#tw psychiatric hospital

[yellowyarn]

Sometimes i wonder what the people at the psychiatric hospital did with the cords from my pants. i wonder what they do with all the tings they take from us. do they just get thrown away like they are nothing? i cried over losing the cords from my favorite frog pajamas i wonder if the nurses knew i would cry about that.

[neuroticboyfriend]

not that people who've been to the ward are immune from being pro-psych, but if you've never been to a psych ward*, i sincerely don't want to hear about how psychiatry/psychology is good because you've had such a good experience with X provider, or X medication saved your life. *i also don't want to hear about how the forced treatment was what you needed or how the ward you went to let you have your cellphone etc. etc. i genuinely do not want to hear it.

like. the first hospitalization traumatized me so bad, i became dangerously delusional, was re-hospitalized, and sent to state. when they transferred me, i was strapped down into a gurney at all points on my body, *head and neck included*, and loaded onto an ambulance. my parents lost most of their parental rights; i was a ward of the state and had near zero rights. when i got there, they made me choose if, "if necessary," if i wanted to be wrangled down and forcibly injected with a sedative... or wrangled down and locked in a padded room all by myself (but at least i had a choice, right?). i signed consents and paperwork that i did not fucking understand. then i was told i'd be locked inside for 2 straight weeks (which yes, they followed through with). the psych ward was remote, nothing but barbed fences and trees around us. cant even see the sun through the heavily tinted windows. that was the *start* of the stay. i'm sure you can imagine nothing good came after.

so like. if you walk out of a place like that thinking it was good for you, then i can only imagine how traumatized you are and i hope you heal someday. but if you've never faced the destruction of your autonomy like that and go around being like "oh this is good actually" then shut the ever living fuck up.

[compassionatereminders]

I just started reading this book and it's definitely raising a very important critique of psychiatry, even as it's horrific to dive into...

[schizopositivity]

what to expect when being admitted to a psych ward (this is from my own personal experiences of being admitted to a mixed involuntary/voluntary facility and a valuntary facility, both for adults, both holding people of all genders):

•when being admitted they are going to ask you a lot of personal questions (mental health history, drug use, triggers, etc), sadly you will have to get used to talking to strangers during your stay

• when they tell you the name of the facility try to remember it, you might be asked where you are later to check your awareness

•they will take your picture for the records

•they will confiscate your phone (this is to ensure that you cant take pictures of other patients)

•they will confiscate all other belongings you have on you and keep them until you are discharged

•they will confiscate your clothes and shoes and have you change into scrubs and the famous grippy socks

•you might be strip searched to ensure you arent hiding anything and to take note of any distingushing birthmarks, scars, tattoos, etc (in my experience this was done by someone who alligned with my sex assigned at birth)

• you will probably have a physical medical exam or just talk to a dr about you medical history and what accomidations or meds you may need during your stay, you may be subjected to blood and/or urine tests

•the doors will be locked and you wont be able to walk out anytime (even in voluntary you have to go through the discharge process before leaving)

•if you use nicotine, depending on the place they will either provide you with nicotine patches/gum or allow you to have cigarette smoke breaks (you have to provide your own cigarettes or have visotors bring them to you and they dont allow vapes because they cant monitor what is in them)

•obviously no recreational drugs or alcohol is allowed

•the place itself will feel bland and clinical (think hospital but devoid of anything you could hurt yourself with)

•you will probably have your vitals checked everyday like compression arm cuff, heartbeat finger monitor and temperature taken

•you might have to wear a face mask at all times in the facility

•if you have a wristband from a hospital you can ask staff to cut it off for you

•you may or may not be roomed with other people (i was roomed with a female since i am afab nonbinary, idk how they room binary trans people)

•the bathrooms will either have a curtain or a door you cant lock (this is for your safety)

•depending on the place and your risk, you will be monitered by staff (in the mixed facility they had to physically see me every 15 minutes, just come into the room and check off a clipboard)

•there will be a front desk that is staffed at all times, feel free to approach and ask for things, ask questions or even ask if they want to play board games with you

•there will be a schedule for meal times and activities, it will be the same every day

•the food will be cafeteria food, think hospital or school cafeteria or possibly worse, they will already be aware of any medical dietary needs of yours but from what ive witnessed they do not do the same for religous or personal dietary needs (like a friend i made in the ward asked if the food was hallal, the staff didnt know but encouraged her to eat it anyway) they will also let you opt out of the prepared meal for something like a sandwich or snacks

•they will also have snack times in addision to the meals, but if at any point you are hungry, ask staff and you might get an extra snack or sandwich

•there might be coffee, it will probably be decaf, and the hours they serve it might be limited

•there might be patients who scream, cry, swear or have psychotic breaks

•there might be patients who are detoxing that might gag, puke or cough repeatedly

•there might be patients with visible self harm/suicide attempt wounds or scars

•there might be patients who are violent and/or sex offenders (the staff should keep you safe, but a patient hurting you is a possibility)

•if you have an outburst or hurt yourself or others, you might be physically handled by staff, given sedatives agaisnt your will, placed in solitary confinement or all three (this should only be done when nessasary to keep you or others safe, if the staff do this without reason or otherwise abuse you, you should report it to police when you have the chance)

•if you cry you will probably be left alone, staff might ask if you want to talk to them

•there will be cameras inside the facility but not in bathrooms, and depending on the place not in bedrooms either (this is for safety, so in the event of abuse there will be proof, i witnessed a patient to patient assault in the ward and the police used the footage to convict the perpatrator)

•there will be landline phones you can use, there may be limited phone hours, and they may limit your time on the phone, the phones are placed by the front desk so staff will be able to listen in on your conversations, they will let you write down phone numbers while you still have your phone during intake so that you can have the numbers later when making phonecalls (in my experience the time limit depends on the staff thats around so some will let you talk as long as you like)

•the phones you use will not allow you to call 911, if you are having a medical emergency you should inform the staff if possible (they will treat you or take you to a hospital if nessasary), if you need to report a crime you should ask the staff to call the police or otherwise file the police report after discharge

•there will be communial TVs with limited hours, you will need to ask the staff to operate the remote (one ward only had cable and the other one only had DVDs and us patients took turns choosing the movie)

•there will be daily group therapy, depending on the place it could be manditory (in the voluntary ward i asked why i hadnt seen any group therapy like the schedule said, and they said no one was asking to go, so i asked and i was the only person in the group therapy lol)

•they might have activities like yoga, art therapy, craft time, music time or other things (if you see it in the schedule you can ask them to tell you when its happening)

•there might be outside time in a fenced off area or there might be no outside time at all (this is for safety)

•the windows might be frosted, tinted or have a dotted film over them (this is for privacy)

•there will probably be activities that you can always access like coloring pages with crayons and/or colored pencils, puzzles, board games and paperback books

•you will get your clothes you came in back probably the next day, they might wash it

•visitors can bring you clothes but it has to have no strings (like drawstrings or shoelaces) no metal bits, and no graphic or offensive prints on clothes

•jewlery is not allowed unless its a piercing

•visitors can bring you books as long as its paperback, and journals as long as it doesnt have a metal spine, and other safe activities like paint by sticker books

•visitors cant bring blankets or towells, that will be provided by the facility

•anything visitors bring has to be checked by staff before they can give it to you

•you might not be able to recieve calls unless the person has an access code that they will provide for you, so you have to call first

•there can be meetings with visitors, it could be limited to certain days of the week or certain hours, your visitors may be subjected to a search, and your visiting time might be monitored by staff

•you will be given your psych meds as normally perscribed, they may have you open your mouth and lift your tounge after you take them to show that you actually swallowed them, you might be able to meet with a perscriber to get a med change

•you will probably have short daily private appointments with a counselor, this wont be as in depth as therapy but rather a way to check your progress, it could even just be like "on a scale form 1-10 how depressed are you?"

•you can still have any phone/telehealth appointments you already had planned, just inform staff and you might be put in a private room with a computer

•ask staff for things! like deoderant, toothbrush, toothpaste, blank paper, to print out an image of something that can cheer you up, honestly anything just ask

•ask staff if you want to shave, clip your nails, or apply makeup, you will probably have to do it in front of staff at the front desk

•for showers ask staff for towells, shampoo, conditioner and maybe body wash (the shower usually has a soap despensor in it) the shampoo and stuff will come in little cups, also if you can, ask for extra towells to place on the floor for when you get out

•your shower time might be limited, the shower probably wont get very hot (to avoid people burning themselves) and it will probably be a timed button that sprays water for 30 seconds at a time so youll have to keep pressing it to shower long enough

•the bed will probably not be very comfy, like thin foam matresses and scratchy sheets

•you can ask the staff for over-the-counter meds like ibuprofen, laxatives, sleeping pills, etc

•the days will feel long, try to keep yourself occupied with activities and phonecalls

•i encourage you to talk to the other patients! you can connect and relate to people in simular situations, older mentally ill people with experience, and just to make friends while youre there (ive even witnessed two men agree to have a romantic relationship only during their time in the ward, they called eachother "hospital boyfriends")

•i encourage you to journal about your experience and feelings while youre there

•how long youll be there really depends on your situation, although both times ive gone they said the usual stay was one week or less and thats how long i stayed both times

•they may require you to do certain things before you are allowed to discharge like get a med change, improve your mood, set up appointments with drs or counselors in the future, get stabalized on meds or show recovery in other ways

•even if you are voluntary, you will need to go through the discharge process before leaving like signing paperwork, collecting your belongings, setting up a ride to leave, and confirming that you have somewhere to go (ive witnessed staff hire taxis, and help people apply and get into shelters)

i dont say all this to scare you or keep you from volunteering yourself into a psych ward, just to warn you about things so that you dont have to be shocked by a totally new environment all at once like i was

everyones experience in psych wards is different, every place is different, i didnt cover psych wards for people under age 18, or gendered wards, or addiction recovery wards or otherwise specialized wards because i have no experience there

but despite the bad parts, my time in psych wards has seriously helped me, it kept me safe from myself when nothing else could, literally saving my life twice, it gave me very important med changes, and it gave me experience with other mentally ill people, like the older woman who told me "as mentally ill people we cant always trust our insticts" and other advice that has helped me

it may feel bleak, it may make you feel trapped, you may feel like you dont belong there, but the bottom line is this is place meant to help you, even if just in the most basic form of keeping you safe, housed, fed and properly medicated

and remember youre still a human, you still have rights, if anything unjust happens to you there you have every right to report it to the police

[endlessmidnights]

I miss the psych ward, life was easier in there

[whatiswhump]

Escape Attempt (excerpt from Alfie WIP)

....

At one point he did think he heard the baying of dogs. But as faint as they came, they faded away.

The next day he was worse. When he realized he was unable to get up from his post below the pine, a cold horror pervaded his senses. Maybe he would die?

He had wanted that before hadn’t he? Maybe this would be best? His own terms here more or less. He wished he wasn't still in a straight jacket though.

The night came again and he found himself shaking, from the med withdrawals or the cold or both, he wasn’t sure. His moments of lucidity were fewer and farther between.

At one point he realized he didnt know what day it was. He had no idea how long he had been out here, could have been any amount of time and he’d believe it.

Fever set in in earnest on the third day however. From there all he could hear were the dogs. Now baying in his memories as he watched them from behind the institutional glass as they went after other poor escapees.

—

A man was yelling.

“He’s here! I’ve got him.”

Alfie’s foggy eyes opened and he started like an animal to see so many of them. Men everywhere, some with guns, one holding the leather leash of a hound barking.

“Fuck still has the jacket on too.”

The one who yelled stepped closer and Fie jerked himself back with his final energy reserve. Days beyond clarity, he scrambled away from the man with pitiful coordination. Not aware enough to realize it was futile.

“It’s okay, buddy, we’ve got you, you’re safe.”

The man reached out and Fie cried out in animalistic fear trying to shrink further into himself.

They were going to take him back. No no no nonononono-

“Let’s get some help over here!”

Suddenly there were more hands grabbing at him. He lashed out with his legs trying to kick and screamed bloody murder.

“Shit, he’s gone off the deep end- I thought they said he was harmless!”

“Shhh– come on, you’re coming with us. We’re gonna take you home-” Someone whispered to him like a wounded feral animal while hands pinned his ankles for someone to shackle them.

His breathing intensified, ragged and desperate.

“We’re gonna need that needle for him. Can’t get him back like this-”

“You’re safe now-” The gravelly voice started again.

“Nh- nhhh!” He shrieked, now feebly struggling as the last burst of energy waned and his body began to fail him again.

“You’re sick huh? We might not need it on second thought- I think he’s fading fast-”

Fie choked on his own spit struggling, coughing pitifully.

“Slow down there, bud. We’re just taking you home. Gonna get you a good meal, a bath and fresh clothes. Sounds nice right? You want to go home, it’s nice there. You’re safe there. They will take care of you.”

This man- those words- “home”. Alfie struggled to focus enough to find him with his gaze. Why was he so tender but so cruel? He didn’t mean to be, Fie processed with his last moments in reality.

The man was right, they wouldn’t need the needle.

[dysmotility]

one of the scariest things about being a psych survivor is that you don’t know what to do anymore when you need help.

hospitals don’t feel safe. residential don’t feel safe. and yet i still have the same mental health issues that caused me to seek care in the first place, plus the additional trauma.

i’m having a hard time right now. i wish i could just “get help” but it’s not that simple anymore. these programs just chew you up and spit you out, and i don’t want to go through that again. but it’s terrifying ti be on your own.

[justanotherstardrop]

tfw youre too silly

[turnallthemirrors]

they handcuffed me, put me in the back of a police car, and drove me to a hospital 2 hours away in the middle of the night without discussing it with me or any of my loved ones and I was too scared and sedated to protest but please, keep making the exact same joke about tumblr being an asylum, you're really funny and I hope you get a million notes forever

[shattered-yet-whole]

WIP - I was gonna write an AU psych ward fanfic but then i just started writing my psych ward trauma. Antipsych. This happened a while ago, I'm okay now (and I'm not grateful it happened).

tw - suicidal ideation, descriptions of suicide rehearsal, psychiatric abuse, trauma

--------

“Why are you here?”

I look at the psychiatrist’s tie blankly. He’s dressed in a suit, a clipboard and pen in hand. I haven’t even gotten my clothes back, I have to wear a hospital gown and pants four sizes too large, and am not allowed footwear other than grippy socks. The only thing I have left that's mine is my chipped glittery nail polish. I've picked it halfway off over the past day despite desperately trying not to. But this guy is walking around in shiny Oxfords and a suit.

I don’t look at his face. I know he’s looking at me, expecting an answer. Something I’m learning here is that they wait for you to speak. Even if you take a long time. They don’t try to speak for you. Sometimes I wish they would. It would be easier to say what they wanted to hear if they did. Instead I have to guess. I suppose I’m used to doing that, but it’s a lot scarier. “Don’t you know?” I say.

“Yes. But I want to hear it from you.”

Great. I have to tell him in my own words. It’s like a school assignment, but the grade is how long I’m going to be locked up.

I had been in the ER for 13 hours before I came in, and then I stayed up 2 more hours getting here. I wasn’t allowed my phone until I’d been there for 6 hours. No calling my friends. No telling anyone where I was. No one to talk to. Just me and the book I brought, the book I couldn’t focus on because I’d just gone to the counselor’s office because I was having a hard time and now I was at the ER for a psych eval. The counselor who sent me to the ER had said he thought I would just get connected to resources in the community. He said he didn’t think I would be sent to a psych ward.

I’d done a lot of staring at the ceiling to just get through to the eval part, 4 hours in. 2 hours after, when I finally learned I was recommended inpatient, the social worker told me even if I hate it now, I will be grateful later. Once I feel better, I will approve of the decision to involuntarily commit me. My current wishes tossed aside for a theoretical future me who is glad I never a choice. If they’re right, I should kill myself now so I never become such a monster. All alone, with a life shattering brick dropped on my head, I finally cried.

After the eval, I’d begged the nurse for my phone so I could tell my friends where I was. So I could tell my roommate why I still hadn’t come back at 9pm when we usually saw each other by five. My phone was nearly dead when I got it. I called my friends. I called my parents. My friends stayed with me the rest of the 7 hours I was there. They hugged me and cried with me until I got taken away in an ambulance at 3am. I wondered how much a 45 minute ambulance ride cost. I wondered if it mattered.

What a fuck-up I must have seemed. I’d heard of some college kids going to psych wards before. I knew someone who had called a suicide hotline at 4am and got the cops called to take them in. I hadn’t thought it would happen to me.

It’s nice, in a way. To know how bad I’m doing. I’m bad enough that I need to be locked up. For my own safety. I’m so crazy that I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions. I hadn’t known I was that bad until now. I still don’t believe it. It’s a mistake. But it’s nice they think I’m struggling.

He’s looking at me again. I don’t remember what he asked. “Can you repeat the question?” I ask.

“Sure. Why are you here?” he says again.

Right, that was what it was. I smile. I smile when I’m nervous. “Well, I… I…” Why is he making me say this. He knows what I did. I didn’t even try to kill myself. It’s not that bad. “Well, I was… I was… Sometimes I get into these moods. A lot of times I’m normal and fine. But sometimes I just… sometimes I just want to die. I used to try not to think about how I could do that or anything.” I sigh. I had tried so hard to not think about methods. I must have known I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from doing shit like this eventually. “Because I know this sort of thing would happen. But this time… this time I did. I looked up bridges I could theoretically jump from. But that seems like it would suck.”

I laugh. It’s a nervous laugh. It’s a ‘isn’t it funny that jumping from a bridge to kill yourself would suck?’ joke. One of the classics. He’s not laughing.

“Anyway, I was just feeling… I don’t know. I felt useless. I just keep thinking about dying and killing myself. It’s stupid. And I—I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I don’t know if people think I was trying to kill myself and that’s why I’m here. But I wanted to do something. To—I don’t know. To see what’s even possible. So I—so I—so I—”

This is the part I always get stuck on describing. I don’t know how to put what I was feeling into words. I don’t know how to describe what I was doing. I don’t know why I was doing it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But then again, it had seemed like a good idea to go to the counselor’s office at the time.

“I took—I took a belt. Right? And I hooked the metal buckle part over the door knob—it’s one of those long ones. And I kind of—I kind of—I don’t know. I kind of wrapped it around my neck once and held it with my other hand. So that if I passed out I would be fine. And then I sort of… pulled down. To see if that would… do anything. I did that a few times, and then I was scared that I did it. And I told the counselor the next day.”

It hadn’t been empty blackness like I’d hoped for. It had been a pulsing pressure in my head. I did it a couple times, to see if I could get the empty blackness. Then I stopped. Because it had seemed like such a good fucking idea before I did it, but then I realized I’d done something very worrying and should probably be in therapy. Even if the voice that had started the whole thing was telling me to do it again. It wasn’t real before I’d done it, but once I’d done it, it was too real to ignore.

He’s writing on the clipboard. I have a sinking feeling I’m not getting a good grade. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I repeat.

“I know,” he says. He’s still writing. I wish I knew what it was.

It’s just me and him in my room. He woke me up when he came in. I went to sleep after breakfast. When I was admitted at 5am last night, one of the techs told me I should try to be awake during the day and asleep at night. Go to groups. Talk to people. It would help me get out sooner. But I’d already been up for 20 hours and it was 5am. So I was going to sleep and they were just going to have to live with that. Apparently you can’t skip the psychiatrist appointments, though.

“What’s got you so suicidal?” he asks.

The world. Everything. And yet, nothing. My life is great. “What do you mean?” I say.

“What do you think about that makes you want to kill yourself?” he elaborates.

“I… I don’t know,” I say. “The… the environment, I guess. Global warming. Kinda sucks to feel like the future is ruined. And the species and the ice sheets. Rising fascism.” I remember a tumblr post where a therapist talked about her patients talking more about those sorts of things making them depressed. That made it seem like an okay enough reason to give to a psychiatrist. And it’s not like that isn’t a big fucking bummer making me not want to be alive.

He makes more notes. “Anything else?” We both seem know that’s not enough on its own to make me constantly thinking about suicide.

I shrug. I’m just so stupid and worthless doesn’t feel like a cogent enough explanation. And I can’t phrase it like that. That would be stupid. “Feelings of… worthlessness, and um.” I search for something in my head. It’s fuzzy. There’s nothing there. I always remember everything so well when I’m crying in bed thinking about how much I want to kill myself. I could write essays on the subject in those moments. Instead I just rehash them to myself, over and over. But I can’t remember any of it now. “I dunno. I can’t remember unless I’m spiraling. A lot of anxiety. Around… people. Social anxiety.” I nod.

Sometimes I get attacked by my social anxiety, memories from years ago—three years, five years, a decade—sending jolts through me as I remember them. I remember what I should never do again. What I’ve learned. Lessons I can never forget, even when I can’t remember what taught them. I usually throw myself onto my bed and writhe in the agony of memories, clinging to ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I want to die’ like I'm falling in an abyss and they're the only rope up. I can never remember what the memories are until they’ve started their assault. I don’t know how to describe that, though.

I’m not being as amicable to him as I usually would be. I haven’t been amicable since they recommended me for inpatient at the ER. Something broke in me then. I’d felt it snap, a crack of terror, and then—nothing. I’m more stone-faced now. Quiet.

I can be friendly when I need to be. I can be talkative and responsive and say all the right words and have the appropriate “mmhmm”s and “oh no”s and “yeah”s. I can laugh in the right places, when it’s polite to laugh at a joke I don’t think is funny. I can make eye contact and break eye contact at what I assume are appropriate moments. I never know if I’m doing it right, though. I poured over a book about body language in high school, trying to learn how the fuck to do it. It said that the exact percentage varied, but around 40% eye contact 60% not eye contact. I tried to get the proportions right for years. Every conversation. Look at their eyes a few seconds, look away a few more seconds. Look eyes, look away. I used to look between their eyebrows, because the eyes were too much. But I read somewhere that some people can tell and they think it’s weird. So eyes it was.

I’m dead now, though. I’m already in a psych ward. They know I’m crazy. What’s the point in trying to appear like I can converse like a human. I don’t want to have to do it. So I don’t. I stare soullessly past people when they talk to me. I examine their clothes. I look at their hair. I don’t smile when they talk to me. I don’t laugh at their jokes. They ask me how I am and I don’t ask them back.

He seems to conclude I’ve finished explaining. “Well—okay, are you voluntary?” He leafs through his papers. “Yes, voluntary. Let’s see…” He leafs through them again.

Voluntary patient. What a laugh. When I came in, I was involuntary. During intake, they gave me some forms and said if I sign them I’d be a voluntary patient. I asked if anything would change. No, they said, it was a distinction with no difference. A voluntary patient still can’t leave until the psychiatrist says they can. But I would be seen as complying with the recommended treatment. It would be beneficial to be seen as complying with the recommended treatment. So I signed. But I never mistook that little black-and-white print Voluntary for consent, even if everyone else did.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Psychiatric Institute Masterlist

Collage made by me

Rowan Murdock is a young journalist investigating into an old psychiatric hospital on the outside of town.

The next thing he knows, he's waking up in the very same Redwood Psychiatric Insititute. He's told he is a patient there, and his name is actually James Lawton.

Rowan - or is it James? - is forced to grapple with everything he thought he knew, to try to figure out the real thruth for himself. No matter how terrifying the truth may be.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Please note - I don't write about any of this stuff with the intention to hurt or trigger those suffering from different mental illnesses. As someone who has had their struggle with mental illness, I write these kinds of stories to show the very real fear of institutionalisation and the stigma that is associated with it. If it triggers you, please just don't read it. This is just my way of coping and writing a story that I enjoy writing.

Taglist:

@jazatronasmr @onthishamsterwheel @bumpthumpwhump @bloodsweatandpotato @whatiswhump @jancameforthewhump @dream-whump @ratking-whump @inkstainsonmyhands12 @halstead-shaw13 @sparrowsage @sowhumpful @whatwhumpcomments @caspersdelusion @sowhumpful @everythingsscary

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

i have anorexia nervosa on my past psychiatric history??

[boxwinebaddie]

OMG I KNEWWW IT WAS CHEF EVER SINCE THE TATTOO I LOVE BEING RIGHT

i love that you were right and love that you love you were right, love!

i was trying not to be too terribly obvious, but the tattoo was a bit on the nose...or forearm...speaking of

i moved the tattoo.

i know! very scandalous of me to desecrate the canon i built!

but i didn't like that it was just like randomly thrown on his forearm in a careless manner & without greater significance, bc ok, obviously it's very significant because it's for his dad or his Real Dad anyways, but it didn't have that Special Uncle Nina ~Pizzazz~ or meaning i make.

so...sh tw...

i decided to put it on his wrist.

because as we know...stan is Sad.

and when stan is very sad, he does things that are very...very Bad. and when stan was about 16/17 and having a very low, dark moment he...lacerated his wrists...and specifically split his radial artery.

stan was half dead when chef found him, kenny had sent him some very unkenny like text messages worrying about stan's mental health

( i think i mentioned this earlier, but kenny and stan were extremely close during the 2nd part of the rm flashbacks after the fire which take place in chicago - ken is kind of like a second son to chef; they're both his boys, blue and red, if you remember the little song he sang )

it was all very traumatic and fucking horrible ( stan wrote a note ;-; )

and...honestly, given stan's situation it's kind of suuuper Not Smart to take him to a hospital, but what i will say is that chef's birth son, lived for one day, died the next morning and was buried privately by chef and ex-wife, so there's no record of his death, but there is, however, record of his Birth, so for all intents and purposes, legally, stan is

jerome nigel mcelroy jr...aka stan.

but yeah it was a mess and when kenny first got good with the tattoo gun, stan had him tattoo 'CHEF' over the wrist he cut because he knows if he ever gets that low again, he's not only killing himself...

...but the person who saved his life.

-uncle nina, lore whore

[dog-gutz]

So another rant post ofc. I was just in the psych ward for eh.. 2 ish weeks I think? One of the hospitals allowed my service dog. I have been diagnosed with PTSD since I was 16, I also tend to space out a lot. People looking in my room or coming in unannounced really triggers me, my service dog is trained to alert to people I may not see, I hate dog barking so she will make a low rumble sound that to some people might sound like "growling" however it's not, and once I acknowledge the person she quits. She is not aggressive, has no bite record, and after I acknowledge the person she lays down and goes back to sleep. I requested a court hearing as they removed her from the facility and wouldn't hear me out. They took her vest away, and she is trained when the vest is on she is working. My stay was miserable as she's multipurpose service dog and does mobility work for me, which made getting around a slight challenge. I'm just curious is the rumble she's trained to do harmful? Should I use a different alert??

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

Idk just yeah this will be a lot! And good but a lot! My aunt was institutionalized following the extremely shameful end of an engagement in the mid 80s, and has been in very intensive out patient psychiatric treatment ever since. There is a shroud of mystery around that time of her life. And some of the most extreme horrific cases I dealt with as a victim advocate were related to systemic abuse happening in those places. Things just are complicated!!! And misogynist psychiatric care certainly didn’t end in the 60s….

[itstimeforstarwars]

In the galidraan au, omega is a clone of arla fett. I don’t know if it will come up at all or have any plot relevance, but it does shape my worldbuilding just a bit.