#AND psych wards function as a prison
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Hiya! I was wondering if you knew of any literature about reforming the psych system because I agree its broken AF and as someone who's a part of it I want to be able to do better. No worries if not, I just saw posts you've reblogged and thought you'd be a good person to ask!
i do have some recommendations!
"mind fixers: psychology's troubled search for the biology of mental illness" by anne harrington and "comfortably numb: how psychiatry is medicating a nation" by charles barber both give a history of the medicalization of mental illness and critique the biomedical model. (hint: there's a lot of BAD science that makes up the core of psychiatry - the evidence for there being a biological basis for mental illness and psych meds working at all is very flimsy.)
the disorderland podcast debunks bad science, especially pop science, talks about the commodification of mental health, and explores whether the symptoms we pathologize are actually symptoms.
"madness and oppression" by fireweed collective is a workbook that helps you see how you're not crazy -- you're oppressed. it looks at how what a psychologist/psychiatrist would consider a symptom is actually a very rational and normal response to being oppressed.
"on your own: patient-controlled alternatives to the mental health system" by judi chamberlain is written by a psych survivor, and goes into her own experiences as well as what alternatives exist to the system. great for learning about peer support!
"stolen" by elizabeth gilpin is a memoir by a psych survivor. she was abducted and taken to a "treatment" program in Appalachia, then went to a boarding school that functioned more like a prison with abusive group therapy. this one's good for humanizing mental illness BUT can be triggering as hell to psych survivors - so proceed with caution.
"the zyprexa papers" by jim gottstein is probably my favorite on the list, it's about how the antipsychotic zyprexa causes diabetes and metabolic disorders, and is still commonly prescribed (this is how i got diabetes). it shows how psych med regulations are not enforced, especially since zyprexa is often prescribed off-label for conditions it hasn't been shown to be clinically effective for, and has led to death in some cases.
madinamerica.com is a good site to explore for psych abolition, debunking psychology research, new psychology research that centers patient's autonomy and rights, and personal accounts of mental illness. it's been around for a decade so there's a lot of quality content to sift through!
i also recommend reading about peer support and peer respite houses - i don't have any particular books or articles about them, but that can be a good jumping off point to looking for an alternative model to the current psych system.
#i say this all with the caveat that i am a psych abolitionist NOT a reformist#i encourage you especially to read the first two#it's really important to understand that the evidence we have for mental disorders/diagnoses are vastly unsupported by the science#that aims to prove them#if you are not a psych survivor i encourage you to read pieces by psych survivors#it's important to humanize the people you're working with/learning about and it also helps paint a picture of the abuse we experience#i HOPE that after engaging with the system you start to see that it's not broken it's working as intended#psychiatry is a form of social control#it is dehumanizing#it inherently takes away your autonomy because diagnoses call your capacity to decide things for yourself into question#we are often belittled#told we're crazy#minimized#talked over#told we couldn't possibly make responsible decisions for ourselves#ETC#AND psych wards function as a prison#like there is no way for the system to be reformed because the system is based on the idea that there is something inherently wrong with us#and there isn't#the symptoms we experience are actually NORMAL parts of the human condition#psych abolition#antipsychiatry#actually delusional#actually disabled#actually psychotic#mad
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so the bit about "foucault thinks hospitals are like prisons! he thinks EVERYTHING is like prisons!" omits the crucial context that foucaults major early writing the memes are obviously referring back to was not about hospitals generically but about psychiatric hospitals
the similarity between prisons and heavy security psych wards is in fact quite palpable. the barred windows and security fences, the spy holes in the cell doors, the lack of a functionally private bathroom in each cell, the drab identifying uniforms, the punishment rooms for isolating particularly dangerous inmates. i cant speak personally for state hospitals (the most direct descendants of the institutions foucault criticised), which tend to heavily restrict access, but i cant imagine they are not a whole lot worse. this isnt really entering into an analysis of either, its just pointing out the comparison is pretty apt and would almost certainly occur to you were you confronted with them in person
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Fortnight - post mortem
"Fortnight"
(feat. Post Malone)
"I was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me
I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic
All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason
And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?"
To be sent away is to be committed to the psych ward, or sent to jail. From the music video (MV) it seems that in this case it's a reference to an involuntary stay in the psych ward - she's chained up in a bed being made to take pills, however, asylums and prisons are a theme throughout the album as a whole.
In the opening scenes of the video she is dressed up to look like 1920s movie starlet Clara Bow (who is referenced directly as a song title later on the album.) Her hair is pinned up with an extreme number of upside down bobby-pins which on the right side of her head make the roman numeral for 13, and she is wearing a wedding gown.
Clara Bow is known to have engaged in lavender marriages while having secret affairs with women during her stardom. "dropping hairpins" is a piece of historical queer slang, meaning dropping hints that one is queer, and the inverse, having your hair pinned up means that you're pretending to be straight. Hair pins reference back to the lyrics of Right Where You Left Me "Dust collected on my pinned-up hair." I read this scene as "maximum closeting," by force.
The entire room is shown to be upside down and at an angle which reminds me of the classic Emily Dickinson poem "tell all the truth but tell it slant" Given Emily is a favorite poet of TS the Dickinson reference is likely intentional and it's fair to assume that there are red herrings and metaphors in abundance throughout this song and this album. Remember the 'redherring' error code on the website pre-release.
This song and video also reference A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, which tells the story of a person released from prison who has mental health issues due to being tortured during their prison stay, who is then taken by their family from Paris(!) to London (!!) Book 2 of A Tale of Two Cities is titled "The Golden Thread" which reminds me of Invisible String "one single thread of gold tied me to you," and in the second book we're told the tale of how the golden haired daughter provides financially for her family in addition to repairing and maintaining their good reputation. A Tale of Two Cities feels oh so very appropriate as a touchstone for listening to this album.
"I was a functioning alcoholic" is this metaphorical, literal, or both? Other mentions of use and abuse of drugs and alcohol in her discography include Closure "I'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles" Clean "Ten months sober" and Don't Blame Me "My drug is my baby I'll be using for the rest of my life" I think in this case I think it might be both metaphorical and literal. The loss of her love drove her to drink, but also, she was addicted to her illicit love and maybe got away with it until others noticed-?
"All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason. And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?" reminds me again of the song Closure "It wasn't right the way it all went down looks like you know that now. Yes, I got your letter, Yes, I'm doing better. I don't need your closure" It's just as direct, but less aggressive in tone. She hopes her muse is well but they are the reason that she is where she is.
"And for a fortnight there, we were forever
Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather
Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors
Your wife waters flowers
I wanna kill her"
A fortnight is two weeks, though, it may be a metaphorical stand-in here just meaning that for awhile it seemed like they were going to be together forever, but now they are acquaintances who make small talk.
"Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors" reminds me of the ever so quotable line "Good Fences Make Good Neighbours" from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall, the irony of the poem is that while setting clear boundaries with a wall prevents petty disputes over property lines the constant need to maintain the wall they've built brings the neighbours together to talk. The line is often quoted by people who've never read the poem without heed for the irony. As a reference here it seems very sarcastic - we're good neighbours look how polite and appropriate we are with our boundaries set in stone.
There are many references to gardens and flowers in the TS back catalogue but for me this in particular recalls the lyrics from Clean "The drought was the very worst. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst." and this line translates to me as I hate your partner because they're growing a relationship/family with you, whereas ours is dead.
The MV shows TS wiping her face to reveal tattoos that almost match those of Post Malone who plays the part of love interest in the MV. The differences are the addition of two tattoos that spell out DDP, an extra heart, and a change from a playboy bunny to what looks like a diamond. The tattoos seem to have been covered with make-up while she was chained up in the asylum, and they disappear as soon as she steps out into the other room - only to reappear onto the face of Post Malone. I don't have any theories about what DDP stands for I would love to hear other peoples. Seeing TS with secret tattoos reminds me of Dress, "made your mark on me a golden tattoo." another song about secret love.
"All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February
I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary"
Mondays being the most notoriously hated day of the week because it's the start of the work week for many people, and Feb being post-celebration winter in the northern hemisphere, I read this as - all I do is work I'm stuck in a bleak winter that won't end. I've tried every option available to get over you but it didn't work.
When she enters the writers room she's wearing a mourning dress, which could lend another layer i.e. all my mournings are mondays i.e. all of my break-ups are work/business.
The whole video is in black and white except for the sparks that fly off the pages into the air between their desks, and the fire once she sets things ablaze.
"And I love you, it's ruining my life
I love you, it's ruining my life
I touched you for only a fortnight
I touched you
But I touched you"
This is pretty direct but in context I read it as - I'm still in love with you, I feel stuck, I can't move on and my public image won't let me let you in, we may have only been together for a short time but we were together and I can't/won't forget it.
In the MV there are an endless array of masked figures also in black mourning attire, all with masks and hats sitting at identical desks disappearing into the horizon. Are these the other tortured poets from history, made to mask and hide behind their typewriters in a black and white world?
"And for a fortnight there, we were forever
Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather
Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors
Your wife waters flowers
I wanna kill her
And for a fortnight there, we were together
Run into you sometimes, comment on my sweater
Now you're at the mailbox, turned into good neighbors
My husband is cheating
I wanna kill him"
"My husband is cheating I wanna kill him" This could be literal cheating, however, she is not literally married so maybe that's a hint - maybe he's violating the terms of a contract? After all she's probably not in love with him since she's pining so badly after the muse of this song-? So, why would she still want to murder him? Maybe they were supposed to get lavender-married but he cancelled the wedding and now everything is in upheaval?
She is laying on the ground with PM in the middle of an image of herself made up of pages reading from "The Story of US" book, "So many things that I wish you knew. So many walls up, I can't break through" they seem to be stuck there and then they break free, pages flying in the air, and hold each other laughing. The tattoos are now gone from both faces.
"I love you, it's ruining my life
I love you, it's ruining my life
I touched you for only a fortnight
I touched you
I touched you
I love you, it's ruining my life
I love you, it's ruining my life
I touched you for only a fortnight
I touched you
I touched you"
In the MV she's back in the asylum now, hair undone/pins gone, strapped to a table surrounded by men about to have electro convulsive therapy (ECT) administered, a black dog runs through the frame. The ECG read-out is showing "I love you it's ruining my life" in the read out of her heart beat. One of the panels in the background reads "Master Control." In literature The Black Dog represents depression.
So, when her hair is unpinned she wants to be publicly out as in love with a woman, and the men who surround her and control her and her music deem it inappropriate, they want to 'fix' her. But, when the ECT runs sparks fly, the machinery overloads, she screams, and PM runs over to release her from the table.
"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up
Another fortnight lost in America
Move to Florida, buy the car you want
But it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me"
"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. Another fortnight lost in America" You won't answer my calls so we've lost another fortnight of our lives to the American culture wars - reminds me of Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince and Paris, which are also songs about running away.
They are now outside in a raging storm stuck on top of a mountain with treacherously steep sides, TS sits atop a phone box in a dress that looks like chain-mail, while PM is inside the box making a call begging..
"Move to Florida, buy the car you want but it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me." TS has said in interview that moving to Florida in this album is a reference to people running away from their mistakes and starting fresh. She's telling the muse to ditch their partner and runaway with her, this ties back to Getaway Car which opens with "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" which is a direct reference to A Tale of Two Cities which opens "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way".
"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up
Another fortnight lost in America
Move to Florida, buy the car you want
But it won't start up till I touch, touch, touch you"
TS is back in the writers room, tearing open the draws, letting the pages fly into the air, crying, then stone faced in her mourning dress while the pages swirl around her burning. It reminds me of Dear Reader "Dear reader, burn all the files desert all your past lives" The version of her in the asylum smashes down the window.
And finally the version of TS on top of the phone box reaches down and holds hands with PM. She's created imagery of herself stuck inside cages, boxes, glass boxes, etc over and over through the years and this is the first time we've seen her outside and making contact with another human.
Conclusion: our protagonist has been held by force in the image of a virginal heterosexual bride, going slowly insane while she pretends that the woman she truly loves is just a friend, and she's now completely fed up and her bearding situation has gone to hell, she's asking her love to runaway with her and she's willing to metaphorically set fire to her history/her body of work to be with the one she loves.
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psych wards are quite literally just another type of prison. they have an extensive bigoted history and function no differently for the most part except the lack of forced labor. they do not and never have existed to help people and are inherently violent. if people want to create places to help people when they're having mental breakdowns or shit, they should but claiming that's what psych wards are for is ridiculous.
psych wards, like prisons, are for disappearing people. They're for making people labeled as problems "disappear" until they're "redeemed" by acting "normal" enough. they 're inhuman, period and if your abolition doesnt include them, well, its bullshit.
(this isn't directed at you, just more the person who was disagreeing with you and people like that in general.)
absolutely agreed! i think that psych wards just are incarceration and there are some important distinctions between prisons and psych wards in terms of legal rights and things like forced labor (although that is a thing that happens in long term institutions.), and also some important differences in terms of the effect of the War on drugs. prison abolition means abolishing psych wards as well, and it is so fucking important for us to have solidarity with people suffering under any form of incarceration.
if people want to learn more, highly recommend reading the book Disability Incarcerated!
Here's also a link to a post about what alternatives to psych wards can look like.
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tear you apart was darker and it was so good. i’m so grateful for you writing this because usually majority authors write wanda as the top and dark character. Like there is serious drought of top reader fics.
Also i have many questions regarding this au.
So i gonna interview you about your characters now, hope you are up for it.
1. would wanda kill someone for reader in rage or jealousy?
2. would they have kids someday? are they mentally stable enough to do that?
3.What would happen if they both are sent to prison or mental institution? i think considering reader’s crimes they would be executed.
4. What are the kinks wand and reader engage in to?
(you of course are not obligated to answer any of it, i just like being annoyingly passionate about characters i like so i guess enjoy this long ass ask)
okay okay okay, this will be interesting, i just love answering questions about my fics omg (and by the way noonie, thank you so much for the thoughtfulness of asking these questions, really!)
but get ready because it's gonna be a lot in here.
While Wanda doesn't exactly harbor a murderous will like R's, her love knows no bounds. she would do anything for R. of course, because she has a real cognitive notion of social norms and really has the emotional part of her in a functional way (only, well, in a much more extreme way than the others - Wanda suffers from borderline personality disorder, in case it wasn't clear), she might feel guilty. it's not something she wants or plans to do like R, but it's something she might actually end up doing under the right circumstances and some amount of stress. but this is something i intend to explore in the near future 👀
I imagine that R wants to maintain the appearances of an exemplary citizen in the future, so i see her actually marrying Wanda, but i can't say that R wants or plans to have children… unlike Wanda. she would definitely like to have a piece of R for her to keep forever. is this a hook for a future blurb, telling about the evolution of R and Wanda's relationship into adulthood? probably. will this expose just how crazy and degenerate Wanda can really be? absolutely. i don't think it's ever been exposed how insane she really can be, because i think as the relationship progresses, Wanda's mental health will definitely decline. there's still a lot of her to see.
Well, this one is simple - R would definitely go to death row, but i imagine that her parents' money and influence would free her neck (something that kinda happened (but also kinda didn't) before with her first kill). life sentence for sure, but she would live. Wanda, on the other hand, is more complicated. she can be declared legally insane, unlike R. you see, she was already sent to the psych ward before in high school when she became obsessed with another girl, but nothing was as intense as her love for R. Wanda, even more with her impulsive nature and explosive personality, would certainly prefer death than not seeing R again.
ok this is interesting (and horny omg). but aside from the ones seen before (you know, choking, praise, degradation, knife play, gun kink, somnophilia, all that jazz) i'd say Wanda would have a daddy/mommy kink somewhere inside her (no pun intended), in addition to a little exhibitionism and, at some point, maybe a voyeurism? R likes to hit and see tears, but as was already kind of implied in Tear You Apart, she has a soft spot for Wanda looking innocent and corruptible. perhaps something involving breeding and mutual possessiveness is also under consideration. these two are absolutely crazy for each other.
thanks for the questions, anon! they certainly brightened up my day omg i'm so obsessed with this AU…
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Can't wait for OPM God to play mindgames with Saitama just like he fucked up Psykos' head.
Cuz you know, they both have third eye and in this, they are similar, but Psykos got so mentally messed up by OPM God that she became schizophrenic just from thinking about the potential future as being something that is more real than the present.
It's all about the grand vision at the end and infj if messed up badly, can go into "the end justifies the means"-mentality and stop considering their empathic functions. All the master planning and playing the chess master and invisible hand behind the scenes, only to see those plans foiled and fall down like deck of cards due to some small, unforeseen detail.
We'll probably need Psykos actually alive and willing and able to help, unless Saitama too is to fall prey to that same machination.
And when we're talking about "redemption arc" to schizophrenic psychopath who did horrible deeds...well, saving a fellow third eye user from succumbing to same ploys, possibly denying that horrible future that she saw in the first place and indirectly saving the world from catastrophe, that would be a starting point in taking responsibility, imo.
If she actually could make use of her third eye, perhaps Psykos could actually save just as many lives as has she killed. Nay, hundred times more.
If she truly and sincerely regrets all the pain and suffering she has caused...like Fubuki alludes to her changing drastically after God spoke through her...she could still benefit the world as the successor to Shibabawa like she originally wanted.
Nothing absolves Psykos of her crimes, but I have an inkling that letting Psykos live, if her mind gets healed, might be a worse punishment than just outright killing her because she's too dangerous to just let roam free in her current state. Extenuating circumstances will have to be considered in her treatment.
And if we're being really pragmatic...can't lose those battle assets can we? Enemy of my enemy is my friend. Psykos abilities might prove invaluable in countering OPM God's mastery in moving chess pieces around and leveling the playing field. Else he can move pawns around the board for free and promote them to queens with little issues.
Or, perform a queen's gambit: sacrifice one pawn to checkmate the king.
The Queen's Gambit is the chess opening that starts with the moves:[1] 1. d4d5 2. c4
It is one of the oldest openings and is still commonly played today. It is traditionally described as a gambit because White appears to sacrifice the c-pawn; however, this could be considered a misnomer as Black cannot retain the pawn without incurring a disadvantage
In short, imo, Psykos needs a psych ward, not white room torture chamber and craniotomy.
However...maybe I'm just being too kind. She was about to commit genocide after all and did other inhumane crimes. And I can't imagine having the guts to squeeze out live-saving information in interrogation torture ala Tatsumaki. She's quite the soldier.
HA is still doing pointlessly cruel treatment and violating Geneva conventions in how to treat prisoners of war, in any case.
ONE really likes to trip people with humanitarian issues too huh? Asking all the difficult questions.
But this is just the beginning innit? We're gonna dive deeper into the rabbit hole.
#opm#one punch man#psykos#opm meta#fubuki#saitama#mental health#opm manga panels#mindgames#geneva convention#prisoner of war#redemption#opm schizophrenia#unreality
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This is a bad post lmao you can advocate for ppl not going to psych wards (which I agree are prisons) and for functional solutions to these issues without acting like it's okay that you cope by cutting yourself because it's uhhhh not.
You can advocate for suicide prevention that doesn't criminalize suicidality but still, uh, yknow.......prevents it.
The solution to "well things are bad currently and we get sent to prison for being mentally ill" is not "by the idea of bodily autonomy I should be allowed to cut myself," it's "I should be provided a society that allows me to cope with my issues without needing to turn to severe options such as self-harm—I deserve a society that will respond appropriately when I am a danger to myself and support and nurture me rather than lock me up"
Like....come on. This is just straight up a toxic way to discuss these issues lmao
#tomi talks#tw self harm#tw suicide#like this is just. a bad take lol.#especially because your bodily autonomy relates to the idea that like. what you do does not harm others around you#and newsflash: suicide does that
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Looking for an Happy x OFC fic
The ofc has (I think) a form of high functioning adhd and works as a nurse at the prison the boys are incarcerated in. Happy starts working as a cleaner in the "hospital" and they get locked in there together during a lock down.
Later she starts working as a personal nurse for haps mom.
She comes with him to laylas wedding.
Tig calls her "Blue" (cause of her eyes).
Later she gets put in the psych ward (intrigue by her family) and hap and she marry to get her out.
It was unfinished when I last read it on Ff.net (I think)
Does anyone know it? Or know what happened to it? I searched far and wide through my faves and follows om FF.net but couldn't find it.
Thanks for any help!
Tagging a few SOA blogs I know. Sorry if you did not want that. Let me know and I'll remove you
@menofmayhemsoa-blog @soaimagines @soahappylowman @happysoldlady
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he’s so all or nothing, black and white, there is no slightness to his feelings. his emotions are 100% or 0, it’s maddening. and i KNOW he is capable of better it’s just hard right now. his family have no fucking clue how bad he truly is and it’s like they want him to get worse again, even if they think they’re trying to help they have NO CLUE what he needs. what he DOESNT need to to move out of his house, into his uncles old trailer where he shot and killed himself, ALONE with no drivers license or car, no job and zero ability to do basic housekeeping things like grocery shop efficiently/frugally. ALONE. like what the fuck do you guys understand what happened last time he was left alone? bro he might be going to PRISON for what he did for fucks sake, he is SICK. and they don’t want to admit how severe his disorder is despite it changing their whole fucking lives. getting a fucking job won’t fix him, maybe it’ll distract him but he is still walking a thin line of a tightrope on the road to stability. he is not nearly there yet.
and don’t fucking call me ableist is or whatever the fuck by the way like that one anon i never posted. you can go jump off a fucking bridge you have NO IDEA the complexity of the situation. i don’t give a shit if you have a family member with bipolar, there is a world of difference between everyone’s illness and even just between BP1 & BP2. rapid cycling (even ULTRA rapid cycling) and extreme mood swings are in fact part of the disorder, on top of whatever other personality disorder he definitely has. it’s not just when he acts a way i don’t like he’s suddenly manic, you have NO FUCKING CLUE anything of this situation besides the brief vent posts i occasionally post. it’s one thing trying to help and a whole other thing calling me fucking ableist for recognizing symptoms of severe disorder in a loved one. he has been to 4 different psych wards THIS YEAR ALONE. don’t you try to act like you know shit, and i wasn’t even the one that brought autism up it was his mother before i even met him. but as someone with MULTIPLE family members who have been diagnosed with autism, from “”high functioning”” (outdated term i know) to literally disabled and unable to function, i know what the fuck it looks like.
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It is 2019, my mother, aged 56, sits in a flat she never leaves in a town we never chose to live in having been moved there by the police to escape a violent ex of my mother’s. This ex was housed half a mile away from us after being released from prison for repeatedly assaulting my mum and pulling a knife on the arresting officer. My mum was released from a psych ward with him despite the fact they both had a history of domestic violence. In this case, he, the abuser and she the victim. We had a panic button installed in our flat for a few months, my mum drinking heavily, reliving the same trauma we went through when I was born and had to outrun my violent father some 7 years previous.
Back then we ended up in a women’s refuge in South London, I was 2 years old and count our escape as my earliest memory, up front in a transit van with a Hells Angel called Chub who had turned on my father to help us get out. My father had done time for his part in a gangland shooting and was, by all accounts, a violent and cowardly man. He had come by the hospital after I was born and tried to take me but the midwives managed to change the name on my wristband to hide me amongst the other new-borns.
My mum and her brother had been born 13 months apart and, along with their older sister, had grown up in the army travelling from place to place with my grandma and grandad. My grandma was of Romani stock, selling heather from door to door with her grandmother when she was a kid and was a strong and stoic woman. My grandad died of a heart attack aged 49 whilst working shifts at the local Nestle factory, plummeting the family into more poverty and grief. He had been an alcoholic gambler and left the family with not a penny to their name. All 3 kids suffered sexual abuse at the hands of more than one culprit. They ended up on a council estate on the greenbelt just south of Croydon. I lived on the same estate for a while, riding the neighbours Great Dane, pretending to have pierced my ear with a metal hoop clasped around my earlobe so I fit in with the local kids.
My uncle was, in hindsight, on the autistic spectrum. He had been a chronic yet functioning alcoholic since his teens, working as a groundsman at a local private school, setting alarm clocks to wake him for a bottle of wine every hour, stashing vodka in the hedges on his way to work and then finishing in the local pub for 15 pints of Guinness and a shot from every optic. He was a chronic self-harmer but luckily ended up going to rehab for a year in 1999 before completing an access course at college. He was offered a scholarship at Oxford University after a tutor at college recommended he apply. The pride we felt when his success story made The Times newspaper. He’d turned it around in a big way and against the odds.
As soon as he got his degree he came straight to our aid. I was 13 at the time, suffering for the weight of the responsibility of my mother’s care, missing school to stay home and look after her and generally misbehaving the way any child would, given the start I’d had in life. My uncle was my hero, introducing me to literature and music and taking me to gigs on a regular basis. For 9 years we got by a little better, a positive male role model in my life for the first time. My mother’s health deteriorated rapidly both physically and mentally, but I was able to flee the nest without worrying she’d be alone.
I left home aged 18, travelling to Brighton to stay on a mate’s floor. I’d recently been arrested for bottling a dealer at a party in Manchester. The local police had cautioned me because of my evident remorse, and, in hindsight, the colour of my skin. A lucky break. This was enough to push me to get out of the north a while. I stayed in Brighton for a year, did a few months in Edinburgh with a girl I’d met before we broke up and I jibbed off to London to squat with 200 others in a block of 94 flats near Limehouse. (A part of my life best left for another piece of writing). I travelled a bit further after escaping London under much the same cloud as had made me leave the north, staying in a commune in the south of Spain, squatting in Basque country and generally drinking, stealing and fighting my way around Europe via free trains, hitchhiking and busking. I returned from one trip just after my 22nd birthday. A few weeks later my uncle was found dead on the sofa aged 47 by my mother, our whole world was torn apart.
In a cruel twist of fate his death came at the same time as massive cuts were delivered to our local mental health services. Not only had we lost our rock, but all professional support was withdrawn, including my mothers CPN whom she had been working with for over 10 years. I was 22 at the time and already 8 years into a life of petty crime, violence, undiagnosed mental health problems and alcoholism. In the aftermath of this shock I tried to take my life 3 times but failed. I was repeatedly denied any form of psychiatric help. I drank and tried hard to balance caring for mother with dealing with my own grief. I met my ex who had an 18-month-old daughter and moved in with her whilst my mum was moved into a small flat after deciding she couldn’t stay in the house she’d found her brother dead in. There were times my mum accused me of killing him, times when she seemed to be having an exorcism, cowering in the corner screaming for hours, not knowing who I was. It was fucking horrible for us both.
As I write this my mum is most likely sleeping, forever coshed by a heady mixture of prescribed drugs that have the fleeting medical professionals on emergency hospital visits visibly shocked, unable to fathom why and or how on earth she has been over-prescribed so much medication at such an alarming rate. She has been prescribed so much morphine her bowel has paralyzed, which means she often runs the risk of vomiting her own faeces, yet the NHS refuses to provide her colonic irrigation and she can’t afford nor physically make it to private clinicians. This coupled with a constant stream of sedatives including Valium prescribed to her daily for over 15 years means she is disabled by the medication alone, any medical professional will tell you that this is a dangerous mix, not to mention the mass load of anti-psychotics that keep her from feeling anything but absolute disorientation and confusion. At present she takes over 100 pills a week. My mother has been a victim to a failed system all her life. Enforced ECT aged 15 to treat her grieving for her father, a life of violence, domestic abuse, poverty, illness and addiction that I in turn inherited.
With her care package cut from 66 hours a week to just 0, we are in the shit. A no DSS policy means we cannot move to be closer to her nor can we move her to be closer to us. The family unit broken down, services cut, we are on our own fighting a battle that we know will only be over for us if by some miracle I make enough money to put her into private healthcare, or if we somehow meet a generously rich benefactor who cares enough to offer some financial support. With the conservatives in power I hold little hope that the services and support we so desperately need will return any time soon, much less that they will return with progressive treatments at the forefront of their initiatives instead of yet more medication.
Just like my mother and uncle before me I am a recovering alcoholic diagnosed with a plethora of enduring mental health problems. My experience with my mum has led me to eschew all medication in my battle, a tough call but one I am prepared to attempt in the name of avoiding a pharmaceutical addiction that I stand less chance of receiving support for than my alcohol and drug addictions. Just 3 weeks ago I was convinced that taking my own life was the only way out of this situation, I wrote my note but luckily found enough strength to share my feelings with my partner who pushed me to ring for help. My partner has been the only person to help us out. Juggling my ongoing problems with those of my mother. She is our lifeline and I worry for her own mental health and the effects such massive responsibilities will undoubtedly have on her.
I am lucky in that I am a highly creative individual. I was actively excluded from learning any instruments at school and have never been able to get on with the education system enough to make it through college or university, but I continue to make music and art as part of a loose collective of artists and have found moderate success in acting, writing and documenting my experiences through creativity. Without these vessels of communication, I fear I would crumble under the weight of it all. I am engaged in alcohol services after experiencing seizures due to my dependant drinking and am currently 21 months sober. I also await further therapy on the NHS, but with waiting times of up to 2 years I have had to forge my own path of self help which includes, amongst other things, cold water immersion, art therapy and basking in the comfort of nature and wildlife.
My mother is awaiting a place at an over 55’s residential home. I wish more than anything I could provide a few more years of something resembling independence for her, but know deep down the best thing for her is 24-hour support in a place where she gets to see more than just mine and my partners faces. I continue to communicate our experiences with anyone who will listen and thank my lucky stars I was raised with love and books and am able to sit here and voice these things rather than join the mass of people suffering in silence at the hands of a system not fit for human purpose. People are dying on our streets, the social cleansing of the most vulnerable people in our society continues and all to prop up the lifestyles of an inherently psychopathic elite who continue to grow richer with blood on their hands. I thank my friends, my partner, her family and my mother and uncle and their mother before them. They all show me love and that, I am convinced, is what has kept me alive and out of prison to this day.
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Weighing the pros and cons of continuing to be a high-functioning member of society vs. murdering the first person I see and spending the rest of my life in prison/the psych ward:
#psycho#psychopath#psychopaths#sociopath#sociopaths#secondary psychopath#aspd#apd#high-functioning#crazy#dark#cluster b#problems#creepy#freaky#I dont like prison#or the psych ward#it smells like pee
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Do you have a few quick tips for writing Arkham intern Harlem Quinzel realistically, for fic writers?
I'm only marginally familiar with the Batman world (mostly I've just watched the Harley Quinn cartoon and I've seen the dark knight lol). I also don't have experience in a forensic setting or high security hospital- I currently work in an inpatient setting, but it's a minimum security combo geriatric/adult unit. They don't allow patients at risk of violence on my unit at all, so I suspect my experiences would be wildly different from a maximum security unit like Arkham is supposed to be.
From what I know of Arkham as it's set up in the Batman world, it seems to be some bizarre combination of psychiatric unit and prison. I don't think anyone has really figured out which- obviously they call it "Arkham Asylum", but I can't imagine any modern psych unit looks at all like Arkham.
The biggest difference between Arkham and the real world is that, on a real psychiatric ward, you are not held there indefinitely. Insurance doesn't pay for it, for one thing, and they don't want to keep beds full that long- psych wards are giant revolving doors and there's never enough beds. Longest I've ever seen a patient stay was about two months, and even that was only because the social workers were fighting to get him into an assisted living community for discharge. So even though you do surrender your right to decide when you get to leave when you're admitted to a psych unit, you will eventually be discharged. If you're not safe to live in the community, you will probably get discharged to some kind of long term care facility- it won't be a hospital. Those kinds of "asylums" shut down in the '80s during the deinstitutionalization process that happened during the Reagan administration.
So Arkham seems, to me at least, to function more like a prison in that regard. So I guess that might be how I'd rebrand it in a fic, if you're going for realism and a modern day setting- it's a prison with a forensic psychiatry/psychology team. Those do exist in the real world. But it's not a place I'd ever want to work in- I have a hard enough time with the hospital tbh.
You could make it a true asylum if you set your story back in the mid 20th century- but I also couldn't tell you what it was like being an intern back than on those types of units either. They don't exist anymore.
What I will say about being a present day intern on a modern psych unit is this- the nurses run the show. they see everything and have the most direct contact with patients. don't tell the psychiatrists this, they think they're the ones running things, but they meet with patients for like ten minutes a day, and maybe briefly during morning rounds. they don't know what actually goes on. interns like myself don't have much power at all- we'll run therapy groups, if you're lucky you'll be on a unit that allows for individual cases. it's short-term work since patients rarely stay more than two weeks. that's usually even shorter for a depression/BPD case, longer for severe psychosis that might take a while for the meds to kick in. speaking of, medication is the most important thing on a unit- it's all about stabilizing patents on the right dose of meds so they can get the hell out of there. the therapy is a sidenote, the psychiatrists are less concerned with it. there will be social workers and maybe an OT staff facilitating post-discharge care and some other groups while on the unit. social workers do all the work getting referrals to outside therapy if the patients don't have that already. again, the goal is for them to leave ASAP so they can fill your bed with someone else.
as an intern, especially if you're a therapist, you're gonna struggle working within this rigid, hierarchical system that looks more and more antiquated every year. our job is to empathize with our patients, to support them. we're trained (hopefully) to see people as whole people, not a list of symptoms for a medication regimen. (there are good psychiatrists out there though that will be really kind and helpful, but in my experience, the therapists are often invaluable for reminding the medical doctors that hey, sometimes it's trauma and not psychosis). you're gonna walk a thin line between commiserating with patients about how awful the hospital is and being part of a treatment team that is supposed to think the hospital is a good thing. I'm very bad at walking this line.
Ultimately it's nothing like Arkham. most patients are super chill honestly, and a lot are already familiar with the mental health care system. running groups is pretty easy because you'll usually have at least one or two people who are actually engaged. I frequently hear that patients like the interns/therapy staff because we're not doctors, we don't make decisions about their care outside of what skill we're gonna teach in group, and we do tend to align with them and listen. I've never felt particularly nervous or uncomfortable around patients- except one, who did get aggressive with me.
in the event that a patient does get agitated or aggressive, standard "restraint" if they cannot be otherwise calmed or redirected is an injection of haldol and ativan. they should ask your consent first, but a no can be overruled if they decide it's necessary. manual restraints are rare, but they do happen, typically only to get the drugs in you. this probably happens more often on a higher security unit than mine. it's not a pretty thing to watch. security gets called, it's a whole ordeal and probably does more harm than good for the patient. we know this. we have no better alternatives, aggression can't be tolerated for the safety of other patients/staff. it's a lose-lose situation.
you have no freedom on these units. no access to your phone, no computers, no internet. you don't decide when you go home. the rooms are like sterile dorms, nothing but a bed, a table, some shelves. you can bring in books and paper to color with, but you're only getting crayons. sorry if you wanted a pen or pencil, those are considered sharps, can't have them. you get visitors during specified visiting hours, no other time. meals are regulated, meds are distributed when they're distributed. you'll go to the groups because you're bored. there is nothing to do. if you're lucky you'll be admitted with some other nice patients and you might make a friend. I've seen this happen, patients will form little friend groups and promise to keep in touch after discharge. I never know if they do or not, but I hope so, because it's one of the most positive things I see happen there.
it's a very mixed bag. my unit is considered one of the "better" ones in new york city, and it's...........it's deeply flawed. but this is what it's been like, from what I've observed over the past nine months working there. so that's the reality of a modern day, minimum security psych unit. I hope some of this is helpful.
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Fortnight
I'm not sure what all of this means but I noticed some things…
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way".
Fortnight "Move to Florida, buy the car you want but it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me." TS has said in interview that moving to Florida in this album is a reference to people running away from their mistakes and starting fresh. / Getaway Car "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" / A Tale of Two Cities "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"
Fortnight "I was supposed to be sent away" to be sent away is to be committed to the psych ward, or sent to jail. From the music video scenes it's a psych ward reference here. / A tale of two cities tells the story of a person released from prison who has mental health issues due to being tortured during the prison stay, he's taken by his family from Paris to London (the two cities.)
Fortnight "All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason. And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?" / Closure "It wasn't right the way it all went down looks like you know that now. Yes, I got your letter, Yes, I'm doing better. I don't need your closure"
Fortnight "Your wife waters flowers, I want to kill her." / Clean "The drought was the very worst. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst"
Fortnight "I was a functioning alcoholic" / Closure "I'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles" / Clean "Ten months sober"
Invisible String "one single thread of gold tied me to you" / Book 2 of A Tale of Two Cities is titled "The Golden Thread"
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Hi so I saw your post talking about anti-psychiatry, it's ableist roots and how we should reasrch them. This is news to me and I was just wondering if you have any pointers where we should start? Totally okay if not, I'm sorry if I bugged you it's not your responsibility to educate me.
i have a very new tag for it here (link) containing an answered ask here (link) that will hopefully serve as a decent jumping-off point—make sure to read the “bad anti-psychiatry” collumn closely because there are an unfortunately high number of terfs who consider themselves ‘anti-psychiatry’ but their anti-psychiatry arguments tend to fall into the “bad anti-psychiatry” category.
i do also want to preface your self-education journey by recommending a book called crazy like us: the globalization of the american psyche by ethan watters; i’m presently working my way through the audiobook (i frequently find that i need to take breaks from it because i’m someone who is very easily triggered by mentions or discussions of medical abuse or topics which bring thoughts about those things to mind) and it covers the damage westernization has done to the treatment of neurodivergence around the world as the result of colonialism and imperialism. if you get the chance to read it, even just some chapter titles that strike you as interesting or important, it should lend you some useful information and perspectives.
i’ve said this before a few times but i’ll say it again here: i am anti-psychiatry for many of the same reasons i am a prison abolitionist and believe that abolition will do more good than reform ever could. reforming a broken system does little to help the people being harmed the most by it. the psychiatric system prioritizes functionality (for the sake of coercing people into a socially acceptable, labor-capable state of being) over a person’s general wellness.
every single time i have been involuntarily committed to a psych ward, it has traumatized me and i am probably going to be living with ptsd for the rest of my life, all because a handful of different psychiatrists thought my refusal to take medications needed correcting. they didn’t care that those medications made me physically ill all the time, they only cared about controlling me in a patronistic (read: condescending) manner. all my life, psychiatrists (and most of my therapists) have pathologized my queerness, tried to make me ashamed of my autism, tried to convince me that living as an unmedicated psychotic person would kill me, and undermined my overall happiness by forcing medications, therapies, and other treatments onto me, none of which have made me feel as healthy or happy as being voluntarily unmedicated has. and my story is not unique in the slightest; i have met dozens of other autistic and psychotic people who have had similar experiences and are now living with the effects of trauma because of the psychiatric system.
in my opinion, it also doesn’t matter that newer students of psychiatry are being taught marginally different things than older generations were. there are still centuries of ableist stigma (against psychotic people in particular) that have yet to be addressed. at this point, reforming the system is too little too late. abolition can and will save lives, and that’s why i’m anti-psychiatry.
#thanks for your patience#i was at work all day#and also wanted to make sure i answered this thoroughly#antipsychiatry#anti-psychiatry#anons#psychosis tag#psych abolition
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The latest in a line of therapeutic robotic assistants, here is the latest in her lineage, in the circuits and metal herself: MY-3, the Former Ultimate Robot!
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BACKSTORY AND TALENT
MY-3 (nicknamed “Mythie”, and eventually “Myth) was the third and most recent creation created by a pair of robotic engineering geniuses. MY-3 was created to become a therapeutic robot, with her adorable appearance, personality, and voice, that makes her a massive success with both children, and even many adults, who find MY-3’s various adorable qualities to be calming and soothing. Many functions, such as a built-in oven, and a built-in musical speaker and TV, can offer different coping mechanisms, for all sorts of patients. All of those qualities resulted in a massive recovery success rate at the mental treatment facility that she currently works at, when not attending Hope’s Peak and learning more about humans and their behaviors. There otherwise isn’t that much backstory on MY-3, for she was only created about 3 or 4 years ago. Myth is currently working in Ward #137, helping Anons recover mentally from anxiety attacks and/or assorted mental trauma, and this story would center on Myth helping these Anons through their mental pain and trauma.
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RELATIONSHIPS
Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Entomologist
Wyre’s parents and Myth’s parents have been scientific business partners for a long time, and regularly collaborate on many projects together, namely studying bugs, in order to figure out how their robotic bugs are supposed to move. Despite Wyre’s rough demeanor and equally as dirty and gritty talent, Myth can’t deny that Wyre was only the bestest friend that she could ever ask for. As long as Wyre’s insects didn’t make their way into her circuits, Myth always found the various insects Wyre brings over to her fascinating. But for now, many of the now-fragile patients would rather not witness their much-cherished insect companions, much to the entomologist’s anger and dismay.
Outfit: A tan safari outfit with a red tie and an off-white pith helmet, off-white socks and brown shoes, regularly carries a butterfly net, the glasses from their original design.
Anon Scar, Ultimate Aikido Master
Growing up with severe emotional and self-esteem issues, Scar’s parents sent her off to a temple and had an old master teach her all about using aikido (or the Art of the Demons, as the old master called it) to maintain emotional control. Scar’s skill in aikido gave her both something to be proud of and something to control her overflowing emotions. Unfortunately, her old master eventually passed away, and she more-or-less regressed into her old pre-aikido behavior. MY-3‘s tranquil presence and reassuring words regularly calmed the aikido master down, during her emotional highs, and allowed her true maternal side to show, especially when it came to teaching younger Anons about aikido.
Outfit: Hair in a ponytail held by a purple bow, a black coat slung over her shoulders like a cape over a white robe with purple hakama pants, bandaged arms, white ankle socks.
Fusion Anon, Ultimate Pianist
Revered by many classical music enthusiasts for being a piano-playing prodigy ever since he was a little boy, no one can deny that Fusion is both passionate in playing the piano and composing his own piano music. Unfortunately, the stress that came from being a musical wunderkind and his strict and overbearing parents repeatedly entering him in contests and forcing him to practice endlessly, in order to win prize money, caused Fusion to suffer a mental breakdown on stage, and, in humiliation and shame, ran away to never play on stage again. Fusion loves to teach those willing to learn about music, but Myth couldn’t help but detect pain hidden by that cheery and food-stuffed grin.
Outfit: A blue jacket with golden music note shaped buttons and black and white stripes on the sleeves, over a red hoodie, black and white fingerless gloves, yellow and blue headphones around his neck, glasses, pants, and shoes from his original design.
Fusion II, Ultimate Detective
Born to a police commissioner father and a criminal prosecutor mother, Fusion II always wanted to pursue a career in justice, and managed to get her wish, when she became a prodigy detective in her preteen years. Unfortunately, in her first major murder case (which she managed to solve in under a day), when she managed to expose the culprit, the insane and enraged culprit pulled out a knife and gouged one of Fusion II’s eyes out, which gave her severe trauma, and encouraged her to never pursue another murder case again. While Fusion II‘s knowledge on memes helps educate MY-3 on human internet culture, it’s clear to MY-3 that her sarcasm and meme references are hiding some severe past pain.
Outfit: A black and blue fedora, a black eyepatch that hides her gouged-out eye, a blue trench coat over a white button up shirt and a red necktie, black gloves, a black and blue skirt, long white socks and black heeled boots.
Just Anon, Ultimate Tennis Pro
Similar to Fusion, Janon is a prodigy that is well-renowned by both his adoring fans from his highly-prestigious private boarding school and tennis enthusiasts everywhere. Being raised to uphold his family’s legacy, ever since he was a toddler, Janon wants nothing more than to leave his family and actually get a chance to relax between etiquette lessons and constant tennis matches that come with autograph sessions. Janon’s cramped schedules eventually lead to burn-out and mental roadblock, earning him a spot in the ward. MY-3‘s overly affectionate attitude definitely rubbed the athlete the wrong way, and would much rather either take a long nap or dote on the Jr. Ultimates.
Outfit: The bunny hoodie and mask from his original design over a pink and blue tennis uniform.
Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Supreme Leader
With a love for the histrionics and a 30-person group at her fingertips, Sparkle doesn’t seem to like divulging into the specifics of her talent, for all she was willing to reveal about her organisation was that it, “SEEKS TO MAKE SHINING DIAMONDS OUT OF INSIGNIFICANT LUMPS OF COAL“. Ever since this theatrical self-proclaimed dictator arrived at the ward, she’s been trying to get people to join her group. Not even MY-3 seems to know what Sparkle is even doing at this ward, for she wasn’t scheduled for this (or any, for that matter) wards at the psychological ward. But that doesn’t mean MY-3 wouldn’t try to crack the rhinestone-covered enigma that is Supreme Leader Sparkle.
Outfit: A pink sparkly captain’s cap, hair in a sideplait, a blue suit and matching pants, a rainbow colored necktie, the cape and boots from her original design, always carries her sceptre.
Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Cosplayer/Assassin, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Magician
The genius combination of the twin’s talents, with Wet Sock‘s brilliant magic shows and Egg’s ability to disguise themselves and blend in with the crowd, allows Egg’s true talent to shine and Egg to shank their targets from the shadows. They also regularly pull the classic “twin switch” in both their operations and their prison escapes, and nobody could even tell the difference. It’s very clear that their parentless and tragic lives on the streets took a toll on their psyche, and once the cops found the twins, they hauled them over to the ward and left them in the care of the therapists and MY-3. Egg and Wet Sock always love to mess with MY-3 and her functions, but they’re secretly thankful for her help.
Both Outfits: Standard stage magician tuxedo, cape, and hat.
Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Inventor
Born and raised in a war-torn territory and underneath a cruel and exploitative government, upon finding out their gift in mechanics and coming up with plans, Curious was raised to be both an inventor and a test subject for said inventions, and Curious, being the passive soul that they are, never stood up against the cruel government that they lived under, even after the constant experiments gave them both physical and mental scars. Eventually, after the war ceased, somebody found Curious, and hauled them off to the psych ward. Curious’s kind and passive nature made them really great friend with the equally kind robot, but MY-3 knew that no one can handle what was thrown at the inventor, without consequences.
Outfit: Sickly green skin with stitches and scars all over their body and bolts in their neck, an off-white jumpsuit with black and yellow gloves, and matching boots and goggles, long messy hair.
Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Butler
In order to step above all of the other more desirable kids residing in the orphanage alongside him, young Nerd quickly practiced crafts of cleanliness and order (namely cooking and cleaning living spaces). Eventually, those skills managed to get him picked up by a family that only uses him as a personal butler (and occasional bodyguard, why else would a butler carry around a volatile scouter, and a temper twice as large?), and never as their actual child. Eventually, after shouldering their abuse into his adult years, Nerd snapped and set fire to the mansion with his scouter, earning him a spot in the ward’s roster. MY-3 considers Nerd to be one of the tougher cookies to crack, due to his temper.
Outfit: Literally the exact same outfit but with gloves and longer coattails.
Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Artist
Desperately yearning for the “sheep” of the world to ”wake up”, Eldritch channels his pessimistic and paranoid mindset into traditional art (never digital, he doesn’t want to contribute to the robot uprising), and wants everyone who views his artwork (detailing apocalyptic settings and themes of distrust, misanthropy, and all the secretly-disgusting citizens of the world) to frown and spread scowls and distrust amongst the general population. Concerned about his paranoia, Eldritch’s parents sent him off to the ward, to many protests from the tiny artist. Eldritch hates MY-3‘s metallic guts, and always tries to destroy her, before she becomes the leader of the machine uprising.
Outfit: A paint splattered version of his hoodie over a black shirt with a creepy white face design on the front, brown overalls, and yellow and black rainboots.
Dream Anon, Ultimate Anthropologist
Expressing a love of humanity and the varied cultures of them, Dream travels all over the world with grit and determination to learn more about this particular interest of hers. Despite coming off to others as a ditzy jock, Dream is actually a respected figure in the field of anthropology and her anthropology journals are well-known by all in the field. Unfortunately, the reckless anthropologist stumbled into uncharted territory, one day, and got attacked by the territorial natives. It took her several days before her fellow explorers found her again, but the damage has already been done, both physically and mentally. Dream likes to claim she’s fine, but MY-3’s lie detector can see right through Dream.
Outfit: Hair that looks awkwardly lobbed off and scars all across her face and body, a pink cardigan over a tan button-up shirt, a dark brown skirt, black leggings, dark brown Uggs, the sidebag from her original design.
Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Adventurer
Not wanted to stay confided in a stuffy orphanage forever, Iris packed a simple backpack, and set off on a world tour, to see all of the fascinating and exotic things that the world has to offer. Despite being a preteen (and a really clumsy one, at that), the sheer reach that Iris had in her travels and her contagious optimism, she has garnered fame all over the world, and gave her the title of Ultimate Adventurer. Iris loves going to hospitals and psych wards and tell stories about her travels, and Ward #137 is definitely no exception. MY-3 loves learning about humans from around the world, but considering Iris’s past, MY-3 can’t help but feel like part of Iris’s optimism is all a facade.
Outfit: Hair cut to her shoulders, a brown leather parka with off-white fluff over a blue tanktop, bright pink pants and glow-in-the-dark sneakers, bandages all over her body, the glasses from her original design.
Purple Anon, Ultimate Astronaut
Raised by two influential pioneers of the scientific industry, Purple showed a promising career as an astronaut, for both her massive knowledge in astronomy and cosmology for someone of her age, and her oddly sturdy body that can take on the hideous vacuum of space, makes her the prime candidate for becoming astronaut. Unfortunately, despite aceing the astronaut exams, various technical difficulties with the spacecraft that she boarded ended up causing both the spacecraft and Purple’s hopes and dreams to crash and burn. Purple’s heavily scientific terms don’t detour the kindly robot from befriending the timid and solemn astronaut, or helping said astronaut to cope with depression and survivor’s guilt.
Outfit: Some hair held up in a small sidetail with a star hairclip, a black overcoat with white star-shaped buttons over a purple sweater, a black skirt with small white dots on them, grey stockings and black Mary Janes.
Getting things out of the way, this non-Kibo-Con AU is far more angsty and hurt-comfort, compared to the standard talentswap AU, for just about everybody has trauma of varying degrees.
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PERSONALITY
Despite her relatively seasoned (read: 4 years old) AI, MY-3 still shows a childlike fascination for humans and how different they are from her, and the eyes on her screen simply sparkle, when she learns more and more about the inner machinations of the very people that created her. Because she is supposed to be a therapeutic robot, MY-3 is determined to use whatever functions she can, to get her patients to open up to her, and finding the root of their problems. So far, MY-3’s therapy was shown to have positive results for just about every client that she interacted with, which proves that she has empathy and understanding of humans way beyond any other robot of her time period, including MY-1 and MY-2.
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APPEARANCE
MY-3 has a screen for a face that has different emoticons for different emotions, and a pink and white chassis. MY-3 has brown synthetic hairs dyed purple at the ends and an ahoge that functions much like a satellite dish. Instead of hands and arms, MY-3 has extendable arms with pink oven mitts on the end of them. As for clothes, MY-3 wears simple blue overalls and a bi pride bandana around her neck, with purple and blue rain boots on her feet.
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I’m sorry for all the trauma and angst I put on you, but I hope you like this AU! I’d love to hear what you think about this AU!
-Fusion Anon
#submission#anon#talentswap tuesday#art#not my art#fusion anon#fusion anon ii#purple anon#iris anon#just anon#sparkling anon#eldritch anon#curious anon#dream anon#wet sock anon#egg anon#anon nerd#anon scar#my evil twin#anon kg
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Imma get personal for a second.
Since it’s Mental Health Awareness month, I’m going to get real personal for a second. I’m putting it under the cut, because there are parts that get triggering.
For almost three years now, I’ve been getting a handle of having Bipolar 2. While Bipolar Awareness falls on March 30th because apparently Van Goh was diagnosed with it, there are different types of bipolar disorder. Sorry that this first half is more informative, but it is relevant, I promise.
From https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/bipolar-disorder/, you can read about bipolar disorder and its types. Bipolar 2, which I was diagnosed with, is defined by a pattern of depressive episodes and hypomanic episodes, but not the full-blown manic episodes that are typical of Bipolar I Disorder.
Since my teen years, I’ve had periods of depression and hypomania, though at the time no one thought anything of it. My family chalked it up to it “Moonie being Moonie”, that nothing was wrong. It wasn’t until I turned fifteen that the depressive episodes came in tandem with the suicidal ideations. Every day I was stuck in that depression, I told myself I was out of place; that I didn’t belong; that there was no point in me living; that everyone would be better off without my existence.
It wasn’t until I was nineteen that those thoughts became worse during the depressive episodes, especially when I was left alone. I’d stay in bed all the time. I even attempted to cut myself to feel something, but all I felt was fear at the knife I held in my hand. But hey, fear is a feeling, right?
I decided on the more painless method: overdosing on pain medication. Stuff you can get over the counter. I tried three times during a period of depression and failed each time.
Several months after that was when I began seeing my therapist. With her, I was able to say things I couldn’t even tell my best friend (and my best friend knows I have things I have yet to share). We tried the natural way to see if it helped alleviate the depression symptoms (talking), but soon it was determined that I did need antidepressants. My therapist and I discussed at length how I was “high-functioning”--forcing myself out of bed to go to work because I had to.
During the hypomania when I lived at home, I was volatile. I wanted to live my life, to experience things. I felt smothered, suffocated, sheltered. I wanted to escape what I considered a prison. So in the winter of my 26th year on this planet, I moved out.
I think that’s when it became really apparent to me that something was wrong, even when I tried to downplay the severity. When I moved out, I was drinking heavily (something I usually never do because I HATED the taste of liquor) to the point of blacking out, I was hypersexual. I probably could have even done hard drugs if I hadn’t seen what it did to people my father knew. I’ve made out with a girl (with her boyfriend’s permission no less) that probably would have escalated further had my roommate didn’t say that I was too drunk.
The breakdown in August three years ago is what pushed me to admit myself into the hospital.
I told my therapist on August 15th, 2019, that if I did not get help, I was not going to make it home that night. Having felt out of touch with my parents, who had believed that I had nothing to be depressed about (and we all know depression doesn’t give a shit), I didn’t feel safe to tell them what was happening. So my therapist met me at the nearest hospital with a psyche ward so I could admit myself, in tears and mumbling how I wanted to just die.
I spent seven days in that hospital. No one knew I was admitted except for my boyfriend, though he wasn’t sure which hospital I was in. Because of my falling off the grid that way, my family ended up filing a missing person report that one of the nurses at the hospital saw shared via my aunt’s facebook page (apparently they were mutuals). Obviously due to HIPPA, this nurse couldn’t tell my aunt that I was in her hospital and I was safe.
When the psychiatrist on call diagnosed me with bipolar 2 with borderline personality disorder, I was stopped cold. I knew I had issues stemming from childhood sexual abuse and then the subsequent seesawing between depression and mania, but bipolar 2? That crashed me back into orbit. Whatever I anticipated as a diagnosis, that definitely wasn’t it.
Three years since then and I moved back home after it became real to my parents that they could have been burying their daughter instead of my taking the initiative to hospitalize myself. And honestly, the first few months back home was the most difficult for me; while adjusting back to being home was easier, the “Moonie” people did know prior to then was now something of an illusion. Taking lithium and sertraline to keep myself stable, feeling as though others looked at and treated me differently...it feels incredibly isolating. Like now that there’s a name to what was wrong with me, it changed everyone’s perception of me.
Even now, it still feels isolating. It’s hard to talk about being bipolar when you don’t know many others with a similar disorder. When you still seesaw between depression and mania, though with less severity with the help of the pills, it’s hard to talk about it. Aside from my therapist, there’s a small number of people who have an idea of how bad it can get. The fear of relapsing is always present, fearing the possibility of the progress I’ve made being dismantled to the point where I end up hospitalized for a longer period.
Getting personal like this isn’t easy for me. But maybe if I am, others will feel more okay or comfortable to talk about their own mental illnesses. That it’s okay to talk about it instead of suffering in silence.
#moonie rambles#mental health awareness month#getting personal#tw: suicide mention#tw: abuse mention#added tags thanks to the askblog that reminded me#since I wrote this at 8am I derped on adding the tags in tags in the first place#I was vague on which triggers before the cut and that is on me#my apologies for those I may have triggered with my story
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