No restrictions or access barriers in my Healing Centre. If your inbuilt hormones aren’t doing the trick, in any way shape or form, then we can tailor a new set to your needs easily.
“I remember experiencing my first intrusive thoughts at the age of eight. I remember having to do certain things to ‘prevent’ bad things from happening to the people I Ioved. I remember the weight and confusion of these unwanted & scary thoughts, the heavy responsibility carried on the shoulders of child who hadn’t even reached double digits yet. No one told me that this was OCD.
I started experiencing symptoms of OCD as a young child, which became severe at eighteen. But I wasn’t clinically diagnosed until the age of twenty-one. I spent five years in a special kind of hell, experiencing all-consuming intrusive thoughts & false memories of a debilitating & taboo nature. Much of this time was spent trying to fight an incredibly complex, multi-dimensional and stigmatised disorder in secret, and without access to the necessary treatment.”
From @_amelia_alice_ 💜 #NoOneToldMe
I’ve been extremely physically sick the last couple weeks, and you definitely wouldn’t be able to tell by this picture. You may be wondering why I got dressed when I’m super sick, I have to say goodbye to someone who has literally changed my life.
As I’ve said before I have had my fair share of mental heath issues and have been in a residential setting to help me. Throughout my journey I have met some absolutely INCREDIBLE people.
Next week I am going home FOREVER!!!! I am super excited and with that excitement very sad because I have to say goodbye to some beautiful people.
It’s going to be a huge transition and I am so incredibly grateful I will have Tay to help get me through it. Just like every other moment. @taylorswift thanks for being there through the good, bad and ugly.
You’ve changed my life in so many ways and I hope someday I get to thank you in person.
I’m thankful for every day gifted to me that I still have this luxury. The gym has become the biggest stress relief for me over the past few weeks! I’m 231lbs standing at 5’6. I’m not giving up on my goals for a healthier me! I start my meal prepping and dieting on Monday! Anti inflammatory diet focusing a lot on multicolored veggies and antioxidants. I am determined to not let this diagnosis win. My children are my biggest motivators.
A/N: Oh man. This was an idea that just sort of came together like a sudden storm in my brain and I’ve been slowly working away at it for a few weeks now. It’s heavy, but I promise this is as heavy as it gets and that part 2 will be much lighter. This is not associated with Oblivion or Simplify (thank goodness.)
Warnings: language, drug use/abuse/ overdose
Word Count: 3,662
“Please, please…” the pleading was coming between ragged, labored breaths and rapid chest compressions as the police arrived, followed closely by EMTs. “Please, no...please, come on…”
“Alright, alright now, we’ll take over, you did good. You did great, come on now.”
“Step aside please. What do we got, Mike?”
The delirious individual was lead from the room into the hallway by a female officer who attempted to give comfort as she collected information.
“Opioid overdose, unresponsive when we got here, person who called said the victim lost consciousness while they were on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator,” Mike was ripping open a hermetically sealed plastic wrapped intranasal Narcan dispenser. “Caller was trying CPR, operator was giving instructions, had the phone on speaker.”
The second EMT busied himself with checking vitals, though there really weren’t any to check. “In the hall? That who called it in?”
Mike administered the first round of Narcan. “0.4 mg,” he checked his watch “1600 hours.” The two uniform clad men watched and waited for the dose to take effect. “Yeah, that’s who called.” Two minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, the two men focused intently on the pale, limp body sprawled on the plush carpet between them. “Grab me another dose, Tim.”
Tim found the front pouch of the trauma bag without needing to look, pulling another sealed applicator and opening it expertly before passing it to Mike’s outstretched hand.
“Come on, come on,” Mike muttered, as he administered the second dosage, precious seconds slipping away. “Starting chest compressions, grab the defibrillator and a resuscitation mask.” He stacked his hands and began steadily pumping, trying to force the heart to respond, intermittently checking his watch. Could do another dose, but…
But the truth was that Mike had seen his fair share of overdoses, especially in this neighborhood. He knew that naloxone was a wonder drug. Best invention in the modern world, he called it, because it made his job infinitely less heavy, exponentially more successful. But it couldn’t save everyone, and he knew that first hand. A cold tingle climbed his spine as Tim prepped the AED, too many of ‘em still end this way... The chest beneath his hands felt hollow and vacant, the bones so close to the skin. His mind flashed from the dark circles under the unseeing eyes of the victim, to the wild, terror filled pair he’d walked past in the hall. Too many of ‘em still leave people behind.
As the electric hum of the paddles brought that life-or-death static into the air, the heart inside that seemingly vacant chest decided to choose life. A twitch- one leg jerking out to the side, bare toes splayed- and then a body-wide shudder as a choked cough fell from blue lips. Mike’s fingers flew to the wrist closest to him, ignoring the several visible track marks in various shades and locations on the underside of the frail forearm that he held. Instead his fingers found the veins closest to the palm, and the static in the room dissipated as a slow, weak pulse knocked against the pads of his pointer and middle fingers. “Got a pulse, alright, let’s get moving.” The victory in those words would never get old for Mike. Too many of ‘em end like that...but not this one...not this time.
A stretcher was brought in, and within minutes Mike and Tim were bringing another life back from the brink and into the ambulance. Passing that same set of wild eyes in the hallway, Mike noticed that the terror had been slightly muted by relief, but a deep, shining sadness still prevailed and he knew; This wasn’t the first time those eyes have been in this situation…he hoped it would be the last.
For too many of ‘em… it’s not the last.
. . . . . . . . .
Searing brightness smacked you across the eyes as they blinked open. Brilliant, white hot light cut into your corneas and set your brain on fire. You groaned and clamped them shut again, shifting uncomfortably from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. Every bone in your body was screaming and your throat was sore and dry. Let’s try that again. Opening one eye at a time, you took a slow breath in through your nose and tried to take in your surroundings. White walls, cheap reproduction artwork, single window with cracked white blinds. Hospital. That was easy. Your eyes slipped closed again, lids filled with concrete, but you battled the weight and forced them open as much as you could. Through narrow slits you took in a set of fingers wrapped loosely around your hand, and long dark hair spread out against the thin sheets. You felt your heart lurch as your memory started to come back. Logan.
Waking up in the emergency room with Logan Delos wasn’t new, but this time it was different. This time there was something else hanging in the balance- something more than the cyclical routine you’d been trapped in together a few years back: First it was him, the two of you slumped against one another on a couch in a room at some estate belonging to some swanky, shallow prick, Logan’s head lolling back against the cushions and that raspy, unmistakable rattle coming from his throat. You’d only been about a half a second away from taking the hit that would have sent you to the same circle of hell he was in, but somehow you’d had the wherewithal to nudge him with your elbow. Getting no response, you’d pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed the only three numbers you could remember. Next, a few weeks after that, you’d ended up needing your stomach pumped after a miscalculation in the ratio of morphine to vodka had left you draped across the bathroom tiles in his guest house, knees bruised and bloodied from hitting the hard, marble floor. He’d followed you into the bathroom when several minutes had passed and he still hadn’t heard the water turn on for a shower- he’d just fucked you to the moon and through the stars and the post-sex protocol was a blow job in the massive walk in shower. When the paramedics got there, he was wrapped in a silky plum colored robe, staring at his feet, still strung out from the combo cocktail himself.
The last time you’d woken up under the halogens of the ER after a night with Logan, you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. The two of you’d been in the guest house again after a gala or charity event or ball or whatever excuse Jim Delos gave for flaunting his wealth and success. He’d announced some big deal that was sure to make him billions of dollars, to the applause and praise of all in attendance, aside from Logan. You knew that Logan had done a ton of work negotiating the deal that Jim was bragging about, and it sickened you to see the look of disappointment in Logan’s deep umber eyes as none of the credit was bestowed upon him.
“Fuck ‘em,” he said, taking a long gulp of the old fashioned that he held precariously between his thumb and middle finger, teeth knocking against the rim of the glass. “All these damn fools want to do is go ‘round and ‘round kissin' each other's asses.” He drained the glass and let the cherry fall into his mouth, chewing it aggressively before plucking the stem from his teeth. “I’d rather be kissin’ yours, sweetheart,” he growled low in your ear and you felt his teeth clamp down around your earring. Before you could protest or tell him that you knew how hard he’d worked- that you were proud of him and that he should be too- he’d wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pulled you down a flight of steps to the guest house, where he always had a stash of everything he would need to forget how he was feeling.
A few hours later, Juliet had wandered down and saw that the guest house lights were on, and she’d walked in to find the two of you splayed across the mattress- you on your side, naked limbs draped over Logan, and him flat on his back and starting to choke on his own vomit. You were so out of it you didn’t hear or notice that he was practically seizing on the bed next to you. Juliet had rushed over, propped her brother up on his side and called for help, shaking and screaming and crying. She’d come to you in the hospital later that day to tell you that Logan was alive and recovering, informing you that he was checking into a rehabilitation facility and that you shouldn’t try to contact him again. She told you that she didn’t want you getting in the way of his chance at survival; that you and your issues weren’t good for him to be around. You’d cried yourself back to sleep, glad that he was alright and that he was going to get clean, get help… glad that he’d get out of the cycle, out of the deep end and up to the surface. You were glad that he had Juliet, someone who would fight for him and help him- someone who cared enough and loved him enough. I wonder what that would be like, you remember thinking, drifting back into an intravenous coma under the bright lights.
That was nearly three years ago now, and you hadn’t seen Logan in person in all that time. You’d seen him on the news in press releases, saw his thousand watt smile grinning at you from the covers of magazines, and you were thrilled to see how happy and healthy and whole he looked. The hollowness you’d come to know in his eyes had started to become full again, and there was a little more weight on his frame, muscle noticeable beneath the tight cut of his jacket. Good for you, Logan, you thought, hugging your thin arms around your skeletal frame.
When you bumped into him two weeks ago at a charity event that your father and brother made you attend, you saw his transformation up close and in the flesh. He was delivering a speech, accepting a new position at Delos- Chairman of the Philanthropic Fund, in addition to the business duties he was already responsible for- Juliet and her new fiance standing behind him, his sister beaming with pride as he was met with the applause he had deserved for a long time. When his eyes scanned the crowd, you tried to dip behind the man in front of you, not wanting him to see you still in the same state you’d been in when you ended up in the emergency room; not wanting him to know that you were still drowning in the unrelenting rip tide of addiction, while he was clearly doing so well. “I don’t need you pulling him down to the bottom with you.” Juliet’s words had been sharpened with pain and fear, and you could still feel how they cut, but she was right- Logan didn’t need you to drag him back down into the cycle.
But you hadn’t taken cover quickly enough, and you saw him see you, eyes widening and mouth falling open, perfect smile faltering slightly as photos were taken and hands appeared in front of him for shaking. Once the obligations were fulfilled, he made it a point to find you in the ballroom, weaving in and around the crowd of gowns and suits until he was standing before you and your champagne glass. You held your breath as his eyes quietly raked over you, the fingers of his left hand rubbing against his thumb as his eyebrows came together and his lips parted, your name falling from them almost as a question.
“Hi, Logan. Congratulations on everything, your new position and-” each word hurt as you spoke to him, shifting your weight and shrugging the gauzy wrap you wore down into the crooks of your elbows.
“You’re here,” he cut you off, tone soft and surprised. He reached out for your wrist and you felt the shock in his touch as he took in your frailty; as he felt how breakable you were, how you were barely there at all.
“Yeah,” your vocal chords were suddenly rough, hardly able to produce any volume. “Yeah, I’m still around.”
You saw his adam’s apple move as he swallowed, and his mouth opened and closed, lips pressing together before he spoke again. “How are...are you doing okay? It’s been… I didn’t know if I should…”
“It’s fine, Logan, I’m…” you looked away, out into the sea of diamonds and designers, searching for the words. “I understand why you didn’t call or...or anything, I mean…” You looked back up at him and the concern in his eyes almost knocked the wind from your lungs. You’d never seen that look there before. “You had to do what you needed to do for yourself, Logan and...and you look great. I’m...I’m really happy for you. Happy to see you like this and...and happy that you finally got the credit and appreciation you deserve.” Tears had started forming in the corners of your eyes although you were numb to their sting.
His eyes followed the trail of the first tear as it slipped past your lid and rolled down your cheek. “No, I...I should have. I should have reached out to you… after I got out and…” he sighed. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. Juliet told me that she asked you to stay away. I-” he ran a hand through his hair, and you followed the motion, remembering how soft and silky his hair felt when it was clutched between your fingers. “I didn’t ask her to say those things, I...I didn’t want that. Didn’t want you out of my life, I just-”
“No, I know, Logan, it’s okay, I get it. And it’s good. It’s better. I’m glad I wasn’t there pulling you down, I...I’m…” you let out a shaky breath. “You know how I am…” you added quietly.
“I know you’re worth it, I know you’re...important...to me and... “
Before he could elaborate on what he knew and how he felt, a hand clapped him on the back demanding attention and face to face time with the man of the hour. He’d apologized to you, telling you that he wanted to see you, wanted to talk...wanted to help you. He’d given you a card with his number on it and told you to call him when you could...or if you needed anything. The hollowness was gone from the eyes you’d always love, but that sadness that was always there hadn’t gone away and you hated that he was feeling it from looking at you- from talking to you and seeing you and realizing that you were still all the way down.
He was pulled away by a grinning suit, and you stuck the number in your purse with no intention of using it. I won’t, Juliet, don’t worry. I won’t take him with me.
And you hadn’t used it, not until last night when you were certain that you were drowning once and for all, and you’d only wanted to say goodbye- only wanted to let him know that he was free of you once and for all and that he didn’t need to worry or think about you anymore...that he could enjoy his life free of anything that may have still tethered him to you and to the cycle. He’d gotten into his car before you’d even dropped the phone, the sound of it and then you hitting the floor were the last things he’d heard before peeling out of his driveway on his way to your father’s estate.
He’d found you. He’d called 9-1-1, and he’d pleaded with you to keep your eyes open and on him, your body becoming heavier and heavier in his arms until you felt yourself sink below the surface, good bye, Logan, the last thing you remember thinking before waking up with his arm hand covering yours, and his soft hair spilled across the scratchy, white hospital bed sheets that covered your torso and legs. You looked down to your other hand- I.V. needle sticking out from between the bones. They probably hadn’t bothered trying any of the veins in your arms; you knew they were collapsed and useless, just like me.
You felt him stir and lift his head as he tightened his hold on your hand, and as his eyes came up to level with yours, you saw that they were red rimmed and swollen. He was...crying? Why? For me? But… “Hey…” your raspy voice sounded so weak you weren’t entirely sure that it had come from you.
He sat up fully and cleared his throat. “Hey...hey, how are you doing? Fuck you really scared me...you...god...I thought you were…” his eyes shook and his voice broke a little.
“I’m...Logan...I’m,” each word was taking a heavy toll and you realized that you were still coming back to Earth, the fluids and medications in the bag hanging behind you combating the poison you’d pumped into your bloodstream less than ten hours ago. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say to him.
“You were...your lips were blue and you were choking and...god I’m so glad you called me I...I’m so glad I got to you in time…”
Usually waking up in this condition, Logan looked as rough as you did. To see him so well put together, dressed sharply and facial hair neatly trimmed, no bags beneath his eyes and a healthy hue to his skin… you’d never seen this Logan up close before and it both warmed and pierced your heart. He should be somewhere...anywhere else right now...he should be smiling, not here with me. “Logan, I’m so sorry, I...I didn’t want...I…” you felt your throat closing and he hushed you, bringing your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles quickly.
“Shh, we can talk later, okay? You need to rest and I need to go speak with some people about what comes next and-”
“What comes next?” you questioned, unsure of what he meant.
He stood and set your hand gently on the bed, gold rings on two of his fingers catching the light as he released your palm. “For you. I… I want to help you… I know how it feels, I know what it’s like and how… how hard it is to climb out. I don’t want you doing it alone… I want… can… will you let me help you? Please?”
Please. It was a word you’d never heard Logan Delos use, not with you, anyway. It was a small word, and it sounded smaller in the bright, white room. You just looked up at him, unable to form words. He wants to help me? But...why? Why does he care, he doesn’t need me, I’m…
“Look. Just… just think about it. Get some more rest and I’ll be back a little later.” He didn’t wait for you to answer, simply turning and leaving the room before you could say anything to stop him.
Staring at the space that he had been occupying, the imprint on the seat where he sat vigil by your side, you took a deep breath through your nose and closed your eyes letting sleep pull you back into its embrace. We’ll talk later… he’ll be back… he wants to help me… should I let him?
. . . . . . . . . . .
Logan left your room and dragged his hand down over his face, gripping his chin before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. The relief of seeing you awake was coursing through him like a flood, sweeping away the images from the previous night of your unresponsive body in his arms, your eyes vacant and chest still. He spoke briefly with a few doctors and nurses, requesting that a recovery and rehabilitation plan be set in place for you, and that all bills should come to him. It wasn’t a long conversation, but you still needed some time to rest and he knew that the doctors would want to check you over now that you were awake. He took a few long strides down the hallway to a private waiting room and pulled the door open letting himself in. Sinking into a stuffed armchair, he sighed heavily and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing the one nuymber he’d never have to use speed dial for.
It rang twice before a voice picked up on the other end. “Hey...Juliet? Can...can we talk?... I’m at the hospital and-” she frantically assumed the worst and started panicking. “Hey, no, Jules...I’m okay. I’m here because…” he sighed again, telling his sister about last night, about your phone call and the state he’d found you in. “Jules, I...I know what it was like for you now. I know what you must have felt and...and I wanted to say I’m sorry. And thank you… I love you, Jules.”
He didn’t realize that his eyes were wet until he hung up the phone with his sister and a nurse came to inform him that the doctor was through with his exam for now and that he could come back to your room if he wanted. He thanked her and followed her, suddenly feeling more tired, more concerned and afraid than he’d ever felt. He suddenly realized that he loved you and that he’d almost lost you too many times.
I won’t let her drown. I’ve seen the bottom, but I know my way up...and I’m taking her with me.
