#tw; bipolar

[symphonicsoul]

We're gunna talk about Mental Health right now and I'm going to get a little vulnerable but if helps someone, so be it. It's beneath a cut for screenshots of an app on my phone - so it doesn't get huge.

I know quite a few people on the dash who share in my life of living with either Bipolar 1 or 2. For context, I personally am Bipolar 2 - Rapid Cycling. This means I flip / bounce at least once a month. Sometimes more.

So to help my psych when they ask me how I've been doing I track my mood with an app called Daylio.

I'm not saying this is a be all end all. I'm saying this is what I do to help me and if it helps someone else, cool - then please let me give you the information you otherwise might not have had.

I struggle to remember things when I'm heavily stressed (like I am right now) so when I get asked how things have been having only the ability to see my psychiatrist once a month (I see psychology every other week but she doesn't control my medication.)

It's easier for me to show my psych a literal chart of my moods than it is to try to force myself to try to struggle to remember.

Dayilo looks like this:

and it can even show you up to three months at a time

logging a day looks like this

I also have apps for seizures, and my migraines but we're talking about this one right now. I only use the notes section for med changes / my monthly migraine shot / dr appts / significant things - but you can write as much as you want it and you can insert pictures if you'd like.

It'll give you a month summary when the month is up and it'll give you a full year summary when the year is over. I have it programmed to go off at 8 pm every day to remind me to log the day and I have consistently every day since 2018, so that's why the count is so high. It's changed the way I handle my moods and it also has shown me when I tend to drop in the month and helped me find a pattern in the mess that is my brain processing chemicals.

So if this helps you, please give it a try. The worse you can do is try it, not like it, and then delete it.

I have many things I live with beyond Bipolar 2 and I have spent many years scared that such things would run people away from me. I have high extreme lows and extreme highs. My highs can be manic bounciness or manic aggression and I tend to isolate when I know I'm aggression. I have hit psychosis in both mania and depression. I fight suicidal ideation. I have had to find people and things and hyperfixations to keep myself alive. I fight. Every day.

I'm not asking for your pity, nor do I want it. I'm just saying this so if someone else feels a little less alone out there, to know someone else is fighting too. I'm just saying this so if it can help, you have the information that might help you. I'm just saying this because I'm not ashamed of my fight. I struggle and I want to be open about that.

It's okay if you struggle too.

[alchemic-elric]

Yesterday was hell.  Today was worse.  One would think that getting bit in the shoulder would be the worse outcome of the two but most people also didn’t begin to understand the state of his mental instability.  He cracked today. Cracked wide open when he was cornered about his emotions.  He didn’t want to talk about anything but that wasn’t a suitable answer it seems. He gets it. It only made sense that his family wanted to talk about shit when he was forced to go to sleep in a bed that had pillows covered with his own blood, but even if that was the case he didn’t want to talk about it. 

He’d sat in his father’s bathroom last night, on the edge of the tub while the elder worked to disinfect and bandage his bleeding shoulder. He’d sat in that room for an hour while they sat and waited through the intense pressure that was being pushed against his back while they tried to slow the bleeding. Such wounds were delicate and such a place on his body - well it bled and it bled a lot. It bled quickly. 

He’d only returned to his room where his blankets were in a mess on the floor, and blood was staining one of his pillows. He just threw that one on the floor, while he moved the rest of  his blankets back up on to his bed with his automail and went to sleep. He’d tried to stay there for most of the day while his depression ate him alive from the inside out. After his family got him in a sufficient funk and he could ignore his emotions no longer, he disappeared out into town with his father. He wasn’t allowed to leave the house by himself either. So he ranted and raved the entire time while downing kebab stick after kebab stick. He tried to not keep them out long because he wasn’t honestly in the mood for company. 

He slept most of the day away. Made dinner like normal until doing so caused him to wince in pain in front of his brother and he was promptly told to ‘stop using his shoulder.’ and ‘you’re doing more damage than good.’.  Yesterday was hell. Today was worse. 

He’s snuck outside.  He just wants to watch the stars in peace.  He just wants to stare at the moon. No one else might have loved the moon but he certainly did.  It’s glow brought him comfort. The stars were his friends. The night air brought ease to his mind but still all he can bring himself to do is set at the side of the house in the backyard. He’s hiding. He doesn’t want anyone to see him as he sets with his knees pulled to his chest while he weeps out his frustrations on the far side of the house.  

They don’t understand. They don’t listen. They don’t know what he’s dealing with. They don’t know what he’s fighting. He’s fighting so much all at once and he doesn’t know how to explain it so they’ll hear him. He’s frustrated. He’s tired. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

The day of reckoning draws near and with it his time is RUNNING OUT.  

[kiraelric]

Panic Attack hour number 6 and counting....

[alchemic-elric]

Scare My Muse || Accepting

Anonymous asked:

Death is never happy being cheated, little moon. Whether it be via philosopher's stone or trading away bits of your own life; Death will always come to collect, and it will be particularly vicious to those who have escaped its grasp before.

He doesn’t understand why everyone is always talking about cheating death or escaping death to him. He doesn’t understand because it’s not like he’s ever died.  That would be impossible.  Dead people don’t come back to life. Not now; not ever.   If he’d DIED before then he wouldn’t be ALIVE. Someone would have had to bring him back with Human Transmutation and THAT is impossible too. 

But there’s something to consider when he thinks about it. Cheating? Oh yes. He’s cheated but he’s never died. He used his own life to cheat in Baschool. He escaped by the sound of a gunshot when Mustang saved him from Scar.  He narrowly slipped by when his brother rushed him to the Rockbell’s house to prevent him from bleeding out on their basement floor.  Oh yes. He’s CHEATED but other than that it’s just been close calls. 

He doesn’t know what happened in the forest. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know how he got the bullet out of his chest, he can only assume Grandma took it out,  but he wasn’t awake for the surgery so he can’t be for sure. It’s the only logical explanation though.  He can only remember waking up with his hand tightly clenched in his father’s. He can’t remember anything else. 

He can’t say what happened in the hospital if only because most of the time he was there, he slept. If he can only remember one thing from the hospital it was a single phrase.  

“New orders for you, Edward,  They come straight from me, no one else. You listening?  Don’t die.” 

And he obeyed.  He OBEYED dammit so WHY are these voices coming at him like he didn’t?!   

He’s under orders dammit. He’s under orders. He STILL under orders. His father has yet to release him from that command. He CAN’T die because he’s been ordered not to and he HASN’T.  

“Little Moon....”  

The voice creeps into his mind. It infects his person and all he can see are glowing white eyes staring back at him. Staring through him, into him.  He can’t escape them. They’re peering straight into his soul and he wants to run but those eyes have his feet anchored to the floor. His body starts shaking as heavy quick breaths are pulled into his lungs and then released just as fast; as frantic.  

                   “......Whether it be via philosopher's stone or trading away bits of your own life.”

How do they know? How do they know?  How do they know he’s burned his own soul?!  He’s never told anyone but Verna - no that’s not true but it took him forever to finally fess up to his father. How do they know?! It’s not common knowledge. It’s not public.   How do they know?! How do they KNOW?! 

He obeyed. He obeyed dammit. He obeyed his orders at any cost.  He might die later but he didn’t die NOW. 

Why does his stomach twist when that voice calls him Little Moon?  Why does it make him feel paralyzed?  He can’t deal with this. He doesn’t want to deal with this. He couldn’t have died. If he did then Al and - Sol and - he would have - he would have - but they’re still here and they’re FINE. 

He’s the one with issues.  He’s the one with issues because he got shot not because he died. 

He didn’t kill his brother or his sun. He didn’t. He DIDN’T.  

He couldn’t live with himself if he did.   

He knows the burning sensation when his chest sets on fire. He knows the tight constrictive feeling when he can feel the air being stripped from his lungs and the hoarse scratch that runs up the back of his throat when coughing wracks his frame and he starts of suffocate. He knows the ripping feeling that burns up his esophagus right before blood splatters against the floor when he can’t do anything but fight for air in his lungs.   He knows. He knows what his attacks feel like; punishment for getting too riled up or pushing himself too hard. He knows. 

Death can toy with him all it wants. Twist his chest and scrape his lungs.  It can choke him out until there’s nothing left of him to play with. Tear him apart. He’s cheated enough to earn such a punishment. Death can play with him for the rest of his days. 

                                      Just please God don’t touch THEM. 

[alchemic-elric]

To be completely Honest || Accepting

please include (100% Honest) with the ask

Anonymous asked:

(Honesty) What's the most terrifying thing you've ever looked at? Something that chilled you through the bone to your core?

Something Terrifying? He’s seen plenty of horrors in his lifetime even if that time is only the sum total of sixteen years.  Is the monster he made with his own two hands or the image of a man’s head getting blown apart that’s been burned into his skull?  Is it the twisted form of a man’s daughter, he dared to call his friend only to see her warped into that malformed thing that was the result of a sick man’s obsession with defining nature? 

The charred remains he thought were a solder he’d come to care for - burned to nothing by the hand of the man he now calls father or the monstrous form of homunculus that could shift it’s shape into anything? What about the sin that devoured him just before? Perhaps being pulled into the gaping maw of that monstrous sin, and the sensation of it’s tongue wrapping his entire frame as it pulled him into it’s mouth to meet a sad fate?  

What about that? 

To see his friend’s body twisted and managed as the liquid form of thousands of souls was forced into his body and it’s essence to steal his presence away from him? Maybe that was it? He doesn’t know.  He’s seen so many things that any normal person would deem horrifying he doesn’t know what to label it. A woman with nails that stretch out like claws, a man who’s very body can become his shield, a monster that could eat anything even him, and a sin that can shift their shape into anything they could possibly desire.  He’s met a serial killer, and ran from him. He met another that was really a band of brothers and he’s watched both of them die.....

He’s seen a lot of people die.

He’s looked God in the face and stood on holy ground no mortal should ever touch... but he can still see them - the sad tired eyes made of gold sun looking back at him within a land of white. Long golden hair that’s much too long for the body it belongs to and a face he came to adore....

“I can’t go with you.” It had said to him.  “You are not my body. I can’t go with you.”

He can feel the tears welling up as he thinks about it. He can feel the shake at his wrist while hands come to wrap around him; knees at his chest setting in bed buried beneath his blankets. He hasn’t talked about it. He won’t talk about it. He hasn’t talked about it at all.  

His little brother is still waiting on him, and he’s growing weaker by the day. 

               Whatever pain he feels - it’s nothing compared to Alphonse’s hell. 

[alchemic-elric]

“Brother, what’s wrong? You’ve been in bed since yesterday. Did something happen? D’ya wanna talk about it? I’m here Brother. Did you get in a fight with Dad again?” 

“Yeah.... you could say that. I dunno if I’d really call it a fight though.” 

“Then why don’t you apologize, Dad normally isn’t one to hold a grudge against you. You know he’s always open to talking to you about almos-”

“Wrong Dad, Alphonse.”

“Oh, so you talked ta Hohenheim then? No wonder you’re upset. You fought I assume. You didn’t hit him, did you?”

“Right in the fuckin’ jaw. Probably shouldn’ta though. It was onna them times when I - yanno - I jus’ snapped Al.  I was yellin’ n’ screamin’ n’ cussin’ ‘fore I could reel m’self in. I jus’ lost it. I almost had ano’her attack but Dad caught m’ n’ told m’ ta count it out, time m’ breathin’ again - yanno? I was seein’ red ‘gain Al. I dunno if I could ev’r talk ta’im without losin’ m’ cool....”

“Well I’m glad Dad was there to bring you down a little bit. If I was there with you - would you try? Would you try to talk to him without getting angry? Do you want to talk him him without getting angry?” 

“I dunno Al. I don’t think I c’n. If you were there - I dunno maybe. I told’im how I felt - not jus’ the angry stuff but the hurt stuff too. I tried ta put down m’rage. I really did. ‘e jus’ wasn’t hearin’ m’ Al. We have ano’her family now n’ I don’t think ‘e gits that we c’n still want both. I jus’ - I feel so invisible. ‘e makes m’ feel like ‘m five ‘gain standin’ at his study door wishin’ ‘e’d pay us a little attention. Wishin’ that ‘e’d look our way fer once. I dunno - if you were there - I’d try fer you. I jus’ dunno if ‘e’d try fer us.” 

[alchemic-elric]

What memories will leave first, I wonder? Will it be of the homunculus you call a sister? Or will your sun stop circling around you when your recollections of him burn out? Maybe you will even forget how your wolf kept you safe out there in the wilderness, little rabbit.

Will he lose them? He’ll lose them all. He’ll lose them all and that’s all that makes this hell bearable, but then again Hell isn’t supposed to be bearable - is it? The voices are in his head again.  He’s going insane. It’s like whatever higher power he’s spent damning his entire life decided to strip him of the one thing that kept him grounded little by little - his ability to logic and reason.  It’s chipped away at him bit by bit like carving an ice sculpture....except just like all ice he’ll only melt away in time. 

Who will he lose first? He’s already losing them. He’s already slipping in between the cracks. Do they still want him? Of course they don’t. Why would they? Did he die in the hospital or did he die in the forest? How long has this all been fake? How long have the powers that be been fucking with him?  No wonder.... it all makes sense now  - yes that’s right. He’s crazy.  Yes that’s right. He’s lost his marbles. 

There is no demon. It doesn’t exist.  

A small laugh escapes him but still he refuses to move from his position.  His lips pull back as he starts to laugh. 

Psychotic and broken he laughs. 

There is no demon. It doesn’t exist. He didn’t have something force it’s self inside of him and steal private information. He didn’t have a monster rip and claw it’s way into his heart only to trap him in the time looped memory of getting shot over and over. It didn’t happen. It’s not true.  

Louder he laughs as his hands make their way into his hair and cover his face. 

It didn’t happen because he was dead. He was dead before it could ever occur. Dornier killed him. He was murdered in that forest and he never made it home. He’s not here.  He’s buried next to his mother. He’s in Resembool. Of course he wouldn’t be allowed to see her in the afterlife. He’s a damned sinner. He wouldn’t be allotted such a luxury.  

None of this is real, so it doesn’t matter which one he loses his first. He’s already lost them all. After all he’s not even here. 

                                   He’s a dead man. 

[alchemic-elric]

@random-oc-questions-fairy​ said 

Hello, dear! You've been visited by the random character question fairy! :D ~☆

What does your character think about their future? Are they more optimistic or pessimistic about the future? What would their ideal future be?

Edward’s view of the future is weird. He’s got undiagnosed bipolar syndrome as as such his flipping back and forth between depression  and mania effects how he sees the world. He’s both optimistic and pessimistic about the future. It all depends on where he is on his emotional roller coaster and who he’s talking to. 

He’s a professional when it comes to fake it till you make it.  He can’t let people on to know how much he’s suffering. He lives his life in the mindset of facts not feelings.  He can state the details about just about anything - including losing his arm and leg in gritty unnerving detail because those are facts but he’ll never tell you how he felt about it. 

So when it comes to the future, he gets very factual. The things he wants to occur and how he’s going to obtain them or vice versa, the things he wants to occur and why they probably won’t happen the way he intends. 

Fact not feelings always 100% of the time. 

His ideal future would be one that his brother is returned to his body and he gets his arm and leg back. However he knows getting his limbs back is a little farfetched because that’s asking for way too much so he’ll be more than content if he can just return his brother to normal. He already lives with automail, he’ll continue to do so for the rest of his days if Alphonse can just be restored to his human body.