Kill Switch

The Chaos Code
2018-02-23 00:10:25 (UTC)

I Think I Broke My Psych... Pillow Forts Are Cool. Fuck You.

Is2g, I think my psych is just about done with me. Lmao. I think I exhausted him coz I made him cry and laugh at the same time. I mean... Over my past 8 years of both voluntary and involuntary therapy, I have had psychs discharge me for my actions and I have had psychs LOVE me for my actions and literally put me into studies or ask if they can have their colleagues come sit in on sessions because I'm apparently not a "normal" client in the way that wasn't explained to me until recently. My personal psych is the ONLY psych who has ever actually INTERACTED with me during therapy and didn't treat me like I wasn't being serious enough/was being "too serious" (aka faking it) and also didn't treat me the opposite way---like I was a lab rat. But I didn't understand WHY everyone was so fascinated with me OR so frustrated with me until NOW.


I had no IDEA what "normal" versus "crazy" patients act like during therapy. Ofc, those aren't words being used. But. . . Okay, you'd have to know my therapist and know ME to really understand the analogies he used to get me to understand this coz I may be a scholastic genius but I am severely lacking in the common sense department so I have to be spoken to like a two year old regarding stuff like this.

He finally explained that I am the weird fine line between the "normal/nervous/frustrated/grieving/sad/depressed/anxious/scared/whatever" style patient who basically just sits in the chair and does talk therapy. Sometimes uses their hands... Can sometimes get comfortable, but usually seems to be very uncomfortable ("And it's not the fault of the chair, because as you know my couches are very damn comfortable!" "Right!? No, seriously, if I could get this in an L couch...[petting couch]" "Kills, Kills, Kills...No tangents! [snaps my hand with his pen]" "[elaborate gasp and extra dramatic whimper, trying not to smile] Uhm. Oh, right, sorry. You have my permission to continue. [waving him on like the queen of England waving to her people]" [pause] [silent laughter before we both straighten out and try to be serious about this again])...Stuff like that.

Apparently that is patient A. The normal type of patient they see. Like... 90 percent of psychs see people who literally just.... sit...on...their couch....THE ENTIRE TIME....and never get up the entire session??? Some of them don't even readjust or make hand gestures. Like, I get if you have anxiety or are grieving or something. But damn. Like... You just sit there? The entire time? That's the MAJORITY of patients? I mean, I GUESS I can see that because the first time I was forced into "voluntary" therapy I was so lethargic and so apathetic towards it that I just sat there. But...the way I sat there... was...in a rebellious way? I was SO adamant about not doing it and not listening to a damn thing this woman had to say and FORCING her to be quiet so that she would eventually (the quicker the better) be FORCED to discharge me. So I would literally go in there and just fucking lay on her chair. She told me not to. Nicely the first few times. Nicely asked me if I could look at her. "Killian, can you please look at me when I'm talking to her."

I was a bratty little teenager being forced into this shit. The nicer you are to me and the more you ask me, the more adamantly and more aggressively I am going to silently rebel. So I would sit there. As motionless as humanly possible. If she walked in my sight line...and forced me to look her eye to eye, sure my shiny silver eyes which were nice and vibrant back then would be staring right at hers....but I know she could tell I was not looking at her at all. In fact, I have absolutely NO recollection of what her eye colour was. Hair is the first thing I notice on people...What colour their hair is and the style of it. The next thing I notice is their eye colour. I normally remember those things pretty distinctly.

But that is the only time I can remember actually sitting in a chair....except in like...wards when you've been doped up on enough thorazine to where you've been turned into a drooling zombie and you're being forced to see your psych and forced to attend group and stuff. But that's different.

Even when I was depressed and lethargic and suicidal and attempting suicide every other day and overdosing all the time and doing all these super hard drugs that were draining the life out of me and starving myself for weeks and drinking from sun up to sun down and never sleeping and dealing with physical abuse and trauma and verbal manipulation and gaslighting...... I still didn't just SIT IN THE CHAIR????? Fuck, bruh.

OKAY SO APPARENTLY WE HAVE ESTABLISHED THIS IS THE NORM FOR PATIENTS.

Then we have the EXACT opposite. Patient style B.

The type that is up and out of the chair and....normally angry or just in serious distress and having a major breakdown. They are all over the place, ready to punch a wall or possibly hurt themselves, he says normally they have whatever means necessary ready to alert whomever they need to get this person committed or at least people standing by if something goes awry if they can't talk them down by whatever point... And these people are normally pacers. They pace back and forth around the office...or shift from side to side. Or if they're sitting down, they will ...Idk, do this thing with their legs where they will switch positions from crossing one leg to crossing the other over and over very quickly because of how agitated they are. Tapping their foot. Playing with jewelry. Tugging at their hair. Tears. Lots of crocodile tears. Sometimes they go nonverbal or sometimes they spill over into TOO verbal and can't english right. Lol. Ie; stuttering, slurring words, skipping words, can't find the right words, talking really fast or really slowly, etc etc etc...

Idk, I can't remember all of what he said.

But apparently "YOU'RE THIS WEIRD HYPER VERSION OF PATIENT B WITH THE CALMNESS OF PATIENT A but you seem to enjoy turning all of it into a joke but when you DO start to have a breakdown, I have never seen you NOT have the means of talking yourself down and bringing yourself back from the brink and-" "[I very literally jump up off the couch and do a VERY extra twirl on my heel and strike a dashing pose and hold up one finger] WOAH HO HOOOOO lemme stop ya there buddy, ya see-" "No, no, I was getting to THAT EXACT POINT. [waving at my sliced up and personally and unprofessionally stitched up forearms with his stylus]" "...oh. Well. In that case, your majesty...[snickering, as I wave my arms magically as I flop back down on the super comfy couch and hoard all the pillows all at once and create my own little fort that I know I'm just gonna destroy when I hear a key word that makes me passionate to jump up again anyways but oh well] Continue, I SUPPOSE! [sighing dramatically as I turn myself around under the pillows and kick off my shoes so I can dangle my feet over the back of the couch and lay upside down and look at him from upside down and get that fun head rush]"

He raises his eyebrows at me and folds his arms. I'm looking at him upside down, still building a fort. I stop. "...what?" [pause] He sighs gruffly and puts his laptop down but he's smiling still, so I know he's not about to get angry at me. He just simply gets out of the chair and snags all the pillows from me and starts throwing them on the other couch to which I immediately swing myself back up into an upright sitting position going "AH AH AH!! BUT BUT! MY FORT! YOU ARE NOT THAT MUCH OLDER THAN I AM! I BET YOU WERE BORN IN THE...WHAT, 80'S? C'MON! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE A FAN OF FORTS, TOO!"

He throws the last pillow on the other couch and turns around and puts his hands up, waving them in the stop motion, but is still smiling. I'm smiling, too, obviously. "That... THAT IS NOT THE POINT, KILLIAN!" I can hear him on the verge of laughter when he speaks. We are always laughing our sessions. Always. I'm a quick witted person. I'm all finger guns and puns. Always. I can't help it... It's what makes me feel better.

He literally threw back his head and groaned, almost knocking his own glasses off his face as he did so. I snickered. I knew I was pushing him, but I'm a little brat so I always just push harder. "Aw, I'm sorry, does prince charming need a sec?" He immediately, no hesitation, gives me a death glare. It takes all I have not to just collapse into a fit of giggles so I sit up straight and purse my lips. The first time I met him, he was late for something so he asked me in the lobby if he could take a quick lunch before we met and I was like "Well yeah sure ofc. I don't have anything else going on today. Take your time. Seriously. Eat." I thought he was fucking adorable. I RARELY go for men, but WHEN I DO [oh yes, I just said that lmao] they look like him.

But anyways, he was literally fixing his hair when I came into his office which he has CLAIMED every time since that he RARELY pulls out a mirror and that his hair is NATURALLY "I woke up like this sexy-messy" like mine is, so when I first met him, I called him prince charming coz he was fixing his hair in the mirror and he didn't hear me walk in so I kinda leaned on the door frame and said in my best girly voice (since my voice is somewhat androgynous anyways, I can raise it a little higher to make it somewhat convincing if I try really hard) "Are you fixing yourself up for me, prince charming?" And it's been a kind of running joke ever since.

Oh. Tangents. Yeah. I do that. A lot.

He collapses on the couch next to me and pushes his glasses up so he can look right at me under that perfect, messy dirty/sandy blonde-ish hair of his... and I kinda just cock my head like a puppy, smirking at him, lips still pursed, trying not to giggle. Every time I laugh, it makes him laugh. It gets so frustrating to him coz my laughter is super contagious coz I'm very loud and unapologetically me and people are apparently very attracted to that...but man... I think I broke him this time...

He grabbed my shoulders and just positions me a little bit so our eyes are locked, grey on blue. I raise my eyebrows and my smirk turns into a full smile, silently begging him to tell me exactly what game we're playing. He puts a finger right up to my lips and goes "Shhh. No. Stop." My smile twitched for a moment and my quirky, fun, chipper ...completely fake... happy facade almost DROPPED... But I kept it. I kept smiling and whispered "Why?" trying not to move. But it's really hard not to move because of Ehler's Danlos. It's literally painful for me to sit and it's painful for me to stay stationary and he knows this. He also knows I'm not supposed to be doing more than very light stretching but allows me to fly off the couch and go into song and dance mode and elaborate story telling mode and strain myself and do all sorts of things I know damn well I shouldn't. He warns me. I don't listen. He knows I won't. He says it anyways.

But every time I tried to make a SIGNIFICANT move, he put his hands on my shoulders and said "JUST....hold on a sec. I know it hurts. Just...let me be real with you a second." That piqued my interest. We're always using "large words" and I, personally, mix in slang. He never does. So for him to use "let me be real with you a second" was...something I would say... it alarmed me, almost. I sat still. And I did lose my facade because I wasn't focused anymore. I was taken aback. I blinked. Twice. I literally remember it could it was almost like a visual stutter.

He put his hands on my cheeks and almost growled at me to "FOCUS, KILLIAN, PLEASE. Just...focus."

I tried so hard not to giggle. I really did. But the ONE situation that makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable..............are serious situations centered around MY issues... The only reason I'm in therapy is because it's a requirement in order to see my medication management nurse. They work as a team... I hate therapy. I had sworn it off.

Now I'm back in it. Sigh.

"Killian... Beneath all of the laughter and joking and the puns and that...that THING you do [finger guns lol] ...Beneath ALL of that... you are in serious pain. I sense so much genuine pain from you and I can see it in your eyes and-"

"Well, considering my eyes are flat grey and not a sparkling silver anymore and most people consider my giant silver steely eyes to be cold like a serial killer's, I'm not surprised."

"KILLIAN!"

"RIGHT, RIGHT, FOCUS. OKAY!" I giggled a little and his hand practically shot up over my mouth. I grabbed his wrist. Immediately angry. I squeezed and twisted, digging my short little nails into his wrist. He winced a bit but didn't break eye contact and didn't drop his hand. I only increased pressure, despite how much it was hurting ME with my EDS.

"I am going to remove my hand and you are going to listen to me and not interrupt me and you are not going to turn this into a joke. Do you understand my terms?"

I wanted to say something like "Fuck, uh, okay, let me just salute you, ya fucking dictator, but OKAY FINE. YES. I AGREE TO THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS. ...or, wait, is that too much of a joke to you?" Tone just...oozing sarcasm, ofc. But I sighed loudly through my nose and nodded instead.

He removed his hand. I almost bit him. Almost........

I removed my nails. I hadn't drawn any blood. Prince charming got lucky.

"Like I was saying, I can see it in your eyes. From the little snippets you've mentioned about your childhood here and there... I've gathered a bit of a picture. I want to know how close I am, so I'n going to go down a list of items with you and I want you to tell me 1-5 how true it was for you growing up from birth to 18. I know every time you tell me something about your childhood, you instantly say you're kidding or you're joking or you turn it around and use doublespeak or laugh and ask me if I actually believed that sob story...but you know what? I do. I do believe it. You know why? Because I see it. I hear it. I feel it. I see it in the way you move, the way you hold yourself, the way you act around others. I hear it when you talk, I hear it when you talk...to me, to strangers, on the phone, to my coworkers... I FEEL it in the air around you. I don't normally believe in auras, persay, but man... Kills, you really do have an aura of some sort going on and, yeah, you have some really intense charisma and confidence to cover up that dark cloud...but that doesn't man the dark cloud isn't there." He sighed.

To be completely honest, I was almost crying at this point. I'm not gonna die, I was shaking. My fists were in balls in my lap. I was digging my nails into my palm. My toes were curled. My jaw was clenched. All the joviality of my spirit had seeped out of my pores and probably escaped through the air vents never to return again because I've had an AWFUL week and tomorrow is going to change my entire life in probably a really good way but in the most painful and longest process...and it is going to take me possibly years to heal...with months of trauma that may kill me via suicide. Who knows. I don't care. Whatever. I may just intentionally crash my car on the way back from that level of trauma. It's gonna be too intense, Wow. ANYWAYS... I was.. I was ready to cry. But I wasn't about to allow myself to. I can keep myself from crying in front of people except when a) my dog is involved, b) I'm having a panic attack, c) I'm in psychosis, d) I'm having a psychotic breakdown or a major breakdown in general or SOMETIMES when I'm attempting suicide although recently my suicide attempts have involved me being at my most peaceful mental place so there are no tears.

I didn't allow myself to break.

But that's a word that broke HIM. That he set himself up for. I'm sorry but...I JUST COULDN'T MISS THE OPPORTUNITY! I'm a 90's kid, okay? I was born in '92. I'm 26 years old. For fucks sake. I COULDN'T NOT DO IT!

He continue's on by seeing that I'm shaking and puts a hand on my hand. I don't look away on purpose. I'm still trying not to cry.

"Kills...Beneath ALL OF THIS joking around and such... I hate to be so blunt about this, but I know you appreciate it when people are blunt so I'm going to be," He took a deep breath. "Killian, I really do think you're broken."

HE SAID IT, NOT ME! HE SET HIMSELF UP FOR THE STANDARD 90'S KID JOKE. I'M SORRY! [no I'm not] HIS FAULT, NOT MINE! I could've not been such a little brat about it, though. Heh. But I'm a brat sub, what can I say?

Right then, I stopped shaking. Maybe he thought it was from shock. Idk. It was actually coz he said that like and I was preparing to act out a scene and not just laugh right off the bat like I normally do. I took a deep, PURPOSEFULLY shaky breath. . .looked down at my feet and withdrew mt hands and shook them out. Everything he said hit home with me so I'm not gonna lie. I really was shaken up by it [HAH bit of a pun, there!]. But I focused on my little, petty as fuck joke instead to take my mind off the fact he had found my kyrptonite. After that, I pulled my legs up into a criss cross and rolled my shoulders back and arched my back out to stretch a little but restrained myself from doing the full ranges of jump-around-and-be-spontaneously-ridiculous motions I normally do that make me feel better... And I looked back up at him while I dd a breathing exercise that DOES NOT WORK FOR ME AND HE SHOULD HAVE CAUGHT ON I WAS ABOUT TO BE A LITTLE BRAT ABOUT THIS COZ HE KNOWS I DON'T DO BREATHING EXERCISES and I used one right then on purpose. . .and locked eyes with him and put on my BEST kicked puppy expression that I could manage via acting. I pull off a pretty good one for authority figures. I think my kicked puppy face for authority figures is actually better than my genuine one. Pffft. But for psychs...I normally only use it in psych wards because I don't respect psychs who work in wards and I just want out so I play the game to get out.

I DO respect this psych. I DO love this psych. But I'm sorry. I couldn't... AHHHH.

I look at him straight in the eyes with my kicked puppy expression and make my voice as quiver-y as possible...like I'm about to cry...and say "If I'm broken... in your professional opinion... should I turn myself off and turn myself back on again?"

I have never seen a grown man slide off a couch, throw his glasses across the room, sprawl out on the floor, and just start laughing and crying at the same time....reduced to a puddle of ...what I guess was exhaustion and frustration at that point.... so quickly in my life.

He is just literally crying and laughing at the same time. Literal tears. But laughter. Going "Killian....Killian...Why...I swear to god.... KILLIAN!!!!!!!!!" Balling his fists at the sky.

I purse my lips and slowly parkour my way on furniture while his arm is over his eyes over to the other couch where the pillows are....and curl up in a ball........and cover myself in a fort underneath all the pillows...coz we are barely even 10 minutes into the session...he chose to hit me hard where it hurts at the very beginning of the session. His mistake, not mine. [shrugs]

When he finally composed himself, he literally had to just...PULL himself up onto his chair.... and pull himself with his feet over to his glasses to get them...which was by the other couch...on the opposite side of the room.....He looks up after putting his glasses on. And sees me peering over the top of my pillows fort, blinking and smiling. He looks beyond disgruntled.....but a small smile slowly appears and those shiny, bright white [probably bleached and expensive coz only rich people have pure white, purely straight teeth like that] teeth appear in a small, yet, as per usual...dashing smile... And he shakes his head at me... not disappointed. But totally disapprovingly. "You are such a child, you know that?"

"A 26 year old child going into the medical field that is using his bloodlust for good!" I pipe up, making a legitimate point. My psych just absolutely CANNOT anymore. I can tell. "Fort?"I offer him some pillows. He sighs, looking at me over his glasses. Looks down at his computer. Looks back up at me, down at his computer. Smile drops. I'm like "???" Then up at me and smile is back up, but sinister this time.....

"Fort, indeed. Move over."

He closed his report and decided to just sit with me on the couch....I discovered he had a secret stash of extra pillows for little kids and service animals hidden away...and we eventually somehow ended up making one HELL of a fort with two totally separate areas.... and I actually did end up being a WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE bit serious. Not totally but...

Well, okay, maybe I cried a little. About...tomorrow....

I may have to get a restraining order against my parents tomorrow.
I also almost lost everything the other day.
And things are really scary and really complicated right now and everything is up in the air and tomorrow is going to change my life one way or the other in THE most drastic of ways.... Even if it is for the best and it changes my life in a GREAT way, it will take years of pain and grief that will turn into trauma and add to my PTSD that I will never get over.

Okay yeah I had a mini breakdown in the fort.


I am a 26 year old pre-med student who had a mini-breakdown in his psychs office in a super-cool pillow fort. Fuck you.

Fuck you all.




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