#I get violent sometimes when I’m overwhelmed or having a meltdown or panic attack and I CANNOT have people near me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onceuponaloonatic · 3 years

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i meant for this to be a little more so i’m sorry but this is the best i can do with my courseload rn it’s a namo drabble in the new misahyo au i hope you enjoy !! 🥺🥺

tw: ptsd, learning disabilities, panic attacks, etc...

Nayeon really wouldn’t say they planned to have Kazumi when they did. It may sound strange, since they obviously had worked very hard to have Kazumi, as they had to go through all the work of finding a doctor and doing the procedure over and over again. But despite all the work that went into having her, Kazumi Hirai-Im was not planned.

A part of her regretted adopting the twins right before they had Kazumi. It wasn’t that she regretted having any of them, and she wouldn’t trade a single one of them for the world, the timing was just not ideal.

They found the twins through a co-worker of Momo’s. Momo’s coworker’s husband was a social worker, and she was complaining about the twins when he first brought them to her home. She said she was used to him bringing random children home occasionally, but that these two were especially problematic. She talked about how she couldn’t sleep because the girl kept having nightmares and that the boy would always steal food when he thought she wasn’t looking. And apparently, the two were not getting along with her co-worker’s children. Taking the twins in as a favor for Momo’s co-worker was supposed to be a short term thing. It was just a crazy idea Momo had had after a long day at work. She had seen how stressed her coworker was, and ever the people pleaser she had just offered without thinking much. She didn’t even ask Nayeon until after she offered. (In Momo’s defense, Nayeon was teaching a class at the time so it’s not like she could have answered that second, but Nayeon still held it against her.) Nayeon didn’t take much convincing though, once she laid eyes on the twins, she fell in love. Nayeon loved kids, and seeing those two young children completely melted all of her inhibitions.

They had some issues with the twins at first. Haneul did in fact have pretty violent nightmares, plus getting her to open up was nearly impossible. Jae opened up easier, but he did have some quirks. He stole food and hid it under his bed frequently. One day, Momo found it under his bed when she was trying to clean, and when she tried to address it with him he had a meltdown. Haneul had run over when she heard her brother crying, and tried to be protective over him, physically putting herself between Momo and her brother, glaring at Momo the best she could at her young age . Momo had reassured them both it was okay and she wasn’t mad, and that if they needed more food, they would gladly give it to them. It just needed to be kept in a better place, in case there were ants. That explanation seemed to calm them both down, but it was a testament to how they both still didn’t trust them.

A few days of taking care of the twins quickly turned to a few weeks, and that was when Momo and Nayeon knew they wanted to keep them forever. Sure they were difficult, but they were also sweet. They had been hurt, and they needed patience and care that the foster system couldn’t provide for them. It wasn’t much later Nayeon found out she was pregnant with Kazumi.

It was right about when they had talked to the twins about the idea of them staying with them forever. They were both so young, forever was a difficult concept to grasp. But they had agreed that they were nice. Jae said they had good food and Haneul said she “liked their puppy.” They were in the process of officially adopting the two of them and not just fostering them when they found out. Nayeon had only gotten the procedure once after the twins came into their lives. She had only done it since they had already paid for the session, and she was convinced it wasn’t going to work. But it had. And now they were in a difficult situation.

Of course they were happy they were having a baby, but it would make things complicated with the twins. They both knew it would, they knew the twins would feel like they were being replaced and that they didn’t want them, which was so untrue. Nayeon and Momo both wanted both the twins and the new baby so so much.

When they eventually did tell them, they reacted how they expected. They had tried to phrase it to them like a proposition for them to be a big brother and big sister, and tried to reassure them they still wanted them, but it didn’t work. It ended with a poorly planned attempt to run away by Haneul that ended with her falling down the last two by their front door and breaking her arm. Jae, despite being on board with the run away plan, was so freaked out by Haneul’s crying he instantly ran to them crying. Of course they were mad, but they were more worried about the twins. They took Haneul to the emergency room and Momo stayed with her, holding her tight in her arms as she got a cast for the first time while Nayeon held Jae, who still hadn’t calmed down either.

After Haneul had a purple cast put on her wrist and they had all gotten some sleep, they talked about it with them. They told them they were worried and that they didn’t want them doing that again. They also talked to them again about how even if they were going to have a baby, they still wanted both of them. It was the first night they told the twins they loved them.

After that they were still a little skittish about baby things, but they seemed to open up to them a lot more. Especially Haneul. She seemed a lot more comfortable with them after that incident. Her nightmares even started to slow down a bit.

When the two met Kazumi for the first time, they both kind of fell in love with her. They both giggled about how small she was and how silly she looked. They loved calling her Zumi and helping out with them as much as they could. They were just about as helpful as young children could be, but Nayeon and Momo both thought it was so cute. It was a nice change, and they could see they were both kind of coming around and accepting Kazumi as their little sister.

That time right after Kazumi was born was hard. Between waking up for Kazumi and for the twins' nightmares, they barely got any sleep. And trying to keep up with the twins' newfound energy now that they were more comfortable with them and Kazumi was hard. But they managed, even if sometimes it seemed like they wouldn’t. They even enjoyed it. They loved their family so much. Even if Kazumi’s timing wasn’t great they were happy to have her, and it seemed the twins felt the same.

Things never really got easier. They just, changed as the kids got older. Hanuel’s nightmares got better, but she started showing clearer signs of PTSD and anxiety. Jae was having trouble keeping up in school and was struggling with some of the same PTSD as Haneul. Kazumi had issues with seperation anxiety. It started when she was a baby, but it got worse when she started school. It wasn’t just towards Nayeon and Momo either. She directed it towards both her brother and her sister as well. The first night Jae had a sleepover, Kazumi had insisted on saying up until he got back. Of course, she ended up falling asleep in Momo and Nayeon’s bed, but she had pushed herself to stay up later than usual. Haneul didn’t like being separated from their family too much either, so they guessed it had rubbed off on Kazumi too. Haneul specifically hated being separated from Jae. They had been together forever, she absolutely hated being separated from him. That first night he had a sleepover and after Kazumi fell asleep, Haneul had a meltdown in their kitchen. It took almost an hour of gently holding her and telling her Jae was fine for her to calm down. Once she was calm, she fell asleep, but getting her there had been difficult. Jae always seemed the most okay with separation. He was a little more trusting than Haneul, and he wasn’t as attached to people as Kazumi. He still had issues, specifically in school and with anger, but he was better than his sisters in the making friends department.

Once all the kids were in elementary school, Momo went back to work full time and things did feel a little smoother. Not easier, just smoother. They both had a pretty good idea of what they were doing and even if there were times they felt overwhelmed, it felt easier to deal with. Over time, things just got more and more polished to the point they were like a well oiled machine. Of course there were times things hit a snag.

The first major snag they hit was learning to manage Jae’s dyslexia. He had been diagnosed in first grade, but at first his teachers had said he had a mild case and would be fine with little intervention. But by third grade he started hating school, refusing to go no matter what Nayeon and Momo promised. After some probing they found out he was just struggling a lot in school at the time, and they took him to a specialist that helped lay out a learning plan that could work with him. They had always known Jae was really smart, but once he started getting the care he needed his life improved a lot. He was angry less often and he started to like school more and more.

The next came with Haneul. While she had never struggled in school, making friends was never something she was good at. She was shy, and didn’t really seem to get along with her classmates very well when they tried to force her to open up. She got along with her brother and sister, and she got along with Emi, Jeongho, and Hansol pretty well, but she really struggled getting along with anyone else. They thought she would be fine with that, but when Jae started to make his own friends and have his own life things changed. She seemed more withdrawn and she even started taking it out on Momo and Nayeon. It felt like all the progress they had made towards their relationship was cast aside as Hanuel lashed out at them for weeks. It took a couple group therapy sessions with both of them and Haneul for them to figure it out, but once they did everything became really clear. Haneul ended up having to work with another therapist for a while, one who specialized in social skills, but it ended up working out for her. She was only able to make a few friends, but it did wonders to improve her mood and overall happiness.

Kazumi was always the easy kid. Sure, she was the youngest and so she was more needy at times than her older siblings but overall she didn’t really require as much from her parents as her siblings. She always got okay grades and her social skills were arguably the best in the family. The only issue they ran into with Kazumi was her separation issues, but other than that she really was an easy kid. She even helped her parents out with her siblings, becoming pretty in tune with both of them emotionally from a young age and understanding them even better than their parents sometimes. As they got older, the kids mellowed out. By the age of fourteen, Jae didn’t even go to therapy anymore. Of course, they still recommended they keep an eye on him, but he was in a good place emotionally and was happy in his life. Haneul wasn’t quite ready for that yet, so much to her own chagrin she stayed in it.

“I don’t understand why Jae’s allowed to stop and I’m not.” Haneul was the only one in the car with Momo. She was usually the one to take Haneul to her therapy appointments as Nayeon usually had a class around that time, so she had gotten used to it over the years. When she was little Momo had a little tradition of taking her to get ice cream after each appointment. “We’ve talked about this kiddo, it’s just until both your therapist and you feel comfortable stopping.” Momo informed, turning the car on. She had gotten used to waiting for appointments like this. Nayeon usually had work, so she was the one who usually took care of little appointments like this.

“I feel comfortable.” Haneul pouted. “Your therapist doesn’t think it’s a great idea sweetie.” Momo sighed. “I know you are frustrated, but really, it’s okay. Being in therapy is okay. You are doing well, and we are so proud of you.” “Fine.” Haneul pouted.

“Ha-chan I can tell you are frustrated but this is what’s best for you.” Momo sighed. “Cheer up. You can get toppings on your ice cream if you want?” “Can I get M&Ms?” Haneul asked. “Yeah, whatever you want. Just don’t tell your brother and sister.” Momo rubbed one of Haneul’s arms. “Fine.” Haneul sighed again uncurling herself from the ball she had curled up in. Momo couldn’t help but smile. Haneul had grown up so fast. She remembers when she first came to stay with them. She was so tiny back then, so frail and so fragile. She used to cry when anyone would raise their voice at her. She used to get upset by loud noises. When things fell or when the tv made a loud noise, she would always freak out. She was so much better now. And she had put in so much work for them to get this far, and Momo was just so incredibly proud of her for getting this far.

“Hey mama?” “Hm?” Momo hummed as she began driving. “Why-why did you and Mom decide to take Jae and I in?” Haneul asked, her eyes nervously darting around. “I mean- you never really told us why. And Zumi and I were talking about this the other day and I realized I couldn’t really answer the question. I know you guys were still going through the whole science procedure thing, that's why Zumi was born, but why did you decide to take us in while you are doing that?” Haneul asked. “Well�� I guess you are old enough to talk about it.” Momo nodded. “Well… you know my coworker Miss Kim? Her husband is your social worker.” “Yeah- I guess I remember her.” Haneul shrugged. “Yeah, anyway she was the first to take you two in. But it wasn’t really working out. You weren’t getting along with her kids, so she asked me to take you two in for a few days. I didn’t even ask your mom before I said yes. I knew she was struggling and I just- you guys just needed a place to stay. When I told your mom she was a bit mad, but she agreed. Once we had you two, it just-it felt right. We loved having you two- we loved you two.” Momo explained. “Kazumi did have interesting timing, but it worked itself out in the end. We love all three of you and really wanted to have all of you.”

“So you just- you just decided you wanted to keep us?” “It less of we decided it- we just, it felt right. We couldn’t imagine letting the two of you go, even when we found out about Zumi.” Momo explained. “Well… Thank you.” “Of course kiddo.” Momo giggled. “We love you so much Ha-chan, you and your siblings.” “Yeah yeah.” Haneul giggled. “I know and...” “And?” “And I love you too.” Momo smiled at Haneul. She really meant it. She loved them more than anything in the entire world.

#twice #namo #im nayeon #hirai momo #kazumi #haneul #jae

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

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Guys I’ve been a really bad bean today. Despite not getting even remotely close to my nano word count I’ve got lost in editing land with this piece. I initially just wanted to correct the mistakes my amazing friend @finder-of-rings would find for me but ended up rewriting whole paragraphs of this and fiddling a little with the scene structure at the end.

At least I’m happy how it turned out.

@redstainedsocks @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee

Chapter 3

CW: past parental neglect, panic attack, protagonist nearly experiencing a meltdown, stimming, undeserved punishment

Sahar stumbled, nearly tripping over the small stone steps as he hasted up to the farm. The bushes and ferns around him all swam together into smudged shades of green. The world around him dissolved into a melting aquarelle painting, ruined by tears burning their deep painful paths into his skin as they streamed down his flushed face, incessantly.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to cry but he’d forgotten how to stop.

The rustling leaves and chirping beetles, the birds, the arguing voices from below, were all drowned out by the thundering heartbeat pulsing through his skull.

I didn’t do anything bad.

I didn’t.

Or…

Did I?

Sahar’s right arm ached in warning but his relentlessly tapping fingers were somehow capable to hold the feeling at bay, getting it out through his movements before it could break through his skin and twist his very being into an abstract variant of pain.

For now, the horridly familiar sensation just lingered, stinging deep in his marrow and itching under his nails, eager to burst out.

Bolting over the little fence, Sahar hurried across the plateau and passed the house to hop behind one giant root, into nature's comforting embrace.

He wedged himself between it and the old stump they used to chop firewood on, eyes fixed on the ax still rammed inside as his back hit the roots bark over and over again, chasing unwanted feelings out through movement and the growing throb across his skin, until his violent rocking slowed into a gentle rhythm.

The ache began to fade.

Sahar’s lips trembled around one long shaky exhale and his tears finally subsided. Their tracks were only crusty streaks of salty water now, not overwhelming liquefied aches.

Sometimes Sahar hated his body, hated it for being overwhelmed by the stupidest things, hated to have a brain full of misfiring neurons at war with themselves and the world. A brain that made it unbelievably more difficult to exist, as what he was, in this world.

Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment.

Punishment for what?

Why was it a crime to be-

“Sahar?” Moira’s head peeked over the root. Her brows furrowed in worry as she looked down at his cowering form.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, only tugged his knees tight to his chest, ready to hide his face from whatever scolding was surely to come.

There always had been reprehension when he hadn’t been able to behave himself. Until all of his mother’s angry words hadn’t been enough and she’d ultimately abandoned him.

Ugly icky fear gnawed away at his insides, a sharp toothed beast he desperately wanted to banish from his skin. He rocked against the root again, let his shoulder blades collide with it hard enough the rough bark threatened to tear his grey linen shirt.

Sometimes his thoughts paused, stayed on safe paths and away from the maelstroms of his ever racing mind when he rocked or tapped or hummed enough. But now was not such a moment.

Sahar’s thoughts spun and spiraled, crashing violently into one another on their collision curses.

Please don’t throw me out. Away. I can behave. I can be disciplined. I promise. Promise. Promise. Please!

The curtain closed and left the window dark.

“Sahar?”

Wait.

There were no curtains here. And no city streets. No concrete roads or bleeding knees.

Only warm earth under his fingertips. A long grass blade brushed his calf and Sahar closed his eyes to focus on the barely there tickle against his skin.

Feeling his ribcage expand and fill with the lavender scented air, inherent to his home, his eyes fluttered open.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Here. Here. Here. And I can stay.

Moira began to heave Asmodea over the root with a loud huff that had Sahar instantly uncurl and twist around to take the snail with a firm, gentle grip from Moiras arms. Asmodea immediately clung onto him as best as their soft slimy body allowed, their foot moving in exasperated little waves until Sahar finally sat back down to place them over his lap.

“There, there baby. There you you you go.”

He couldn’t help but smile as Asmodea draped themselves flat over his legs, making no move to retreat into their shining shell. It’s brown and black stripes still shimmered from the shower Sahar had given them yesterday.

“Sahar? Can you listen to me?”

Hunching protectively over Asmodea, he gave a hesitant nod, before adding a quiet, “Yes.”

Moira didn’t like it when she had to repeat herself. It made her livid when he or Ansgar ended up absorbed in one-

Ansgar.

Something hot and heavy lodged itself in Sahar’s throat at the thought of his furious gaze. Ansgar had never looked at him like this, ever before, but Sahar realized why, now, after he had a moment to collect his racing thoughts, to calm his hammering heart. He really had been bad. Immature, thoughtless, utterly ludicrous.

But even so he knew. God how he knew.

Even after everything-

“Ansgar and Eric persuaded the… head hunter, to try his luck up in Berlin.” Moira began, lips pursed in displeasure. “Your house arrest however, stands nevertheless. Don’t give me that look. You’ve been irresponsible and ill-mannered, young man. No matter how good a reason you may think you had, you have to control yourself.”

A protest burned on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the sizzle of anger down, buried it deep inside himself where all his other unsafe emotions were banished.

“I know. I I- I’m sorry.”

Moira shook her head with a sigh, grey curls swishing softly from side to side. “Just be better from now on and stay put for the next few days. No strolling through the farm woods either.”

His fingers began to tap an anxious rhythm onto Asmodea’s shell, while their foot pulsed in soothing waves over his thighs. One of her eyes gently nudged his forearm.

“What, uhm what, but if if if one of the snails escapes and-“

Moira’s strict tone nipped his tender try at backtalk at the bud, rendering him silent for good.

“Ansgar and I will take care of that then. I have to go now. Ansgar already went to help Eric and the others check the InD-Unit’s for a possible break through. I don’t trust one word out of this guy’s mouth, and I expect you to stay close to the house. Did I make myself clear?”

The scar on his arm stretched uncomfortably as he curled tighter around Asmodea, desperate for his friend’s silent support. Their soft body wiggled gently over his legs in response.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#theosnanowrimo #nanowrimo #whump #post apocalyptic whump #mutant whump #mutant whumpee #post apocalypse #mutants #whump writing #whumpee #crying whumpee #queer protagonist #autistic protagonist #stimming #panic attack whump

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alas-pancakes · 5 years

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a sensory mess

long post because I was hyperfocusing

well I don’t really do the kicking-screaming-violently crying type of meltdown anymore, unless things are Really Bad. actually, I never really did that. I was more of a cry so violently I can’t breathe, let alone speak and run away to a quiet place kind of meltdown but that’s beside the point. this makes me look like I don’t have meltdowns anymore. that observation is incorrect.

I’ve been melting down a little more than usual recently because of sensory overload and just my like generally falling apart so I thought I’d kinda write it out to figure out what I’m like. I guess this is useful if you know me irl?

most people cover their ears when there is a loud noise and if I do it for the duration that, say I’m walking past construction work, that’s ok. what’s bad is when I cover my ears for a long time, usually accompanied with closing my eyes, rocking slightly, tapping on my head or chewing my hands and bouncing my leg. I’m probably very snappish, if not I’m ignoring everyone and nonverbal. if it’s not a meltdown based on sensory overload, I might have destructive tendencies (ie. biting, ripping paper, tightly gripping things). more likely to be nonverbal, or producing non-speaking noises. I might also be crying. I might lash out if someone touches me or gets too close unexpectedly. I’m not really going to be in control of myself.

shutdowns, because those also happen. people have a fight, flight, freeze response. when I shut down, I’m either nonverbal or it takes too much effort to talk. usually when I’m tired (emotionally, mentally, etc) or when it’s very noisy (sensory overload) and I will freeze in my place for a while and maybe try to run out of the room (looking at the floor) when I can move. I probably would like a hug (it helps ground me). I shutdown more than I meltdown due to heavy masking.

dissociation, usually coupled with a panic attack. I used to like doing this when I was getting scolded and things like that but I don’t like it now. being out of control scares me. usually I just feel like there’s a wall between me and the world, I’m kinda floaty and idk what’s going on. I’m likely very spacy. happens more when I’m tired. hugs are good for grounding. I might start panicking because my body is more or less on autopilot and I can’t control it. apparently sometimes when that happens I start digging my nails into my arms or doing anything that causes pain because I don’t know how to ground myself and sometimes pain works for a little bit (this is bad, please stop me. if im unlucky the marks can stay for days)

sensory overload, my worse tormentor. kinda speaks for itself, loud noises, complex noises, overwhelming smells, overly bright light, dim light (like museum lighting/teaching streaming movie in class lighting), public transport at peak hour, non-safe people touching me especially without warning. there’s more but it’s about that. uhhh, usually leads to shutdowns or meltdowns. if it’s passing, like a sudden loud, painful noise, I might cover my ears and want some grounding but i’ll be fine after a while. if it’s Bad, then I might meltdown or shutdown but probably not full out. I would want to get out of the place as fast as possible.

burnout. when I’m out of spoons, makes me meltdown/shutdown/dissociate more easily. best for me to just rest at home but if I’m out and can’t escape it, I’ll probably want to go somewhere quiet with a safe person and just rest with them for a while.

in all the above scenarios, i would want my jacket. and also probably a hug but not always. and stim toys help. and earpieces probably. or running water because water calms me down.

safe people because what counts as a safe person? a safe person is someone that I’m comfortable with, that I will go to when seeking things like hugs and will naturally gravitate to them when I see them in the room or something like that. basically whoever i’m clingy to. which makes me annoying but yeah, you get the idea.

bonus: misophonia. I can try to tolerate but vibration (if you’re shaking ur leg and stuff), loud irregular tapping and just like chewing noises and that annoying sksksks thing (s is usually pretty bad) will make activate a fight response and also asmr. I try my best but it will irritate me and I might snap at you. it makes me very uncomfortable (think nails on chalkboard but for like everything) and I will remove myself from the vicinity of the noise if I can. if I can’t, I’ll try my best but it really makes me want to lash out so idk.

so that’s the not so fun side of autism for you.

(so yes, I’m going to die during camp and mostly this is for myself because I like to keep track of things)

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rplinkhoward · 5 years

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Okay so since I am waiting for some games to download I’m going to write more about my modern AU Link and then add this information to a page on my profile whenever it decides to work. This is going to be long so feel free to read under the read more if you wish. Trigger warning for panic attacks and meltdowns.

FYI, it’s going to sound a whole lot like the Parent Cross drabble series already written...why? Cuz I am also that same person who created it (I have like four accounts total and two of them are mains since I had to create a new gmail account because of personal reasons. Anyways let’s talk about Link’s psychology. In this AU Link is a perfectionist, more so because he is Leverrier’s favorite. Since he is Leverrier’s favorite he is under a lot of pressure to be ‘the best’. All of his other siblings also have a lot of pressure placed on them, but he has a lot more because of his stance with Leverrier. First of all Link has to focus on his extracurricular activity (which is dance, his dance partner is Allen), his studies, cooking for his siblings (I mean Goushi and Madarao help out but their cooking skills pale in comparison to Link), and take care of his siblings. So yeah, this boy is under a lot of pressure.

Link also has a hard time expressing his emotions because he’s afraid of losing control. In other words, he stuffs his emotions. Of course there is always that inevitable crash/explosion/meltdown which goes three ways with Link. A. He will bake....like a mad man. I’m talking up early in the morning, baking until late into the night. He will lose track of time and actually needs someone to pull him out of his little world. If he isn’t baking he is cleaning while he’s waiting for things to bake. He had to keep his hands busy. B. He will shut down. It’s just like how a computer will shut down randomly when it’s out of battery life, Link is the same way. He will shut off and stare out into nothingness. Totally collected, although sometimes his hands will shake violently because on the inside he is overwhelmed. He is calm and collected on the outside because he is physically unable to release his pent up emotions. His need for control is so intense that he can’t let go even if he wants to. C. He will snap. Total meltdown. Most times it’s a full blown anxiety attack but sometimes he can go into a total rage. His younger siblings know that he does have them, they had heard him have them, but Madarao and Goushi are the only ones that deal with Link when he has them. Luckily there are some warning signs before he goes into that mode (which helps in keeping Leverrier in the dark). Link will either ‘shut down’ a lot or he will have stress induced fevers. After snapping he’s usually out for a whole day afterwards. Link is a great substitute parent. He is great at coming up with solutions to problems because he can see many different viewpoints. However, that is only for other people’s problems. When it comes to his own issues he has a hard time doing it (which will be easier explained when I get to writing Link more in depth and explaining his thought process. I don’t know when that will be though). So, basically on the outside Link is this perfect, kind, calm individual, but that’s all a lie. Well most of it is a lie. The only times he expresses emotions freely are by dancing, if he is around Allen or his siblings (mostly Allen), if someone messes with his siblings, or if he has stuffed his feelings for too long and is melting down. In a sense, he does have an identity crisis (I’m not sure if I want to accept this term or not with him but based on how he is within the story and all that it sort of makes sense that he has one). He’s built this facade that Leverrier and everyone else sees in public, but he has another ‘identity’ that he shows to only a few people. So he’s a little confused as to what or who he is at times (sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, my eyes are beginning to hate me because I’ve been staring at the screen for too long). But yeah, probably will add to this sometime soon but I gotta take a break, my eyes are killing me.

#link howard #modern AU! link howard #meltdowns #panic attacks #identity crisis?#dgm

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tossing-cookies · 7 years

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Sick Ciel who just wants cuddles (i realize this is ooc but i need h/c lol) and pukes on Sebastian

Hi! Thanks for the request! It was hard to fill because Ciel is such a standoffish character and doesn’t enjoy much physical contact. So, I made it fit into a time specific to the manga. It takes place sometime between chapter 90 and 92 when Ciel was injured in Germany. It actually fit in really well there? He’s not cuddling Sebastian, but he pukes on him! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

He had not stopped trembling since his restless slumber took him to places he wished he could forget. Finnian had him now, but he could still feel the cold roughness of rusted metal holding his ankle, chaining him. He could still, though he was blind at the moment, still see the blood running through the stone floor.

Finnian, just as terrified, though for different reason, held the boy as delicately as he could manage with his fingers still touching him. They nearly hovered over the boy’s back, shaking as his muscles held themselves back. His young master was so fragile in this weakened state, and Finnian, in knowing perfectly welll his own strength, was careful not to hurt him in the slightest.

His heart broke at the state his master was in, so defeated, scared, unsure, when always he had been a symbol of emotional strength. To see such a foil had the gardener in his own level of shock. Whatever happened had broken him, and Finnian would do everything in his power to his pieces back together.

“Young master,” Finnian began softly, praying he did not startle the jumpy boy. When Ciel looked through a blind eye in his direction, the gardener continued, relieved his voice had not stirred another panic attack. “You’ve hardly eaten anything since yesterday. You must be hungry!” He was trying to lift the anxiety with a gentle voice.

Against Finnian’s chest, Ciel shook his head. His stomach was still upset at him from the mustard gas poisoning and the way it had been treated. Just thinking of it made him recall the funnel in his mouth, force feeding him, hands touching and grabbing. He felt sick. “I’m not hungry,” he whispered truthfully.

Feeling his heart sink slightly, Finnian nodded. He hoped Ciel would be doing a bit better after some time to relax, but it seemed whatever the nightmares had shown him had torn open old wounds. “Oh, okay,” he decided not to push, trying instead to come up with another subject that would help take Ciel’s mind off of his suffering. “What about a card game, then?” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a dirty and ripped deck, clearly loved and used frequently. “You gave me this deck when you taught me to play! I’ve been practicing.”

Although Finnian smiled at the fond memory, Ciel’s pale lips stayed a tight line, his bottom lip on the verge of trembling as if in constant threat of bursting into tears. Again, he shook his head, though this time hestitating, memory clouding over his mind’s eye. As a child, he played cards all the time, but childhood was not so,etching so happily remembered. It served as a reminder of all that had been taken from him, what had been lost and could never be returned; his family, his dog, his happiness. “No…”

Beginning to panic at the forlorn look on his master’s face, Finnian quickly shoved the deck back in his pocket. “Oh, of course! You’re probably too tired to be playing games, silly me.” Hoping to cheer him up, the gardener chuckled lightly. “Um, how about a book then? Lady Sullivan has a lot of interesting books in here!”

Before Ciel could respond, probably with another “no,” a knock came from the door. Immediately, the young master retreated further into Finnian’s arms, a yelp of terror leaving him as he did.

Finnian could feel Ciel’s trembling growing stronger. “Young master…” he clicked his tongue despondently, carefully giving his back a pat. “It’s okay. It’s probably Lady Sullivan just coming to change your bandages. I’ll go check!” When he went to get up, however, a small hand reached blindly for him, begging him not to go.

Gently, Finnian took it. “Don’t worry, young master, I’ll protect you,” he promised, giving Ciel’s tiny hand a single shake as if making a deal. He got up then, letting the hand slip from his own before making his way across the room. When he got to the door, he opened it curiously.

Sebastian stood, waiting patiently with a benign grin painted on his face. “Good evening, Finnian.”

Ciel, at the sound of Sebastian’s voice, shrieked and dove under the blankets.

Finnian, hearing this, turned his head to look at his master briefly before glancing back at his superior. “Good evening, Mr. Sebastian,” he began, making sure to block the way with his body.

The dark butler loomed over the adolescent, cold maroon eyes past him and locked onto the shivering lump on the bed. “I see the young master’s condition has not improved,” he observed, keeping the disgust he felt to himself.

Finnian’s curious expression fell to sadness as he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You’ve trusted me to care for him, but I can’t even help him feel better…”

Dismissively, Sebastian pushed inside the bedroom, effortlessly shouldering the gardener out of the way. “Precisely why I’m here. I need to speak with the young master.”

Panicking all over again, Finnian stepped in front of Sebastian, his expression clearly displaying the concern he felt. “I-I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he stammered, struggling to block the older butler’s way as he continued toward the bed. Finnian could hear Ciel whimpering. “The young master is still scared, Mr. Sebastian, sir, please think about how he feels.” The words came out in one panicked jumble, but they had no effect in deterring the demon.

Coolly, Sebastian swung his arm, pushing Finnian to the side before stopping at Ciel’s bedside. For a moment, he stood silently, only watching as the blankets trembled. How could this be his master? He felt disgusted. All of the strength, the willpower, the desire for revenge, appeared to be gone, and it sickened him. It was pathetic. “Young master,” he all but barked, giving up on feigning respect. This display deserved none.

Ciel flinched, and gave another whimper. Finnian panicked and moved closer, his hand absently reaching out to Sebastian, as if debating whether to try pulling him away. He waited, watching anxiously.

With one swift motion, Sebastian’s gloved hand gripped the blanket the bluenette hid underneath and cast it aside. Ciel held himself in a fetal ball, his whole body shaking. Sebastian gazed down, his expression darkening. “Honestly, sir, are you quite done with your temper tantrum by now?”

As soon as Sebastian’s large hand began to extend in his direction, Ciel’s heart seized in his chest, and his mind went blank with pure, unadulterated fear. With a primal shriek, Ciel slapped Sebastian’s digits away. Ice ran through his veins, his muscles burning with the instinct to flee. “No! Don’t touch me!”

A flashback came to Ciel when Sebastian did not withdraw and instead reached again, refusing no as an answer. Bars were suddenly around him; he was trapped. Hands wanted to grab him, hurt him, their evil fingers wrapping around his wrist. Ciel screamed at the touch that now came from his previous captors.

Suddenly nauseous with the overwhelming fear, Ciel’s stomach lurched and a forceful stream of vomit splattered onto Sebastian’s neat suit.

The butler was unaffected, standing still as he watched, making no motion to help. Finnian pushed his way forward, however, quickly grabbing a plastic basin. “Young master, please…” He begged, desperately wishing his master be rid of this torment. The words fell on deaf ears, for now the young teen was hyperventilating and forcing up mouthful after mouthful of bile.

Biting his lip, Finnian carefully moved one hand from the basin he held under Ciel’s chin to rub his back. Through the thin fabric of Ciel’s sleeping shirt, he could feel muscles tensing and quivering in violent trembles. Against him, Ciel felt so small, so fragile, and it tore his heart open.

Ciel gagged up another wave of sick, one Finnian unfortunately happened to catch a glimpse of, and gasped sharply as the sting made his throat freeze, and he began to panic all over again. He was suffocating. There was no control.

His lungs began to heave as horrendously as his stomach, terrible, deep coughing wracking his small frame. The sounds were wet, crackling in his chest, and almost immediately brought up more vomit.

Feeling his own stomach doing a backflip every time Ciel retched, Finnian kept his eyes only on his master’s back, concentrating on the hand that massaged it soothingly. “Please, young master, calm down. I’m here, I’m here.”

When those soft words were spoken, Ciel unraveled, tears beginning to bubble from his eyes and run down his cheeks with a weak sob. It was interrupted by a dry heave, but Finnian still caught the sound. Something in his chest broke then. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispered, his own voice wavering with emotion. He too felt like crying, seeing his master in such a miserable state.

Ciel’s quiet, strangled sobs came freely as the last of his unproductive retching tapered off. Abandoning the basin in his lap, his head turned then into the crook of his trusted gardener’s neck. Everything hurt, and he was terrified, exhausted, wheezing for breath in between tear-laden, incoherent mumbles.

Taking this as a signal that the vomiting was over, Finnian, feeling relieved, moved the bucket to the cart of supplies and used his now free hands to hold onto the young lord as gently as he could. “I’ve got you, young master. You’re all right. You’re safe now, okay?”

To his surprise, Ciel nodded, having heard and listened to his words in the midst of a meltdown, and Finnian began to softly rub his back again. The boy was still crying, but Finnian no longer heard any sobs, only congested sniffling. “There you go, just relax,” he cooed softly, going with what felt natural. He had no idea how to care for another, especially when vomiting or crying, but he seemed to be succeeding, at least to some degree. That gave him hope.

When the tears finally stopped, Ciel lifted his head, his uncovered eye glaring in Sebastian’s direction. “Get out!” He ordered, his previous fear inexplicably morphing to anger, and a stroke of bravery.

Sebastian, not saying anything in response, simply bowed, vomit dripping down his clothes, and then exited the room.

With the demon gone, Ciel’s rigid body went lax against Finnian with a deep sigh of relief, as if he could finally breathe again. “…you stay.”

“I’ll stay beside you as long as you need me to,” Finnian promised with a small smile, glad that the turmoil was over with.

Ciel nodded, pulling himself back to sit upright, his eye blindly directed at Finnian. “…I want to sleep.”

“Good idea,” the servant agreed, standing from the bed to tuck in his worn out master. “You must be exhausted…” He waited for Ciel to lay back before he pulled the blankets up. “Do you need anything before you rest? Maybe some water?”

Against the pillows, Ciel shook his head. He had not the energy to do anything but sleep. Even drinking sounded too daunting of a task at the moment. “Just… tired…” he mumbled

“Okay,” Finnian ceded, figuring that after a nap, he’d try again with the glass of water. “I’m just going to take care of the basin, young master. I’ll be right back.” He waited for a nod of approval before moving to leave, trying to avoid upsetting him, unsure if any absence would be tolerated currently. Thankfully, that was not the case, and Finnian carefully grabbed the bucket in his hands.

As soon as it moved, the smell of stomach acid hit his nose, and he was instantly nauseous. Resisting the urge to gag, he turned and quickly made for the door. With every breath, the pungent stench burned his nostrils, and his throat was straining with the threat of a retch.

As soon as he was out of the room, he shut the door behind him, and his body doubled over, his stomach pushing itself up. A gag brought forth a powerful surge of vomit, the incredible strength of his muscles forcing everything out of his belly at once. Lucky for him, the bucket he held caught most of the mess.

Stunned, Finnian stood there unmoving, spitting out the acrid taste and regaining his breath.

Sebastian, who had been standing just outside the door, sighed and palmed his forehead in exasperation. “Honestly, now,” he began in a chiding fashion. “Must I do everything?” The demon took the sloshing basin from the gardener. “Finnian, clean yourself up and return to the young master. I’m leaving him in your hands for the time being.”

Ashamed of himself, Finnian nodded and headed to the bathroom to wash his mouth out.

#this is terribly paced #poorly set #I'm so sorry #you waited so long for this garbage #I'm ashamed #kuroshitsuji #black butler #sickfic #emeto #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #finnian #vomiting

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nancygduarteus · 7 years

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When Kids Have to Act Like Parents, It Affects Them for Life

Laura Kiesel was only six years old when she became a parent to her infant brother. At home, his crib was placed directly next to her bed, so that when he cried at night, she was the one to pick him up and sing him back to sleep. She says she was also in charge of changing his diapers and making sure he was fed every day. For the majority of her early childhood, she remembers that she tended to his needs while her own mother was in the depths of heroin addiction.

From as early as she can remember, Kiesel says she had to take care of herself—preparing her own meals, clothing herself, and keeping herself entertained. At school, she remembers becoming a morose and withdrawn child whose hair was often dirty and unkempt.

It was a dark time made even bleaker by her mother’s violent outbursts. “During dope sickness, she would unleash a lot of fury onto me,” said Kiesel, a 38-year-old freelance writer. “I became the buffer or scapegoat of her rage to divert it [from] my younger (much more defenseless) brother.” (Kiesel’s mother is no longer living.)

At one point, she says she learned to take her small brother and kitten into their bathroom and barricade the door to keep them safe. “I felt a lot of weight on my shoulders, like my brother could die without me there,” Kiesel remembers.

She started breaking out in severe hives for months at a time, which she believes were triggered by the “burden of loneliness and responsibilities at that age.” Becoming responsible for an infant at such a young age came with a toll, she explained. “I sometimes picked on my brother or was quick to shove or slap his arm because I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle the shrieks of a 2-year-old when I was eight.”

Eventually, at age nine, Kiesel and and her 3-year-old brother were taken in by their grandparents, but the trauma of their former living situation stayed with the children. By the time Kiesel was 14, she says she suffered from daily panic attacks, OCD, and depression. It wasn’t until she was older, she says, that she began to understand the connection between her childhood experiences and numerous chronic illnesses.

Kiesel’s story is one of what psychologists refer to as destructive parentification—a form of emotional abuse or neglect where a child becomes the caregiver to their parent or sibling. Researchers are increasingly finding that in addition to upending a child’s development, this role reversal can leave deep emotional scars well into adulthood. Many, like Kiesel, experience severe anxiety, depression, and psychological distress. Others report succumbing to eating disorders and substance abuse.

“The symptoms look similar to some extent, from cradle to grave,” said Lisa M. Hooper, a professor at the University of Louisville and prominent parentification researcher. Some of these behaviors start out in childhood, and become exacerbated in adulthood, she explains.

“Children’s distrust of their interpersonal world is one of the most destructive consequences of such a process,” writes Gregory Jurkovic in his book Lost Childhoods: The Plight of the Parentified Child.

While there is a large body of literature that focuses on the neglect children experience from their parents, there’s less examination of how this neglect puts kids in roles of parenting each other. And there is virtually no empirical research on how this affects relationship dynamics later in life—both with siblings and others. Scholars agree that there are gaps in sibling research—primarily an incomplete understanding of how these relationships and roles are affected by abusive family environments. Hooper noted that “the literature is very scarce in this area.”

In Kiesel’s case, looking after her brother as a kid has led to a tenuous and chaotic relationship with him over the years, fraught with bouts of estrangement and codependency. Though they remain close, there were periods where she and her brother didn’t speak for months at a time. “My brother is constantly on the edge of some crisis (a health crisis from his drinking, homelessness, etc.) so it is a worry that never goes completely away,” she told me in an email.

Her brother, Matthew Martin, 32, acknowledges the role their upbringing has played in these dynamics. “She was the only protector that I had,” he recalls. “My mother was a hard-core addict from very early on.” Throughout his childhood and early teens, he says he relied on Kiesel for the emotional support his mother couldn’t provide.

“We’ve had our fair share of arguments about [my addictions] and it’s hard, because she wants me to have some longevity. She wants me to be around for her the way that she was for me.”

* * *

From the age of eight until she left home at 15, Rene, who asked to be identified by her first name only because she was concerned about upsetting her family, says she would pick up her three younger siblings from daycare, bring them home, feed and bathe them, read them stories, and put them to bed. “Basically, I played the role of mother,” said the 50-year-old Oregon resident. She remembers standing on a chair as a child and cooking dinner for her entire family. In spite of the enormous burden of responsibility, she recalls it as a role she cherished. “I have really fond memories, particularly of reading them stories in bed at night.”

But Rene’s home life was far from peaceful. She says her mother’s alcoholism prevented her from properly caring for her five children, placing the task of child-rearing on the shoulders of Rene and her older brother. (Rene’s mother is no longer living.) But just as Rene took care of her younger siblings, she and her older brother relied on each other for emotional support.

“I think that it’s important to recognize that a lot of parentification is codependent,” she said, “Perhaps one sibling is the one who does the dishes and cleans the house, and takes care of the mom who is sick or drunk.” She explains that the other sibling might be the one who provides more emotional support, either by listening to problems or comforting.

Just as Wendy assumed the role of “mother” for the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, parentified siblings often forge symbiotic relationships, where they meet each others’ needs for guardians in a lot of different ways.

“We know that siblings can buffer each other from the impacts of stressful relationships with parents,” said Amy K. Nuttall, an assistant professor in human development and family studies at Michigan State University. This may account for why some parentified siblings who come from abusive homes end up maintaining close, albeit complex, bonds into adulthood, with some “continuing to attempt to fill parental needs at the expense of their own.”

Still, Nuttall adds, others may distance themselves from their families altogether in order to escape the role.

Rene found herself homeless after she was kicked out of her mother’s house when she was 15 years old. She says her siblings still blame her for leaving them behind. “When you think about it, if you’re parentified and you leave your younger siblings, it’s like having a parent abandon them,” said Rene. For years after, she was plagued by feelings of guilt—a common experience among people who have been parentified.

Sibling relationships usually generate a lifelong bond, yet for Rene, freedom from caretaking responsibilities came at a cost: the loss of her family. “I don’t have a relationship with my siblings anymore,” she says.

* * *

Unpredictable childhood trauma has long-lasting effects on the brain. Studies have shown that people with adverse childhood experiences are more likely to suffer from mental and physical health disorders, leading people to experience a chronic state of high stress reactivity. One study found that children exposed to ongoing stress released a hormone that actually shrank the size of their hippocampus, an area of the brain that processes memory, emotion, and stress management. Individuals who have experienced emotional or physical neglect by a parent are also at a greater risk of suffering from chronic illness as adults.

“Chronic, unpredictable stress is toxic when there’s no reliable adult,” said Donna Jackson Nakazawa, the author of Childhood Disrupted and a science journalist who focuses on the intersection of neuroscience and immunology.

Nakazawa has conducted extensive research on the body-brain connection, with a focus on studies initiated by physicians Vincent Felitti and Robert Anda. Their work on adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) has since grown into a burgeoning field with hundreds of peer-reviewed studies. The findings show that people who experienced four categories of childhood adversity—physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, and neglect—were twice as likely to be diagnosed with cancer and depression as adults.

More links have been found between childhood stressors and adult heart disease, diabetes, migraines, and irritable bowel syndrome.

Jordan Rosenfeld, a 43-year-old author from California, attributes her own digestive issues to her childhood. When her mother was in the throes of substance abuse, she says, there were times she didn’t have food to eat. By the time she left home at 18, she began suffering from chronic pain after eating.

In adulthood, Rosenfeld noticed it was hard to regulate her emotions around hunger. “If I’m out with friends and we can’t decide on a restaurant, and I’m hungry—I can actually go into a little bit of a meltdown,” she said. “And I can trace that back to literally not having been fed as a child at various junctures.”

From an early age, Rosenfeld recalls having to remind her mother when they needed groceries and pulling her out of bed in the mornings to get to school on time. “I did a lot of that kind of parenting her, in a way, because what I was trying to do was get parented myself.” Because of this, she says she often distrusts that other people will take care of things. “That’s why I tend to step up and do it myself.”

Jordan’s mother, Florence Shields, remembers it was a depressing time in both their lives. “I had welfare for a while and I think that my diet—because of drugs and alcohol—wasn’t very good, and she probably got the brunt of that.” As a recovering alcoholic, Shields, who is now retired and lives in Petaluma, California, says she lacked the tools for parenting due to her own upbringing and history of tragedy.

When she became a mother at age 24, Shields was still grieving the loss of her older brother who died unexpectedly when she was 18. Opioids and alcohol were a way of coping with this loss, she says.“It’s like that grief is in there with you because that person is with you for the rest of your life, so when sad things come up, there he is.”

While both Rosenfeld and her mother have since attended therapy sessions together as adults, the effects of parentification continue to this day. Shields recognizes that her earlier struggles with addiction have profoundly influenced her daughter’s behavior. “Jordan is very orderly and in control,” she said by phone. When Rosenfeld’s father later remarried and had children of his own, Rosenfeld learned to project her role of caretaker onto her siblings. “I spent a lot of time babysitting them as a teenager and I think it’s been a challenge for me to separate out feeling like I’m a parent to them.”

This has often caused rifts between the siblings into adulthood, Rosenfeld says. “I’ve always been somebody who thinks it’s my job to offer help, care, and advice even when it’s not asked for.”

* * *

How does someone learn that becoming self-reliant is safer than trusting others? Nakazawa believes that in destructive parentification, “you don’t have a reliable adult to turn to.” And if a child’s early experiences at home consisted of making sure everyone else’s needs were met, then the “child doesn’t feel seen.”

This sense of responsibility and compulsive caretaking can follow them into future relationships as well. “You tend to project it onto other people in your life,” Rosenfeld says. This isn’t surprising, claims Jenny Macfie, an associate director of clinical training at the University of Tennessee and another prominent parentification researcher, as “adults who report role confusion in their childhoods may have difficulty with their identity development,” and this in turn, can affect a person’s romantic relationships.

For the first half of her marriage, Rosenfeld found herself regularly putting her partner’s needs ahead of her own—essentially mirroring her childhood role.

Others echoed this experience; Kiesel says she struggles with learning how to establish firm boundaries with partners and believes this is directly tied to caring for her brother at a young age. Similarly, Rene says finding the right balance between expectation and autonomy has been a constant problem in her relationships. She’d like to find a partner but has doubts. “It’s very easy for me to get into caretaking roles with people who basically exploit my nature.”

But these effects often go beyond the individual—studies by Nuttall and others have found that destructive parentification in a family can carry over to other generations as well. “Mothers who were overburdened by taking care of their parents during childhood have a poorer understanding of their infant’s developmental needs and limitations,” explained Nuttall. This, consequently, “leads to a parenting style that lacks warmth and sensitivity.”

* * *

As of today, there is scarce research on treatment or prevention efforts. How can a parentified sibling heal? Nakazawa believes that recognizing how these psychological puzzle pieces all fit together can be a step in the right direction. “Physically and mentally, the architecture of the brain has changed, the immune system has changed, and without that validation, you can’t begin an appropriate healing journey.”

Some people have found community through Al-Anon, a support group for the loved ones of alcoholics. “The group has a really strong focus on explaining what codependency is and offering solutions for learning new behaviors,” explained Rosenfeld. She’s attended the meetings for over a year now and says she’s noticed a tremendous change in her habits and awareness of how to set boundaries. “I’ve learned that I can’t just blame people in my life with substance abuse issues for causing me suffering; I have a choice in taking care of myself,” she says.

Despite negative outcomes associated with parentification, researchers say that going through that experience also confers some advantages that can help people later in life. Hooper believes that people who have been parentified as children possess a greater capacity for resiliency and self-efficacy. Nakazawa echoes this. “Current [American] culture thinks of resiliency as gutting it out and getting through, and one foot in front of the other,” she says. “But resiliency is learning and making meaning from what happened.”

A common thread found in people with these shared childhood experiences is a heightened sense of empathy and an ability to more closely connect to others. This is not to say that the negative impacts of their childhood are diminished, says Nakazawa, but that many are able to forge meaning out of their suffering. “People begin to see that their path to well-being must take into account the way in which trauma changed their story,” she explains, “And once they’re able to do that, they can also see how resiliency is also important in their story.”

For Kiesel, the freelance writer who cared for her brother from a young age, counseling and Al-Anon have helped her feel less personally responsible for her brother, though she laments the lack of support networks for siblings who have been parentified and have their own specific needs.

Though her relationship with her brother remains tenuous because of his addictions, she continues to look out for him by regularly calling and checking in on him every month.

Martin admits that to this day, she remains the voice of positivity and reason in his life. “I'm struggling with my own demons, but like my sister says, there is a future there for me.”

As Kiesel explains: “Our mother and grandmother died a few months apart, and our grandfather a little over a year later—so essentially, we're all we have left.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/10/when-kids-have-to-parent-their-siblings-it-affects-them-for-life/543975/?utm_source=feed

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ionecoffman · 7 years

Text

When Kids Have to Act Like Parents, It Affects Them for Life

“We’ve had our fair share of arguments about [my addictions] and it’s hard, because she wants me to have some longevity. She wants me to be around for her the way that she was for me.”

* * *

Still, Nuttall adds, others may distance themselves from their families altogether in order to escape the role.

* * *

More links have been found between childhood stressors and adult heart disease, diabetes, migraines, and irritable bowel syndrome.

* * *

For the first half of her marriage, Rosenfeld found herself regularly putting her partner’s needs ahead of her own—essentially mirroring her childhood role.

* * *

Though her relationship with her brother remains tenuous because of his addictions, she continues to look out for him by regularly calling and checking in on him every month.

Martin admits that to this day, she remains the voice of positivity and reason in his life. “I'm struggling with my own demons, but like my sister says, there is a future there for me.”

As Kiesel explains: “Our mother and grandmother died a few months apart, and our grandfather a little over a year later—so essentially, we're all we have left.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

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