#if only it wasn't so difficult to get an appointment/find a good therapist but i think i'm gonna try again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 1 year

Text

And sorry I just had a lot of ideas but this is last one. Anyone you want with psychologist reader. Basically they go to him as parient on theraphy and share secrets and traumas with him which basically causes to get close with them

With a psychologist reader

Angel Dust

Angel was having a bad week. Oh fuck it, he was having a bad fucking year. But he couldnt say that shit else he get a nice new shiner from dear Daddy Val.

He kept having breakdowns. Freaking out or having panic attacks when he needed to keep his shit together.

It got so bad, he actually couldn't preform, and no amount of beatings or drugs were helping anymore.

So, wanting to protect his investment, Valentino would bring him to you. You being a well known psychotherapist, helping numerous celebrities better themselves, completely turning themselves around after seeing you.

At least for a while.

So, he dumped Angel at your door, the Overlord trying to get you to essentially brainwash him to further obey him, planning to use you to keep him under control.

Of course, you shut that shit down immediately.

You told him bluntly you'd do what's necessary to help your patient, and that was Angel.

Val didn't say much, telling you simply he could find someone else, to which you told him good luck, knowing full well itd be impossible to find a therapist of your calibre who wouldnt milk him for every penny they could if thry could do their job at all, effectively calling his bluff.

You said all this in front of the Spider, the man feeling... well, it felt nice to have someone taking him seriously. Not like Val that treated him like a train dog.

Now, your first few sessions were just tredding ground, getting to know the Spider and gaining some familiarity with him. You may have stood up to Val but you'd had enough clients to know he wouldn't just open up.

So, the first few appointments you just spoke, spending time with him, asking genuine questions about him.

Not his Angel Dust persona.

Him.

Youd ask about his likes and dislikes.

You know, favourite music, the food he likes, his thoughts on the current events in Hell.

And while it would certainly take time, slowly chipping away at his mask, he'd begin opening up to you.

Of course, Valentino, the massive Cock-Head! Kept putting you back, the man being his usual abusive self. And after each of these incidents, the spider would pull in on himself, making your job even more difficult.

So, you confronted the man, telling him as much, as every smack he gave the arachnid put you back weeks! And despite his domineering personality, he'd back down, agreeing to stop the abuse.

'For now.' The moth pimp added, raising your blood pressure.

Youd make progress on the man's issues, slowly directing and fixing the many traumas and problems the man endured, the Spider visible getting better, cutting back on most of the shit he took in.

At least around you.

It'd be during one of your sessions, you having the Spider just ramble, saying whatever came to mind, letting him get anything he'd like off his chest.

And as he rambled he'd end up on a tangent on how much he hated working for Valentino and how miserable he was working for him.

It was your first major breakthrough, and well, the one you needed to finally get through.

You seized the situation, breaking him down to the bare Demonic soul, the man confessing every insecurity, spilling his heart out to you.

But then came the issue. Because put simply, Valentino was the Issue. But Angel couldn't just leave Val, that's not how the game worked.

So, you did the only thing you could.

Call in a favour.

Now, you'd helped a Looooooot of people.

Powerful people.

The Noble demon kinda powerful people.

So getting someone to help... remove Valentino from the equation wasn't that difficult.

Once he was free of that man's influence Angel really shined through.

He became more confident. More self assured.

He reduced his alcohol and narcotic consumption to a tenth of when he was with Val.

Honestly he was a whole new Angel, and you were happy to see it.

But, well, this is Angel. And even without the pressure or need to hyper sexualise himself, he'd still flirt with you.

And it'd actually be the day you finally cleared him, believing him to finally be well enough to be discharged from your service, that the spider would ask you out.

And since he was no longer your client, you said yes, the two of you going out to a quant little restaurant together.

It was a... charmingly simple night.

Neither of you said much. The usually chatty spider calm and docile as you ate, the both of you feeling everything that needed to be said... had been said.

Youd go home that night. The spiders hand in your own, as you went back to your place.

Nothing would happen between you that nigh. You were still seeing how a relationshipwould go, trying the waters as it were, so you didnt want to force anything.

Angel for his part, and for the first time, well... ever, felt safe. Understood.

And well, cared about.

The spider genuinely happy to be with you.

Stolas

Youd always been fascinated my how the mind works.

Specifically, how it handled trauma.

It fascinated you how the mind bent and melted, handling or rejecting trauma.

And if there was any group in Hell with issue, it was the Nobility.

Now, it took you a while to find a noble that was willing to pay you to help them, most nobility just expecting things presented to them on a silver platter.

But once you did get your foot in the door, helping a man with some deep seeded inferiority issues. Helping him become the egomaniac he was supposed to be.

And when it got out you could help them with their many, many, MANY issues, and do so descreetly. By God, they flocked to you.

A barrage of daddy issues, child abuse, neglect, regulat abuse and trauma the likes you hadn't thought possible.

And you got good, and rich, helping people with their issues. Learning an abundance on how personality was shaped by abuse. Picking up the patterns and soding that was left with different traumas.

Youd gotten yourself set up, each patient a virtual case study.

And it'd be as you sat in your office, looking over a patient's file, when there was a knock at the door.

Popping the files away, you called them in, coming face to face with an owl demon.

We was unexpectedly timid upon entry, walking around the subject as he asked you if you could help someone with... their issues.

That someone was clearly him.

But you could tell he was trying to be discreet, not like he was the first one, so you played along.

And after assuring him you could help him, explaining you provided a safe, descreet and judgement free service tailored for each client, that he'd agree.

The first few sessions were slow, the two of you just making generic, borderline formal chit chat, Stolas venting to you about his day or something that was erking him.

But after a few sessions, you began making progress, treading new ground. He began opening up to you about his issues. And there were quite a few.

A father that didn't give a shit about him past his utility to the Goetia family. An abusive wife he was betrothed to before he was even hatched simply to produce an heir.

And a completely dead marriage.

No.

Dead implies it was alive at some point. And based on what he had to say about it, it sounded like his spouse was beating the corpse of said "marriage".

So yeah, other than a daughter, he didn't really have anything worth living for. Which, ya know... isn't a good thing.

It took a long time really figuring out what ailed his mind.

There were many sessions that ended up with him in tears, you ending up hugging him, comforting him each time as he sobbed into your shirt.

And while you did your best to remain professional, there were more than a few occasions when you'd stare into each other's eyes for just a little too long. Followed by you awkwardly looking away, clearing your throat.

It took many session, time, care and a small fortune in fees, but you ended with the most logical conclusion.

He needed to divorce his bitch of a wife.

Stolas knew it.

You knew it.

But knowing it, and doing it were very different thing.

Of course, normally that'd be his problem.

But, well, you liked Stolas. Youd done the major no-no of running a practicr and and had gotten attached to him. So you called in some favours to ensure it'd go smoothly.

Of course you kept it all behind the scenes, setting things up so Stolas could escape with a minimal amount of drama.

And so, with a little encouraging from you, as a friend, not his therapist. He'd do it.

He'd tell her they were done and he was sick of her.

Of course the fallout was... not that bad. At least compared to our timeline, especially since Stolas had measures prepared before he did it.

He arrived the next day, you asking him how he felt, Stolas telling you he felt... Free.

Things would be difficult, but for the first time, he felt free.

You'd talk some more, monitoring his progress and development, ensuring he didn't fall back on any of his inhealthy coping mechanisms. And once the time had run out, he'd ask if there were anymore sessions.

Youd smile, telling him, well, no.

He'd resolved his problem, and well, he was done. No more sessions really needed.

To which Stolas would ask if that means if he were no longer your patient.

You confirming it, telling him you were no longer doctor and patient.

Hed nod, before leaning over, grabbing you by the collar just to slam his mouth into yours, the man forcefully kissing you.

The kiss lasted several moments before he pulled back, the man stuffing a note into your pocket, telling you.

"I'll be picking you up at 7. Dress sharp."

And then he'd leave.

Leaving you bewildered and, well, slightly aroused. Sat there thinking one thing.

"Well... what am I gonna wear?"

Valentino

Val wasn't weak.

He didn't need help, or to rely on anyone.

He earned everything he had through cunning and brutality, and would be damned if he needed some shitty head doctor to 'fix' his 'condition.'

But every day, he was filled with the killer of empires.

Doubt.

And doubt led to fear.

And fear led to the dark side.

Was he making the right move? Should he have killed that last guy? Was there a better way of doing that?

It was getting on his nerve and he was sick of it!

So, he found the best, most discreet, psychologist money could buy.

And that's how he found himself walking into your office.

He of course was his ever domineering self, trying to tell you how this would work.

To which you'd listen until he was finished, and once you were sure he'd finished his rant, you tell him simply how it would actually be.

Youd work through at his pace, but doing what you'd say and when. In that room Valentino held no power, but you also held no wish to control him.

You were his patient, and so, you would do your job.

You would help him.

Things went slow at first, Valentino still demanding to be in control, and so you'd have to slowly ease him into it.

You were firm, but not confrontational, letting him feel in control, while trying to figure out just why he needed to feel in control.

Though it was pretty clear, he was an overlord. He had to be in control else he'd loose... everything.

But really, he was just running on survival mode 24/7, and simply put, the mind couldn't handle being on edge every second of every day.

It took a long, long time to get that through to him, but really, it was a simple answer.

He'd reverted back into a Darwinian philosophy. And while many can like relatively normal lives with such a philosophy, he'd actually conditioned himself to abide by such rules, to the point his body physically reacted to every change in his environment. The man constantly stressed and unable to sleep, the drugs only able to keep things on the level for so long.

It'd take a long time to get to this conclusion, and an even longer to start unwinding it.

A lot of explaining and reconditioning, slowly unwinding the trauma he had to endured and inflicted on himself, sure enough, over time, he'd start relaxing.

He was still on edge, but he was slowly learning to take breaks, usually somewhere safe where he could be alone.

The man starting to understand, and rework himself into a more level headed existence.

It was strange for the man.

He'd spent hours rambling at you, answering hundreds of stupid questions, working through a shit load of nitty gritty bullshit he'd never think about.

But, sure enough, one day you asked him a question, and well, he answered.

Honestly.

He gave a genuine, true blue answer. And he could answer without spending 30 minutes figuring out if it was a trick, nor did he give some vague answer to hide the truth.

It felt weird, being honest with someone, and, well, it felt good.

He could be real with someone. No lies No tough guy persona. No alpha bullshit.

Just him.

And well, he couldn't deny, having a connection like that was... amazing.

And so, well naturally, he found himself growing affection for you. The first person he could be real with.

He'd initially disguise his feeling as simply working through any other issue he might have had, the man paying you top dollar to spend even more time with you.

But eventually he'd get sick of making up reasons to be around you.

So he was honest.

Again, a rare act on his part.

But he went all out, telling you he wanted you. He wanted the commitment, a genuine relationship, not just him using his partner for his own gain like every other connection he had.

Youd be hesitant, but after an especially genuine moment with him, you'd agree to a date.

A REAL date. With the real him.

And yeah, everything inside him told him to go all out, utilising his usual power and prestige.

But not this night.

That night you just had a simple dinner, followed the both of you sharing a bottle of wine, bonding on the couch.

And no, you didn't fall into his arms like averyone else did.

And,he loved that.

With you he was honest and genuine, and well, he loved that he could be that way, the two of you having a bond he could never have with anybody else in Hell.

And yeah he had to hide that bond from most anybody else, when in private he still got to enjoy it, the man having something to fight for more than just a never ending thurst for power.

Loona

Honestly, she'd first seen you as a gag.

She'd gotten a coupon for a free session in some magazine Blitz had snatched from Stolas.

And after she'd stormed out of the office with said magazine, the girl reading through it, finding your coupon.

So, ripping it out, she figured it was a good way to waste an hour, tormenting some stuffy head quack.

And so, finding your office, she'd strut in, showing the coupon. And since you had nothing better to do, you'd agree to see her.

At first you'd play along with what she was clearly expecting, asking the usual questions.

And yeah, Loona fucked around, acting like a little shit.

But after a while you'd get into some real shit. Asking about her home life, and those directly around her.

She'd whine and complain, giving a biased retelling, events through from her perspective.

But you could see through it, asking her harder and harder questions, the girl eventually snapping at you.

Only for you to snap back.

You told her her feelings were real and valid, but she needed to accept that she wasn't always the victim and sometimes problems were her own fault.

Loona, as whenever she was challenged with something she didn't like and couldn't kick the shit out of.

She bolted.

Despite dropping you, she couldn't get over the damn harsh truth bombs you'd dropped on her.

So, convincing Blitz to get more of the magazines, she'd cut out the coupons, taking them to you to talk.

She'd confront you, and while initially hostile, the two of you would actually have some meaningful dialogue, Loona having to face some harsh truths. But you also helped her face some problems with others, particularly her relationship with her father.

She'd keep scaving magazines off of Blitz, the two of you chatting almost every day, you providing some much needed outlet for many, many confusing emotions for the teen.

And it'd be after bumping into each other at a coffee shop that you'd actually chat.

Not just dig up loonas many issue, but just talking, like two normal people.

She was a surprisingly chill young lady when not having to think about her many flaws and problems. But you were just happy to chat, it being rare you got to speak with someone outside the office. And we'll, Loona certainly lived an interesting life.

The girl would use a dozen more coupons, spending most days in your office, you often scheduling appointments in accordance, each session steadily getting through her swamp off issues.

But you'd also meet up at that coffee shop, the two of you bonding outside the sessions, chatting away like regular people.

And honestly, the two of you getting increasingly close, and look, you were a professional, but after a particularly fiery session, the two of you going at each other, that you'd, well, youd kiss.

The strange development between the two of you seemingly finally coming to ahead.

And it'd be a Hell of a kiss, the two of you becoming ravenous, things quickly getting out of hand. And undressed.

After that things would be... awkward. Very awkward.

Naturally.

But, after some discussion you'd decide to keep your sessions and whatever was happening between you aside, Loona admittedly feeling like the sessions were working.

And now that you were technically seeing each other on the side, she'd finally have someone she could build a healthy relationship with.

Of course you had to be careful she didn't become too emotionally relient on you, not wanting her to develope unhealthy reliance on you, while also being a caring S/O for the girl, using your expertise to help develop healthier outlets for her anger and frustration.

The two of you would take things slow and steady, you and Loona developing a meaningful relationship, one the both of you would adore, coming to truly love each other.

Though you'd gotten the Silent treatment more then once when you brought up an issue she had during an argument.

Hey everybody.

I haven't forgotten about you I swear, just been doing my own life, trying to get my house together. But I remember and still love you guys.

I'll try and post more than I have, but no promises.

Love y'all!

#submission #helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #hazbin hotel #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #stolas x reader #loona x reader #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss loona #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust x reader

904 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 7 months

Text

A Thousand Miles | Eames x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ anonymous asked: May I please request something using the following prompts for Eames X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader:

“Y'know, I hate being a thousand miles away from you” ❞

: ̗̀➛ it's difficult to be without Eames, but it's always worth it when he comes home.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking, mentions of therapy/therapists

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Sighing heavily, Eames dropped his bags at the door and kicked his shoes off; he had been a thousand miles away from home for almost two whole months, and he was glad to get back to normal.

The cash he had gotten would keep you both afloat for another year, and then he would be off again a few months before it all ran out; he was all too eager to get back to normal. Morning coffee given to him in bed as he watched you get dressed and ready for work; he kept telling you that you didn't need to go, but he couldn't deny that the extra cash helped.

He would clean and tidy up while you were gone, always just and just finishing the last little bit of washing when you walked through the door. He would make dinner if you came home early, tea if you didn't finish until the evening.

Eames loved the soft normalcy of routine; always finding one of his shirts missing in the wardrobe and then smiling to himself when he thought about the shirt that you had worn before leaving for work. Taking out the recycling and the kitchen bin. Folding the washing as he hummed along to a selection of songs by Linkin Park and Sodom, nodding his head here and there a little bit as he smiled.

Normalcy, the beautiful mundane, the everyday routine that was so easy to fall into every time. Eames had missed it for more than he could ever say.

He allowed himself a moment before he walked into the kitchen; it wasn't particularly late, but it wasn't particularly early, either, so he stuck the kettle on and lit himself a cigarette as he leaned against the counter. Your presence haunted the kitchen so wonderfully.

Your tobacco pouch along with your filters and papers strewn about on the breakfast bar. Your coffee cup left by the jars with the spoon still in it. The smell of your deodorant was infectious, festering in the air. Pineapple and pepper.

He felt his shoulders drop as the tension left him and, just for a moment, he closed his eyes, listening to the footsteps that trailed from the bedroom and grew closer. He opened his eyes just in time to see you approaching him.

"Y'know, I hate being a thousand miles away from you, my dearest darling."

You grinned at the words, rolling yourself a cigarette and stealing his lighter. "I hate it, too… how was it?"

"Exhausting," he grumbled. "You okay? Have you been going to your appointments?"

You nodded, standing next to him and letting your head rest on his shoulder. "I have, I always do… the doctor reckons I'm getting better but… maybe we should talk about it later?"

Eames nodded in agreement; in all honesty, as much as he loved being home at last, he was fucking tired beyond belief. His biggest want in the world was to be under the duvet with you, your body against his and your soft breaths fanning across his skin; your subtle squirms to get closer and to steal some of the duvet from him.

He missed it more than he could ever say, and it was all he lusted for. Eames was always tired when he came back from a job, and you knew that well enough that you didn't even need to ask him why he looked so run down. Work took a big toll on him, and it was only natural that he would be tired. It might not have been physically taxing, but emotionally and mentally, he was always left drained and… almost empty.

You hummed, letting out a quiet yawn; your appointments with the therapist were much the same, but Eames always insisted that you had to go. He looked out for you more than he would ever admit, trying to be a good boyfriend to you but never changing his mind and thinking that he had so much to make up for. He always thought he had more to make up to you than he could count.

Lazily, you slung your arm around his waist and pulled him in a little closer; a soft hum was drawn from the back of his throat as he put his arm around your shoulders and let out a soft yawn.

"I washed the bedding earlier," you murmured. "If we're quick enough, it'll still be warm."

The kettle clicked off, but Eames couldn't find it in himself to bother as he stubbed out his cigarette, waiting for you to do the same before he practically chased you all the way to the bed; he allowed you to get in first before he snuggled up beside you, nearly giggling as he did so.

You were quicker than he was, pulling him close and squirming around so that you could press your face to his neck. Your arms around him tightly and your leg lazily draped over him. Oh, Eames had missed that most of all.

But the bed was ever so slightly cold, so he grinned at you as he raised his brows.

"Cold bed dance?"

You laughed, nodding; Eames did it first, wriggling and gently kicking his legs as you soon followed suit. You loved having him home, you always would. The cold bed dance was always the highlight of when he returned, as above all else, it made you laugh.

Instead of coming home to a cold and empty house, the halls would finally be filled with his humming and the warmth of having him potter about doing the cleaning; the kitchen would soon smell of curries and chilies, spices lingering in the air and making your stomach growl loudly. The bed would no longer be empty and too large to handle.

The sofa would never be missing someone nearby. The wardrobe would never seem like it hadn't been touched in years after a couple of days. You wouldn't be so miserable when you walked home.

You loved having Eames home.

9 notes · View notes

amarantine-amirite · 8 months

Text

Mall Rats

I had a difficult time making new friends. The prevailing message of the media landscape was "don't get bullied because there's no way out" made me not trust people.

I'm not joking; it was everywhere. Tales of kids killing themselves because of bullying dominated the news. Celebrities, schools and companies would spout "it gets better" despite bullying victims rarely surviving past the age of 16. Worse still, therapists told bullied kids that they were helpless under a capitalist system to get them to join whatever nefarious plot they cooked up.

Surprisingly enough, I struggled to make new friends because I didn't have my parent's help. Most kids make friends through their parents. Jimmy becomes friends with Reba because Jimmy's mom is friends with Reba's mom. I had to find friends myself because my autism isolated my parents, something that was hard to do because my social skills were so stunted.

I managed to befriend a couple of kids. Sandi and Paetynn were both in drama club and they took in Emily roughly the same time I met them. Emily was one of those types of people that was afraid of literally everything. try to think of the most innocuous thing you can, and she'd be afraid of it.

I figured they were harmless. They weren't popular and they took in two people who struggled to socialize. I was wrong.

Paetynn decided that our friend group had a new rule: we had to have our ears pierced, no exceptions. Sandi and Paetynn already had theirs done, so nothing changed for them. The only change for me was having to wear earrings on a regular basis. I didn't because the only earrings safe to wear in shop class were banned under the dress code. Emily didn't have her ears pierced and she was terrified to get pierced.

"That looks like it could be a creepypasta, and you say you feel OK with it?" Emily quirked an eyebrow.

Sandi chuckled. "Your definition of creepypasta is laughably loose, Em." She said in a mocking tone.

Paetynn chimed in. "I could see where you're coming from if it was somebody like Claire's. But this place is a legit cosmetologist."

"Yeah," I nodded, "It was the place I had mine done." In fact, that was part of the reason why I picked this place. Paetynn made me book the appointment.

Paetynn shook her head with a teasing grin. "Exactly. Judy got her ears pierced here. You have no excuses."

As we approached the entrance to the mall, Emily's heart raced. We soon learned that it wasn't the prospect of getting her ears pierced that made her nervous. It was the hard, shiny walkway that sent shivers down her spine.

"Now, what's the problem?" Sandi rolled her eyes.

Emily pointed to the walkway. "I hate hard shiny floors" she said breathlessly.

Mind you, I get why people get them. Hard shiny floors look good. Hard shiny floors are easy to clean. "What the hell is your problem with the floor?" Paetynn demanded. She lost her patience with Emily.

Emily stood there, looking at Sandi while she ranted, "Hard shiny floors are the perfect catalyst for a brain injury. You can find them everywhere in public places; they are slippery and hard. It's even worse outside because if there's any weather, it's like walking on a skating rink." She tried to run back to the taxi loop, but she slipped on the walkway.

We soon saw what she was talking about.

She didn't hit her head on the ground and split her skull open. Instead, she went for a ride that ended in a 13 foot drop into a sinkhole.

The fall caused her to sprain both ankles. She also landed in a pile of huge rats. She couldn't scream because she didn't want them to jump into her mouth. One of the rats bit her.

Paetynn and Sandi's laughter rang out. "It's not funny! It's traumatic!" Emily protested in a wounded tone. None of us could see it, but I could feel her slowly burst into tears.

Paetynn tried to stifle her laughter, but it bubbled out despite her efforts. "I'm sorry, but that's funny," she managed to say between chuckles.

I walked away. That moment made me realize that I needed new friends.

@witterprompts

#Writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #short story

2 notes · View notes

traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 9 months

Note

tw medical abuse, panic attacks

I have had a really bad experience with a doctor, which resulted in me leaving his office half-way through, and since then I am struggling with visiting any doc, even other kinds of.

It wasn't that bad right after, I visited other docs and told them "I have anxiety" but they never treated me really well. Some experiences where neutral, some bad, but none had given me back the trust in doctors. And now (4 years later) I can't visit any doctor anymore.

I have stuff to check and to get done, but I can't get myself to visit a doctor. Even thinking about it gives me panic attacks.

I have wasted hours, thinking about how it might be going and idk. I don't fear a bad outcome or another bad experience. I fear that I might get another panic attack half-way through and won't be able to leave and will have to bear it.

You know, I've spent so many more hours thinking about it, panicking, then it would take to check all of my issues. And that makes me real disappointed in myself and I feel trapped. You know, I could have done it already! For years! I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore, if I would've been braver in the past! I wasted so much time worrying, but still, I can't overcome it.

Most time I am okay but sometimes there's this intrusive thought "I still need to get X done" and then I get psychosomatic pain in that area and my stress goes up and I have another anxiety attack. More during the last months, because the heat adds into my general stress level.

The stuff is not urgent but knowing, even if it would be urgent, I couldn't go to a doctor, makes me anxious. And if I would finally do it, the intrusive thoughts would stop so, I really want to. I want to stop having to think about it all the time and worrying, and being angry with me for not being braver. But idk how.

Hi anon, I'm so sorry for the abuse you have suffered in the medical community and deeply empathize with trying to cope with the resulting anxiety from it. Without attempting to come across as diagnosing, or "planting an idea", I would encourage you to discuss your symptoms with a therapist - perhaps online vs in person if that might help alleviate some of the anxiety? - if anything so they might help validate your experiences, as well as discuss a treatment plan tailored for your needs (perhaps this is anxiety, perhaps this is PTSD, or something entirely different, and you deserve to discuss with a professional what your options are for managing your symptoms). I did find two articles (one related to handling medical anxiety, and coping with symptoms in general), and of course we have our page of coping/grounding resources as well. Finally, my only other possible suggestion might be to consider inviting along a trusted individual for moral support for your next appointment. Someone who might help be an emotional support, distraction, but can help encourage you to advocate for yourself, or even for you, if you find yourself becoming overwhelmed (though of course, discuss beforehand what you would like their support to look like for potential ground rules/boundaries). Afterwards, it could be a wonderful way to reward yourself for the mental labor of making it through a difficult moment by going out afterwards with them and doing something fun for you both? If you're not comfortable inviting something along, each medical clinic should have a patient advocate on site (though perhaps good to call ahead to ensure they are working at the time of your appointment), and share that you would like to discuss the option of having them in the room with you for similar support. Regardless, what happened to you should never have, and you deserve medical treatment when it is necessary and I do believe there are supports that might help with that as you move forward along your healing journey. I wish you well during the process, - Mod Kat

#trauma talks #medical abuse #mod kat

5 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 2 years

Note

I just wanna get something off mu chest because I have no one to tell this

I'm only 18 and my life wasn't the best till now I spend lots of time in hospitals & had problems with my mental health and now it started to get better but now my mom got diagnosed with cancer and I just don't know how to cope..my mom is the only person I trust my dad is only focused on himself and I just feel alone and had none I could tell all of this

I'm so sorry hun. I know that a cancer diagnosis is a very scary thing. For anyone. I pray that your mother makes it through and is blessed to be among the survivors. Cancer is horrible and I hate that anyone has to go through battling it.

I would absolutely make sure you are talking this through with your therapists and - if you are able to - attend some doctors appointments with your mom to learn about her options and such.

It will be a difficult time - I'm not going to lie about that. Just make sure you know that you are not alone. Your mother is right there with you. You will get through this together.

And if you ever need to space to vent or just talk - you can always message me here anonymously or DM if you would rather.

Below are a couple of online resources that could help you find support groups that mention family support as well. Plus ask her oncologist for resources - they are normally a very good source for information.

This Is Living With Cancer

American Association for Cancer Research

Cancer Support Community

(this is all U.S. based because of that being my location and not knowing where you are based)

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍

#real talk #tw cancer #tw mental health

4 notes · View notes

allwaysnighthere · 29 days

Text

Devaluation and invalidation.

I cried myself to sleep last night and will probably do it again. I rescheduled my therapy appointment to next week. I am hopeful that this episode or phase will pass. Eventually, I can look back on it and figure out what triggered it. For now, I'm sitting here wanting to throw up.

I have a meeting in 15 minutes in which I will put on a charade to pretend that nothing is bothering me, my work has gone fabulously this week, and I am so strong. I'm all business. Truth be told, I am passionate about my career choice and it provides some relief. Still, there's an emptiness as I think about what it would mean to cocoon myself in work and school. It's easier to think and discuss a concept that isn't anchored in emotions and trying to figure out what someone else is trying to convey in roundabout ways so it's left up to interpretation.

I saw it. I read it. It's wrong and it's been wrong. I'm not surprised. As many times as I maneuvered myself into being an enabler under the belief that I was doing to the right thing to be supportive rather than be on the brunt of the anger, it only makes sense that I'd get to play the part of the fool again by joining the incinerator with the others. There are too many times to count that I let something slide despite knowing it was a lie and that it hurt me, but if I were to bring that up now that then reinforces the fact that I am a villain. That's where this almost always ends up. They're never going to admit to any wrongdoing, not when doing so is far more difficult than finding any reason to justify whatever was said or done. It's all or nothing.

Lately, it's as if everything I do is wrong. I'm supposed to know the ins and outs of all things, no matter the subject. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why is it that you can't get it right the first time? We know it, why don't you? Why can't you act, say, and do the things we expect from you? How dare you have any reaction to what you're told?

All I can focus on is my heart breaking. I grieve every day for so much of what could have been. If I've always meant so little to others, why did they bother with me at all? Why am I so inept at recognizing who doesn't care an iota about what happens to me or only cares to see that I take all responsibility for everything that goes wrong? I'm kept in the dark and fed shit, and then when I don't do exactly what someone wants me to do or I dare share my feelings/thoughts, I get the axe. Other people are worthy of redemption, grace, and honesty. Not me. And I'm so fucking stupid that I give out second, third, and fourth chances because I want so badly to believe that there is humanity in other people.

I cannot share my feelings with anyone else in my life anymore unless it's my therapist. What I've learned recently is that nobody truly gives a fuck about mental health and they will leave as soon as you mention any word of fighting a war in yourself. You're damaged goods. Who wants anything to do with garbage? Even when I was at my lowest and I put the gun in my mouth, I was still lower than dirt to them, all because I should have known from the start how to handle everything perfectly. I should have known it was time to lock up a box of memories of being repeatedly beaten, raped, and torn down, of not being wanted by my own dad, and being ostracized by my peers because I wasn't normal and I never fit in. There was never any justice. Why didn't the jury just say it outright that everything that happened to me was justified? I have tried so hard to be what everyone else has wanted me to be and I'm still rejected. They know. They will always know.

I have never felt more alone in my life than I do right now. All I've ever wanted was to be loved and valued and listened to instead of being so easily discarded, like I don't have any right to feel anything or be my own person. It will never be enough for me and never enough for anyone else.

#106 #jr #meltdown 3 #cw self loathing #cw ideation #cw sa

0 notes

princebugs · 5 years

Text

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

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

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

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

ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

#gavin reed #detroit: become human #dbh rk900 #rk900 #reed900 #gav900 #if i told you niles wasnt the stalker would you believe me #anyways #hehe #lemme know what u think

69 notes · View notes

mysticstarfishcreator-gal · 2 years

Text

Hey there. Just wanted to apologize for not really posting any Sims 4 screenshots in the past couple of weeks. I've just been kind of taking a break from the game (for some reasons a lot of other simmers understand. *cough* myweddingstories *cough*). I have just been so focused on school work, house work, and trying to find a job because I'm not sims community famous yet. I also have been having some acute health things going on that have honestly just been making life difficult. So it has been even harder to find time to enjoy things. And I have been trying to get more footage together to edit. Which has its own set of ups and downs. Like recording four hours of footage, only to realize after that it practically has no sound. Basically the settings were all so low that it has no sound. The footage is still good and I'm sure I can use it somehow but I'm not sure yet.

School is doing.... okay. The teacher is good and actually answers questions in a reasonable way. The content of the course is enjoyable and mostly understandable. But I still feel like such a failure if I get less than an A on big assignments.

The house is ok. I think most days I am just really disassociated from it and don't really pay attention to everything so it doesn't bother me. Basically constantly living between "I wish this was just completely empty besides a few things" and "Wow I love my eclectic clutter". But otherwise living in a constant cycle of doing things and then having to undo them or I feel insane. But also feeling insane because... doing and undoing over and over. Like I have to give my daughter toys and things for enrichment or I am a bad Mom. But I also need the things to be AWAY for at least part of the time or it is just too much.

Trying to find a job is awful and I hate it. I am both ready to be back at work and wish I could just stay home. And both of these thoughts give me anxiety. Its awful and I hate it.

Being sims community famous would be interesting I'm sure. But honestly (like everything else I have enjoyed and made to feel like I either shouldn't enjoy it, it is a waste of time, or I am not good at it) I'm not sure why I would become sims community famous. I'm sure some people would say there is something seriously wrong with feeling like you have no value just because no one is acknowledging you. They are probably right. And maybe that is something I can discuss with a therapist or something. But oh wait, there are no therapists here. I have been trying to find one and they seems as elusive as a job.

I had not been feeling well recently (I say this but of course I haven't been feeling well for a really long time so I'm not sure what the difference is). Among other things I had been having a lot of swelling. I brought this up when I saw my doctor in February. He looked me over and said its probably fine. Alright. I continue on for a few more weeks. Try a few different things to help with the swelling, on top of the other things I'm already continuing to do to you know BE HEALTHY. So around a week and a half ago I was feeling nauseated for about two days straight. Nothing was helping. I checked my blood sugar just to try and rule that out. And there it was, the reason. So I kept track off it for several days. A week ago I resolved that I would call Monday and make an appointment. I was able to be seen on Tuesday. I made a comment to the doctor that I probably should have been on meds years ago. I think he wasn't sure what I said at first so he asked what I said. I said never mind. He said no, what did you say. So I repeated myself. He said, well my previous labs didn't indicate the need for meds. I don't agree. My levels were already high a year ago. But when they did them this week they were even higher. But on top of that for the very first time they tested my blood insulin level. WHY HAVEN'T THEY EVER TESTED THIS BEFORE NOW?! It was very high. The doctor may not have said that I was right or that we probably should have checked this a long time ago. But at least he finally put me on meds. Today is day three on the meds and I feel so much better. I actually had a level in the normal range first thing this morning. And I've stayed in a normal range so far today even after eating. I knew I needed this two years ago. I wish they would have done this test sooner.

Anyway. I am doing better. I'm still not together. I still feel like I'm drifting with no purpose in life. I still feel like I know how to do things but can't do anything well. I exist though. That is about it.

0 notes

mental-health-advice · 7 years

Note

Hi I'm Vyolet. For the longest time I have had virtually no sense of self. I went in for a appointment with my therapist and she told me to make a list of internal and external traits that I like about myself. And I just wasn't able to think of any no matter how hard I tried. I just don't know anything about who I am other than my name and where I live. Everyone always takes it as being standoffish when they ask me what my favorite color is and I say I don't know. I want to know about myself

Hi darling,

That definitely is really difficult, and it’s very understandable that you want to know about yourself. It’s good to hear that you’re seeing a therapist, as this means that you can get support from her on this matter too! When she told you to make this list with things you like about yourself, did you explain to her that you had a hard time coming up with traits at all, not limited to ones you like, but just in general? If you did, then I’m kind of assuming that this is something you’ve been working on, and if I’m assuming that incorrectly, then I think it’d be good to bring it up again, since this is something that’s been bothering you. If this isn’t something that you explained to her back then, then I think it’d be good to bring it up now! You could refer back to making that list, or bring it up without it, whatever you’re most comfortable with!

It seems like right now the only things you can come up with about yourself are facts- your name and where you live. That’s a good start! Could it be true that you have a hard time coming up with other things because anything else doesn’t feel as definite as a fact would be? For example, if you were to say that you have a nice smile, that isn’t as definite as where you live, because there isn’t quite a definition of ‘nice’, different people will find different smiles nice. I don’t know if this is the case, but I think it’d be good to look into why you have trouble fitting traits to yourself.

It might also help to keep in mind that this list of traits can change over time! Throughout life we come across different situations and these situations can have an effect on us, therefore slightly changing us. This is okay! But keeping that in mind can maybe make you feel more open towards traits, as it’s then less set in stone.

This might seem a bit off topic, but are you good at recognising emotions? If you aren’t, then working (possibly with your therapist) on this could also improve your sense of self. I think these can be related, as for example when you’re doing something you enjoy and you recognise that you’re enjoying it, then you can recognise also the trait related to that- namely that you enjoy that particular thing. This all sounds very vague, but an example for me would be that I really enjoy ballet, and I definitely consider it a trait of mine that ballet is my passion. Or another example would be that I really had a hard time picking a favourite colour too! But then I moved out and I had to decorate my new room, and if I look through my room now I definitely see a lot of pink, from which I can deduce that pink is my favourite colour. So basically, the feelings you get from certain things, or if you just feel most comfortable with something, that can help you deduce to certain traits.

I hope this helped lovely! Take your time with all of this, as it isn’t an easy process and you don’t need to have this all figured out by tomorrow. While knowing yourself a bit better is good, I also don’t think you should strive for perfection. I highly doubt there’s anyone in the world who knows themself completely.

Sometimes what seems impossible, is just hard.

Keep fighting beautiful ❤

Love Pauline

#Vyolet #mental health #advice blog #advice #sense of self #personality #traits #personality traits #mhapauline #Anonymous

1 note · View note