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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Blood That Haunts Me

post-scratch fic

no pairings

Hotch has a bad heart

word count 6k

In Savannah Hayes’ experience, Saturday’s are typically for parents with screaming toddlers looking for emergency medicine to soothe their fears about whatever toy their child has shoved up their nose or to ask an aged nurse what to do with this croup that just won’t go away. It’s scrapes and bruises from a fender bender with kids just learning to drive and roughly two to three broken arms from seven-year-olds learning to ride a bike without training wheels. With any luck, there will be only one underage kid in a banana bag and the college kids will be in and out for stitches and gone as quickly as they come. There’s always the regulars - older men and women that buzz with the opportunity to be out of their houses even if it’s to withstand the pain of stitches and staples on their thin skin.

Rarely has Savannah faced a Saturday where she knew someone being pulled into her emergency room. Virginia isn’t the biggest place but her friends are young and healthy and Saturdays are for squirmy children and stupid teenagers. When she sees him with his ankles stretched out over the end of the stretcher and a large hand weakly fighting with the paramedic to hold the oxygen mask over her face she’s certain of his identity. She’s good with faces and his is unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be on break yet, baby.” Derek picks up on the first ring, the sound of Hank babbling loudly in the background making him chuckle deeply as he moves. The phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, she can hear him pick up their son. Talking back to the baby.

Savannah is sitting in the emergency room, camped out behind the desk as she catalogs patient information. Despite it being a Saturday, the hospital is startlingly pretty timid (knock on wood). When there is a new patient the clatter is noticed. So when Hotch came in, supine but weakly fighting against the oxygen mask pulled down over his mouth, Savannah noticed. Even drugged and combative, he’s distinctly himself.

And as Savannah tells Derek, describes the man she’s quite fond of, he doesn’t believe her. Hotch doesn’t go to the hospital and no one’s heard from him in forever, he’s probably not even in Virginia. Garcia said Jack started high school last fall and if they were home and situated again with no contact then… Well, what are they supposed to do? “Derek--” Savannah can hear the pitch change in his voice. Derek goes from dismissive to genuinely worried and now pulling at strings because no one has talked to Hotch in months (nearly two years) and the idea of seeing him now is terrifying. “I am positive that it’s Hotch.” She leans around the monitor, frowning as she watches some nurses she knows buzz around him. Throwing out words she can’t make out entirely but she can see what they’re doing and it makes her heart jump a little to hear medications that they put orders out for.

Hotch makes a noise - it has to be loud for her to hear it from the distance she’s at. “Baby,” she stands and it makes her heart do a weird clenching thing when she catches a glimpse at his face. Sees that he’s crying and clearly upset. “Derek, he’s getting all kinds of agitated. I’m gonna call you back in a second, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tosses her phone down on her chair before calling out for one of the nurses she recognizes with a wave.

The nurse smiles when she sees Savannah - she’s got a particular gift with patients like Hotch.

“I know this one,” Savannah says, approaching the bed. “What have you got?”

Savannah doesn’t have all the details on the accident that occurred in 2009 with George Foyet. It’s not Derek’s story to tell and it’s not exactly the easiest one to bring into conversation. She’s aware of vague things like his collapse a few years later from scar tissue that caused him to bleed internally and that Hotch's ex-wife was killed by a serial killer. Mostly, she knows that Hotch is dependable and secure and that when he went into witness protection nearly two years ago his absence had crushed them all. Even if the likes of Emily Prentiss and her just as stubborn as hell husband would never admit it.

“Mild tachycardia and respiratory depression -” The nurse tells her about Hotch’s underactive thyroid, something he’s supposed to take medication for ever since the stabbing damaged the organs function. How it’s throwing his heart into tachycardia and it’s getting worse, not responding to medicine yet.

Savannah may not know what happened with George Foyet but she knows Derek regards Hotch as this infallible wall of a man. One she’s come to understand he thinks can’t ever fall down and one that, despite how fondly he’ll speak about him, annoys the hell out of him. Personally, Savannah thinks Aaron Hotchner is just a sweet man. She likes him and his little quirks. He’s quite the odd pairing when he gets together with Emily and Dave but they’re a funny crowd.

What she isn’t expecting is the mess of scars littering his chest. Experience allows her to date some of them by sight - their distinct shape and coloration clustering them into the same time frame and she can’t imagine how someone gets over half a dozen wounds like that at once. They don’t end there. On his right side, there’s a nearly faded out of existence scar from a chest tube. A puncture wound- something blunt she’d assumed by way of its roundness. Even a few rougher-looking, jagged scars that she assumes are shrapnel because Derek has nearly identical ones.

Savannah is a few moments too late to prevent Hotch from being pulled down by a sedative but he’s fighting it, blinking slowly to try and remain awake. “Hey,” she greets softly, turning his wrist over so she can see IV sight in his elbow. It’s secure and there’s nothing special to note but it’s going to bruise. “Long time no see Agent Hotchner.” She squeezes his fingers, smiling at the recognition behind his eyes even if his lips only form a silent mouthed version of her name.

With a smile - remembering the first time they met and how gently he’d taken her hand before shaking his head and admonishing “everyone calls me Hotch” - she reaches down and fixes his hair. He’s let it grow out since he left the BAU. Derek had been livid when he got word that Hotch wasn’t coming back despite the fact that he too left the unit. “How are you feeling, Hotch? Can I call someone?”

His eyes slide shut and for a moment she thinks he’s given in, sunk down low where his pain and his ailments can’t get him. He taps a finger against her palm and she understands he’s still here. “Morgan?” he rasps.

She nods, “Derek already knows you’re here. I imagine he’ll have the whole crew here in no time.” He grimaces, cracking an eye open to give her a look she understands entirely. She’s only ever faced their smothering worry once when Hank was born but she knows it’s a lot. It’s hard to imagine they’re going to somehow be less present and attuned with him than they with her. He’s not looking forward to that and it’s understandable. “Don’t worry,” she promises, “I’ll have your back when they get here.”

He nods, dull eyes sinking back under his eyelids. She holds his hand until she’s certain he’s fallen asleep.

“So,” the nurse asks softly. She moves and tubes and wires around so that they’re not laying against his bare skin. Folding the blankets over Hotch’s hips and leaving his chest bare. He’s still tachycardic, breathing laboriously through inflamed lungs. “How do you know this guy?”

Savannah sits down on the edge of the bed, taking Hotch’s hand into her own. Working her thumb in gentle, hypnotic motions between his knuckles and smiling sadly at the relieved rasping sigh that leaves his parted pale lips. “Family,” she answers because she’s not sure what the answer really is but in some way… yeah, family.

The nurse nods, going about what needs to be done while Savannah stays on the edge of the bed. She does what she can until she clears her throat. “Hey,” the nurse smiles, sympathetic to the soft faraway look in Savannah’s eyes. “Doctor Hamilton admitted him so I need to take him up to the--”

Savannah stands immediately, nodding. “Yeah,” she lays his hand back down on his chest. Stepping away from the bed, “sorry.” She shakes her head, stepping back as the brakes come up and he’s set into motion. “Second floor?” Savannah assumes.

The nurse nods, “he’ll be in room one seventeen. I’ll let the desk know he’s one of yours.”

Savannah watches him disappear down the hall, met at the mouth of the hall by other nurses and staff nodding as they take him to the right floor. She’d been there long enough to see his heart monitor and to identify the ventricular tachycardia plaguing him. He’ll likely need a pacemaker and she’s already racing to a solution. He’ll need to be monitored after surgery but can go home. Hank’s a little too small still but they have the guest room. If Derek cleans up the mess he lets Hank make in there--

Savannah’s heart sinks to the floor and she turns around. Hit with the sudden memory of the last event she saw Hotch at and remembers slowly that Hotch has a son and someone needs to find him.

All morning something had been off, Hotch didn’t have to say it for Jack to know. The oatmeal was made oddly, Hotch’s hands trembling so much he’d gotten the measurements wrong. Too much brown sugar but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind it being too sweet. He’d been distracted by his oatmeal and unalarmed by signs he hasn’t learned to be aware of. If Hotch had gotten up late or made breakfast and then laid down on the couch then Jack would have noticed. Bad days come frequently and like most storms look and sound distinct.

High anxiety days are an early rise, the sound of lights being turned on and off as Hotch fails to get comfortable in any room. Coming out of his room and finding his father curled up on the couch. His knees drawn up and a pillow pressed into his chest, a heated blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. It’s lightly tiptoeing around the house so Hotch stays asleep and avoids him once he does move and allows his aching back to stretch out. Jack knows to keep his music down and to call Jessica if Hotch locks himself away.

Though time has dampened it’s severity it’s not impossible to find his father trying to work through untreated PTSD or ride out an intense wave of depression. Leaving him immobile or desperate for a distraction. Jack knows those things. He understands them and, like the blasting siren that screams out before a tornado, Jack knows when to duck for cover and ride out the storm.

But Jack had no idea what a heart attack would look like. What to expect or even if a heart attack had been what he’d seen.

Hands over his ears, Jack Hotchner sinks into the emotionless walls surrounding him. Trying to find the place past his body where everything ceases to exist. Insistently, against his will, he’s pulled back to a decade ago. To the sound of gunshots tearing through the only home he’d ever known. To Emily wiping his tears away with the palm of her hand, their backs to the carnage his father created in the fall. To a hospital not unlike this one where his father was patched up - open wounds covered and drugs numbing his rough edges - until Jack had finally been able to see him. The feeling of his father’s chest, broad and forever, solid as he’d curled his legs into his lap. His father cried softly as he explained what happened, what he’d done.

“Mommy isn’t coming home, buddy.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Jack rocks himself back and forth. He can’t go there. Not alone. He can’t go back to Foyet. He’s too old for those silly games. Too old for nightmares and monsters hiding under his bed. Unaware of the ones still crawling out of his father’s closet, wrapping their cold fingers around his ankle and threatening to pull him into the darkness with them.

You’re never too old for monsters.

Spencer had found the time to confide in Jack about being raised by a mentally ill single mother. His intent was to demonstrate to Jack that not only did he understand the pre-teens intense fury with his father but that the emotions would abate and Jack would have only a few moments to decide what to do next. How Spencer had turned eighteen and had to have his mother committed to an institution. A decision that haunted him but that he ultimately understood it was simply the only option. One day, Spencer clarified, Jack would understand the way his father worked.

Until that moment, Jack had been more or less paying attention. When it came to all things Uncle Spence, Jack typically has a longer attention span and all the patience in the world but the moment Jack realizes this was a one-on-one sort of deal he was done. He wanted out. But Reid stuttered. That one day, and the words had come out so quickly if he’d had a chance Reid would have stopped them, Jack would realize just what that meant. He’d look at his father and all the magic of his childish love would fall away and Jack would be left with his father’s bare bones. And it would be terrifying but, often, that’s all love is: all the bits bleached down to their true forms.

He gets it now, okay? The nutty academic parent with bouts of deep depression, an obsession with their jobs, and no idea how to say I love you like everyone else. He gets the comparison now. Can he be done? He wants to go home. He’s done learning this stupid lesson about love or whatever bullshit this is supposed to represent. When does it end? It’s going to end, right?

Derek Morgan falters in the doorway, stalled like an engine as he stands at the edge of the messy room. Hank hums in Derek’s left ear, bouncing his foot against Derek’s hip as he stands stationary and trying to wrap his head around everything happening. It’s overwhelming. Derek hasn’t seen Hotch in two years and if the sight of him alone - laid out right here - doesn’t bring its own intense wave of anger and longing then the sight of his uncovered chest is it’s own thing as well.

Hotch is on the bed, curled slightly to his right with the blankets leaving his pale chilled skin open. Even with his face turned into the pillow behind his head, he looks deathly pale in comparison to the white bedspread. Entirely too limp, too still as he lays there pulling in breaths audible over the hiss of the canal running under his nose. Nearly drowned out, consumed by the natural hums of the hospital and constant motion of the monitors to his left and the dissatisfied beep of the blood-pressure cuff around his right arm.

Savannah warned him of what he’d find once he got inside in case she got called away to a patient when he got there. She told him the buzz around the staff, what Hotch’s cardiologist thought and it stung to hear her warn him ahead of time what Hotch looked like, worse, she imagined, than what Derek was imaging. Weaker, she’d said as if the word was some sort of betrayal. He’s weak and Derek can’t push him and he’d wanted to advocate for himself but he couldn’t.

With tears in his eyes, he’d promised to be on his best behavior and Derek realized just how awful he and Hotch could be towards one another. How everyone sees it. He’d wondered if… Well, if Hotch hated him for it. They’d been close once. Partners. Haley used to joke she half expected he’d steal Aaron away from her. That old joke used to make Jason laugh so hard, the two of them together were the cause of all his worry and stress. Now…

Well, now Derek is standing in a room that can’t be more than a 120-foot space with far too much equipment in it feeling like he’s never been so far away from Hotch. So disconnected.

Hotch makes a soft sound from the bed, twitching his nose and flexing his fingers. There are more drugs than blood in him, keeping him weak and tired and unable to pick apart his surroundings. Hazy eyes blink open, peeled apart like they each weigh twenty pounds, and the simple act of keeping them open burns. He can’t make out the world around him very well but he sees the empty chairs on his left and the expanse of white all around. The hospital, he knows, and no one showed up.

Maybe they finally got wise and are leaving him to his own devices. Leaving him to rot where he won’t be missed. Sinking into the fibers of the bed and disappearing. They’ll stop pumping him so full of drugs and just let him wilt away. He wants it, craves the nothing he knows he’ll find. No masks or deception or this anger he feels burning and rearing its ugly head. Just nothing.

Derek steps into the room, sniffling to draw in some noise before he steps into Hotch’s line of sight. Hoping not to startle him, as he clears his throat, meeting Hotch’s gaze for only a moment looking down at his shoes. “Just me and Hank,” he offers. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He can feel Hotch still looking at him, hearing those painstakingly slow, labored breaths. He wishes he hadn’t come. To escape all this restless vulnerability.

Hotch’s eyes sink back shut, pale lips parting to mumbling, “Derek,” under his breath. Savannah told him Hotch wouldn’t even likely know he was there. The drugs are affecting his mental facilities, sedating him to keep him calm while they run tests. When he can remember what’s happening he’s scared and when he can’t… he has a baseline memory that hardly differentiates friend from foe. It’s the latter of which Savannah needs him to be aware of because Hotch’s heart can’t handle the stress. His mind is too clouded and his body too weak, he just needs someone to hold his hand. Someone to distract him.

Derek’s expecting a conversation. For Hotch to say something. To apologize for running off or to pay Hank some sort of mind. There’s not even a stiff silence, Hotch looks so weak, so pliant Derek isn’t sure he can even speak. He realizes that despite all the hefty warnings, despite everything that he was told he still walked into this room expecting Aaron Hotchner. He wanted, he needed the man in the suit, with that stern scowl, and gravelly voice. He’d needed the mask and instead he got the man. The man without the armor, just blood.

And it scares him.

It scares Derek that Hotch can’t put up his shields, that he can’t hide and play their cat and mouse game of anger and misunderstanding. They only have blind defeat.

Derek sits down in the visitor’s chair, shushing Hank when he squirms with agitation. Hank immediately starts touching everything in sight. Reaching and leaning dangerously out of Morgan’s lap, to touch the bed and smack his hand against the rail. A sound that makes Hotch’s eyes peel open to slivers before they shut again, unbothered. “Don’t touch that,” Derek pulls Hank into his lap, redirecting his attention.

He knows, from the low whine Hank lets out, that this isn’t going to work for very long. Mercifully, there’s a knock at the door and Savannah peeks her head in. Waving at Hank who fights his limbs out of Derek’s hold to be placed on the floor so he can propel his body in the direction of his mother.

“Hello baby,” Savannah scoops him right up. Grinning at that way he toddles, that quick toddler pace because he doesn’t know how to pump the brakes. How to set himself into motion that isn’t just guided by leaning forward and running.

Derek stands from his chair, clearing his throat and glancing down at Hotch before looking back to his wife and son.

Savannah can see his hesitation, his worry. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a snack? Hmm?” She jogs Hank up in her arms and he brightens at the offering - knowing pudding or a cookie is coming his way. “Derek?” She offers out her hand to him, “come on. I’ll explain everything to you downstairs.”

“Ugh--” all he can see is Hotch shivering. His skin slick with sweat from the strain on his body but the way he’s curled into the side. Trying to produce warmth where it isn’t. “Just give me a second.” Derek knows he can’t just throw the blanket over Hotch and he works himself up, gets upset just thinking about the mass of awful scars keeping his friend held together. All the old scars are bare for anyone and everyone to see. If Hotch had the presence of mind for it, he’d be upset.

With a gentleness born with great amounts of stress, Derek gently works the lower half of the blanket over Hotch’s leg. He folds the lower half over and hesitates, stares at Hotch, and wonders just how much he’s allowed. Hotch is cold and Derek knows that means his arms too but that crosses their line. They’re never spoken out loud, only shot through glances about trust and touch but Hotch is asleep or maybe lost to his haze of drugs (and Derek’s not really sure if there’s a difference between those two things). So, he picks up Hotch’s hand, swallowing against the uncomfortable swell of his throat when he feels just how cold the other man’s skin is. He tucks Hotch’s hand carefully against his chest.

Hotch’s face twitches, a grimace that makes him jerk his head but he doesn’t move his hand so Derek leaves it. Carefully, still watching and waiting for some explosive reaction but none come. Derek turns the heated blanket up to the highest setting, making sure even Hotch’s shoulders are covered. Tucking the blanket just under his chin.

Hotch groans from the back of his throat, a startling noise that comes with blinding panic. His eyes fly open, darting around the room and to Derek but not seeing. Derek can’t tell if it’s pain or fear but the machine over his shoulder picks up pace, reflecting Hotch’s distress. Hotch swallows thickly, mouth opening and eyes flicking around the room. Twisting, fighting his body in a futile battle where he loses no matter the outcome. Kicking out and dislodging blankets as he’s blinded by his pain.

“Step back Derek.” Derek just stands there, frozen. Savannah grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, allowing other people to come into the room. “He’s okay,” she mumbles, eyes glued to Hotch. He’s fighting blindly, anything and everything. His heart can’t take it, her eyes flick from his bare skin to the monitors. To the staff also taking note. “Derek, we can’t be in here.”

They pull the crash cart close, preparing vials of medicine before their eyes.

“What’re they--” Derek can’t move. He stands there watching them move blankets out of the way. Listening as they pull open a drawer and settle a machine on top and he knows what it is. Doesn’t need to be told what’s happening next. “Savannah.” He stumbles back, shaking his head. The machine wines, a high-pitched squeal that makes Derek’s heart pick up.

He doesn’t see, doesn’t watch.

He’s standing in the hall when the machine fires off. Can close his eyes but can’t unhear the sound of Hotch’s low groan, a punched-out sound but he’s alive. Still pulling in breaths.

“Morgan?”

He was still a baby the last time Morgan saw him. Quickly trying to climb to his father’s height but every bit as graceful as a colt, and angry. Angry with his father for falling into this same repeated history and questioning what he knew. How much of his father’s strength is something else? What does he really know about the man who raised him? Because he got himself a chunk of history, started to understand the man he’d always blindly turned to. His hero. Instead, he got glimpses, stories about the boy his mother knew and he could no longer recognize him.

But standing here now is a whole teenager. Blonde hair grown out and even taller, built unmistakably like his father with all height in his legs and pale.

“Jack.” Morgan stumbles back when Jack collides into him, long arms wrapping around him. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “When the hell did you get so big?” He’s standing there, a whole armful of the kid he used to give piggyback rides to.

Jack pulls away and wipes his eyes, furiously wipes his eyes so that Morgan can unsee the tears streaming down his face. “My-- My dad,” he asks. “Did you see him?” Jack looks at the room, alerted by the sounds coming from within, but Morgan steps in the way. “Morgan is he-- is he in there?” Jack worms his way out of Morgan’s arms, a whole tangle of long limbs.

Hotch would be proud to know Jack is exactly like him, real scrappy. A lot of fight for such a lanky person.

“Jack,” Morgan pulls him away from the door. Despite how much he wants to go to Hotch too, that’s not where Jack should be. That’s not what Jack should see. “Come on, kid. We can’t go in there. Come on.” The fight leaves him easily enough, he’s really just a kid standing there looking for someone to tell him what to do. Anyone to point him where he’s supposed to be.

Jack still wants to turn, as if pulled by strings.

“I called Rossi,” Morgan offers. Something to distract him, something good. “Everyone else? Reid and Garcia and Emily? They’re on their way, okay?” And even with loaded promises Jack can’t find the nerve to respond. Their names used to be a solace. Someone to call when he needs help with his math homework. To show up with books on whatever cool thing he’s into this week. His family.

People he hasn’t seen in forever.

They do come.

Hank’s ambling about, babbling to Morgan as he pulls his father around the waiting room. It’s his excited squeal that alerts them to the other’s arrival. To Reid holding the door open so the others can pass. The pile-up that happens, shocked inhales and silence as they stand there and look at the carnage. At Jack’s tear-stained face and Morgan going where Hank pulls but empty, fearful.

“Uncle Dave?” Jack stands up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dave smiles, “hey kiddo.” He doesn’t argue against the armful of Jack he gets, just closes him up. “Christ,” Dave whispers. “You’re a giant.”

“What is he feeding you?” Jack turns around and finds Emily and all she can do is laugh as he hugs her too. Finds herself all wrapped up in his long arms. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she whispers, “letting you get so big.” She squeezes him tight, cups the back of his head.

There’s not much more time for reunions, never much time for anything.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Never get used to this part either. The sitting. The waiting. The calling.

Savannah was right about the tachycardia.

“With your permission - ” and it’s important that detail be added. That Hotch can’t make this decision for himself anymore and it’s resting entirely on the shoulders of Jessica or Dave and Emily alternatively. That doesn’t mean it’s not like a kick to the gut. A cruel taunt. “We would like to prepare him for the surgery now while he’s stable.” Stable? Is that what he is? Laying back there with defibrillator pads on his chest and sedated to the point that Morgan wasn’t sure Hotch could even recognize him.

Jack sniffles, ducking his head and whispering to Emily. Attached to her hip, clinging to her. She shakes her head and brushes his hair back, “it doesn’t work like that, Jack.” Jack’s lower lip trembles and it breaks Emily’s heart so she interrupts the doctors. Despite the voice at the back of her head telling her this isn’t a good idea. Despite the sour twist in her stomach. The way she knows Hotch wouldn’t want this. “I know there are strict rules,” and that alone should be enough to know they’re likely to be shot down. “Is there any chance he can go back before the surgery? This is his son, he’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen soon. You’re hardly breaking the rules at all.”

Soon is a bit of a stretch. Jack’s an October baby.

The doctor looks at Jack and sighs like this is really putting him off but nods. “Yeah, quickly. Five minutes, do you understand? You can’t be back there long,”

And Jack thinks he’s won something grand. That he’ll be faced with the same mirage Morgan was expecting. His dad will be sitting back there tall and strong, probably just tired like he’s sick. But he takes one step into the room and wishes he hadn’t come. Hadn’t asked.

They haven’t removed the defibrillator pads on his chest just pulled a blanket over his stomach but that only minimally covers the damage. There are still visibly warped bullet wounds and jagged surgical scars to be seen. But Dave has seen all that. He’d been there to watch the blood spray out when the scar on Hotch’s shoulder took place. Shouted as the gunshot sprayed out and Hotch grunted, being sent back into the wall behind him. But that was… God, that was a lifetime ago when Hotch was just a kid.

Dave turns behind him and sees Jack frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jack nods but he can hardly move, can’t force himself to move further into the room. He’s seen his father shirtless, not enough times to really gather anything but he’s seen the damage of years of this job has caused. But this is different. Jack isn’t six, isn’t watching him shave. He’s standing there watching him pull in laborious breaths, struggling to keep living.

“You know,” Rossi sits down in the visitor’s chair. “When you were born he cried so hard that Gideon had to call me.” He looks back at Jack, watching his face for some inclination that he’s going to either come into the room or run away. “Haley was exhausted but… She was beautiful, always was. No matter if she was showing up at the office to haul your father home by the ear in her pajamas or crying her make-up off in the waiting room waiting for your knucklehead father to get out of surgery.”

But he’s missed the point.

He chances a glance to Hotch, watching his pale face twist in discomfort. “You were born at eleven at night and by that point I was already in bed and done for the night by ten kind of guy.” He can still remember sighing and almost ignoring his phone when it had gone off. “I got to the hospital and your dad was sitting on the floor just outside the room, sobbing so hard I thought he’d pass out.” It’s still pretty surprising he didn’t pass out. “Didn’t think he could do it. You were so small, small, and pink and screaming your little head off.”

Jack huffs, smiling as he kicks at the ground. Looking everywhere but his father or Dave.

“But I picked him up,” grabbed him by his shirt and forced him to his feet. Managing the tough love Gideon couldn’t bring himself to enforce. “I don’t think he stopped crying until he fell asleep. Just sitting there with you in his arms crying.” Rossi sighs shakes his head. “Honestly, you were tiny. Had a-- Had a thing with your heart and…” Rossi had held Jack after Hotch and Haley finally managed to catch some sleep. A nurse had figured he or Gideon one had to be a grandfather, why else would they be there? They’d sat there with Jack for about an hour just gushing over how small and cute he was. Trying to keep the baby content so Haley could get some sleep.

Drowsily his voice cuts through the silence, nothing but a ghost of a whisper. “An atrial septal defect.” It’s all he can manage but it’s enough to get their attention. Jack had been born with an atrial septal defect and they knew about it in advance just after Haley’s pregnancy got tricky. It was just a tiny little hole in his atrium, closed before he was a whole year old. That doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of them first. Leave them to check his bassinet every few hours. To make sure he was okay, still breathing.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t play soccer because of it.” Jack manages a few steps and comes to the very end of the bed. His fingers just barely touching the bed frame. “But you let me play anyways.”

Hotch clears his throat, shakes his head. “I didn’t. Jessica did.” He grimaces, shifting uselessly to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “Said-- She said if you were anything like me you’d find a way.” He’s talked himself breathless, gasping and fighting to breathe. “Might as well-- Might as well make it easy on myself. Just let you do it.” So he had. He signed Jack up for soccer despite his own fears and went to every match he could. Every practice. Until he was the only parent paying attention.

He coughs softly, setting off a weight and ache in his lungs. “Jessica--” he cuts himself off, coughing until he holds his breath and fists the sheets in his hand to keep from still.

Jack looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor.

Dave calls it. Hotch won’t admit he’s not okay and Dave would venture Jack has that same stubborn-streak, doesn’t want to think that Hotch isn’t okay.

“Come on,” Dave motions for Jack to follow him. “Times up, better get out of here before they kick us out.” Five or so minutes, that’s all they had and that’s passed. “You’ll be fine,” Dave promises.

He struggles to get his breath, to say something coherent. “Wait,” he grabs Dave’s shirt. Hospitals are so cold, they’re scary and miserable and he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry.”

Dave pulls Jack on, can’t leave him behind, and can’t stay any longer.

“What did he mean?” Jack asks. He keeps looking back, looking over his shoulder to the room. “Why’d he say that?” He has to run to keep up with Dave’s pace. “Dave, please. Why’d he say he was sorry?”

Dave stops and just stands for a moment, looking at the hall before them. “He’s scared,” Dave answers, finally. “He’s just scared, that’s all.”

He doesn't think he’s going to make it. That’s the horrible ugly truth. That’s why he apologized. Just in case.

“Come on,” Dave holds out his arm. Smiles a smile that doesn't even try to make it to his eyes and wraps an arm around Jack. “It’s going to be okay. You know that?”

Jack looks back over his shoulder once more, to the room. He doesn’t buy it for a second but he nods anyway. “Course,” he answers.

“Good. That’s good.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #savannah hayes #derek morgan #hank morgan #jack hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau

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vtforpedro · 3 years

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medical update - long post, TWs in tags

my head is as bad as it's been since the beginning of it all. it's been seven months since it's been at this level. nearing the end of my rope here anyway. so the only thing that's keeping me from getting the official IIH diagnosis is a lumbar puncture. I was gonna do one cause my neurosurgeon wanted me to get one and as he was on the way out of the door (in april 2020) he's like 'oh yeah if you read anything about death/emergency surgery from getting a lumbar puncture with a chiari malformation don't worry about it' me, who had not been googling things anymore cause it was making my anxiety really high, now very worried about it: haha ok!! yeah so there are numerous documented cases of people with chiari malformation having an LP done and for whatever reason, the sudden decrease in spinal fluid causes the chiari (cerebellar tonsils have herniated into the spinal cord opening in the base of the skull) to 100% herniate and results in immediate life-saving full-on brain surgery right then and there so!!! I never got an LP because I was like, fresh in the middle of the worst of the medical trauma, three weeks out of the hospital where my intense phobia of IVs came from, no one was believing me about any of it etc etc lmao goddd I wish he hadn't said anything cause my anxiety brain is stupid but when I saw him in late october and he finally believed me and started talking about IIH, the actual diagnostic tool (the last one anyway) is a lumbar puncture. to rule out anything in the spinal fluid (which is pretty much already ruled out for me because it's been 19 months and I would've had other stuff happening if it were something in the fluid) and check the pressure in my brain. IIH is intracranial hypertension for who knows why. I asked my neurologist yesterday if I get it, since we have ruled everrrrything out, and my pressure is high, will I get the IIH diagnosis and he said correct. like it's the only thing I'm missing!!! but the problem with getting the diagnosis is there are legit two medications they use to treat IIH and they are not without potentially severe side effects (they lower spinal fluid production and fucking with your brain when they don't really know Why can. fuck your brain) and I am already terrified of new meds. I don't want to go through all this shit just to have horrible things happen when I try to treat it, you know? but weight loss is clearly not working, at least not yet and I don't know if it ever will. if it doesn't, I'm going to have to have surgery. that's the only way to fix this :/ I talked to my neurosurgeon in october about the risks of herniation with an LP and I think he got frustrated lmao because he's like 'it's like the biggest myth out there! I've never seen it in my entire career' but it's not a myth because it HAS happened. I would say him being a renowned neurosurgeon means that it's probably a really low risk? but it's not a fuckin myth and with him being a renowned neurosurgeon I have no doubts he knows that. because I saw a neurologist team shortly before I went back to him that said 'oh no, we never order LPs for chiari patients. it's taught in school because the risk is too high' so I'm like ok my neurosurgeon is fantastic at what he does but he was playing fast and loose with the truth, so do I want to trust this guy? I'm being told they teach it in school to not do this because people have died. I'm being told by my new neurologist that he thinks the benefits far outweigh the risks, my chiari is so mild, it'll be done in the hospital under the right settings with monitoring, etc etc, and that he considers my neurosurgeon the true expert on the matter and to maybe listen to him and himself and not what a different neuro said WHICH WOULD BE OKAY if the risk wasn't fucking DEATH in a horrible way during a fairly common procedure!!! like it's considered 'invasive' but it's still done often enough my brain is at a complete standstill. I am living in such horrible agony that I want to end my life. if I get the LP, I could actually experience relief for a while because

of the removal of some SF resulting in less pressure in my skull. or I could just straight up die lmao but also I don't want to be on meds to treat it even if I do get the diagnosis!! I am in the middle of applying for disability (not even 50% of the way through and it's a long process ._.) so if I get this diagnosis and I add it to my claim, this, along with everrrrrything else, gives me an even higher chance of getting approved and if this doesn't go away from weight loss, I will be forced to do an LP anyway because I will have to confirm the pressure in my skull so they can perform surgery. but that would be months away, maybe even late next year, because I do still have to lose all the weight first so my dilemma is, do I just go ahead with the LP despite the risks (no matter how low they are and I genuinely don't know how low from getting so many mixed answers from doctors) because I could get relief and because I could get the diagnosis to add to disability? what happens if the Worst™ happens and I never walk out of the hospital, you know? it's scary. it's genuinely so terrifying to me. I'm having traumatic nightmares about this shit my cognitive function has been declining enough that I have zero recollection of a few things happening. it's not just forgetting, it's a complete blackout. I'm mixing up meds and a couple other things. and it's scaring me. neuro referred me to a neuropsychologist to evaluate this stuff my head is so bad I am in a constant heightened state of extreme anxiety and depression and stress. I'm starting to get heart palpitations again. like something's gotta give, right? I don't know what to do if you or someone you know has had a lumbar puncture, please please please do NOT tell me any horror stories about it (I legit can't handle it). if you've had one and it was easy peasy lemon squeezy, can you tell me about it, please? hanging on by a fucking threeeeeeead. love you all very much

#medical #personal #tw death #tw medical procedures #tw depression #tw anxiety #sorry for rambling i am super fucking mixed up about this #its so easy for people (doctors) to say oh yeah get this done the risk is low don't listen to anyone else. if you don't well lol suffer!!

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juni-ravenhall · 3 years

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reactions (mild spoilers!) on sso comic song of darkness

bc i read it before bed. this is a mix of random reactions + commentary/criticism. no pics sry! under cut bc spoilers, but i dont spoil the story itself, just some content -

- the pages at the intro with character information for some reason made me feel really nostalgic and happy, like, “wow this is a real comic” idk its hard to explain. it reminded me of reading stuff like W.I.T.C.H. as a kid (ive read a billion comics in my life but i compare to this bc its closer in general vibe)

- anyway wow sso comics. on paper. wow (yeah i have clouds over silverglade but that was a while ago)

- hhehehehehhe south hoofers and raptor in the bg!!!!!! after this panel i kept looking at the bgs for other cameos kjhdsfg

- i can tell the swedish translation is... a bit... meh. like, yeah this is standard, especially today’s standard, but it could be smoother and more natural, which would make it more fun to read (and supportive of the language in the country where sso was made like? idk...)

- AVALON?? U HAVE A FACE??? he looks way more like evergray than i’d have thought though, youd have imagined he wouldnt want to style himself similar to him lol

- its a bit depressing how even tho this comic tries to express everyone’s personalities, lisa still barely feels like she has a personality. she can sing! ok... and... we’re wating... what else? (there are plenty of “boring” people irl, but in media you usually want to exaggerrate or simplify things a little bit) the current lisa seems like she could have more anxiety/depression in her narrative, the old lisa looked like she was tough in a different way than alex, both of those are things that could be pushed. or anything else.

- my only like, “art related criticism”, also relates to the above - i think more work could be done in using individually unique expressions. im generally not a person who agrees with the idea of “same face syndrome” (often its a stylistic choice which is fair) but i think here it could be a good idea to work a bit more with various expressions - you can have charas who would almost never make huge shocked eyes for personality reasons, charas who always have a very obvious expression (alex does have this a lot in this comic!), charas who always look annoyed or frustrated or scared alongside whatever new emotion they get, etc. just very simplified description bc im already rambling. but basically, letting all charas emote in a similar way also removes layers of personality expression.

- it’s cool that kora is in here!! love to see many known charas!! not rly interested in random new charas since sso already has a ton to work with

- was a bit surprised when they said “mistfall, so youre a long way from home?” to kora when they.. were riding to firgrove from valedale? i could have understood this if they were in like epona or golden hills.. but firgrove?? shes specifically not a long way from home? confused

- i do like that the horses’ personalities get expressed, altho it does feel a bit shoved in, it’s still nice to see them. many of us are here bc of loving horses after all, and this comic delivers in featuring them a lot, even if they dont talk. i get that theres a level of “explaining everything to newbies” in this whole comic, even though i could wish that wouldve been done less blatantly. (kids arent dumb!)

- i do kinda wish the overall story hadn’t been a standalone random thing but something more tied to what we have, exploring parts of the story & charas in sso in more detail, BUT, i think thats a valid direction to go with comics and its more just a personal preference for me. i would anytime take more sso comics that are standalone random stuff than to not have sso comics at all.

- it seems like the reason concorde is an alive adult in this comic, is bc its an AU where concorde “almost died” but didnt, if i understood it right (they just said “she almost lost concorde”). i think thats a bit weird BUT valid, its ok to have differences in canon between different media of the same story, it tends to be like that between books and movies for example. however personally i wouldve preferred to see comics that explore, for example, the 2 years (?) between SSL and SSO, or each soul rider’s life history in general until now, or exploring in more depth events that happen in the main storyline (in sso or ssl which counts as backstory to sso)

- there were times i committed small giggle during this comic even as an adult man, tho arguably a childish adult man, but just to say that it was enjoyable, and overall i thought it was really exciting and fun to read a full sso comic book, and i hope to see a lot more (even if i’d prefer stuff like what i described - more exploration of existing story/charas). like i said at the beginning, i also got good nostalgic feels etc. i feel a bit sad now that its “over”, i wish i could have a whole pile of volumes to read for the rest of the summer.

(when i criticise something, it means i care enough about it to criticise it! i tend to criticise stuff i love - aka sso - way more than stuff i have no interest in or dislike, which i just dont talk about much bc that would be a waste of time.)

#sso #spoilers #mörkrets sång #song of darkness

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thatunhealthysideblog · 4 years

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Mental Health Update

Original post is here

So my doctor had put me on a waiting list for an outpatient psychiatry assessment a couple months ago... As I said in my original post I didnt think I would be hearing from anyone, especially considering the current public health situation, for several months. I got a call a few weeks ago, to my surprise, to schedule the appointment with the psychiatrist. I had the actual appointment late last week.

I think out of all the people I have spoken to (including a CBT and a counsellor) the psychiatrist seemed to get the best grasp of what was happening in my mind within the short amount of time I spoke with her. I felt like there was a lot to say, but she seemed to understand what I was saying and the implications behind it also. She phrased it best that my mental health isnt so much affecting my functioning (working, for example) as it is affecting my quality of life. Ive never had it explained that way, but that made so much sense. Im not really living.

So essentially Ive been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder with a secondary diagnosis of Persistent Depressive Disorder (also known as Dysthymia).

Its kind of a relief to be officially diagnosed???

The psychiatrist recommended that I take medication (an SSRI), see a CBT individually as finances allow, and attend a group therapy program (which Ill be assessed for later this month). I spoke with my GP and they also recommended the medication.

I was a little bit nervous at first about taking medications for a mood disorder? I think this is partially because my parents are wary of these kinds of medications and their side effects. I think theres a bit of a stigma there. And I think to some degree I was just worried because thats what I do - I worry and become anxious about things I dont necessarily need to be worried about. I was (and still am a little bit tbh) worried about interactions between this new medication and my current lot of medications, potential side effects, dramatic mood changes and such. But Ive been assured that there will be no interactions. But at some point in all this process I just decided that it is what it is. I cant keep living like I have been; it really isnt healthy. And hopefully the medication will give me enough mental/emotional capacity to work on myself and get training and expose myself to stimuli that will ultimately help my mental health.

So I picked up the medication today. The GP has prescribed a “lite” dosage (half the average dose), and if I tolerate it then I can move to the full average dose after a couple weeks. I likely wont see any improvement in mood for several weeks. The GP is really supportive and if anything happens I can usually have a phone consultation with them within a day. Actually having the bottle in my hands ramped up a whole other bout of nervousness. Like, wow, this is REAL. Im really praying it goes ok.

This actually ended up being a good day to grab the medications though because I dont have to work the next couple days. So if I do start experiencing mild side effects, Ill be able to know what they are before working again on Monday.

Anyway, thats the update. My mental health journey has been a whirlwind the last couple months, as opposed to my stomach distress journey which has been put on an abrupt holding pattern until the pandemic ends.

All in due time, I guess.

#that unhealthy sideblog #anxiety #generalized anxiety disorder #persistent depressive disorder #dysthymia #depression #meds #medication #ssri #mental health #newly diagnosed #kind of relieved???

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northeastartist · 4 years

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2010-2019

So, I'm 21 now. Take 9 away from that, and in 2010, I was in middle school, a fresh faced 12 year old.

I was 12 years old, and wasn't in the best part of my life. Middle school is the worst time for a lot of kids. The unofficial 'grade food chain' made me a definite weak link. I was getting made fun of because I wore glasses, made fun of for having the worst smile ever (this was pre-jaw surgery, which may be a video in the new year on my channel), got called lesbian, too serious, a coward... They say sticks and stones may break my bones, but words cannot hurt me.

Thats a lie. These insults and verbal abuse from people who I havent gotten to know on a personal level dug into my skin, deep to my bones, and stung like the worst bee sting times 10. At that point, I had a single 'boyfriend' that dated me on a dare but eventually had to fall out because at that point the dare-sayers were mocking and making fun of us, starting rumors- if those guys are still out there, fuck you for doing that- and I got out of a friendship that... Basically was abusive, and she betrayed me in the end and used me as her entertainment monkey in her possé...

I basically had no childhood friends. I was the runt of the litter. All I was good for in school was be taught meaningless mumblings and a form of entertainment.

Its 2015. After a few years of having braces and removing all my baby teeth, it was finally time- it was time for my jaw surgery. It was life changing. I went in with a pit of nervousness, yeah, but honestly? I was ready. I wanted this to fix me. I wanted my life to change. If not only slightly. So the surgery went great, they even corrected my lower jaw and pulled my wisdom teeth- lucky bee, little me~- and after a few weeks, I ended up getting the 'wires'- they were just really strong elastics holding my braces shut- taken out, and I was able to return to school. I was a new woman and ready for things to change.

Then anxiety and depression decided to move in. That's when the summer of 2015 happened. I was staying up late- as an artist now its for work- at our camp, and nothing was going to distract me. Then the thoughts came in. Maybe everyone would be better without me. Maybe if I threw myself off the banken (Cliffside) right now, no one would hear me try and crush myself. Maybe life without me would be better.

I decided not to, thankfully. I decided I would just... Get over it. Get some help. I talked to my parents, and eventually my doctor who diagnosed me with mild depression and severe anxiety. I was so relieved. So that's what the thoughts were! Thats what I was thinking all those nights! I wasn't going insane! I was just badly depressed!

Then comes the glorious summer of 2016. I remember going into the Merrill Auditorium's backstage, where we were handed our maroon (boys) and white (girls) graduation robes. It was 80°F out. We were rehearsing our order of arrival, we were told the arrangements and how it would go... And the big day came. The day the shackles of torture and pain education on my wrists would be unlocked so I could go into adulthood. As Sirius Black once said, "12 years! In Azkaban!!" That was my life. And the time came. I was waiting in line behind the other students, and the person calling people up front finally called my name. I walked forward, to our principal of the school, and he handed me my key to gtfo. My diploma. I held back the tears as best as I could. I finally was getting outta hell. I was a free bird.

After that, we went out to see our family and each other, and after all the 'congrats, you did it's, my parents drove me to get some coffee and to go home before Project Graduation- aka 'how to keep 18 year olds occupied without illegal booze or hellbent antics that'd get the cops involved'. At least 5 kids in my class wouldnt get that frat-party like. And there were 119 of us. Smol class, I know. Its a smol town where I grew up.

And the rest is what led up to this point.

Whats gonna happen now, that 2020 is upon us?

Bitch, the party is just getting started. Big plans for 2020. Mostly involving work. But also living my life! I turn 22 in 9 days. 2020 is the year of self-improvement and stepping forward. Ive changed from the little runt of the class getting picked on every second I took a breath. This hot mess is ready to fucking go and change.

#2010-2019 #2020 watch out

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swayinghummingbirds · 5 years

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i feel like i need to blog more stuff out of me to research my own thoughts ignore me or help me either is welcomed.

so like i was diagnosed with mdd , panic/anxiety disorder so i know how it goes and how it feels and all that jazz. used to be on medication and not for almost two years. i can usually cope well since while i was on medication ifound many ways to do so. but now ive come across season affective disorder and i gotta say i am not a fucking fan. i cant bring myself to do the coping mechanisms because im fucking cold and there is no sun ever.

this time last year i felt the exact same way and almost moved back to fl but didnt want to give up on tn yet. but im wondering is it maybe time to give up on it? i have no family here. and my family is expanding and growing without me. which makes it worse.

ive been where i am for almost a year now and its been good. but there are no sidewalks like anywhere? im so tired of sharing walls. sure, its a townhouse and its pretty big and two floors and fire place but my neighbors are so annoying and for some reason in tennessee so many people think its absolutely okay to let their dogs out with leashes?

knoxville is a really cool city and ive loved living here but idk if i can stand the winter. and its just a mild winter, idk how yall in the north handle it. i see now why when i moved abck to pa for 8 months my mom had it by the time march came around and we moved back to fl.

a part of me feels like i might even just get bored with where i am after a certain amount of time considering how i was brought up. i have moved 17 times, which is wild for a child. probably why i have a hard time making friends too.

tried leaving work yesterday after i got my list done (usually isnt a problem for my manager but the ass. manager always fights me with it). i told him three times i already had 2 1/2 hours of overtime and ill be leaving when im finished but bitch never listens to me and acts like he didnt hear me say it to his damn face.Usually i ask just to be polite and make sure but this time im telling him. kind of snapped on him because the day before i just cried all fucking day and had that feeling in my stomach and felt the same way when i woke up. old me would have called out, one because the position i was in was easily fillable but now im actually needed so i go to do my job and if i get done early that means im working my ass off and sweating like a pig to get done three hours early. (and the girl who does the work on the two days im off never gets the shit down or sets the room or anything up in order to have a good morning because the whole thing is very time sensitive and its very frustrating. also she called out like three times this week and made my week shittier than it needed to be.) like bitch no that doesnt mean i want to stay and help with other things after exerting so much energy that i dont even have in myself to begin with. so anyways i cried and then the manager came and talked to me and was understanding because he is aware of my mental health issues and i forgot steve- the ass manager (assistant manager , but also ass because he can be an ass) was not aware. so all in all i talked to my manager and told him and he was very supportive and then i went to apologize to steve and he reassured me i was valued and adored here which was nice. and i had to basically tell him if im trying to leave early it usually means because im feeling like a crazy bitch whos on the break of a mental breakdown so. quit fighting me.

so anyways.

even if i did move back fl ive finally gotten myself where i wanted to be in my job but i guess if it was meant to be the universe will take care of it just like it did when we moved here.

a week before almost moving back to fl my grandparents came to visit and we were in crossville, which is the half way point from here to where we were living at the time and i was like hey lets try knoxville and the next day we went to look at apartments and as we were looking this place went up for rent almost as if the universe here, ask and you shall receive. because i was only looking at places that was in between the three stores that we could have possibly transferred to because i had no idea which one it was going to be i just new it was going to happen. and then when trying to transfer we my fiancees assistant manager knew the manager at this store here and said that he would take both of us and needed help in the area i wanted to be in and i was like wow amazing its all working out. and it did and it was great and then it got cold. and then holidays came. and birthdays came. and i ive learned so much about myself and i feel like yes i needed this part of my life. and now im not sure if istill need it.

we have a vision of owning a little home a nice big plot of land near the mountains with a spring and creek on site with woods around. if we kept it up and really searched when the time came yeah im feel like we could find it. but what if i still feel this way when were there? then weve bought a home and it would be harder to get rid of. i have a vision of my own business with yoga. i find myself in capable of moving between the months of decemeber and march. then what. even when i get on to the mat i cant get into the flow.

and what if we move back to fl. would he resent me for giving up on our dreams? will i be tired of people demanding my time and energy? will i bitch about the heat all the time and the fact that neighbros are every where? probably, yes, yes, and yes.

but will i resent him for not moving back to spend our lives with our families? will i resent myself for not listening to the feeling in my stomach? or would i resent myself if i did listen to that feeling and gave up on the mountainous dreams.

i know we would welcomed back with opened arms and i know not many would miss us here.

the mountains are beautiful and so mystical when there. i wonder how it would be to live there. i always end up feeling so creeped out at some point of hikes because i feel like something is watching us, and i know there is, there is always is whether its and animal or a spirit. but sometimes those spirits, or beings, are just so strong of a force. what if we bought a property with one of those that wouldnt be able to make peace with us? i always imagined if we ended up with a property with strong entities then we would make peace and ring singing bowls and plant luscious plants for them. but what if they hate it all. and what if our neighbors down the street end up being cannabilistic cult people? what if some animal tried to maul my dog (which already happens frequently, shes a chihuahua everything is out to get her). what if something happens at oak ridge? i had no idea i was living next to a giant nuclear power plant thing.

but then its like okay what if theres a giant hurricane that tears my house down (i had a tree fall on my house during matthew which is one reason why we left) or the storm sturge sweeps my house away. trey is scared of tsunamis, not that one has happened there probably ever, idk but it is a weird fear of his. surprisingly tornados do happen in tn too.

and a day like today, where trey is working all day and i have the day off. there isnt much to do. its cold out so i cant sit on my patio for a few hours like i would in the summer. i dont like to go shopping. i dont have a friend to hang out with, which is my own fault people im really not a big people person. i have hung out with a couple a few tiems, and idk ij ust would rather not. but if i were in fl i could go hang out with my brother, or treys sister, or the few friends i have there. or go to the beach and sit on my own, because its not fucking weird to sit alone there and usually you dont have to worry about getting mugged. i cant go to the parks here on my own. i cant take my dog for walks around here because there are no side walks and people just look shady af everywhere.

when i went to visit for my brothers wedding in october i realized how i did not appriciate the plant life naturally around all year round when i lived there for 11 years. i guess mostly because it wasnt until two years ago that i really got in to plants but omg i cant stop imagining what our yard would look like if we were in aplace where things could just be outside all year round. i would take cuttings of my plants andjust put them every where have my own little tropical paradise in my front and back yard.

i know this all is really sounding one sided atm but this time last year i was having the exact same visions and the exact same thoughts. and i thought about how what if my brother has kids and im up here well hello here we are now and thats happening. i feel like i need to be there. theres even a house for sale on the same street as him and all i could was fantasize what i would do to the house and how i would baby sit for them and be able to see my dog that i left with him because ultimately she was is but we co owned her together and just to be there. and be with my mom. shes living in orland with her boyfriend and i feel like the fact shes goingt o be a grandmother might sway him into moving closer, she hates the city and i imagine shes just as depressed as i am to be away and to be in a city where you dont feel safe to go outside alone. we are creatures of nature and both pisces and very sensitive to everything.

and what if trey and i have a baby at some point? we have no one here to help us. i was thinkg about how our wedding date is a year and like two months away and i have no one here to help me plan. and for a long itme i always imagined myself getting married at this place called sugar mill gardens, a botanical garden that i had always loved in my home town there. when trey and i got together we would pokemon go there and take clippings, and i still have those plants today. but then this new vision came where we would get married on our future property. i feel like we are still a long way away from buying a house here though. idk if we would be there in time. and since we went back in october all i can think about is getting married in sugar mill. he reproposed to me when we were there and that was so sweet and just made me want to be there instead for it.

this is very long but these are my constant thoughts that all happen at once and it feels nice to get them out to piece them together and not feel so overwhelmed with all them at one time in layers upon layers of thoughts. sometimes my vision even goes out and i dissociate and just work blurred vision cross eyed for ten minutes, who knows maybe its an hour. im back there by myself for eight hours a day idk.

#v long #nothing to see here #sorry for clogging your dash #idk how to break it

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breathingwithdifficulty · 2 years

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so i don’t have jackshit to do until my next class and i got on here and saw a couple of missed asks and realized that i haven’t posted since august so i figured i should leave a little update? if no other reason then this is supposed to kinda be a “keeping track of my mental health” blog for myself and i have been slacking on the “keeping track” part, mostly because i deleted tumblr off my phone and haven’t bothered with it since

my anxiety is a piece of shit, honestly. it’s okay for some of the time, but it’s progressively becoming that the “some of the time” is less and less time out of the day/week. it makes me physically sick sometimes. it’s still something i definitely am gonna need to work on. i have therapy tomorrow and ive got a list of things to bring up and that is one of them.

i have some friends, kinda. forming better relationships with my roommates. still not not awkward, but far less awkward than it was. i actually have hung out with people. yeah, not a whole lot going on. it feels hard to describe what im doing because it’s just like, the same thing. i go to class, i study, i hang out in the library a lot more, i eat, i walk (a LOT more), it’s cold as fuck out.

my therapist diagnosed me with inattentive adhd so i guess that’s a thing? that happened a while ago and i was Not Surprised since i had been meaning to bring it up with her anyways but she brought it up first? she said it’s mild enough that i don’t need medication, which, eh. it didn’t change a whole lot for me, except now i hate myself a little less when im staring at a screen and my skin is crawling because i can’t focus, since i know what it is now.

my depression hasn’t been bad tbh. im so busy most of the time that i think the worst of it is kept at bay most of the time? or maybe my anxiety has just been so bad that i can’t focus on it? i dunno, im dealing with a lot of other stuff rn.

ive been thinking about my childhood a lot more lately. specifcally, the weird ass stuff i did as a kid that i never got an explanation for. im bringing that up in therapy tomorrow tho so we’ll see what she says. if its anythign especially interesting ill probs put it on here at some point

anyways yes im still suffering a little bit but overall im okay working on it as per usual

#depression tw #anxiety tw #mine #.txt

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uwooyoungs · 7 years

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#pls ignore this i just gotta vent and try to sort my head out for a second here #finally talked to a counselor and officially got diagnosed w/ depression and apparently mild anxiety #but i still feel like my anxiety is a much bigger problem kind of #like the depression is really really bad too but like #i feel constantly like im doing smth wrong and second guessing myself #and i think i was like subconsiously downplaying literally all of my symptoms when i met w/ my counselor #and i unintentionally answered dishonestly just bc i dont know how to talk abt this shit #and ive been quietly dealing w/ it on my own for so long that talking to ppl abt it having ppl know abt it #is absolutely terrifying like the most daunting thing ever #but i know i cant get proper help if i dont talk abt how i feel #but then the other problem is that i have no idea how i feel #i dont understand my own emotions like #i dont know how to talk abt this stuff w/ her or anyone but i want to and i need to and im scared af abt it #i dont mean to downplay it im just so used to doing that #like when i was asked how often i feel worried/on edge i answered several times a week but really its near constant #and when asked how often i feel sad or hopeless i said rarely but tbh its almost every day #and i feel like screaming bc even when im finally trying to get help im doing it wrong #and i feel like im like making it up i feel like im not being taken completely seriously i fucking #ugj #and i hate that now i have to be more open abt it w/ my parents bc they dont g e t it #they dont get that i dont want to talk abt it and try to explain it to them #its like theyre fucking walking on eggshells around me now and i hate it #i want to just yell like 'THIS IS NOT NEW. YOU JUST NEVER NOTICED HOW FUCKED UP I GOT BC U WERE TO OCCUPIED W/ MY BROTHERS'#but i never wanted to tell them for this exact reason #i dont want to stress them out and worry them even more #i think my dad is now convinced that im suicidal which in general im not #ngl there are times #but its never gotten quite that bad #but my parents Do Not understand mental illness and how different and complex it all is #just

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gerhardbandiola · 3 years

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⚠️ Trigger warning: DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, SELF HARM ⚠️

Some of you guys have read on my previous post that I have been very depressed these past few weeks, but only less than five people knows why, the rest of you don't need to know (family & friends, please don't ask na).

December 19, I was in Coffee Project having a semi-peaceful Saturday spending my whole afternoon updating my bullet journal of my work notes, projects, businesses, and other 2021 plans. Even though I have been feeling mentally sick, I have been preoccupying myself with a lot of work and other hobbies and they did work -- I didn't kill myself obviously -- but there were days I cannot function at all.

Anyway, going back to Dec 19 around 8:20 pm, my husband picked me up from the cafe and while we were walking towards the parking area, we started talking about this person whose causing me this much pain in my head and my heart too, cos that person *was* a friend. We went inside the car, I was so furious, I don't think anybody has seen me this mad. I was screaming, shouting, crying and hitting my head with my own hands. My husband tried stopping but I'm just too furious, I just can't stop. In my head, I just wanna die, I cannot deal with the pain anymore. Then suddenly, I cannot breathe. My jaws were locked. My whole fcking body started feeling numb. My neck's nerves were sooo tensed and they were stucked?! I cannot move!! My whole body was paralyzed!!! I could talk, but only 60% understandable cos my jaws were locked. Wth. I WANT TO DIE, NOT TO SUFFER!! I did try my best to tell my husband what's happening to me ...while I was crying, panicking inside my head. He tried to calm me down but didn't do me any good. I was even getting worse. I was running out of breath even more.

He drove to the nearest hospital from our location which was Taguig Medical Hospital - ER, just a few blocks away from Coffee Project. We arrived there around 8:30 pm. They approached our car and my husband explained to them briefly what happened to me. They carried me to be seated in a wheelchair. The staff asked my husband to park the car first. I was crying, still panicking in my head, while the mucus from my nose was all of my face and dress. Nobody even offered to clean my face. My eyes were 90% shut, I also couldn't move them so much, but I saw that there were lots of people in there. While my husband was still parking, another staff asked me the same questions they asked my husband: what happened, what's wrong with me, what's my name, what's my birthday, what's my age, do I have a record in this hospital. In that situation I was, I had to answer all those questions. Imagine, I was already having breathing problems, my body's paralyzed, my jaws were locked, and I had to answer all those and repeated every time they didn't understand me. I overheard one of the staff told the other that it might be Mild Stroke. Wtf. The hell I've been through. Then, my husband came back and he asked if they can just give me a relaxant. They said they couldn't. They have to run some tests first. Then they said they don't have space anymore in their ER so if even I want to be treated there, they would just treat me there outside, beside their freakin' driveway! So my husband of course complained why they didn't tell us that in the first place. He hurriedly got the car back again and drove me to St Luke's. He broke all the traffic rules, he made the cars move aside shouting to them it's emergency, but I guess it's fine, it was really emergency.

At around 9 pm, we arrived at St Luke's-ER and the staff brought me inside right away. They ran all the tests needed as required by the doctor. After getting some of the test results, the doctor already gave them a go signal to give me my first dose of relaxant thru IV. After that, they did a couple of more tests. Throughout, I was still all the same, except running out of breath. My approximation, it was after 3 hours that I could finally talk a little bit better (upper jaw still locked) and I could already force my right ring finger to move a millimeter. They did another test again, I think it was MRI to check my brain. After that, the doctor went to me again, and asked me to help myself. She said the #1 human being who could help me right now was me. I thought about my daughter. I stopped crying, I tried to calm the chaos in my head. I want to breastfeed my daughter tonight. Then she gave me another relaxant. After about an hour (4th hour in the hospital), I can already move my arms, legs, jaws aren't locked anymore. So we told the doctor I'm ready to go home, I'm better now. She told me all my test results are okay, the initial screening of MRI looks okay too (but the full diagnosis were not out yet - we said we could just get it back again later). I asked her, if all my test are okay, what happened to me? The doctor said I experienced an Anxiety Attack and what happened to my body is called CONVERSION DISORDER. It is a rare condition wherein your mental stress is converted to physical condition. It can make you blind, paralyzed, and affect your other nervous system, but won't be able to explain by a medical evaluation. She also advised to follow this up with my psychiatrist and, of course, avoid stress triggers.

Lessons learned:

- Never neglect mental health.

- Fck money. Go see a psychiatrist.

- Be careful of the "friends" you allow into your life. I can only count with my fingers the friends I consider "friends" in my life, but one chose to play with my mental health.

- Coffee can indeed trigger anxiety attack.

- Again, if you feel mentally troubled, just go see a doctor. Don't wait for things like this to happen to you.

Posted by Mara Kereci on Facebook a day ago.

Happy holidays! Stay safe and healthy (in all aspects) and looking forward to better 2021 to all of us.

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icantdo-this-anymore · 3 years

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12/4/2020

I honestly never thought I would come back to this tumblr. I thought I finally found my happy. I got married this year. I haven't had the urge to cut in who knows how long. Ive only had mild depression. My self esteem has been incredibly high. Anxiety at an all time low. Everything has been GOOD, even with the shitshow 2020 has been, until today.

I can't go to my friends and it's more so for fear of them actually hurting my husband and I just, kind of dont want them to know? I dunno honestly.

I found out today that he's been cheating on me in a sense? It's not physically which I'm thankful for but it for sure was emotional and kind of sexual and I just feel so betrayed and it was for sure outside the realm of something I'm comfortable with in our relationship.

This was a conversation we had so early on in our relationship. I watched my dad cheat on my mom my whole life and I didn't want to be a part of that broken dynamic as an adult. I told him if he even THOUGHT about cheating to talk to me about it. We would either work it out, break up, open our relationship maybe, whatever to prevent as much heartbreak as we could.

But its weird? It's not physical. No pictures, he's never met up with anyone. He had this persona online, using kik, that wasn't even anywhere near who he is. Literally playing the oposite sex, saying he was into kinks that he assures me he's not.

I've never snooped in his phone. I've never had a reason to. I needed to get on his walmart app while he was asleep to see what name our pickup was under(we have covid so friends and family are getting our groceries) and I saw an app open that I had never seen before. I wouldn't of looked through it but I saw literally one sentence sent to him that destroyed my perfect bubble: "oh, you're horny?" Pop. Gone. Immediately upset but also trying to not jump to conclusions because I trusted my husband.

I read the whole conversation. It was only for today but it was nothing I've ever heard him say or write down and with how they acted, I could tell they had been talking for a little while.

I confronted my husband, of course, who wouldn't? And it didn't go how I thought. I was fully prepared to walk away if he lied to me or brushed it off but he came clean, 100%. Answered every question truthfully. He let me ask as many questions as I wanted, provided more information than I thought he ever would about the whole situation. Let me have all of my emotions and he showed me more of his than I've seen in a while.

I gave him a couple gut punches. Told him that I had been so proud of this relationship not being abusive, I had never had a good track record with relationships and that apparently didn't end here. I wanted him to hurt like I do.

I don't know if I'm being dumb sticking around but he's promising to make changes. Deleted the app in front of me, made it easier to get into his phone(I've always had his pattern). Showed me exactly how to check his data recipts to confirm that he isn't installing it and removing it every day. He's left his phone pratically next to me all day.

He said it's a relief that I know, that it's a part if his life that he can close. He said that he's used it since high school and these people had become his friends and he couldn't just throw them away but he wasn't aware of how much it would hurt me. He said he doesn't want to be like my parents.

If it wasn't sexual, I would of had no issues with it. I have always told him that I won't take him away from his friends. He knows this is his ONLY chance. If he fucks this up, ruins my very mild trust in him, I'm gone.

I really fucking hope this doesn't happen again but I honestly can't be assured right now that he wont do it again.

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mint-kook · 6 years

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Hey its girlfriend anon. Its been a while huh, I uh, I just got back home from the hospital last night? Weird thing happened where I tried to kill myself "attempted suicide by OD" is what the doc said. Apparently I'm a "smiling" depressive. Meaning I smile, laugh, eat, get up and work just like everyone else and you never see it. He said smiling depression is worse 'cause they actually have the energy to plan a suicide. You don't have to reply or read, I just need to talk before I lost my mind

2/2 P.s: can I just say, hospitals are fucking weird?! Like you think asking me a million times how I’m feeling and “what emotions where you feeling when you attempted to Overdose” is gonna make me better?? Idk what emotions I was feeling lady! I WAS HIGH! Plus the place smells so fucking clean Its gross. And the fact that I can’t have my own clothes? Like I’m away my original clothes weren’t in the best shape, but I prefer my ripped jeans to your weird outfit anyday

I’m honestly sorry I didn’t answer this sooner but I wanted to wait for a moment when I could actually sit down and talk about this. I’m sorry to say it but honestly I’m so happy that it didn’t work and that you’re still around and I’m definitely happy to say the least that you were brave enough to share something like this with me.

Now I originally did not know what “smiling depression” was, so I had to search it up and figure out for myself. As someone who suffers from anxiety and mild depression, I can say that I completely understand. I know what it’s like to have thoughts like that but I’m sorry to say I don’t know how to help completely.

I do know that one of the major ways to get help is to have someone there to talk to and seek emotional support from, and this goes for anybody having suicidal thoughts or just needing to relieve some stress, you can always hit up my ask box or message me privately. I will offer as much support as I can from my position.

P.S. I do know hospitals freaking suck. I had a fainting episode about a year and a half ago over the summer and I was there for several hours trying to get blood work done. I was hooked up to an IV and I was stuck in a hospital gown which I absolutely hated. I was so glad to finally get out of there because anytime I tried to move or get up thousands of nurses would crowd into my space and try to help.

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serious-snail420 · 4 years

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Recently ive been taking alot of mental health tests n shit as jokes because of boredom (ive been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, ocd, ptsd, and mild bi polar by a professional)

So anyway i came across this autism screening test so i was like fuck it why not? Some of my fam has autism

So i took this test and it said 34+ points and autism is likely

WELL

I got 41 and i know thats not supposed to mean anything but like i wasn’t expecting my number to be soo high.

Long story short; the test thinks i have aspergers and idk what that is tbh someone please educate me

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hogwarts-houses-as · 7 years

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Studying Angels

AUTHORS NOTE: heyy. This is what ive written of the book so far. I hope you enjoy. Criticism is accepted but don’t be a dick. Oh and I’m in slytherin btw- Sara

Tw: social anxiety, depersonalisation and mild swearing

Amy’s notes- oh, not bad at all! I’ll give you 15 points for it, bringing slytherin up to 761

It’s seems stupid to think that we know everything. Geniuses are only seen as superior because they have the confidence to say what people really think and fools aren’t taken seriously because they screwed up one situation and they’ve never been able to dig out of the humiliation. And we call this ‘normal.’ We occupy 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000003% of the known universe (not counting parallel/outer universes) and we oh-so humbly named ourselves “Wise man.” Absolutely insane.

Chapter 1 I can strongly assure you that I dislike isolation. I can also assure you that the prospect of fucking up an interaction with another human being terrifies me even more. That’s the reason that the only people I’ve spoken to in 18 days are my professors and Siri. Social phobia is a dreadful thing. Now, a thing that I’ve learned recently is that a book makes a perfect shield for any extroverts that may want to approach but it isn’t always 100% affective – after all, what is? “Good afternoon ma'am. Do you mind if I sit with you? It’s just that every other place is taken.” Piped up an innocently seeming peer at Cambridge University (or as I like to call them 'victims of level 7 of hell’). She almost seemed too normal but I just put it down to the fact that my brain was completely fucked 98% of the time. She was incredibly pale but had a certain radiance that made her look more human. The gorgeously freckled kind of pale. Light auburn hair streamed just past her shoulders while dazzling azure eyes shone softly against the punkish attire she sported. Ripped jeans, a baggy black t-shirt, heavy-duty doc martens and a plaid shirt thrown over her shoulders. Meanwhile, I looked like a gender-warped David Mitchell. Nerdy and awkward with the sex appeal of the average road accident. “So,” She started, somehow pulling me from my book as she sipped her latte, “What are you studying here?” “Sociology. Because I like finding out exactly how screwed humanity is.” I replied reluctantly. She laughed. She laughed at my sarcasm and not being absolutely horrified at it. Interaction isn’t that bad. Or it could be just her. Screw it. “Same.” She said through giggles, “So are most of my roommates -the absolute nightmares. The block of dorms I’m in are under repair so, me and 12 other lunatics are all crashing on the same sofa which isn’t exactly the best of experiences. At least it’s free though.” I smiled at her dry humour. A thought sprang to mind. No, I’m completely forgetting myself. Is that a terrible thing? Well, it’s too forward… you know what? Fuck the anxiety. “Well, if you like, you could maybe chill at my place.” I never wish to say that phrase ever again in this life or the next, “The college gave me no roommates for, uh, reasons,” Wow. Good job I totally don’t sound suspicious, “Therefore I’ve got a spare bedroom. Obviously, you don’t-” “That sounds lovely, actually.” Two fingers to you, anxiety. “If I could just get your number then I’ll be around as soon as possible. Oh, I’m Louise by the way.” She said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Sam,” I replied, at once shaking said hand, “T'was a pleasure doing business with you.” She chuckled with me. “You too. I’ll see ya then.” “See ya.” What the bloody hell is wrong with me? It’s as if I’m overcoming my psychological chemical imbalances. Holy shit I’m overcoming my psychological chemical imbalances.

Chapter 2 “Good morning.” She greeted through yawns, her hair scraped into a messy bun. She hadn’t come back last night until about 2am most probably because of some party that I wasn’t invited to. I’m not complaining because if I was mentally able enough to have a social life then I certainly wouldn’t invite an obstinate prick who is trapped in their own brain and hasn’t felt reality in 8 months. “'Morning. You slept well?” I asked as I tried to hide the fact I was downing the handful of pills that were needed to keep me sane. Key words here being 'kind of’ and 'attempting.’ “Yeah thanks.” Her gentle stare met mine and her face dropped. Oh god, “What are they?” She inquired, pointing at the packets upon packets in the metal case next to me. “Umm, they’re, um, they’re-” Come on brain, you can think up seventeen thousand ways a situation can go wrong but you can’t think of one excuse to what these pills are. “Anti-depressants, derealisation meds and 4 kinds of anxiety meds, Jesus Christ Sam!” She exclaimed rummaging through the case. “Look, it’s nothing, really. I just need… I just need to knock some systems into…into place. I’ve…I’ve got to go.” I scampered out of my dorm room. I fled…like an absolute coward. “You fucking coward, you twat, Sam.” I mumble to myself as I start pacing up and down the corridors because everything else is going downhill and everybody else thinks that I’m insane what’s the point in caring. Something grabs my arm. Oh god she thinks I’m pathetic. She could be one of them idiots who thinks that you can control mental health because it’s all in your head. The nice ones are always idiots. “Look, this connects so many dots an-” “Oh yeah, it makes so much sense that I’m clinically insane. Thanks.” Her face softens with an expression that I hadn’t seen in a long while. “It just explains why people stereotype you in such a way. They don’t understand what’s up. And I know we aren’t that close but, but I think I can help you.” I turned around, just feeling like a huge, overreacting oaf. “Thanks, Louise. I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” I said sheepishly. I’ve known her for a day and she already must deal with a chemically imbalanced nightmare “Don’t worry mate. Shit’ll be okay.” She assured with a smile. Well, I’m truly screwed now, aren’t I? Chapter 3 “Every stereotype is stupid unless the people or person that you are talking about has been proven to conform to that stereotype. But then that’s not a stereotype, it’s a fact.” Louise ranted as we strolled towards our sociology class. “Yeah. It’s one of those things that everybody thinks is normal even though it’s just a paradox wrapped in an enigma wrapped in generations of unneeded acceptance.” Wow. I don’t sound like a nerd at all, “I understand that the social contract theory has to be followed unless you wish to live like an animal without a society but I still don’t get why how you’re born should define what you should or need to do. It’s just utterly bizarre.“ I uttered as we set down our bags in our classroom. The room was surprisingly real. Almost too real to be real. I assumed that my DPDR was beginning to thrive again.

Now, you probably don’t know what DPDR is but I can assure you that you have most probably experienced it. It’s the constant feeling of unreality. A neurological limbo where you can’t tell if you’re conscious or not. An odd phase where dreams feel more like reality than reality and your brain starts flurrying with 'perhaps I’m already dead and this is what they meant when they said that your life flashes before your eyes’. You begin to forget what it’s like to be in the real world. You can’t remember what it’s like to properly focus on the bird chirping in the morning or tea seeping down your esophagus at 3am on a cold Saturday or soft carpet nuzzling against your feet when you finally get up in the morning or the delight of going to see a film with a close friend and laughing over the Scottish character who exclaims "oh my dear lord” at the site of explosions or the delightfully beautiful way the close friend laughed as their eyes lit up in a sense that settled you with a feeling that could only be described as 'you give me comfort in the best kind of way and I hope that we stay friends until we’re draped with suits in coffins’ …or even smiling because you want to rather than because your brain says that something is nice. It’s depressing to think that I may never be able to be in those moments ever again. Its brutally petrifying.

But I’ll stop rambling now.

As we started escaping to different universes (hers was the land of whatever music she listened to whereas mine was the harry potter universe) a plethora of seemingly drunk students came into the classroom in a way that could only be described as 'falling’.

“Did they actually come into class hammered?” I muttered disapprovingly to Louise.

“No,” She stammered with a chuckle, “They’re just the clumsy ones. The nerds.”

“They’re the nerds? Well, doesn’t that out me at an odd point in the Uni hierarchy.

"Who has a good place in any kind of hierarchy? The concept of a hierarchy was made by our society to make you feel that you will never be good enough.” She mumbled, scrolling through albums worth of my chemical romance’s discography.

“I’ve heard that 'mama’ is a pretty good song. And an opening line of 'mama we all go to hell’ says more about Gerard than any other words ever could.” I uttered as I lazily through my tatty book into my rucksack, only to resurface and find Louise staring at me with a confused but impressed look on her face. “What?”

“It’s just that you don’t look like the typical MCR fan.”

“What do I look like then? A stereotypical Dad who thinks that Lionel Richie is the king of the music industry?” I uttered through giggles as out sociology teacher (Mr Bennet) waltzed in.

“Good morning.” He greeted in his amazingly fed-up way, throwing down his bag. “Right as per usual, let’s get on with the debate. Anybody have a controversial subject that they’re afraid they have opinions on that are ever so slightly different to everybody else’s?” He asked like he was one more sleepless night away from a straight-jacket.

Now, I haven’t raised my hand in class since the social anxiety disorder kicked in but for some reason, almost as if I was possessed, my hand shot up.

“Sam.” Bennet said as he gave a vague nod in my direction, thoroughly shocked at my participation.

“The 2016 election in America.”

(Hope you enjoyed that :))

#house cup #submission

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