#substance abuse
Don’t you DARE to be okay with losing me
Substance abuse is a serious health issue, which requires immediate attention. It brings a lot of suffering to
Original Quote Rumourtalks
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Author’s note: I decided to rewrite one of my stories I made when I was younger. I’ve gotten better at writing over the years of when I first made the story. I’m thinking of publishing it if I think it’s good enough. I’ve decided to make the story more book like with chapters and all that. The story is now first person and from Ollo’s and others perspective.
Ollo’s story is inspired by the Manga ‘Emergence’ or some call it ‘Metamorphosis’. It’s written by the hentai artist Shindol. Even though the story is hentai it has really good plot and is heartbreaking. You can read it for free on the website Nhentai (Only if you can handle it the story is DEPRESSING and dark and it’s also 18+). Saki Yoshida (The main character in emergence) and her story inspired Ollo and all the mistakes she made. Hopefully people will love Ollo and her story.
Warning: Story contains.
Strong language
Sexual Assault
Sex
Substance (Drug and alcohol) abuse
Underage drinking
Mental illness/suicidal themes
Eating disorders
Story: 18 years ago a Korean baby with black hair and brown eyes was born. My mom would have been a single parent and unable to take care of me if she didn’t give me up for adoption. She always told me if was the hardest decision she ever made and wished she could take care of me but couldn’t. I don’t hate her for her choice and I understand why she did it. And, I don’t love her any less because of it.
At birth I was adopted by my two dads Taeyeon and Mark. I also have a big brother named Hyungwon which is a year older than me. We lived in Korean long enough to adopt my two younger sisters. Mia who is two years younger than me and Uzuki who is three years younger.
Life with my dads was great. Even though I was young and don’t remember much in Korea, I remember them being kind and loving. They always made sure we were happy and bought us everything we wanted. They always played with us and cheered us up when we were sad. It’s not like we had anything to be sad about, it was mostly if we fell down or if Hyung didn’t share his Playstation.
Every weekend we all rode the train to our mother’s houses. My mom lived in a small apartment with my grandmother in seoul. My mom is very beautiful and sweet, and a lot of people say I remind them of her, but I don’t see it. Shes so beautiful and I’m anything but that. I remember being with my mom the most in Korea. I remember her always calling me chubby when I went to her house. i know she never meant to say that to hurt me but it started to.
After a few years in Korea my dad found a better job in Tokyo, Japan. So me and my family packed up and moved to japan in a decent sized house in the city. I also started school during this time and at first I was really excited to start and meet new friends. Only if I knew what was really about to come.
When I first started I found out how man kids could be. I was called fat, ugly, pig, and so much more. Throughout the years one name stuck with me. It was given to me by a girl named Star. She was rich, pretty, and popular. I remember the first day I came to school she called me a pig and followed it with pig noises. I remember some of the kids laughing and me wanting to crawl in a ball and hide.
I didn’t make many friends when I was younger and mostly got bullied. It was mostly my fault. I mean everything is my fault. I pushed people away scared of being teased and picked on.
I’m the reason I was so lonely and sad.
The teasing went on for years and I never told anyone what was happening to me except for Hyung who stood up for me when he could. I remember this one incident when I was 8.
I was sitting under one of the playground play sets drawing in the ground with a stick. And, star and her friends walked up to me.
“Move pig” She said to me.
I stopped drawing in the dirt and told her “No I always play here” with my head still down.
I remember her kicking dirt in my face causing me to fall back and cry. I remember her laughing with her friends and saying to me,”Listen fatty you’ll never be anything like me. You’re fat and ugly and no one likes you. You’re probably going to be like one of those girls who has sex with men to feel happy. So if you know whats best for you, you should just g-”
I remember Hyung ran under the play set in front of me to protect me from them. He told them to leave me alone before he beats all their asses. He was older than them and scarier than them so they all left. He hugged me and told me, “Don’t listen to them. You’re nothing like they said you were. You’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”
I wish I listen to him.
Who knew kids that age could develop a eating disorder. I use to starve myself and workout to the point of passing out. I didn’t know what a eating disorder was back then. I just simply thought I was working out like normal and not slowly killing my body. My family noticed the weight loss but just shrugged it off thinking I was losing baby weight. A part of me wished they stopped me and the other part is happy they didn’t.
People at school started to notice the weight loss. Boys drolled over me, but never said anything. I guess they were scared of getting bullied for talking to the past fat girl. Girls hated me and would talk about me behind my back. I remember them saying things like, “She probably makes herself throw up like those models.”
My dream was to look like my favorite K-pop idols. I use to use the posters in my room of them as inspiration. I even use to talk to them and treat them like friends when I was alone in my room. I really needed friends.
I was really lonely….
Ending note: Welp that was the ending of the unfinished rough draft of Ollo. I’m going to finish the story in a few months and finish the story. I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek.
It continues to fascinate me that people think they know who the abuser is in Depp v Heard. I have no fucking idea who started it and who’s just reacting. None. Every time I think I do, something else comes out that the other one did where I’m like “what the actual goddamn fuckshit is this”
Like, people are all “so and so is obviously the liar here” but whenever they do that I just see a proxy war for “can men be abused, or is it almost always women?” Who looks like an “obvious liar” seems in most takes I read to follow from that.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen, “you know I usually think men abuse women but Amber shitting in the bed is… yikes” or “i really hoped this would be a clear case of how men can be victims, but Johnny getting violently aggressive toward complete randos when drunk/high makes me really wonder if he might have started it.”
It seems like a political proxy war all the way down.
Yes, women get abused by powerful male celebs who get away with it because people love them. Yes, men get abused by women who get away with it because it’s unmanly to be a victim.
No, I have no idea which of these is happening here.
Yes, absolutely. Although the way I’d frame the trial is that there are really only two things we can know about their personalities and behavior with a reasonable sense of certainty:
- Johnny Depp has a fairly serious substance abuse problem.
- Johnny Depp and Amber Heard each, to some extent, abused the other in their relationship, which was a profoundly toxic one.
I guess everyone wants to “pick one side or the other” which means deciding that one of them was the “main abuser” so as to represent an example to the world of how women are routinely abused or how men can be abused too, etc.
Maybe this is my bias somehow, but I would say that this should definitely be taken as an example to the world of how two people in a relationship can be abusive to each other, a dynamic which I suspect is much more common than is widely acknowledged.
(I will say that I’m seeing less politicization of this current event than I saw with, say, the Rittenhouse trial, or than I suspect there would have been for this trial if it had happened some eight years ago when feminism was What Everything Was About, but maybe it’s an evolution in what shows up in my rather limited social media.)
I got married for the second time at 38 to a very talented man, who teaches his craft to local students. We both came into the relationship with depression and anxiety, and bonded over our love of music, books, film, and an old story of a kiss we shared in high school. We opened a business together and developed a beautiful community of students and their families. This is not one of those stories that was a fairytale from the beginning and one day turned dark. We shared so many normal days, like most families, and there were beautiful days, too, but there was also an undercurrent of abuse that was there from the beginning. I learned years later in therapy that what I experienced was emotional abuse, which is a form of domestic violence. On the worst day, I also experienced sexual assault, although I wouldn’t fully feel what happened to me emotionally or physically until years later.
After four years of marriage, I finally found the courage to ask him to leave. He went on a campaign of slandering me to business associates and friends. Most of our friends stayed out of our painful separation, but enough were willing to listen to him and inadvertently caused additional emotional harm to me and my family. Our friends cut me out of their lives and the social network at our business. I was referred to as “lazy,” “not a real woman” and “a sad woman.” He called me a “psycho b….” All the stereotypes he pushed about me were based on my symptoms caused by depression, anxiety, and abuse. It was deeply stigmatizing. Years later, I read in my psychiatrist’s report that I had traumatic stress due to “extreme emotional abuse.”
A vicious post-divorce cycle of trying to reconcile while he dated other women behind my back began. Behind the scenes of his parties and business events (that I had stopped attending), we were tormented by our untreated mental health conditions. I begged him to get help. He was suffering from a desire to die from suicide. It was extremely difficult to stop all contact with him, but I followed through after three years.
Years after our last contact, I saw him walking into a restaurant from my car. My family was shocked at my reaction of fear. My heart was racing. The testimony of Dr. Ford was also in the news at the time (the woman who testified to Congress about the sexual assault she experienced). As the news reported, this was causing a lot of upheaval for survivors. One evening, I was feeling very anxious after seeing my ex-husband. One of my now adult children asked, “did he physically hurt you, Mom?” I didn’t know how to answer. I kept hearing those words in my head: “Did he hurt you?” My breathing and heart raced. I started to tremble. I remembered him sexually assaulting me. I began to have a full-blown panic attack. I felt the full emotional and physical experience of the rape. I felt it in my body. I shook and cried and heaved. I called my friend, someone who I told the story to when it happened. I showered that night as if it had occurred that night. I had what my therapist called “body memories” for days. I knew I had to report the sexual assault, even though it had been 6 years. Flashbacks are very real and painful, I learned.
It’s not easy to report a rape. We blame and shame ourselves. I was more worried about what it would do to him at first, until an advocate helped me realize that I mattered, too. It took me two weeks to find the courage to follow through with a report. He was never indicted. And that’s okay with me. At least there’s a record in case someone else reports him. He has also been put on notice. He will never use his male privilege to take what he wants from a woman’s body without permission again. Or at least that’s what I hope.
I have a lot of compassion for his experience with mental health. He’s not a monster. He also deserves the love and support of his friends and family. What he doesn’t deserve is to be enabled to slander his victim or weaponize his friends against her. We are living in a world that blames victims. Our culture enables charming, talented and/or powerful men and turns a blind eye to their victimization of others. This cycle needs to end through community education and listening to the voices of survivors. My story is a common one, I’m afraid. I’m telling my story because I deserve to be heard, and in hopes it helps another feel seen and less isolated in his/her/their pain.
I am a fifty one year old black man who grew up in project housing units of Cincinnati Ohio, which were stricken with poverty and high crime. I evolved from a dysfunctional family setting. My mother was a single parent to me and my older sister and was labeled throughout the neighborhood as being a “Tom Boy.” I inherited a brainiac trait from my mother and excelled in my education during my childhood years. Peer pressure and being lured into a fornicating setting before i reached puberty by both sexes (i am currently heterosexual), caused me to develope a mental deficiency and become diagnosed by a state psychiatrist with having Borderline Personality Disorder. My brilliancy, being a black minority, and level of society i am currently in has caused me to be outcasted.
My name is Katie K. and I am a young adult student living in North Carolina. I have been diagnosed with everything under the sun and put on every medication you can think of. However, I always knew I was “different.” Most kids were interested in soccer or cheerleading. I was focused on germs and my thoughts. Other children were outside their head and I was stuck inside mine. As I reached puberty my obsessions grew worse but I didn’t have a name for them. I knew they were beginning to affect my every day life and also those around me. That is when I went to my pediatrician. I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and put on medication. After later researching OCD it was no surprise I was diagnosed with it. I would always feel as though my mind was against me. I would wonder if my mind was ever going to be on my side again? Along with the obsessions came the compulsions. Along with the compulsions, the depression and anxiety. Then the self harm. It was a never ending cycle of doom. Obviously my medication wasn’t working so I switched from a pediatrician to a pediatric psychiatrist. She changed my med cocktail and gave me some reassurance that these mental disorders could be treated. She also suggested I see a therapist and try attending a support group. I thought she was crazy but I wanted to get better so I was willing to try anything. I found NAMI and quickly became a member. After trying her suggestions, and some trial and error, my OCD was in remission. I worked hard in therapy and opened myself up to the process. I de-stigmatized the idea of support groups and actually learned a lot as well as met others who “got it.” Also, I stuck with the medicine and gave it a chance to work. Which for me was about a month. After all that progress, I was in pretty good shape. Not to say that I did not still struggle with behavioral health issues or would not need my meds, therapy and peer support, but I achieved something. My extremely hard work paid off. And it was extremely hard. I had to learn to say no to my compulsions and use my many new coping skills, I had to learn to set boundaries, I had to learn to take my medication regularly even when I felt fine, I had to learn to delve deep into my mind during therapy, I had to learn to trust others, and most importantly I had to learn to trust myself. At times I was struggling so badly that I did not want to live. I could not find a reason to. Today, I have hope. I have faith. Over the years I have continued to struggle and have even been admitted to several residential and outpatient treatment centers. At my lowest, I have even resorted to substance use. However, through determination and faith I have never stopped fighting, Now, I use many of NAMI’s resources to supplement my mental health and substance use recovery and I am actually looking into attending a training to help others who were where I was. My journey will not always be easy but it will be worth it. I am no longer ashamed of who I am.
Hi- I never thought I’d be here. Full of fear, stigma and judgements. I feel my prior diagnosis has been misunderstood by many, but it also makes me the wonderful, intelligent, sensitive woman I am today. I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder at age 24. I’ve had a second opinion at age 34. I’ve had different parts of me, some substance abusers, some self harm, some suicidal. I’ve been highly functioning at times in society; however, once we feel abandoned, it triggers the most suffering parts within us. I often feel alone and like nobody understands. My story is I’m a true survivor.,I just want to post my story for relational purposes through hope, love, and support.
After years of substance use, abuse, and binging I have drug free and clean for almost 16 months. I had stopped many times but relapsed many times also. Today my life differs from what it used to be. I know I have a mental condition which has improved with medications and psychotherapy. I cope with life differently by talking to my real friends, family members, and professionals.
I want to share my experience with you to let you know there is help for recovery and healing. You just have to ask for help when you need it
I have experienced dark days in my lifetime and I know dealing with a mental illness can be stressful and draining. It is important to trust someone to ask for help.
I started, “Let’s Talk Augusta”, which is an Emotional Support Hotline for Georgia. I am passing out cards in the community as well as posing signs on the roadside for people to call this hotline if they need someone to talk to. I was able to purchase materials through donations.
What are you working through? I bet you’ll find out that you are not alone.
Sometimes, when you’re doing well in life, you can hide the fact that you’re hurting. Even from yourself. If this resonates for you, know you are not alone.
At this moment, as we kick off mental health awareness month, I am grateful for my emotional strength and security. But I’d be a fraud to pretend I’ve always been this way.
When I sit to reflect with compassion, I recall the decade-plus of impulsive and risky behavior, the deep and loving relationships that were damaged, the escapism through work, sex, drugs, and alcohol, and the neglect of my own well-being as well as the family dynamics that I’d later discover were at the route of it all.
I was 15 years old when I smoked my first joint. I was away at school on the train tracks behind the pizza shop. I wanted to show the world that I had an edgy side. I got sick and had to hide away for the night, to not get found out, and kicked out of school.
The first of many blackouts from drinking came my freshman year of college. I couldn’t tell you the specific time.
A bit of an introvert until I warm up, that first line of cocaine at around 17, gave my confidence a boost and started a dark-secret relationship that would last almost 20 years.
I started taking my addiction and work-life balance seriously
My first panic attack came at about the age of 25. Induced by a prank by my boss, the morning after a holiday party, in which I was convinced I was going to lose my job. I’m glad I can finally laugh along with the joke.
My first session with a therapist happened about a year later. Though it would take several years to find someone I trusted and to fall into a groove.
In my late 20s as a rising middle manager, my anxiety became more chronic and signs of depression more apparent. I started taking my addiction and work-life balance seriously, but this journey was far from the end.
Late nights, several promotions, intense and failed relationships, and life transitions elapsed in a phase of life that now seems suspended in time. I remember sneaking out of work for group therapy, telling people I had an early evening yoga class. It was the truth some of the times.
My older brother’s stroke in 2017 started a major shift in my life. And his passing in 2019 brought me to a full stop. I retreated to the toxic coping mechanisms for one night more, and I thought my heart was about to explode. My system seized up and a message received. I was approaching my rock bottom and it was my choice if I’d let momentum keep pulling me to the end.
It took me at least 20 years, arguably more, to see the pain I was avoiding. It’s with this awareness and compassion that I know, mental health affects all of us.
My parents are still uncomfortable with these conversations, as I watch them numb their traumas away in their own ways. Most times we chalk it up to generational differences. But I’m not giving up. I see the pain that is released when gentle conversations allow them to open up about the moments that still bring them pain. And hearing them share, brings me healing too.
I’m not a therapist, but I see healing just the same. We all have the power to help each other be seen. We all have the power to help people release trauma by allowing their painful stories to be heard.
Depression, anxiety, autism, eating disorders, sleep issues, sex addiction and substance abuse are all mental health conditions that, when you look within and around you, you begin to realize, we are all trying to live and thrive with. In my eyes, mental health awareness month should be seen as a celebration rather than merely an advocacy campaign based on the sheer scale of the people whose lives the issue touches. The problem is, we as a society haven’t fully moved into embracing the reality of our traumas and the effects left behind on our collective mental health. Further, as a result, we haven’t invested enough systemically or individually to soften the shame and fear that hinders progress and to put in place infrastructure to support the gentle healing of our people.
That dark period of my life was me. And the trauma that I carried remains here. I can feel the shame, sadness, and anger I felt, losing power over me, each time that I find the strength to expose the stories that feed the feelings. This is why it’s important to continue sharing my truth and using my example to show others that they are not alone.
I was a victim of childhood trauma. Was is the key word. I no long consider myself a victim but a warrior. I have survived the unthinkable, because of it I had development PTSD, Anxiety disorder, drug addiction. Over the years I was sent off to multiple places including hospitals, group homes, etc. because instead of helping me through what I was struggling with internally the answer was to place me on medications. I can’t even begin to count how many medications I was on. Yes, there are plenty of people who need them. I still take medicine for my anxiety and my PTSD. I am now on the road to recovery from drugs as well as from my PTSD. I have learned new coping skills at the same time working through my traumas. Which definitely has been seeming to help. I encourage people to speak up. Use your words because they are powerful. There are still people who will cover their ears and look the other way but there are more people than one would think who will actually listen. You are by far not alone. With the proper help you can and will be able to live a “normal enough” life.
The ongoing trial of Doctor Conrad Murray shows just how celebrities manipulate the medical system for their own ends. Dr. Murray is charged with negligent homicide in the death of Michael Jackson, and the details that have come out in the trial aren’t encouraging.
Herbal remedies, while not a cure for drug addiction, can help ease some of the symptoms that go along with withdrawal and recovery.
http://www.myaddiction.com/articles/drugs/herbal-cures-for-drug-addiction
Self-harm, like drinking and using drugs to drown emotional pain, can become a dangerous addiction.
http://www.myaddiction.com/lifestyle/treatment/self-harm-an-addiction-or-obsession
Inhalants are chemical products that people use to achieve altered states of mind. Inhalant abuse, also known as huffing or bagging, is highest in the 7th to 9th grade population although use may start at a much younger age. That is why it is important for parents to discuss with their children—early on—what does and does not belong in the human body.
ABC News anchor Elizabeth Vargas has checked herself into rehab to deal with alcohol abuse. After a few weeks in treatment Vargas released a statement confirming her addiction.
http://www.myaddiction.com/videos/alcohol/abc-anchor-enters-rehab-for-alcohol-abuse-video
Teens who have to navigate the child welfare system have a much higher risk for developing drug abuse problems, according to a new study from researchers at the University of California, San Diego.
i feel like the infantilisation of autistic people in the eyes of science and psychology really stunts them when it comes to talking about some of the issues that come from being autistic in a world built for nt people. like i dont think ive ever seen substance abuse rates discussed wrt autistics because thats an “adult problem” and the public at large has an image of autistic adults as overgrown kids, despite the fact that almost every other autistic adult ive met has had a history of substance abuse issues at least partly in response to the stress of existing in the world as an autistic person. like if youre constantly beset on all sides by stress and sensory overload of course youre going to gravitate towards drugs and alcohol and things that smooth over those sharp edges, make socialising easier, etc…
