherent cuz I’m not in any position to tell that for myself.)

[mydivinepunishment]

Spiralling down academic failure due to PTSD

I am 11 years old. I read a lot of books. My mind is filled with questions and ideas. I frequently share them in my science class and my science teacher adores me. She says I'm destined for greatness.

I'm 12 years old. My English teacher teases me for my small height. But also acknowledges my strength in her subject. She tells me I'm a great poet and I should stop being so shy to show the world how good I am.

I'm 13 years old. This was my peak year. My grades are top notch. I have taken part in 2 sports competitions and one quiz in which I came out 1st, 1st and 2nd respectively. I'm the pride of the class. But there's some uncertainty in my eyes that seems to grow every minute. My science teacher notices it as I flinch when she raised her hand to yawn. She stares at me questioningly and thinks what my problem was. I'm scoring all As in her subject so why am I scared?

I'm 14 years old. And I fell down. My academic fell from As to B's and C's . I'm withdrawn and scared all the time. I don't speak up in class anymore and I don't eat my lunch. There is a suspicious redness on my cheeks and tired, watery eyes. No teacher notices a thing. They chalk it up to drugs and boys. I barely interact with people. My maths teacher told my parents that I'm terribly weak in her subject. There's a pop quiz. I'm the first to get to my answer. My maths teacher looks at my notebook, then in my eyes with surprise and a spark. And then she makes sure she gets me more interested in her subject because I've never been bad at her subject all I had been was lost.

I'm 15 years old. I drink at night by stealing from dad's stash. It's been a full year of physical and verbal abuse. I'm locked in my own home. I barely eat. I cut and I cry to sleep every night. Mum and dad take out their anger on me. But it's not my fault that dad cheated on mum with a maid. My marks drop terribly and then they stop when it gets too bad. They learn to control themselves more but the damage is done. 2 years is more than 700 days. I already have started having full blown panic attacks. I told my mother I'm depressed and she grits her teeth and demands if I should be in an insane asylum. I stop dad's hand as he attempts to hit me. Enough. I said. Since then I have never allowed him to raise a hand on me.

I'm 16 years old. I change schools to study science. The situation at home is calmer though it will never be the same . I'm finally making friends again. I need to grow so I force myself to take part in competitions. My physics teacher loves me. My English teacher loves me. And so many people start appreciating me and it feels so better even though there are days I still am verbally abused on dad's bad days to the point of shivering in fear and anxiety. I join boxing classes so I can make sure I never allow dad to hit me.No one saved me so I would save myself, I decided. And I also needed to protect my little brother.

I'm 17 years old. I get us consolation prize at my first MUN, I'm doing even better in physics. I take part in a bunch of competitions and the principal's calls for me and tells me how much she appreciates and respects me.A teacher gifted me a book. I am part of a beautiful trio of friends who help me through thick and thin. We go out for the class trip for a week and it's the happiest time of my life and I look forward to my next one. I realise even though my house is filled with shit, this whole world loves me. I go to the doctor for headaches and I got diagnosed for my anxiety instead. She says it's causing me to have stress-related reflux. I tell my parents and he screams around the house that the doctor is insane and wrong. He calls me names again and forbids me from going to the doctor.

I'm 18 years old. I go to a preparatory boarding school for entrance exams. I meet a school friend there who becomes my roommate. She nice but she was toxic, vulgar and manipulative. I get calls from my crying mother and brother when dad throws tantrums around the house when he's drunk. I have anxiety attack. I'm too far I don't know how to save my mummy and little brother.

I'm molested about 4 times that year. All by females.

3 times by my roommate and her friend who think it's a game to pull your clothes down and touch and grab at you wrongly. They were violent incidents of being restrained to bed by 2-4 girls which I tried to break free but my mouth was covered to muffle my screams as they made me feel vulnerable and terrible.

1 time by a close friend who I was snuggling in the blanket. She grabbed at me , at my butt, shoved her hands inside my shirt to feel every nook and cranny of my flesh and scratches and grabbed me. It felt nice.....but I didn't want to be touched.

I'm 19 years old and my mum calls me crying asking if she should call the police. I tell her she should. They come and restrain my father. His job is transferred away from home. He blames us all even though we're the victims.

I come home to my mother because she can't stay alone. I'm finally taken to a psychiatrist. I'm prescribed anti-depressants. I hope this is the last year I have to fight. I'm tired. I missed my teens. I can't miss anymore.

[blessuswithblogs]

My Experiences with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Today's piece has very little to do with video games, but instead, me. This is more of an exercise in catharsis and thought ordering than something really meant for other people to read and go "o yea thats neat," but you're welcome to do so anyway. I'm also putting up some content warnings for Mental Health Junk like eating disorders and severe anxiety, as well as allusions to stomach flu symptoms (this one probably bothers me more than anybody reading). If you wish to proceed with all that in mind, by all means.

Let's start at the beginning. I've suffered from minor post-traumatic symptoms for over 20 years after the conclusions of traumatic events, usually severe illness. In the past, these symptoms have been self-limiting and usually resolved after a couple of months. Even after I was terribly ill with pneumonia, had an allergic reaction to pneumonia medication, and spent several afternoons with a nebulizer in my mouth, it only took half a year or so to mentally recover from the incident, and all I really suffered from was mild worry when I started coughing. All this changed, however, in September of 2008. A number of unfortunate circumstances occurred in quick succession and I ended up dreadfully sick with gastroenteritis alone with my dad, who also caught it. It was an uncharacteristically virulent and severe strain of whatever norovirus was going around at the time. My working hypothesis is that my brother caught it at Disneyland after using the bathroom without washing his hands like a frickin idiot, because he caught it first and then spread it to the rest of us. My mom seemed unaffected, or was extremely adept at suppressing symptoms, so she hauled my brother's sick ass back up to his dorm in Santa Barbara. Originally, this was going to be a family outing, but I argued that I really didn't need to be there for other reasons entirely, which, as it turned out, ended up dodging a bullet. We both got sick after they left, and it was a miserable night by all accounts.

It marked a couple of milestones for me. Sheltered child that I was (let's be honest, sheltered child that I am), I had never been in a position where I was seriously debilitated and my mom wasn't there to be mom at me. It was also the first time I sort of had to take care of somebody else being ill, because as sick as I was, my dad was even sicker. He's also an unreasonable old fuck who demanded that I didn't let mom know that we were both the next victims of the plague, but I disregarded that order because I was freaking out and in that pre-sick period where you feel pretty nauseated but you're not really sure if that's because you ate too fast or something or you're actually sick. She came back the next day with some pedialite or however you spell it. I was actually kind of delirious at that point, utterly sleep deprived and running a nasty fever. I still vividly recall a strange sort of fever daydream I had in the shower about The Big O being featured in the upcoming Super Robot Wars Z, which is really strange to me to this day but there it is. Showtime, I guess. Prior to this bout of sickness, I had been struggling with tummy troubles the whole year due to the stress of acclimating to living in a new state and a few unfortunate cases of much more mild gastroenteritis. By the time of this incident, I was already pretty worn down, and it turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. After making a physical recovery and doing okay for a few days, I started exhibiting severe anxiety symptoms. At the time, I didn't know it, but I was actually a fairly textbook case of post-traumatic stress disorder, and it basically stopped me from being a functioning human for a good year or so.

Let's talk a little about PTSD. The classical understanding of this disorder is that of combat fatigue, something that only soldiers in hellish warzones suffer from after seeing their squaddies get blown up by the Vietcong or whatever. A largely more enlightened view than the previous perception of the disorder as "shell shock" or, even worse, "malingering," but one still inadequate for a modern clinical context. PTSD can be brought about by any sufficiently traumatic event meeting with a sufficiently susceptible person, as per the diathesis model of medicine. If that's what they're still calling it. It's actually been pretty long since I've taken any psych courses, the last two years of college was mostly just filling in credits with random bullshit. At any rate, while soldiers are a large demographic of PTSD sufferers, people can contract it from just about anything -- car accidents, sexual assault (this is a big one, almost assuredly more prevalent than in active combat personnel), and, of course, severe illness. It took me a long time to actually be honest enough with myself and my various therapists to reach the diagnosis. I had suspicions, because even then I was studying psychology, albeit in highschool elective curriculum, and I was at that point familiar with most high profile mental illnesses like PTSD, depression, schizophrenia, and what have you. I also knew, however, that young students diagnosing themselves with diseases they had recently read about in a textbook was also a definite phenomenon. Thus, I was reluctant to bring up the possibility and actively downplayed symptoms, both because I had no faith in myself to make an even marginally accurate diagnosis and because I felt ashamed of the possibility. People get PTSD from actual trauma, not a weekend bout of stomach flu, or so I thought. To be honest, I still feel pretty ashamed of it, but I'm old enough now to know that lying to myself and others will get me precisely nowhere.

Fortunately for me, I think that my therapists and psychiatrists at the time were altogether too clever and perceptive to be fooled by a fairly half-hearted show of resistance. We didn't really give what I was feeling a name until quite a ways into it all, but from the outset, my treatment was focused on alleviating these symptoms. And, wouldn't you know it, the SSRI anti-depressants I had been on-again-off-again taking since I was 14 were also the medication of choice for treating post-traumatic stress. It took a long time, but I eventually managed to get myself together enough to start community college, then transfer to a UC school and graduate. Not without difficulty, mind you, but it's still fairly miraculous to me that it happened at all. I had occasional flare-ups, usually linked to a trigger of somebody else throwing up in my general vicinity. My brother seemed to make a habit of coming home from college only to immediately get sick, which was always harrowing. To this day, I don't know how one person can contract so many instances of gastroenteritis. I always seemed to avoid catching his bugs, probably due to my redoubled hygiene practices and general hypervigilance, though there was a period in the summer of 2012 where I got sick with -something- that made my stomach miserable. Not enough to puke, but enough to make me really worry. That was the summer right before I went to go live on my own in campus housing, so, I ended up coming home on weekends to keep myself together.

Recently, as you may or may not know, I've had a major resurgence of symptoms after a very mild case of stomach flu. I honestly wasn't sick for very long, or very violently, but it was enough to bring bad memories flooding back and reopen a terribly inconvenient can of worms. At the time, I was not on any medication due to just generally being at a fairly high level of functioning but a fairly low level of Have Money. I still feel that the decision was mostly sound, but I severely underestimated my potential reaction to a triggering event. Which I suppose in and of itself was a good indicator of my mental health prior to the incident. With the old wounds reopened and no psychoactive agents to help with the pain, I got. Bad. I'm doing better now, thanks to meds and the passage of time, but I'm still not at full capacity, and summer was utterly dire. One of the halmark symptoms of PTSD is going to great lengths to avoid situations and stimuli similar to the trauma that originated the illness. Unfortunately for me, it is very difficult to avoid "feeling nauseous" or "eating food," though God knows I gave it my all. With my comorbid emetophobia back in full swing, I drastically altered my diet and eating habits. I heavily favored foods that I could cook or supervise the cooking of and foreswore fast food and takeout of any kind. Going to a restaurant to eat was out of the question - my first time back to one was this sunday, and it was an altogether miserable experience for a lot of reasons. My handwashing has increased in frequency to the point where I occasionally need to stop myself from doing it unless absolutely necessary so my skin doesn't crack open. Above all, I have been eating a lot lot lot less. Hearing compliments about weight loss is nice, but given the circumstances, it's hard to enjoy them. I spent most of the summer forcing myself to eat and drink when I really, sincerely did not want to. I found comfort in hunger. Hunger was a signifier that all was well, that my body was operating within acceptable parameters, that being hungry and vomiting were not states that could coexist - at least, that was the thought process. The stomach is more complicated than that, of course, but defense mechanisms rarely make a lot of sense.

The anxiety, fear, and tired listlessness of post-traumatic stress disorder are all well documented. I had those in spades. I think my mom caught me doing the whole thousand yard stare a couple of times, though I doubt she realized the significance of me spacing out. A particularly nasty foible to my particular situation is that one of my body's most cherished stress responses is to get sick to my stomach. Feedback loops are quite common in mental illness, and if I am not Queen of Feedback Loops, I am at very least a Minor Duchess. I know the cycle all too well. Stomach pain into anxiety. Anxiety into worsened stomach pain. It doesn't take long on my bad days to literally think myself sick. My symptoms have trended towards the more mild side of the spectrum, at least after medication was reintroduced, but I make up for it by having a trigger that creates itself. A lot of the time, the only way I have to deal with bad episodes is to try and throw myself utterly into something else and forget about physical being for a while. Long hours in FFXIV and Civ6 can attest to this. When that doesn't work, I often have to lie down and bury my head into a pillow until I calm down enough to start feeling better. It is, in a word, disruptive.

One aspect of the disorder that is not often discussed is the heightened fight-or-flight response and startle reflex. It is especially ridiculous in my case because you cannot run from your digestive system. It tends to follow you around. Be that as it may, being constantly on alert for any and all signals of potential gastrointestinal distress is utterly exhausting. You listen to your surroundings. To other people. To yourself, for any normal stomach noises that you're convinced are the sign of the apocalypse. White noise becomes torture as you try to pick up any salient sounds distinct from the hum of the fan, and a great deal of innocuous noises start to sound a lot like worried words and puking. Coughing is the worst because it shares a pretty similar aural profile to vomiting. Naturally, my dad has been suffering from acid reflux induced coughing jags at all hours, so I'm never at a loss for something to listen to in alarm. And alarmed I am! A constant state of hypervigilance necessitates a constant state of being easily startled. People coming up behind you when you're occupied with something else, for instance, becomes a terrifying experience because they just seem to materialize out of thin air. My new room has my back to the door and my headphones are noise-cancelling, so I am snuck upon on a regular basis, though at least with no ill intent. Probably. The garage door just below me seems almost vindictive in its loud rumbling, but I shouldn't add inappropriate anthropomorphization to large sheets of metal to my list of neuroses.

All of this comes down to a single thing: it's hard to feel like yourself when all of this is going on. Sometimes in a moment of lucidity you realize that this bizarre stranger who washes her hands way too much and refuses to eat anything has been ruining your life. Severe, prolonged stress creates a deep and abiding sense of unreality. You lose faith in yourself. You stop trusting yourself. The things you do don't seem to come out quite right. Interacting with other people feels like trying to talk to somebody on the other side of soundproof glass that's kind of smudgy and gross. Sometimes you yell too loud so that they can hear you, other times you mumble halfheartedly because you don't expect it to work anyway. And on rare occasions, you sort of lose touch with reality and try to beat down the pane and make a terrible fool out of yourself because to everyone else it looks like you're slamming your fists into a wall for no reason as you scream and cry. Even then, it's sort of worth it, just so you can say you've felt something other than creeping dread for a little bit.

I suppose, in a way, that this piece is part explanation, part apology, part anecdote. I haven't done as much stuff lately. I've been more reclusive, quicker to upset, a good bit spacier than usual. I've mentioned a few times that I've been suffering from a PTSD resurgence, but those are just words. There's no context behind them. It bothered me. I wanted to put down, in more concrete terms, how I've been feeling and coping and why that's cut into me being me. I don't know what this will accomplish, but maybe somebody out there will find it resonant, or even helpful. It feels necessary to get it out in the open and be honest about why I don't make many videos or streams anymore, or why I'm harder to get in touch with, less willing to do stuff with other people. I'm making progress. Hoping that I can get to the point where I could maybe hold down a job. Gotta dream big, right? Either way, thanks for taking the time to read this. It doesn't make anything that's happened better, but maybe it will help with things in the future. I'm rambling. I've never been good at conclusions, even when they're obvious and big and juicy. When it's just my thoughts, sort of stream of consciousness, I don't really know how to wrap things up because I could keep writing for a while, if we're being honest. Look in closing, 2017 fucking sucked okay.

[crankpendletonplays-blog]

Numb-Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description:

Protective jughead x reader where shes a csa victim and self harms as a coping mechanism & he finds out and comforts her when she's triggered by something & expresses his feelings for her? if youre uncomfortable with this feel free to change it/say no but could you do a jughead imagine where he and reader are besties but she hides her depression because she knows about his home situation. he knows something is up and somehow catches her hurting herself one day and gets angry but explains hes mad because he cares about her and she kept it from him when he coulda tried to help and ends with them as a couple somehow? Fluffy angst? Love your writing so much, and thanks for considering Hey! Just a small request for JugheadxReader where the reader self harms and he comforts them :) thank you! Had all of these in my inbox so I thought I’d combine them and make them one big imagine! Hope you guys enjoy this!! Warnings: Self-Inflicted harm, mentions of self-inflicted harm, mentions of mentality disorders, violence, mentions of rape/sexual assault, pg-13, Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------ If there’s one thing I’ve come to terms with in my 16 years of living, it’s that the older you get, the more this façade you’ve built of the world as a child slowly crumbles at your feet, until everything is gray. I mean, you see color, obviously. The sun is yellow, the sky is blue, the grass is green, nothing new there. It’s more like, everything feels gray. The leaves aren’t as vibrant as they used to be, the perfect white picket fences suddenly look chipped and decayed, almost like it had been that way all along, and everything was wearing a mask. You also learn that everybody around you wears a mask as well. Nobody is as happy or as great as they claim to be anymore, and some hide it well compared to others. I was one of those people.

My childhood had been pretty normal up until middle school. That’s when everything kind of went to shit. My dad left my family, my grandma died, and my cousin died in a drunk driving accident all in one year. I was also bullied at school a lot, and ended up being jumped by a group of kids when I was walking home alone in eighth grade. I laid in the alley way for what felt like hours, just staring up at the sky while all the kids beat me and did unspeakable things to my body until I couldn’t even feel it anymore. They eventually left me for dead until by some miracle, Jason Blossom had been walking home from his football practice and found me. My older brother was friends with him, and he was considered a part of my family. He went to Riverdale, the same high school that awaited me that next summer after I left middle school.

I still don’t know how Jason managed to do it, but he had carried me five miles to the town’s hospital, where my mom and brother had been waiting. My mom burst in to tears when she saw me covered in blood and grime in the older boy’s arms. I remembered her asking me simple questions, like who the president was, and what year it was. I didn’t even have the energy to answer her. I was numb.

That was the day the sun turned gray for me.

Of course, there was a whole legal battle. My mom tried to press charges and get everybody involved arrested, but the only thing they had were a few witnesses, and a few items two of the people had dropped. The most we could do was get a restraining order on the worst of them, but it didn’t help much. My older brother made me write down every single name, and I made him promise not to hurt any of them. He obviously didn’t, because the next day he, Jason, and my best friend Jughead came back to the hospital with bruises and cuts, and when I asked they told me not to worry about it.

A month later I was attacked again by one of the boys in the exact same alley way. He caught me alone walking home again, late in the evening. I tried to scream and yell, but no words left my mouth as I did my best to get him away from me. The feeling of your clothes being torn of your body and unfamiliar hands touching you in the most horrific ways is by far the second worst feeling in the world, the first being having your virginity ripped away from you at 14 years old by a horny high school boy who didn’t care about the consequences. It’s a feeling that makes you unable to feel anything at all except broken and numb.

I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, and depression a year later, to follow with my insomnia. I was handed pill bottle after pill bottle, handed to doctor after doctor, took test after test, none of it mattered though. None of it could fix me. None of it could erase what the boy did to me, or how all he got was a slap on the wrist after leaving me half naked and cold in an alley way after leaving his semen all in between my legs

I started self-harming because I wanted to feel again. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel pain, I wanted to feel the sting of the blade on my skin, or the blood running down my arms, something, anything, but I couldn’t. I was just numb.

I was good at hiding it though. I was good at faking a smile, and making everyone think I was ok. I was good at pretending to be happy and avoiding the elephant in the room just like everyone else did.

Jughead and I had made a promise with each other a long time ago to not keep secrets from each other. I knew that. Of course I felt bad about lying to him, but I was keeping this from him for his sake, or, at least I tried to convince myself that this was my “logical explanation” for it. Jughead had too much on his plate to handle me as well. Hell, he had the fucking sheriff on his trail, accusing him of murdering the guy that saved my life,

My thighs burned as the fresh cuts rubbed against the short jean fabric, but I still didn’t feel pain. Of course, it physically hurt, but only my thigh. My chest was still numb in the place where my heart rested, beating and thumping against my ribs, but lacking any feeling. I was mentally numb from head to toe.

I paced up the bridge, heaving my body up until I was standing in the middle, looking out over the edge of Sweetwater river. I looked over the ledge, the water running and swirling through the creek calmly, the jagged rocks pointing up at me, almost beckoning me to pull myself up on to the concrete ledge and fall to their doom. If I couldn’t feel anything in life, maybe l could feel something in death.

I pulled myself up on the ledge, sitting and swinging my legs so they dangled over the water dangerously. I wasn’t scared. I don’t know if that surprised me or not.

I pulled out my phone, texting Jughead twice before shoving my phone back in my pocket.

“How do you stop somebody from making a bad decision?” “I’m at the bridge.”

I looked out at river for what felt like years, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Would anyone even really care if I was dead? Do I even matter?

Of course people would care. My family would care, Jughead would care.

But for how long?

Would I even leave a dent, or a hole, or a mark on people’s lives if I was dead? Or I would just be another case of a tragic fucked up teen who didn’t get the help they needed in time?

Whatever, it didn’t matter.

None of it mattered anymore.

I couldn’t even feel it.

I sighed, pulling myself up so I was standing on the ledge. I took a deep breath, looking out at the water. I could almost hear Jughead’s voice in the back of my head, screaming at me to stop, begging and pleading me not to do this.

It was almost like he was here.

Wait. Was he?

I turned my head to look over my shoulder, seeing the boy sprint toward me wildly. Had we not been in this particular situation. I probably would have been laughing my ass of and making a snarky comment about how I had never seen him run before.

I froze.

Holy shit, he was running. He never runs.

I turned back around, looking down at the edge once more. I shuffled forward quickly so the only things left on the concrete were the backs of my high tops, before holding my arms out and beginning to lean forward.

Everything that happened next felt like those slow mo scenes in Matrix, where Keanu Reeves dodges bullets like a fucking badass, except this time, there were no bullets. Just me, falling to my death, and Jughead’s arms wrapping around my torso and pulling me off the ledge, the both of us stumbling and falling on to the cemented bridge.

For the first time in a long time, I felt things again.

I felt Jughead’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist. I felt his hand on my thigh, his fingers flat against the bright red cuts and faded scars that littered my skin there. I felt his head on my shoulder, and his hair against my neck.

And I felt fear.

I felt the fear of what I had just done, what I was getting ready to do. I felt the pain of the cuts and bruises on my body. I felt the pain of what those people had done to me and my body.

I turned in Jughead’s arms, my body wrapping itself around his instinctively. Both of our faces were wet when he shoved his lips on to mine, our tears mixing together as they feel freely down our faces. The pain, fear, and hurt that I had felt in those ten seconds were immediately replaced with new feelings.

Love.

Happiness.

Hope.

Faith.

For the first time in forever, I finally felt something. I wasn’t numb, or cold because I felt something bigger than that. I felt love.

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

If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, or at risk of suicide, please call the number 1-800-273-8255. This is not the end. You will never not matter. People do love you and you will leave a dent in their lives. Don’t give a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #266

“... and buried deep beneath the waves, betrayed by family, to his nation with his last breath cried: beware the daughter of the sea.”

What's the last thing you looked up in the dictionary? Shit, it's right on the tip of my tongue... I was making sure I was using it right, which I was. Do you ever listen to instrumental music? Rarely, and if I do, it's normally game soundtracks. Who did you last sit on? I'm hoping you mean like... on their lap lmao in which case it'd probably be Jason. No one wants my fat ass to sit on their lap nowadays. What do you think about wind? I HATE wind, unless it's hot and there's a nice breeze. Has there been anyone that you wanted to get to know but never did? Well of course. That happened in high school a lot. What's the last thing you looked at that reminded you of someone? Teddy's picture on my shelf. Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? Not that I know of. I couldn't even begin to imagine either of those trying that. Do you have a gag reflex? A VERY STRONG ONE. Would you rather have sex before you're married or wait till marriage? I don't care. Tbh by now, I kinda think before is wiser only to ensure you two are compatible in that area. It wouldn't matter to me personally, but I know that's important to some people and can cause issues and built-up bitterness. Just use protection, Christ. Have you ever let someone hit you? Um no? Do you have friends in other states/countries? Plenty. Been on the Internet since before I was even a pre-teen, talking to strangers lmao. Do you ever pay attention during church? I would try to back then, but I never succeeded well because my mind would wander out of boredom. Do you have self-control? That very much depends on the situation. I can be EXTREMELY impulsive, but in other cases hold it together. Have you ever broken a window? No. When was the last time you freaked someone out? I'm sure it was a few nights ago when I had another nightmare and woke up screaming. Mom always yells my name to snap me out of it. Have you ever gone on a date with a weirdo? No. Who's the last person you called a bitch? I don’t know. Is anyone in your family disabled? Yes. What do you want for Christmas? It's hella early to think about it, but I'm quite certain I'll be asking for a treadmill. How many moles do you have? I don't think I have any? Aren't freckles and moles different? Do you own any comic books? No. What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? I don't know. I never did really nasty ones because I wasn't stupid. Do you know anyone who has been raped? Almost, anyway. Idk if I know anyone to really has been... I hope not. Are you an atheist? No. I think there's... something. Have you ever owned a goldfish? Well yeah, from like, carnival games and stuff. Who was the last person to call you beautiful? I dunno, probably a family member when I changed my FB profile picture. How many times have you been stung by a bee? Once. Those fuckin hornets better stay the holy fuck away from me. What was the last flavor of gum you chewed? Probably something fruity. When was the last time you used tape? Ummm probably when I had to tape the side of my laptop screen a bit. When was the last time you said fuck? A couple questions ago in this survey lmao. Have you ever stolen something? Only this pink crayon I thought was beautiful at Sunday school oof. Who would you like to kiss right now? Maaaan there's three people I would so long I wasn't involved with anyone else. Mark of course lol, Jason, or Sara. Who was the last person you told to 'Shut the fuck up' to? Ha ha, probably playfully to Sara. Why were you last nervous? So I joined this group on deviantART called the Guiding Light Project, which is about mental health help and positivity, and there is a list of people seeking help and what their problem is. I decided to reach out to two people I really thought I could help, and one was a guy. Men make me so nervous that I was very nervous sending him a message, but it's going very well. Whose pants did you last take off? Uhhhh. OH YEAH HEY when I was hanging out with Colleen and she got me to change her son's diaper. Hate hate hate hated it. I do not ever need kids. When was the last time you were disturbed? Hm. I'm sure over something I saw on Facebook. NO, WAIT. Sara, do not read this. When I was at Ashley's, we were watching Naked and Afraid, and they caught a chameleon to cook for food. I almost screamed. Poor thing looked terrified when the guy grabbed him. Why did you last feel awkward? Also when messaging that guy. When was the last time you got in a fight with your best friend? It's been a long time. Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? Only a friend. Who was the last person you read a book to? My niece had me read a book like fifty times. Who is the person you say the naughtiest things to? Ha ha, Sara when we're having our stupid fangirl moments. Who was the last person to send you a letter? Sara. It's still on my shelf. :') How do you feel about war? I’m a pacifist, so guess. Do you like cupcakes or muffins more? Hm, maybe cupcakes. Have you ever pushed someone on purpose? Yes. Have you ever slapped someone in the face? No. Do you have any tough life decisions to make soon? Nothing major. At what time of the day do you usually have the most energy? In the morning, once I've passed the drowsy phase. Magenta, aqua, or coral? Coral. Do you like the color orchid? Ye! Would you rather be a wedding photographer or a nature photographer? Uhhh I literally want to be both? I'm *realistically* more interested in shooting weddings for the income, but if I had my way, I'd be perfectly financially content being a nature photographer. Man, I hope that happens. Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Are you interested in health and wellness? "Rather than interests, I consider them two very important things I should always try to pay attention to. Health is very important." <<<< This. Would you ever be a fitness coach? HA no. Do you ever question whether something that makes you uncomfortable is a good thing or not? That's a very good question. This can definitely lead to you questioning flawed morals, so in that sense, it sure can be. In other ways though, it can certainly be a bad thing. Do you think for yourself? Yes. I am, generally, very opinionated and follow my gut instinct. Do you live life on your own terms, or do you do what everyone tells you to do? The former, usually. I can be AWFUL at making decisions though, so I definitely consider advice. What color is your bike? I don't have a bike. Are you due for a hike? There is physically no way I could handle a hike in my current shape. Muscle atrophy in the legs is not fuckin' fun, and with hyperhidrosis and THIS heat? Oh, hunny. Have you ever created a themed scrapbook? As a kid, I fainty remember having one? How often do you eat dessert? Very rarely. I don't need it. What's the trendiest item you own? Oh boy, I don't have a clue. I don't even know what's "trendy." Did you pull an all-nighter last night? No. When was the last time you wrote an essay? My first semester of this year. Do you enjoy writing essays? I actually do if it's a subject I'm passionate about. Do you enjoy learning? Yeah! What is your favorite fairytale? Fuckin fight me if you say Shrek isn't one. What is your favorite name that starts with a "Z"? I have no idea. Maybe Zena, though I prefer it with an "x." Have you ever felt like you were going to throw up while you were at school? Yes. I have before. Do you own a princess crown? No. When was the last time you were jealous of someone? Ugh... with how bad my PTSD has been lately, I've been having periodic episodes of raging hate and jealousy of the girl he dated after me, thinking things like, "what if he loved her more," "what if he also told her this or that," etc. They're not even together anymore, but my brain doesn't care. Do you know anyone with an eating disorder? Maybe? What was the last thing you killed? I think an earwig-ish thing. Whose number did you last get? The girl's who adopted Bentley. When was the last time you used a public bathroom? Probably not since an appointment with my psychiatrist some time ago. Have you ever used someone for money? Wow, no. Do you have manners? I honestly think I have great manners. Have you ever woken up and realized that yesterday really happened? That was ABSOLUTELY the day after the breakup. It didn't at all feel real when it was even happening. When was the last time that you had a pet that died? Last November is when we had to put Teddy to sleep. God, I miss that baby boy. Or did Mitsu die later? I don't recall for sure. Do you know anyone who retired at a young age? I mean, probably. I'm just unaware. When was the last time you took a taxi/Uber? Where were you going? Never, actually. We don't really have those here. Have you ever been diagnosed (by a professional) with OCD? Yes. Do you know any married gay couples? Distantly. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? SARA! I feel like kids having a sleepover when I've been with her. Is there anything you should tell someone, but don’t want to? Yes. Have you ever woken up somewhere and not known how you got there? I don't believe so. Do you live somewhere where recreational marijuana is legal? No. Have you ever quit a job with no notice? No. Do you have nightmares often? HA, it's just about a nightly basis now. Have you ever been on any sort of government assistance? I've gotten loans for school and stuff. Does that count? Did you have your own bedroom when you were growing up? No, I shared it with my little sister. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic. Are you comfortable with your weight? Fuck no. How often do you listen to classic rock? Semi-frequently. Not as much as I did in high school. What about country? Just about never ever. Do you know anyone inside and out? I don't think that's possible. Is anyone in your family sick? Both Mom and Grammy are fighting cancer right now. I don't think my grandma has much time left. She can't walk on her own anymore. What kind of camera do you have? A Canon EOS Rebel T6. What is something you know you shouldn’t do, but do anyways? Download music. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Idk. Is photography one of your interests? Of course, I aim to make a career out of it. Do you know your neighbors very well? I personally don't. The person to the right of us, though, my mom knows decently and is a total and complete sweetheart. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? "Kind of (I hurt myself for my own purposes, but I did want attention paid to it), when I was a teenager, because I desperately needed someone to treat me with compassion and, like, take the shit that was happening to me seriously." <<<< I don't like admitting this, but it's happened. I want to emphasize that it was not the primary reason and was rather impulsive anger and self-hate, BUT for the mentioned reasons, I did want this shit taken seriously and realize I really needed help. Has anyone ever called you conceited? No. Do you write ever write poetry just to get your feelings out? Certainly. Not like I used to, though. Who were you last really mad at? REALLY mad? I'm not sure, but probably Mom. What is a sad song that you like? "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade has been in my head lately. What is a rumor people tell about you? I don't know of any. The only rumor that I know has ever been spread about me was that Jason and I had a baby in high school. Despite the fact I was slim then lmao. If you were given 1,000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would you do with it? Definitely plant a forest around a house I'd like to model myself, dig a nice pond for more wildlife... a lot of stuff that would benefit nature. If you had to flee their home country, where would you live? Canada. Do you think psychic abilities exist? Which one would you like to have? No. I'd like to uhhhh... predict the future when I will it myself, I guess. What’s a skill or craft that you would like to master, but haven’t? I wish I could draw exactly what I see in my head. How did you find out Santa isn’t real? My mom just told me. What’s a personality trait that you wish you had? CONFIDENCE!!!!!!! Do you believe in getting revenge on those who do wrong by you? If so, how do you go about it? Noooo no no. That creates so many more problems. If you were arrested with no explanation, what would your friends and family think you’d had done? That's a great question. If you could shop for free at one store, what would it be? For the sake of being smart, Wal-Mart. Necessities are there. Do you have any pets? If so, what are they? I have a Siamese-esque cat and a champagne ball python. I'm currently DESPERATELY trying to talk Mom into a Mexican red knee tarantula... and I really want a hognose snake. What event in your life would make a good movie? The breakup and my recovery. If you could dedicate your life to solving one problem, what would it be? Discrimination. Where do you find meaning in your life? Quite honestly, I don't feel it has much meaning currently. I'm not doing shit worthwhile. Do you believe things happen for a reason? Hell no. What do you think is a conspiracy? Honestly, I believe in quite a few. The one I believe in most was that the government was 120% involved in 911. Research. It is unbelievable. I'm very dubious that the "first" moon landing was real, either. There is an overwhelming amount of evidence it was on a soundstage. Why? America wanted to beat Russia in the space race. I love conspiracies. Do you believe in the afterlife? How do you picture it? Yes. I don't quite know how I picture it, but I lean towards like... this nirvanic state of peace and knowledge, and unity between the dead. What’s a superstition you believe in? I don’t believe in any superstitions. None. What is the dumbest way you’ve ever been injured? YOOOOOO when I was at Colleen's in-law's having dinner once, I literally took a large bite of rice RIGHT WHEN IT CAME OFF THE STOVE. I didn't know it'd only just been removed. My tongue was burned for weeks on end. Do you mind conflict? Hell yes I mind. I'm terrified of confrontation. If you could start a charity what would it be for? Something with mental health. Maybe to help those who can't afford help/therapy. If you were a cryptid (bigfoot, mothman, ect.) what would you be? I'm already a cryptid. What’s your ideal temperature and weather? Hm... like 55 and partly cloudy. What topic could you give a 20-minute presentation on with no preparation? Gay rights. Have you ever worn those drunk goggles? Yes, for D.A.R.E. in elementary school. Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? It depends on the subject of course, but I'm normally very good at agreeing to disagree. Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? Animal fucking cruelty. Dumbasses getting gored are well-deserved. Who is the best female rocker? Why? Lita Ford is a badass. Slays on the guitar and is just cool. What color of roses do you find the prettiest? I actually like the classic, deep red. Have you ever accidentally found porn when looking for something else? I don't think so. Why do so many fans with OTP’s insist that their ship is real? I don't really know, but it's annoying. Some people are just friends, y'know. Being similar/compatible does not equate to actually liking each other like that, and the feral ones are just... wow. Do you draw fanart of anything? Not anymore. There's soooo many pictures I'd love to draw of Mark, but I literally love him so much I don't want to disgrace his face with my poor ability to make shit proportional lmao. Favorite thing to see in museums? Fossils! Have you ever seen an unwrapped mummy in person? No. What things have people shamed you for? My AvPD doesn't want me to think about this. Are there any 'adult stores’ in your area? Probably at some point. Have you been inside of them/shopped there before? No. Do you watch The Masked Singer? Any theories? No.

[thedaywebuiltthefort-blog]

Suicide Prevention Day Post: PTSD - my story

10th September is suicide prevention day.

This post is inspired by and written in homage to my brave friends and family who have spoken out about their own experiences of mental health, depression and the struggle that comes with hitting rock bottom and having to claw your way back out of that big black hole.

Have I ever been suicidal? That’s an interesting question and one that I don’t know how to answer entirely honestly. I don’t remember ever feeling an urge to kill myself. I do however remember knowing at one point, several years ago, that I didn’t want to be anymore. That I just didn’t want to live anymore. I don’t know if that is the same thing.

Either way, this came at the time I was suffering from PSTD.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a condition mostly affiliated with the military and those in service. The truth of it is that it affects many people for many reasons. It is unbiased and unprejudiced in its attack.

I know for a fact that there is a stigma of shame attached to it when you are not in military service. People assume that you can’t possibly have difficulty processing a traumatic event when you haven’t done a tour of Iraq or been in a war zone. For a long time, I didn’t like to admit that I had it, even after being diagnosed.

My PTSD came (hand in hand with a lovely dose of PND) following the birth of my son when I was nineteen years old. I want to be careful to be respectful to those involved with this story, so, for this reason, I am focusing solely on the effects the experience had on my mental and emotional health.

It was not an easy experience. I went two weeks over my due date. I was terrified. The skin on my stomach had stretched to the point of splitting in two (I still have the scars) and I had something called ICP (Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy) which I won’t explain in detail, but that essentially causes extreme itching during the third trimester.

Let me just elaborate on that for a moment – when I say itching, I don’t mean it’s a little bit annoying. After a few weeks of constant blood tests (at one point I’m not even sure I had any blood left to be taken) and not being able to sleep I was literally ready to tear my own skin off. I have never known anything like it and I hope to never again. If I had been able to get my hands on any I would have sandpapered my skin raw.

The birth itself was hard and after 48 hours in labour, I knew it wasn’t going to be natural. I told the doctors. They ignored me. I was left for another day – terrified, in pain until eventually they conceded and I was knocked out cold for an emergency section. It is hard to admit even now, but at the time I was trying to act like I wasn’t afraid, like I was mature and in control. In reality, there was a voice in my head that told me I was going to die. The hardest part about that is that I wasn’t afraid anymore at that point. I was so ready for it to be over I really didn’t care anymore.

Several hours later I woke up, was shown a baby and pretty much left to my own devices. I left the hospital after what I think was either nine or ten days and beyond that I have no memories of what happened at all. I don’t remember who came to visit me or when. I don’t remember the first time I held my own child. My memories were wiped completely and to this day there is still a blank space in my mind where those first few days should have been.

So now you know what caused the PTSD.

Realistically, I would say it was eight years before I started to recover in any meaningful way. Although I do remember a lot from the years that followed there are still huge patches in my memory where there is missing information, especially from the early months.

I don’t remember the first time I actually felt anything afterward. I was on autopilot for a long time. Actually, to say I didn’t feel anything was a lie. I felt anger and bitterness. I felt cheated and betrayed by the world and by my own body.

For a long time, I was lost in what became an almost consuming anger that festered like a poison. Everybody has different symptoms and reactions to trauma. There was a long time where I was determined to destroy myself in any way possible. I pushed people away becaue I felt incapable of loving and unworthy of being loved. I was numb all over. Bad decisions, poor life choices, toxic relationships with people who fed my demons...

I had recurring nightmares both sleeping and waking. I saw visions of babies with their skulls being crushed. I sat at work and saw visions of doctors smeared in blood, masked faces looking down at me. I went to visit a friend who had recently give birth and, as she proudly passed me her newborn daughter to hold, I ran to the car and locked myself in. I sat there in the passenger seat hyperventilating and crying. I threw up in the seat well.

I started avoiding people because I didn't want to see their children. I lost friends because of it.

Babies terrified me. I didn’t want to hold them or be around them. I felt like I was incapable of feeling anything other than fear. People would assume (because I’m a girl obvs) that I would love to hold their children.

When my niece was born, my sister’s husband posted a lovely announcement on Facebook. I flew into a complete rage. I was so angry at the world. That night I remember as being probably the worst of all the times my PTSD had taken over. I was howling like an animal, tears pouring down my face as I lay on the floor and screamed at my OH that I didn’t want to live anymore.

The next day he quietly and carefully removed all the sharp instruments from our house and locked away anything that I might be able to use to hurt myself.

It took four therapists, cognitive behavioural therapy, EMDR therapy, counselling and several years before I could even come close to believing I could beat the demons. When I received the letter from the hospital when my son was eight years old confirming my diagnosis I cried tears of sheer relief.

I don’t feel any shame. I freely admit that I was not a pleasant person during that time. I call it the ‘wilderness’ years and in some ways, I wish that things had been different. In other ways, I don’t wish it had been different at all. Everything that happened made me who I am now.

It still annoys me when people don't understand why it is I can have one child and not want another one, as if having babies should be the sole purpose of my life. I usually just tell them that I don't need another one, I got it 100% spot on the first time (that's true actually, my son is ridiculously cool). People have this expectation that there is something beautiful, natural and almost transcendent about the experience. It would have been nice if that had been the case.

I have an amazing kid, who is now a teenager. Our relationship is really close, but it doesn’t stem from a natural maternal instinct. It comes from fighting for it. I have had to learn how to be a parent and it’s been a tough battle from day one. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will probably never feel like, as I imagine it to be, a motherly mother. I’m more like a wild feral mum. I’ll never coo over baby pictures or feel all warm and fuzzy inside at the thought of tiny infants.

But I will show my son what it is to fight back. The lessons I provide are ones in how to keep going. Hopefully, it’ll prove beneficial in the long run to both of us.

So there you go, that is my story in a very condensed nutshell.

I’ve spoken before about the state of my body post-pregnancy. Almost fourteen years later and the scars are still there. I will never be able to look in a mirror again without seeing them. The memories are always there, staring back at me.

It took a while to come to terms with that.

But the emotions and mental side of it are now at the point where much like the marks on my body; they feel more like a faded scar than an open wound. They’re there and that’s fine.

I hope that by sharing this, it puts what we are doing and why we started this blog into perspective. It hasn’t always been about living our best lives – there have been times when it has just been about surviving. I’m not ashamed of my story. I’m not ashamed of my body. I’m not ashamed of the truth. There is nothing shameful in admitting that you needed or need help. Every voice that speaks out and says 'this is my story' is another voice that can be heard by someone who needs to know that they are NOT ALONE.

I had PSTD.

I will be forever changed by that experience.

I am who I am now because of it.

I have never felt more powerful in my life.

This is me.

Holly

[artkidartkid]

Hola Osito! It’s G. I know you must now be thinking that you don’t want to hear from me. But here I am sending you this. The mentally ill friend? Boyfriend? Lover? Soulmate? I don’t even know what I was to you, still. Anyways. I’m not that ill anymore, I do have anxiety and depression still affecting me, but since I had some therapy and pills to treat those and was diagnosed with some PTSD not long after that but I’m doing okay. I brought that to myself. And I have to pay that price. Right now it’s two am and I cant go to sleep because I had to write you something. After what I read on your blog. Ever since the last time we talked I have never checked on anything where you have a profile because I thought that would be best for us, for me. It was a struggle. But I’ve always kept an unnerving feeling. And today I broke that rule. And now I have been thinking and thinking and thinking and know I need to say something. I don’t know where to start... ok let see I have sent you a letter and I don’t know if you have received it but it’s not a nice letter and I apologize for that. I must explain why. The reason I wrote and sent that letter was because I wanted for me to answer all questions I still have and finally have a “full circle”. Failed miserably. I still have questions and I’m still missing answers. My main concern was that I felt betrayed, it still affects me every day. Every fucking day. No matter what I do to change that. We still have things to work out but probably never will. Also, I know I put my bracelet there. This was in order for you to give this to someone you really care about in the future. I don’t think it’ll ever get back to me but if it does then I’ll be honored to wear it. It is yours to decide whenever it’s right for you. Our time in Barcelona was truly beautiful and left a huge mark on me but it also left me with a lot of doubts. Some have haunted me without realizing it. I remember I always had to tell myself: I love him but he must not feel the same way about me, not at this moment. That broke me internally everyday. I never said anything because I wanted to look strong to you. And I said to myself it didn’t matter, but it did matter. Maybe that was the right time for me but it wasn’t for you. I’m sorry I insisted and tried to push us meeting when you probably thought it was a terrible idea or didn’t want it. And also apologies for going to Granada. I know that was the least of places you wanted me in. I invaded your territory and am sorry for it. And my last apology is for my physical state, I was in the middle of the breakdown waiting to happen. But I will always be thankful for those memories. I also believe that through the last months we became strangers in our own relationship. I never got the chance to see a side of you and unfortunately that’s the way it had to be. You can never truly know a person completely. Plus I fucked up a lot. I could’ve talked about it but decided to stay silent. And that’s the worse thing one can do during a crisis. I have to say there’s just one thing I wrote in the letter I first sent you where I expressed my love that wasn’t true. That I was scared too. I was never scared of building our lives together. I would try my best to be there at the same time and space. There is no doubt about that. You know i could achieve that, and maybe that got you scared. I was empathetic, seeing your perspective and I understood a lot of things but not everything. I failed you. But thank you for never giving up on me. There’s another thing I have to clarify. I know it was wrong. I’ve had a professional diagnose me for BPD after I’ve told you and said I don’t have it but I could develop similar traits if I fed my brain with information regarding it. I used BPD as a shield to catalyze you leaving me. I did fed information from what I saw online and I acted as one and I’m sorry. I needed you to be the one to cut off our relationship. I wanted you to do it . So you knew you were capable of doing it. I had to. I couldn’t leave like the other guy left. I could never think of it. And I don’t think you’ll ever let me go just like that. I tried and I couldn’t. It had to be done by you. I said I would send back the things you sent me but I’ll never be able to do it. Those things have enormous personal value to me and they’ll go wherever I go. A reminder of better times. They always be a reflection of me and you. Our time apart has done me some good and bad. I had to completely kill everything I knew and start rediscovering and reshaping me from scratch which has been an extensive process. I f don’t watch a single film since we stopped talking until recently, in September. I’ve missed you. I’ve cried for you. I’ve cried for me. I’ve missed me. I hope you were able to get that honors degree, or still working at it. It must be very hard for you at this time but I believe in you. You already have your bachelors! Congratulations 🎊🎉! Adelaide is unbearable to you, i know, but remember that the world is at your feet and you decide which way it rolls. Maybe you can start by looking for schools in Europe, and in the case you seem uninspired by that the English citizenship could help too :) You had your 22nd birthday a few months ago. I wanted to message because you were my thought all day long. But I know I couldn’t. I’m not allowed to. Feliz Cumpleaños Osito 🐨💕 There’s not one day without me thinking of you. Not one and pretty much everything around me has a connection back to you. It is pleasant. I know there’s a long path ahead for you, personally and professionally. There will be a day when you’re at your most secure, ambitious self. There will be a day when I read about you on the papers, at bookstores, online and I look forward to it. I just know it. Be strong, I believe in you. You can accomplish anything in this life. Be proud of who you are and what you believe in. You’re beautiful and you still make me wish I was a better version of myself. After all, I still care about you and I love you forever. Lots of love ❤️ I no longer live where I used to. And will not be living where I’m at now in the near future. I’d love to hear from you but I know it’s best not to talk. At least that’s what i picture. Take care Osito, I’ll have your back if you need me to. Some songs. I know you’ll like them: Day One One - Nils Frahm & FS Blumm Therapy - yaeji Colours- Roosevelt Fig in Leather - Devendrá Banhart i - Kendrick Lamar Touch & Go - Bob Moses Evergreen - Dillon La met est calme - Ben Mazué

[thisaccountwashackedunfollo-blog]

Diagnostic testing

I have had four (five, if you include the specialist) run mental diagnosis on me. And constant through every one (even the specialist) was the mention of ADHD. The first time (age 12) was by a general pediatrician who told my mom she could discard the ADHD diagnostic results (which she did) and instead of finding ways to help it, was completely swept under the rug and treated me like I 'just liked to play with things around me' The second time (age 13) was by a pediatric therapist who wasn't really that big on diagnostics. (I've now heard that they've constantly both under and over diagnose an array of illnesses and disorders) they didn't even finish diagnostic testing before they said "I mean, if you even have ADHD, I still wouldn't give you medication. If you need it to get through middle school, what happens when you're in high school? Or collage?" And marked my medical report as 'potentially borderline, but very minimal' and all my ADHD symptoms were projected onto PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression. The third/fourth time (age 13/14) was by two different specialists. One being the absolute WORST psychiatrist I've ever seen. The other being a specialist on autism. The psych took my baseline diagnosis and said "I don't normally deal with people this childish" (this isn't meant to be mean to the dr. They just weren't a good fit for me because they spent more time working with intense depression (why I was sent to them) personality disorders, severe OCD, and schizophrenia) they referred to ADHD as being 'childish' constantly, but at least acknowledged that it was a real thing. After getting back from a long trip, my family presumed I was autistic (Aspergers to be exact) because I had all the major characteristics for it. But when I went to go get tested the specialist said after a few sessions "I do not think your child is autistic, but have you ever heard of ADHD?" Where my mother promptly replied "they don't have ADHD. That was the first thing we tested for." Keep in mind, all the previous times I was 'tested' they were all disregarded due to personal bias of parents and doctors. The last time (age 15) was with my current doctor. The first time we met I was still 14 and when ADHD was brought up, my mom completely shot it down. I'd been seeing her for about a year when I was telling her about my experiences over the two months I hadn't seen her. She instantly started asking me questions that I knew from previous ADHD tests. After finishing the entire test, she did a full evaluation on the diagnosis and looked at my medical history to see what other doctors I've had said about it. She finally diagnosed me with ADHD which she said was "pretty obvious to the entire medical staff" I'd been working with recently. I finally got put on medication and it's actually been helping. The reason I'm saying all this is there is a LOT of bias in the mental health community. I wasn't able to actually get medication for a disorder that I'd known I've had for 3+ years prior because I was finally old enough to make medical decisions on my own, and didn't need my parents consent for everything. And I know medication is not the right treatment for everyone, but some people it can help them on an tremendous level. Now don't even get me started on how much my medication costs. And I get generics! To anyone under the age of 14 and struggling with mental health, this isn't over. (The reason why I say 14 is because that's the age of medical confidentiality where I live. Know your rights kids!) and if you can't afford medication, or don't like to take medication, there are plenty of other options that can still help. The thing is, I got lucky. I only had to go through 4 doctors. Never be afraid to tell things to medical professionals. Even if you think they might ridicule you for them. I don't really know where this post is going. But, just don't be afraid to ask for help. And, if you don't have enough money to go to a mental professional (because some insurance companies think that mental health is something that's really easy to pay out of pocket.) talk to a school psychologist. They can't give you a medical diagnosis or prescribe medication, but can provide professional guidance. (The lines are a bit blurry on that one because of the types of degrees they have, but yes, they can give you a legal, educational diagnosis) please don't be afraid to reach out. Especially to resources at school or in your community.