#to be fair i was unmedicated and having the worst time of my life but still. i was funny

[starberry-fag]

making silly little mogai headcanons for my silly little fictional characters and living life to the fullest: an autobiography by me

[cryptiduni]

…i just saw this poll and my unevolved brain gel wriggled inside my cranium like a feral fish:

idk how you look at his official art and call him conventionally attractive. my man looks like a wet dog and has eyebags for daysss. face full of pox scars, skin pale af, and those shaggy ass hair & a rugged beard hanging from his flat long face.

he is pretty *to me* but like dude???

—not exactly a heartthrob boy band material is he?

obv I wouldn’t call him “misunderstood baby uwu” if we are talking a little more seriously —but to be fair jean is having possibly the worst week of his life. the car? fucking sunk. case? unsolved. not to mention his close partner (who is also an ass mind you) doesn’t even remember him, already running around with a new one.

yeah he is absolutely foul and aggressive and degrading harry but like i said before (in my tag essay lol) judit also makes ableist comments and i don’t see people hating her because she’s outwardly nice—

and respects harry as her superior. her BOSS.

(also a friend with benefits? /nope, it’s just him harassing judit/ as well but not as a complicated relationship compared jean and harry’s brötherbund. only a few months of acquaintanceship.)

plus it’s highhlyyy likely that harry is not the only one substance abuse. —look at jean’s rudolf-looking-red-ass-nose. a drunkard’s sniffers. probably had few lines with him late at night… when your lifetime partner is an alcoholic it's hard to say no.

about the left for dead thing, they left because harry told them to fuck off. tbh harry is nightmare to work with esp pre-bender. (and am saying as a pathetic little unmedicated neurodivergent woman.)

but when the second time they left revachol was not jean’s fault, and it was judit’s suggestion anyway. the squad probably thought that since harry had someone a little more responsible looking after him. it will be fine when they come back. the tribunal was absolutely unaccounted for.

yet despite all of these things, he will try to come back to make sure he is ok and accommodate harrier to the best of his abilities which is wearing very thin. look at him trying to make up to our harry boy:

anyways am incapable of writing coherent thoughts (even though i want to talk about it for hours) that make sense so go look at sygneth’s jean psychological analysis instead. it is an excellent read. please go read.

[schizodiaries]

kinda need to vent a bit about the situation with my medication

I know I mentioned several times already that I was going to stop taking Abilify but there’s just one obstacle that’s preventing me from doing so. My bf does not respect my wish to be unmedicated. I had planned to taper off Abilify earlier this year but every time I bring it up he shuts me down and says it’s better for me to stay medicated.

His reasoning is that I’ve been stable for this long because the medication is clearly working, therefore I should continue taking it to reduce my symptoms and prevent a relapse. It comes from a place of genuine concern for my health, which I appreciate.

But while I understand his perspective, my desire to go off my medication comes from a place of concern for my health as well. While I haven’t had any immediate side effects from Abilify, I’m worried about long term side effects like tardive dyskinesia or metabolic issues. I’ve had nasty side effects from different antipsychotics in the past, which thankfully were only temporary, but I’m worried that if I stay on Abilify for too long that I will develop permanent side effects from it.

I also was recently diagnosed with prediabetes, and I’m trying to reverse it by eating healthier, exercising, and losing weight (I’m close to obesity) and while my psychiatrist told me Abilify is the antipsychotic that’s least likely to cause weight gain, I still think it might be contributing to my struggle to lose weight. (I’ve also heard of people that developed diabetes while on Abilify, but I don’t know if there’s a correlation between them or not.)

But above all, the main reason I want to stop taking Abilify is because…. I just don’t want to take it anymore. It feels unnecessary, it feels unneeded, and I trust myself to have enough insight into my illness that if I do become psychotic again I would be able to handle it a lot better. I never planned to take Abilify for too long, I just needed it to combat the psychosis I was experiencing a year and a half ago. And once I was back to “normal,” I would stop it.

But my boyfriend, being stubborn as he is, does not agree with my plans. He thinks I should stay on Abilify for as long as I can, for the rest of my life even. He thinks that if it’s clearly working, then stopping will only cause me to relapse. And he doesn’t want me to be psychotic or be forced to stay in a psych ward again. He’s worried that stopping the meds will do more harm than good. No matter any of the reasons I give for wanting to stop taking Abilify, he will not support my wishes. And I’m kind of pissed about it because it feels like he isn’t being respectful or understanding of my situation.

The absurd part is, I told him I’m 100% willing to return to antipsychotics if in the future I have another psychotic episode. I’m not quitting them completely, I just want to stop taking them now that I’m in a stable spot because I feel like I don’t need them anymore. And despite that, he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea to stop my meds, even if it’s temporary. In fact, he said himself he would rather I experience the side effects than go through another psychotic episode.

So I bring up that he has ADHD and he’s unmedicated. So why can’t I be schizophrenic and unmedicated? Why the double standard? His response to that is that the worst that could happen to him is he has trouble paying attention, sitting still, and getting things done. Meanwhile the worst that could happen to me is that I could lose touch with reality and hold false beliefs and see/hear things that aren’t there, which he thinks is more severe than his symptoms. A fair point, but I still feel like he’s being hypocritical.

We’ve had this conversation about stopping my meds four times already, one of them being a two hour long debate on why I should or shouldn’t stop taking the meds. And he has the nerve to say he’s tired of having this conversation and that he doesn’t want to have it again. Basically saying his word is final, without actually saying that. I don’t even know why this is something that’s up for debate. I don’t why I even need to explain myself to him. Shouldn’t the simple fact that I don’t want to take the meds anymore be enough reason for me to stop taking them? Why do I have to prove something to earn that right? Why can’t I be in charge of what goes in my body? Even doctors and psych wards can’t force you to take medication you don’t want to, so why does he feel like he has the right to?

Idk anymore. I love my bf and I understand his perspective but I just feel like I’m not being listened to, I feel invalidated and disrespected, and I just want off this fucking medication. I shouldn’t need some grand, indisputable reason for me to stop taking them. I shouldn’t have to give him thousands of explanations for him to see why I want to stop my meds. I should be able to make my own decisions for my own body and mind.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[rinatthemin]

I have been so creatively nerfed for the past six months because a whole cascade of life changes scrambled my insurance and interrupted my ability to see my psychiatrist and treat my ADHD (I've been very stubborn about hoarding the small reserve of meds I have left and only taking one when I really need it) and I've had a very frustrating time all these months trying to wrangle my unmedicated brain and brute force compel it into keeping up with my hobbies

I'm finally close enough to getting back into my regular appointments and restarting my prescription that I decided to treat myself to a medicated day with one of my few remaining doses this morning, and it's incredible how fast the switch flipped and those old rusty neglected pipes started flowing again; that little bit of art I did this morning on a whim is more than I've managed since June

It's humbling, seeing just how much I rely on that chemical assist just to achieve the patience that I need to create, even just a quick drawing or a short burst of prose takes a commitment of patience that I was spending months trying to force, trying to convince myself I could get by on my own and not having much success

I have mixed feelings about my reliance on medication (always that anxiety-inducing question of "how screwed am I if I lose access to it?"), but I'm at least comforted by the fact that the worst impacts of going without it have been on my leisure time and hobbies, and not on my career and day-to-day necessities; even if it's not ideal to only have enough homemade self-discipline to spare for the essentials, I can handle being unmedicated without my whole life collapsing, I'm grateful for that

I think it's fair to say though that if I want to flourish creatively, and be willing to spend the level time and effort on my personal projects that I need to feel stimulated and fulfilled, that's the point where treatment becomes less optional

[tricktster]

I feel your pain. My brother has lifelong health problems that are rapidly getting worse. Every appliance that uses water has broken at some point over the last month. Also, I have bought snd exchanged three fish tanks, because each fish tank had a leak. My dental cap ollied out. To be fair I DID do some black magic adjacent shit. So like. I'm bearing it as gracefully as I can :p

Hoo boy, you and I should grab an age appropriate beverage sometime because i also have a loose filling and an unexpected aquarium shrimp tragedy on my list of grievances...

okay well it’s not that huge, it’s just that I was getting anxious because Baja Blast, my recently acquired and spectacularly beautiful blue pearl neocardinia, was acting sluggish and her gills, which had been tinged a distinctive looking neon green a few weeks ago, now looked impacted and weirdly frilly.

So I did some googling and discovered that Baja Blast had ellibiopsidae.

Ellibiopsidae is a fungal parasite that looks kind of like a lichen and essentially eats a shrimp alive from the inside. There is literally no cure recognized by the scientific community, though there are some businesses that will really try to sell you otherwise. I am at my fucking limit for snake-oil miracle cures rn, so I did the same thing I do with regard to my parent’s condition, i.e. skipped the bullshit and went right to the peer reviewed journal articles... and yeah.

Not only is there no cure, but if the infected shrimp molts or dies and the other shrimp eat the infected shell or body (which happens all the time because shrimp are grade a nastyboys), it’ll spread through the tank. So, I had to do the right thing for the good of all my animals, which is the worst thing, and euthanize this little tiny beautiful little being.

I am soft about being the cause of animal death, and getting softer. It’s been years since I ate any mammal (or ridiculously, octopus) meat, which I originally claimed was for environmental reasons, but is in practice because if I can look into the soft, vacant eyes of my idiot axolotls and see that there is some sort of inner life therein worth respecting and protecting, well, shit, have y’all met a pig or a cow?

(If anyone is curious, I still eat chicken and fish; fish, because it is incredibly hard to avoid and because I can vote with my dollar to support sustainable and ethical fishing practices, and chicken mostly because I have spent enough time with chickens to know that if they had any say in the matter, they would eat me first)

Anyway, even though I’m soft about animal death, I will absolutely push myself past any amount of squeamishness when it comes to an animal in my care that is suffering. So, I made the call not to subject her to weeks of untested and possibly painful treatment with little chance of success, and I euthanized a being, even though it really bummed me out, because it was the right thing to do for the greater health of my colony.

I’m getting introspective here, because the analysis I had to engage with there is, on a much larger scale, what my parent is dealing with. I’m trying to respect their confidentiality and not put their personal struggles on blast, but I think maybe an analogy is useful: what is going on is akin to contemplating the amputation of a dominant hand.

Sticking with the metaphor: My parent has a congenital condition that, unmedicated, would lead to the total loss of function in both hands. This is a nightmare for them, as it would be for anyone who has gone 65+ years enjoying full use of their hands, only for that ability to suddenly falter. Due to recent medical advances, they have been recieving regular medical treatments to retain function in their hands, which is extremely unpleasant to go through, but has been worth it because the treatments have not only stopped the progress of the disease, but actually produced some improvement in function.

As with any medical procedure, though, the treatments my parent recieves have some wildly unlikely possible complications. Two weeks ago, my parent received their treatment and it quickly became evident that one of those incredibly unlikely complications had occurred in the most severe way possible. Since that day, it has been a constant, round the clock battle trying different approaches (all extremely painful!) to combat this complication. My parent lost all function in their “hand” on the day this all manifested, and has not had any restoration of function since.

At first, the goal of the medical approach was to restore function to their “hand”, but we are pretty far past that now; the goal is now to not lose the “hand” entirely, forget function. Things have somewhat stabilized, but the prognosis is incredibly foggy and unclear at this point, and all the while my parent has required constant care and has been in incredible pain. Emotionally, they are at the point where it is a question of how much more of this it is fair and reasonable to subject themselves to. The prospect of amputation and prosthesis is extremely upsetting, and the thought of going forward like this indefinitely is ... also extremely upsetting.

My brother is an incredibly smart man with a ton of knowledge on the issue of maintaining quality of life in elderly populations - that’s his life’s work, in fact. He is very concerned about the prospect of amputation and prosthesis because he fears that it will have a potentially huge impact on my parent’s quality of life going forward, and because he is optimistic that we are on the right track to have further medical breakthroughs that would allow my parent to regain function down the road if their “hand” is not surgically removed now.

And me? I’m soft, and my parent is in excruciating pain, and I cannot help but think of the calculus I always have to run for the beings in my care - is the possibility of a cure sufficient to ask them to endure an indeterminate period of suffering? Is it fair and ethical to ask them to endure this, on the offchance that whatever’s wrong can be fixed?

There was a simple answer for me in the case of the shrimp. There’s not one when it comes to this, to the big thing looming over my life and thoughts that actually really matters. And, of course, my family isn’t alone in struggling with something like this, particularly now, with a pandemic boiling through my country that is forcing so many of us to face similar dilemmas; what is kind, what is fair, what is medically possible, what nightmare will develop next that we are powerless to prevent? How do you do the right thing here, when the worst and most unlikely scenario has manifested?

So, with ALL that said, I just want to express how profoundly furious, how absolutely enraged and impotent and wounded I am today, to witness a political party of bigots and sociopaths cluster together this afternoon to ensure that a judicial nominee is seated on the supreme court specifically because she will actively work to make these intimate and painful medical decisions harder and more scarring and with greater risks to consider.

This post is ALL over the place but needless to say I am in a mood.

[loveanywayliveanyway]

reality check.

last year, before this bar exam hearing hellscape began again, i was giving lectures to law students on the importance of dealing with one’s mental health before the issues derailed their careers, and how our state lawyer’s assistance program can help.  i haven’t done one since this whole character & fitness hearing was called, since i can’t bring myself to give this lecture to students while not having a clear answer on whether or not i’ll ever be allowed to take this exam (that will be determined somewhere around march, since my hearing is in january).  but i wanted to post the lecture here, because, well, i want it to be somewhere where it might be useful.  maybe it’ll make someone feel a little less alone.

Good afternoon.

Years ago, I sat in the same seats as you, listening to this same lecture from Mr. Caimi, rolling my eyes and thinking, “No way will I ever need this help.”  I wasn’t an alcoholic.  I’ve never touched a non-prescription drug in my life.  If you’d told me years ago that I’d be standing here as an advocate for OLAP, I’d have laughed in your face.  And yet, here I am, because I want to keep you from making the same mistakes I did.

I’m sure most of you know about bipolar disorder from the movies or television.  Maybe you actually know someone who has it.  The way it usually works is that someone with bipolar will report depression, be put on antidepressants, and then swing into a manic state as a result.    The symptoms of depression are easy to spot, but the symptoms of mania are a little more tricky: feeling overly happy, “high,” or elated for long stretches of time, feeling easily agitated or angry, talking very fast, racing thoughts, extreme restlessness or impulsivity, impaired judgment, unrealistic overconfidence in your abilities or powers, and engaging in risky behavior, such as having impulsive sex, gambling with life savings, or going on big spending sprees.  

That’s what happened to me.  When I was nineteen, I reported depression to my primary care physician.  My doctor wasn’t qualified at all to diagnose a mental health condition, but he put me on antidepressants anyway.  While I didn’t realize it at the time, those antidepressants caused my first manic episode - and my episodes were defined by paranoia, anger, and tons of energy - not a good combination.  My doctor told me I was bipolar, even confirmed it when I applied to take the bar, but he used the words “depression” and “bipolar” interchangeably, and I never bothered to see a psychiatrist to discuss any of it.  I was on and off those antidepressants for almost a decade; sometimes I would take them, sometimes I wouldn’t.  I made a lot of stupid decisions financially and personally.  But the worst decision I made was professional - or, rather, extremely unprofessional.

I worked as a paralegal in a small firm where my mother was the office manager and head paralegal.  At some point, I left that office, and then my boss fired my mother.  I wasn’t taking any medication at the time, and I remember clearly the feeling of absolute rage I had at this man for daring to fire my mother when my parents were in a precarious financial situation anyway.  I felt she had been wronged, and I felt wronged on her behalf.  So what did I do, in my unmedicated, irrational, angry state of mind?  I reported this man to Ohio disciplinary counsel for what I can only call a bullshit reason, just to get revenge.  I also made the unbelievably stupid decision to call him an array of colorful names on Facebook.  Then I completely forgot all about it.

This decision changed my life.  I received a letter back from disciplinary counsel a few months later, in which they essentially told me that I had been unprofessional in almost every aspect of my choices in this matter, and that they had evidence that I had posted inflammatory things about this man on Facebook.  So what did I do?  Without bothering to confirm their allegations, which would have reminded me of what I’d said, I chose to tell them that they had been lied to and that I never said anything about him on Facebook, that I only reported him after he fired my mother because I was afraid doing it beforehand would jeopardize her job, and that it had nothing to do with revenge.  Once again, I forgot all about it.

Over the course of the next two years, I applied for the bar exam, was provisionally approved by the CMBA, and graduated school in 2012.  Except I never received my bar exam approval and instructions.  What I got instead was a letter from the Board of Commissioners on Character and Fitness, telling me that a sua sponte investigation had been initiated as a result of my false statements that I’d never posted anything about my boss on Facebook.  At that point, I was sent a copy of everything that the NCBE had received from my references - which included copies of my Facebook posts which my boss had sent in to them with his response.  I had a hearing before the Board in January 2013.  In the hearing, the Board discussed several other indiscretions that, bar counsel admitted, wouldn’t have been much of an issue if not for their cumulative reflection on my character and fitness.  My bipolar disorder was discussed as well.  I told them I was back on my antidepressants and felt much better, but because my diagnosis date was a moving target, and because my doctor wasn’t available for testimony (and I had no other records showing bipolar disorder), the Board determined that it was a convenient excuse for what I’d done.  The ironic part is that, looking back on that hearing and the excuses I was making, I believe was in the midst of a manic episode during my testimony.  By March of that year, I was told I would have to wait three years more before I could apply to take the bar.  

And you know what?  It was the best thing that could have happened to me.

After the decision came down, I spent a couple months being angry at the world.  I didn’t think it was fair, I felt persecuted, and I continued down my path of destruction until May, when I had a moment of clarity and realized that I felt horrible and, hey, what could it hurt to see someone?  So I did.  Soon, I was diagnosed with Bipolar I - officially - and was put on a course of antidepressants COUPLED with mood stabilizers, which is the right way to treat bipolar disorder.  It wasn’t an easy road - I had manic episodes when they were adjusting my medications at first, and my lowest point was six months into treatment, when I stood in my kitchen, looking at the knife block, hearing a clear voice in my head, telling me to end it all.  But three years, several doctors, a half-dozen medications, and over a hundred therapy sessions later, I feel better than I ever have.  I feel normal, healthy, and clear-headed.  And I’ve reapplied to take the bar examination, a year later than they told me I could, because I’ve reached a point where I feel confident that I can capably, ethically, and competently practice law.  I haven’t had a true manic episode in years, and the depression, while it occurs, is at least manageable.  

Part of my treatment was OLAP.  I enrolled voluntarily rather than by court mandate, just after I was diagnosed.  I wanted to fix my life, and I wanted any help I could get.  I’m not going to say that was easy, either.  There are strict requirements for participating, including a monthly payment (which can be deferred if you’re unable to pay), weekly or daily check-ins, and - the hardest of all when you’re around lawyers - refraining from any mood-altering substances including alcohol.  My doctors all had to send twice-yearly reports disclosing my health status and whether or not I’d adhered to a treatment plan.  I had to update Paul whenever I changed medications.  And I definitely struggled with these things.  I wasn’t always perfect.  I made missteps.  But I can tell you that the accountability that OLAP required of me was the best thing for me.  It can be very difficult when you are first starting treatment to remember to take your medicine or go to therapy or to even want to.  But if you know that you have to report to someone and that you are being monitored, it gives you the push to do it.  And the more you take the medications and go to therapy, the more you'll be able to do it on your own without that push.  By the time you're out of your program, it will be easier to commit to taking care of yourself because you'll realize how much better you feel.  Plus, the Character and Fitness Committee highly values OLAP, and OLAP can report to it about your compliance with your contract - which carries much weight in its decision to allow you to take the exam.

You all know that you’re required to disclose any “psychotic disorders” on your bar exam applications.  These include, among others, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.  The bar examiners tell you that evidence of a psychotic disorder isn’t in itself disqualifying, but I know that not everyone actually believes that.  I’m sure there’s at least one person in this audience who has felt that something is “off,” and that they don’t know how to fix it, but if they get professional help, they’ll be blacklisted.  After all, whenever you see a bipolar or schizophrenic person on television, it’s always some crazy person who can’t control themselves, commits crimes, hears voices, or has delusions.  But that’s not always the case - you may just notice that you’re producing at a drastically higher level, getting unreasonably angry when the library has closed early, or being able to stay awake for three days to write a paper.  It’s also quite common for mental health issues to present themselves during law school because stress and disturbed sleep patterns can trigger them.  My illness presented early in my adulthood, but just because you didn't notice a problem beforehand doesn't mean one can't trigger later in life.  If you're not aware of yourself and your baseline for emotions, you might not even notice a problem at first.  But believe me when I say that asking for help is so, so much easier than having to explain yourself when you do something tremendously stupid because you think you’re invincible and don’t care or think about consequences.  

I want you all to understand something: my illness does not define me, but it did define the course of my life.  I don’t make any excuse for what I did.  My choices were my own, despite having a mental illness.  Bipolar disorder may EXPLAIN why I did what I did, but it doesn’t excuse it.  I didn’t treat my illness as I should have.  I didn’t obtain any help for it before facing the ultimate consequence of leaving it mistreated.  I made excuses.  I don’t make excuses anymore.  In fact, as I said, the best thing that could have happened was the Board’s decision.  They protected me from myself, and they protected others from me until I could fix the mess I’d made.  I don’t regret anything except the hurt I caused others.  But at the same time, I don’t want any of you to have to go through what I went through.  I don’t want you to have to explain poor decisions to the board, especially when they could be easily prevented.  That’s why I’m here, and that’s why Paul is here.  To be a bit nerdy and paraphrase Albus Dumbledore,  “Help will always be given to those who ask for it.”

I’m happy to answer any questions you all have.  And if anyone wants to speak to me confidentially to ask where to go from here, please feel free.