#panic attack tw
i vacuumed today.
I know that might not seem like a big deal to most people, but my brand of ptsd means that loud noises tend to send me into a severe panic attack. The last time I tried to vacuum, I only got about 3 seconds into the chore and had to stop because I was shaking so bad and freezing up to the point I could barely move. Today, I vacuumed the entire living room.
Wanted to share this… both because I’m proud of myself, but also because I wanted to offer hope out there to everyone else who’s struggling with triggers right now. It’s okay to go and heal at your own pace. Just don’t give up. You will be able to overpower the fear, ‘cause you’re a badass. Don’t forget that. ❤️
Reap the Harvest - Part 3
Takes place two years before Part 1
CWs:hospital setting, implied noncon surgery, classism, panic attack
———————————–
Bridger clapped his hand over his mouth and gagged again, hunching over in his seat. His arm pressed against his stomach like that would help the situation, and not make him feel a million times worse. Actually, he wasn’t sure he could possibly feel worse. This is was worst he has ever felt in his entire life.
For the next few minutes until the surgery anyway.
He’d been sitting in that freezing cold waiting room by himself for the last couple of hours, his dread growing by the second. Random shakes ran through his body, particularly his right leg.
An above the knee amputation. That was his first major harvest, now that he’s turned eighteen. He’d been dreading the new assignment list ever since his birthday a couple weeks ago. A Crop’s first limb harvest was supposed to be some ‘rite of passage’ and ‘introduction to adulthood’ but Bridger wasn’t having any of it. All it was was a scary thing he was forced into and had no desire to do. At all.
Reap the Harvest - Part 3
Takes place two years before Part 1
CWs:hospital setting, implied noncon surgery, classism, panic attack
———————————–
Bridger clapped his hand over his mouth and gagged again, hunching over in his seat. His arm pressed against his stomach like that would help the situation, and not make him feel a million times worse. Actually, he wasn’t sure he could possibly feel worse. This is was worst he has ever felt in his entire life.
For the next few minutes until the surgery anyway.
He’d been sitting in that freezing cold waiting room by himself for the last couple of hours, his dread growing by the second. Random shakes ran through his body, particularly his right leg.
An above the knee amputation. That was his first major harvest, now that he’s turned eighteen. He’d been dreading the new assignment list ever since his birthday a couple weeks ago. A Crop’s first limb harvest was supposed to be some ‘rite of passage’ and ‘introduction to adulthood’ but Bridger wasn’t having any of it. All it was was a scary thing he was forced into and had no desire to do. At all.
Yes it was his duty that his entire life revolved around, and will revolve around until he dies of old age. Bridger understood the importance of the role his people hold in society, and the life-changing materials they provide to those suffering outside of the Harvest Centers.
But it was scary. And it hurt. And he was going to have to suffer through a conscious surgery to have his leg removed, and then through the days of painful healing that came after with nothing to help but a few sleeping pills that didn’t even work, according to his dad.
Bridger breathed in through his nose, gagging again. It’s fine. It would be totally fine. He could do this.
Nurse Kelley opened the door. “Bridger Sharpe? Dr. Malsom is ready for you.” She stood back so he could go ahead of her.
He could not do this.
His legs were jello as he stood, breathing catching up to his heart rate. Very very soon he was going to be strapped down to a table in a room with only doctors and nurses who had every intention of hurting him and he was going to leave without his leg and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it because that was his only reason of being there, his only reason of existing. He had no place in society besides being a living, breathing, infinite resource. He had no future besides a Harvest Center and a lifetime of pain. Bridger gagged again, pausing to rest a hand on the brick wall, knees threatening to give out. Kelley looked back at him, but didn’t stop. He forced himself to continue following her down the hall.
The camera mounted near the ceiling tracked Bridger’s slow movements down the hallway, like the eyes of some god. One that had forsaken Bridger and his people, clearly.
They arrived at the door too quickly. Kelley opened and held it with her foot as she waited for Bridger to go in first.
Then his legs stopped working. Funny, one of them would be doing that again pretty soon. But yes, his legs stopped working. He tried to move them and they wouldn’t listen. He looked up at the nurse in panic, and realized that his breathing was too fast, too shallow. His shuddered again, tears pricking his eyes.
Kelley’s face softened. “You’ll be okay,” she said softly. She glanced inside the room. “It’s fast, I promise. You’ll be fine.” When Bridger still didn’t move, staring paralyzed inside the white, sterile room, she reached a hand out to him. “But you have to do it.”
Bridger blinked back the tears and forced himself to take a deep breath. As deep as he could manage right then, anyway. He reached forward and took her hand, the momentum pitching him forward and forcing his legs to work again to catch him. Kelley let him rebalance, and then led him inside the operation room.
Dr. Malsom and another nurse, Anderson, he thought, were waiting by the table, prepping the instruments.
“Ah, Mr. Sharpe,” Dr. Malsom greeted cheerfully. “How nice of you to finally join us! Why don’t you get situated on the table and we can get this show on the road?”
Bridger’s stomach felt like ice. He shuddered again, his breathing becoming even shallower, faster. Tears fell down his cheeks. Everything became muffled, ears ringing loudly as he stared down at the instruments laid out next to the operation table. The tools intended to cut and rip and break and tear away a part of him. It didn’t matter to him that it would grow back within a week, it mattered that it was going to be gone and he didn’t want it to be.
He jumped when someone touched his shoulder. Kelley stared at him in concern. “Are you okay?” her lips read, but Bridger could not hear it. The ringing and the pounding of his heart and his rapid breathing were too loud for anything else to filter into his mind. He shook his head, stepping back.
Dr. Malsom and the nurses lept into action, taking his arms and hauling him to the table. He struggled, trying to wrench out of their grip. It was animal instinct, something he wasn’t even conscious of until their yells finally got through the panic in his mind.
“Bridger stop!” Kelley yelled. “Stop it!”
“NO!” Bridger kicked out, hitting Anderson in the head. He reeled back, hand to his face as blood started gushing.
Bridger threw himself on the ground, stumbling to his feet to the door. Hot tears raced down his face as he rattled the doorknob, trying to pull it open with no luck. He hadn’t even heard it lock. “No no no please I don’t want to,” he muttered, banging on the door. “I don’t want to do this!” Hands grabbed and pulled him away. He kicked out again, thrashing against their grip. “PLEASE!”
“ENOUGH.”
Bridger froze, eyes wide and teary as he stared at Dr. Malsom. He’d known the man his entire life, but had never heard him yell before. It was enough to shock him into submission.
“Look at what you’ve done!” he shouted.
Bridger did, looking around the room. His heart fell.
The bed was moved, somewhere a couple feet away from it’s normal position. The cart of instruments was overturned, sterile equipment scattered on the ground. And Nurse Anderson was slumped against the wall, using a surgical gown to staunch his bleeding nose.
Bridger’s chest heaved as he took it all in. Kelley kept a tight grip on his arms, forcing him under Dr. Malsom’s livid gaze. “I’m… I’m sorry…”
“No you’re not,” Dr. Malsom spat, red faced. “You’re not sorry for anything, you little brat. You’re a pathetic, weak, coward and you’ve ruined my operation room. You’ve attacked one of my nurses. You’ve set off my schedule for the entire day and for what? Because you’re too spineless to go through with a harvest that has happened to thousands of you? Because Bridger Sharpe is more important than everyone else and he gets a pass? Hmm? Is that why?!” Bridger shook his head. “No! You did this because you’re selfish. Because you don’t want to help other people. Because you’re a weak-willed, spiritless, nobody who is hardly useful enough to strip for parts. We could send you to the basement, you know. Or to Pine Valley.”
Bridger paled, shaking his head again and again. More and more tears fell. “N-no, no please Dr. Malsom, not there –”
“Then what? Why did you put on this pitiful outburst of gutlessness?”
He sobbed, loud and horrible, looking at the ground. “I’m – I don’t know! I was – I was scared and I –”
“You were scared?” Dr. Malsom moved closer, tilting Bridger’s head up. Bridger was sure they wouldn’t even have to use the heart monitor to hear it beating. “You should be scared. This is going to be the worst pain you have ever felt in your life. A surgery like this could and would kill a man. But you’re not a man. You’re just a Crop. So you will survive it fine. You will survive when I slice into your skin with a scalpel. When I burn and cut through layers upon layers of fat and muscle. When I saw through your femur bone so aggressively that it will make your body ache for days after, even with your healing. Maybe I’ll break it, just for fun. Even when the harvest is over, you will have to suffer through days upon days of regenerating. Trapped in your bed with nothing to aid the pain. Bones and muscles being forced to grow at a speed and capacity that is hardly possible. And then, when it’s over and it’s all begun to seem like some horrible dream? I’ll strap you down to that table and do it again.”
The room fell completely silent, save for Bridger’s sobs and stilted breaths. This was a new side to the Center that he had not seen before. Kelley and Anderson had not even flinched to the intense change of character from their beloved Dr. Malsom. It made Bridger sick. He shook harder than before. It felt like he had lost some sense of innocence he didn’t even know he had.
Dr. Malsom spoke again. “So, Mr. Sharpe. Will you get on the table so we can proceed with the harvest?”
Bridger had nothing to do but nod.
“Great!” Dr. Malsom clapped.
He turned and began to pick up the fallen instruments as Kelley led him to the table. Anderson got up and left without a word, saying something about paging a replacement.
As Bridger was strapped down, he could only stare into the harsh lights above him, tears pooling into and beneath his ears. He shook so badly he could feel the table moving. He was told to relax so they could begin the procedure.
And then the worst process of his life truly began.
———————————–
Taglist:@nicolepascaline@susiequaz12
It’s been a really tough seven years. It feels like my life is on a permanent pause button, and I don’t know how to get it going again. My brain is always running this ‘panic’ engine that I can’t shut off. And I’ve tried a lotto lessen the symptoms.
I’m approaching my thirties, but I’m still unemployed and mooching off my parents. I once vowed I’d never become the person I am now. It’s humiliating, but also enlightening.
It’s become clear that I need a lot of help, if I ever hope to feel comfortable again. Please spread the word. Spread this comic, spread my story. I want to find more advice and community and hope.
Thank you, and if you ever wanna talk, feel free to reach out!
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2. Strangling - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
3. Manhandling - Martha (tumblr/ao3)
4. Hostage - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
5. Betrayal - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
6. Bruises - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
7. Sensory Deprivation - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
8. Severe Illness - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
9. Impact - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
10. Surgery - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
11. Drowning - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
12. Rescue - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
13. Burns - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
16. Half-Blind - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
17. Infection - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
18. Sprained Ribs - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
19. Stabbed - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
20. Kidnapped - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
21. Bleeding - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
22. Self-Harm - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
23. Screaming - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
24. Broken Bones - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
25. Comfort - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
26. Adrift - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
27. Poisoned - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
28. Bloody Hands - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
29. Insomnia - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
2. Strangling - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
3. Manhandling - Martha (tumblr/ao3)
4. Hostage - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
5. Betrayal - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
6. Bruises - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
7. Sensory Deprivation - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
8. Severe Illness - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
9. Impact - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
10. Surgery - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
11. Drowning - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
12. Rescue - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
13. Burns - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
16. Half-Blind - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
17. Infection - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
18. Sprained Ribs - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
19. Stabbed - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
20. Kidnapped - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
21. Bleeding - Mister Wilson (tumblr/ao3)
22. Self-Harm - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
23. Screaming - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
24. Broken Bones - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
25. Comfort - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
26. Adrift - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
27. Poisoned - Darcie (tumblr/ao3)
28. Bloody Hands - Clark (tumblr/ao3)
29. Insomnia - Lois (tumblr/ao3)
