The Psychiatric Drug-Induced Suicide of Robin Williams - Two Years Later by Gary G. Kohls, MD FEBRUARY 10, 2020
55 years ago (July 2, 1961) an American literary icon, Ernest Hemingway, committed suicide at his beloved vacation retreat in Ketchum, Idaho. He had just flown to Ketchum after being discharged from a psychiatric ward at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN where he had received a series of electroconvulsive “treatments” (ECT) for a life-long depression that had started after he had experienced the horrors of World War I. In the “War To End All Wars” he had been a non-combatant ambulance driver and stretcher-bearer.
One of Hemingway’s wartime duties was to retrieve the mutilated bodies of living and dead humans and the body parts of the dead ones from the Italian sector of the WWI battle zone. In more modern times his MOS (military occupational specialty)might have been called Grave’s Registration, a job that - in the Vietnam War - had one of the highest incidences of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) that arose in that war’s aftermath.
Hemingway, just like many of the combat-induced PTSD victims of every war, was likely haunted for the rest of his life by the horrific images of the wounded and dead, so there was no question that he had what was later to be understood as combat-induced PTSD with depression, panic attacks, nightmares, auditory and/or visual hallucinations and insomnia.
Unfortunately for Papa, the psychiatrists at the Mayo Clinic were unaware of the reality of the PTSD phenomenon. They mistakenly thought that he had a mental illness (depression) of unknown etiology. (The diagnosis of PTSD wasn’t validated by the American Psychiatric Association as a Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) diagnosis until 1980.)
Hemingway, a legendary chronic alcoholic who consumed large volumes of hard liquor daily, had also been wounded by shrapnel in WWI so he probably also had physical pain issues. Therefore, like many other soldier-victims of combat-induced PTSD he used alcohol to self-medicate his physical pain as well as his psychic pain, anxiety, insomnia, nightmares, failed marriages and the financial stresses related to the alimony payments to his ex-wives.
Following his Mayo Clinic misadventure, Hemingway rapidly came to understand that his latest ECT “treatments” had erased his memory and creativity, and, because those realities were essential for him to continue his writing career and feeling that he no longer had a reason for living - ended his life. There is no record of what psychiatric drugs he had been prescribed over the years, but ECT is typically only attempted after all psychiatric drug options had failed.
The Parallel Paths of Artistic Geniuses Like Hemingway and Williams (and Michael Jackson and Prince)
53 years after Hemingway’s self-inflicted death, another American icon, actor and comedian Robin Williams, entered the Hazelden psychiatric facility and addiction treatment center - also in my home state of Minnesota. He was treated with a cocktail of (undisclosed) psychiatric drugs for a month and, shortly after his discharge, committed suicide by hanging (August 11, 2014) at his California home. The cocktail of brain-altering drugs surely was a major factor in his becoming increasingly depressed, losing appetite, losing weight and withdrawing from his loved ones.
His discharge medications, which included the so-called “antidepressant” drug mirtazapine (Remeron – which is well-known to increase the risk of suicidal thinking), the so-called anti-psychotic drug Seroquel (probably prescribed off-label for his insomnia) plus an unknown anti-Parkinsonian drug caused him to be somnolent, despondent, despairing and increasingly depressed.
Remeron, it should be emphasized, is well-known to cause suicidal thinking (and attempted suicide) and carries the Food and Drug Administration’s “Black box” warning for suicidality. After he returned home, he was said to have slept in his darkened bedroom, up to 20 hours a day, in a probably drug-induced stupor.
Remeron, it is helpful to remind readers, was one of the two psych meds (the other was the anti-psychotic drug Haldol) that the infamous Andrea Yates was taking before she irrationally drowned her five children - including her 6-month-old baby Mary - in the family bathtub. The devoutly religious Texas mother was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment but – at re-trial – had her conviction changed to “not guilty by reason of insanity” (rather than “not guilty by reason of the intoxicating, insanity-inducing and homicidal effects of psychiatric medications!”). She is now spending the rest of her life in a psychiatric facility, no longer a threat to children.
Robin Williams was said to have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease while at Hazelden. The symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease are well known to be caused by antipsychotic drugs such as Seroquel. Children who have been given anti-psychotic drugs (most commonly foster care children) are now coming down with Parkinson’s Disease at an early age, an illness totally unheard of prior to the formation of the subspecialty of Pediatric Psychiatry.
The Secrets of NIMH (and Hazelden)
30 years ago or so a cartoon movie was released about lab rats that were trying to escape extermination by the National Institute of Mental Health. The movie was titled “The Secret of NIMH”. I tried to watch it a few years ago and was disappointed to discover that it really didn’t expose any of the real secrets of NIMH, its American Psychiatric Association foundations or the psychopharmaceutical industry’s unholy alliance with NIMH. I understand that a remake of the film is planned. I hope some of the real secrets will be revealed in the new film.
Robin Williams left no suicide note, and so far Hazelden is mum on what happened behind closed doors during that fateful – and failed – month-long stay.
“What Brain-Altering Drugs was Williams or Michael Jackson or Prince On?”
Williams’ legendary cocaine and amphetamine use are certainly factors to consider as contributing causes for his suicide, for such drugs are notoriously toxic to mitochondria and brain cells. What is also deserving of consideration is the fact that when patients abruptly quit taking an antipsychotic drug, withdrawal symptoms can occur - even if the drug was first prescribed for non-psychotic issues like insomnia. Those withdrawal symptoms can include irrational thinking, loss of impulse control, psychoses, hallucinations, insomnia and mania, any of which can lead a physician to falsely diagnose “schizophrenia” or “bipolar disorder” or any number of mental disorders “of unknown cause”.
Some of Williams’ closest friends are logically wondering about what was the effect of the newly prescribed drugs that may have motivated Williams to so illogically kill himself. Hollywood journalists swarmed all over the tragic event two years ago, but characteristically avoided even speculating about the possibility of psychiatric drug-induced suicide, the most logical explanation for the series of events, especially for any thinking person who knows anything about the connections between psychiatric prescription drugs and suidicality, homicidality, aggression, violence, dementia, and irrational thinking and actions (whether while taking the drugs or withdrawing from them).
Such informed people have already asked themselves the question: “I wonder what psych drugs Robin (or Hemingway or Michael Jackson or Prince) was taking?” Tragically, the media has been totally unhelpful in discussing that important question or in offering any answers to the question. Iatrogenic (doctor-caused or prescription drug-induced) causes of morbidity and mortality are apparently not to be discussed in polite company.
It is important to point out that a bottle of Seroquel with 8 pills missing was found in Williams’ bedroom and drug toxicity testing revealed Remeron in Williams’ bloodstream at autopsy. The coroner emphasized that the dose of the legally-prescribed drug was at “therapeutic levels”, which is, of course, totally unhelpful information, given the fact that the undesired effects of a drug have no correlation to dosage.
The Taboo Reality of Iatrogenesis: Psych Drugs Can Cause Suicidality
There have been millions of words written about how much everybody was shocked by Williams’ suicide. There have been thousands of flowers placed at any number of temporary shrines “honoring” his legacy. There have been thousands of comments on the internet from amateur arm-chair psychologists spouting obsolete clichés about suicide, mental illness, drug abuse, alcoholism, cocaine addiction, and how wonderful psychoactive prescription drugs have been.
And there have been hundreds of dis-informational essays and website commentaries written by professional arm-chair psychiatrists who have financial or career conflicts of interest with Big Pharma, Big Psychiatry, Big Medicine, Big Vaccine and the rehab industries. Most of those commentaries distract readers from making the connections between suicidality and psych drugs. Some of the comments I have read have preemptively tried to discredit those who are publicly making those connections.
Whenever unexpected suicides or accidental drug overdose deaths occur among heavily drugged-up military veterans, active duty soldiers, Hollywood celebrities or other groups of individuals, I search the media – usually in vain - for information that identifies the drugs that are usually involved in such cases. But revealing the drug names, dosages, length of usage or who prescribed them seems to be a taboo subject. One has to read between the lines or wait until the information gets revealed at www.ssristories.org(a Big Pharma-exposing whistle-blowing website that should be mandatory reading for everybody who prescribes or consumes psychiatric drugs).
Patient confidentiality is usually the reason given for the cover-ups – and why important potentially teachable moments about these iatrogenic (drug-induced or vaccine-induced) tragedies are averted.
Big Pharma, the AMA, the APA, the AAP, the AAFP, the CDC, the FDA, the NIH, the NIMH, Wall Street and most of the patient or disease advocacy groups that sponsor the annual fund-raising “searches for the cure” events all understand that the hidden epidemic of iatrogenic illnesses must be covered-up. And, simultaneously, the altruistic whistle-blowers among us will be black-listed, denigrated, labeled as nuisance conspiracy theorists or even criminalized.
The well-funded corporate entities mentioned above also know how useful it is if patients (rather than the system) are blamed for causing their own health problems. Typical examples include: “you eat too much”, “you don’t exercise enough”, “you smoke too much”, “you don’t eat right”, “your family history is bad”, “you don’t take your meds correctly”, “you don’t come in for your screening tests/routine exams often enough”, “you don’t get all the vaccinations like you are told to do”, etc).
Highly unlikely “genetic” causes are energetically promoted as preferable root causes of totally preventable iatrogenic illnesses (because inherited disorders are not preventable and are also essentially untreatable). This reality ensures that researchers can annually demand billions of dollars for research while at the same time short-changing and discrediting simple, cheap, do-it-yourself preventive efforts that don’t need a doctor.
The confidence of the American public in Big Pharma’s drug and vaccine promotions must not be disturbed. Wall Street’s rigged stock market does not permit the publication of any information that could destroy investor confidence in the pharmaceutical or vaccine corporation’s highly profitable products, even if the (corporate pseudo-)science behind the drugs and vaccines is bogus and the unaffordable products are also dangerous.
The beauty of an unbiased public inquest, which I advocated for in this column two years ago, should have been done in the case of Robin Williams and all the school shooters, is the subpoena power of a grand jury to open up the previously secretive medical records and enforce testimony from Williams’ psychiatric treatment team. The public could finally hear information that could make comprehensible the mysterious death of yet another high-profile suicide victim - and start the process of actually de-mystifying America’s suicide and violence epidemics.
An inquest would likely reveal that Robin Williams did not have a “mental illness of unknown cause” or “bipolar disorder of unknown cause” or “depression of unknown cause” or “suicidality of unknown cause”.
An inquest would obtain testimony from feared whistle-blower experts in the fields of medicine, psychiatry and psychopharmaceuticals such as Peter Breggin, MD, Joseph Glenmullen, MD, Grace Jackson, MD, David Healey, MD, Russell Blaylock, MD, Fred Baughman, MD and other well-informed medical specialists who don’t own stock in Big Pharma corporations and who know very well how dangerous their drugs can be.
Robin Williams did not have a Mental Illness of Unknown Etiology
Just knowing a little about the life and times of Robin Williams and others on the long list of celebrity victims of psychiatric drugs (like Michael Jackson and Prince both of whom “died too soon”) would easily disprove most of the unscientific theories about their deaths that have widely published online.
Why did many of us psych drug sceptics and psychiatric survivors want an inquest in Robin Williams’ suicide? We wanted to know the names of the ingredients in the cocktail of drugs that had been tried on him (and the dosages and length of time they were taken). We wanted to know what side effects he had from the drugs and what his responses were. We wanted to know what was the reasoning behind the decision to prescribe unproven combinations of powerful drugs on someone whose brain was already compromised by the past use of known illegal brain-damaging drugs.
And we wanted to know, for the sake of past and future victims of these neurotoxic substances, if the prescribing practitioners informed Williams about the dangers of those treatments, particularly the black box suicide warnings for Remeron.
Stress-induced and Drug-induced Mental Ill Health Doesn’t Mean One is Mentally Ill
Robin Williams gained fame and fortune as a comic actor, starting with what was to become his trade mark manic acting style (stimulant drug-induced mania?) on “Mork and Mindy”. As have many other famous persons that attained sudden fame and fortune, Williams spent his millions lavishly and – in retrospect – often foolishly. After his third marriage he found that he could no longer afford his Hollywood lifestyle.
But long before his two divorces and the serious financial difficulties caused him to decompensate and again fall off the sobriety wagon, Robin Williams had lived in the fast lane, working long exhausting days and weeks and partying long exhausting nights with the help of stimulant drugs like the dependency-inducing drug cocaine (that overcomes sleepiness and fatigue) and artificial sleep-inducing tranquilizers whose mechanism of action resembles long-acting alcohol. Sedative drugs artificially counter the drug-induced mania and drug-induced insomnia that predictably results from psycho-stimulants like cocaine, nicotine, caffeine, Ritalin, Strattera, Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft, Celexa, Wellbutrin, Provigil, amphetamines, etc, etc).
Williams had acknowledged that he was addicted to both cocaine and alcohol when his famous comedian buddy John Belushi died of an accidental drug overdose shortly after they had snorted cocaine together (March 4, 1962). Shortly after Belushi’s overdose death, Williams quit both drugs cold turkey, and he remained sober and cocaine-free for the next 20 years. There is no public information about his use of addictive prescription drugs, but it is well-known that many Hollywood personalities like him have close relationships with both prescription-writing physicians and illicit drug pushers, many of whom make house calls.
However, Williams relapsed in 2006 and started abusing drugs and alcohol again, eventually being admitted to a Hazelden drug rehab facility in Oregon. After “taking the cure” he continued his exhausting career making movies, doing comedy tours and engaging in personal appearances in order to “pay the bills and support my family”.
After two expensive divorces, huge indebtedness and an impending bankruptcy, Williams was forced, in September of 2013, to sell both his $35,000,000 home and his even more expensive 600-acre ranch in Napa Valley. He moved into a more modest, more affordable home in the San Francisco area, where he lived until his death.
But despite solving his near-bankruptcy situation (which would make any sane person temporarily and deeply sad), Williams continued having a hard time paying his bills – especially his alimony payments, so he was forced to go back to making movies (which he despised doing because of the rigorous schedule and being away from his family for extended periods of time). And he hated the fact that he was being financially forced to sign a contract to do a “Mrs. Doubtfire” sequel later in 2014.
For regular income, he took a job doing a TV comedy series called “The Crazy Ones”, but the pressures of working so hard got him drinking again, even using alcohol on the set, which he had never done before. He was making $165,000 per episode and was counting on continuing the series beyond the first season in order to have a steady income.
So when CBS cancelled the show in May 2014, humiliation, sadness, anxiety and insomnia naturally set in, and he decided to go for professional help at the Minnesota Hazelden addiction facility, spending the month of July 2014 as an patient there.
The public deserves to know what really happened inside that facility.
We certainly deserve to know the full story. There are many painful lessons that can be learned. Those who think that we can’t handle the truth are wrong.
The psychiatric drug-taking public deserves to know what were the offending drugs that contributed to his pain, anguish, sadness, nervousness, insomnia, sleep deprivation, hopelessness and the seemingly irrational decision to kill himself.
And the family, friends and fans of Robin Williams certainly deserve to know the essential facts of the case which, if not revealed to us, will otherwise just result in a blind continuation of America’s “mysterious” iatrogenic suicide, violence and dementia epidemics. Ignorance of the well-hidden truths will just allow the continuation of Big Pharma’s ill-gotten gains and its deception of the medical profession and their patients for so long - and destroying the memory, creativity, brains and lives of millions of patients simultaneously.
For more information on the above very serious issues, check out these websites: www.ssristories.com, www.madinamerica.com, http://rxisk.org/www.mindfreedom.org, www.breggin.com,www.cchrint.org, www.drugawareness.org, www.psychrights.org, www.quitpaxil.org, www.endofshock.com.
Appendix A
The Powers-That-Be That Would Keep Us Ignorant
Big Pharma, the AMA, the APA, the AAP, the AAFP, the CDC, the FDA, the NIH, the NIMH, Wall Street and most of the patient or disease advocacy groups that sponsor the annual fund-raising and very futile “searches for the cure” all understand that the hidden epidemic of iatrogenic illnesses must be de-emphasized. And, simultaneously, the altruistic whistle-blowers among us will be black-listed, denigrated and labeled as nuisance conspiracy theorists.
https://freepress.org/article/psychiatric-drug-induced-suicide-robin-williams-two-years-later?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR1AyLy3MJ8Tp2DTwc_c4G5DyQ1InTevjbzhmN5SiIb1CTv4neZIUTFdNoM_aem_AYJChMg0jV8OZPvcXTWQj6v6bU68PWGBdCO3saO27D9LaXhPIsUf8Mxnk2iAnypzxC-CDHI9t1jx9PG7e5KMkZO-

I'd like to acknowledge my privilege here is insane & I am blessed.
August 2023, I moved from Ritalin to Vyvanse, titrated to 70mg settled on 60mg. I was slow to recognise Vyvanse's effects, also starting it was difficult. I’d lost 6 jobs that year & spent £800 on my appointment, so it was a “this has to work” thing.
Traveled to Australia Nov 2023.
December:
Hollow, indifferent despite seeing some really cool things, I felt like a robot. Before suspecting Vyvanse, I fully thought I was broken, like the traumatic experiences I’d dealt with had damaged me, and this was my reality. So, I started drafting a letter to a Swiss company, basically saying “I can’t keep doing this, I want out.”
Feeling breakdown:

1. Detachment:

Feeling disconnected from my emotions, as if they belonged to someone else.

1. Blunting:

Emotions dulled, lacking their previous intensity and vividness.

1. Nothingness:

An overwhelming sense of emptiness, where joy and meaning felt hollow and insignificant.

1. Loss of Meaning:

Uncertainty about the significance of life's experiences, leading to a struggle to find purpose.
Fr Vyvanse made me want to stair at walls & not move like I wanted to just evaporate and it’s so smooth that it’s impossible to notice until you’ve lost chunks of ur life.
Realising this scared the living shit out of me ngl.
The Turning Point:
One morning, I woke up and forgot to take it right away, and I felt this small shift. Then remembered, took it, and felt dead inside again.
Eventually, I stopped taking Vyvanse, and yeah, it was extremely hard, but I stood in the sun at one point & feeling the heat on my face I just broke, started bawling out of happiness.
I could feel.
Ego Death:
This led to ego death—a reset of my identity, beliefs, and personality. It's been overwhelming yet enlightening.
I don’t hate myself anymore.
Adhd has been my identity for years, alongside other learning disabilities & it's dictated everything. I resented myself so much; I was surrounded by people who picked at my adhd as if it were a solvable issue.
Now I’m unmedicated.
I’ve been toying with the idea of Stretta. Ultimately, I still struggle, but god, I love myself enough to stop messing about with stimulants, the constant back and forth, this dose, that dose, up, down, wearing off, switching. It’s not worth it for me.
I can’t give other people my experience, and to some extent, I hope no one ever feels this, but I wish other people could know what it means to not feel worthless because of adhd

I was the product of a toxic marriage turned divorce; the third of four children who my mom got sole custody of when I was in first grade. I've spent the better part of my 20's grappling with the demons of my childhood and now that I'm the age my mother was after she had her last child I still can't believe no one ever caught on to what happened to us growing up.
If I had to distill how my mother made me feel growing up, it would be that not only did she regret having me, she aimed each and every day to punish me for her own regret. On the outside she was exceptional at keeping up appearances. To my teachers, coaches, neighbors and relatives she was like a super mom, raising 4 perfect kids on her own. Never a hair out of place, never a problem to be found. We were well-behaved kids, good at sports, straight A's in school, and all working by the time we were teenagers. Other parents would ooh and ahh at her saying "you're amazing, how do you do it??" Nothing made my blood boil more than hearing my mom receive the praise she did for my success growing up, because I knew the truth of what was really happening at home.
I'll preface this by saying my older sister and I had a very different experience growing up than my eldest brother and youngest sister did. My mom treated them completely differently than the two of us in the middle. They lived by different rules and expectations, they received a different level of love and affection, and they were exempt from most if not all of the abuse that we had to endure. With all that being said, they still watched us be treated the way we were, at times participating, and I think that ended up messing them up just as much as we were messed up by being the targets of her wrath.
So what was it like growing up in my house? Here's a general idea, including but not limited to:

1. Alarms installed on all windows and doors on 24/7
2. We were not allowed to come or go without explicit permission and giving extensive detail about who what where when and why, with strict timelines for departure and return. We were rarely granted permission to hang out with friends, no going to parties ever, and no friends allowed over.
3. Phones (that we each had to pay the monthly bill for) had to be slid under her bedroom door by 10pm every night and she had to know our passwords
4. Food was strictly controlled and monitored; we had to ask permission to eat and dinner every single night was broccoli and salad. If we refused to eat or did not eat fast enough, spicy salsa would be poured on our food, a timer would be put on and we would be expected to clear our plates before the time elapsed or expect further punishment.
5. My chores revolved around being my mother's personal servant; making her bed every morning, taking out the trash in her room every day, bringing her water every night so on and so forth.
6. If I ever talked back, I would have my phone confiscated for 2 weeks or more at a time.
7. We were regularly screamed at, spanked with a belt, hit, slapped, and had our hair pulled if we did anything out of line. My hands have several scars from her "accidentally" slamming the car door on my fingers more than once. Another thing I used to hate more than anything was going to the grocery store with my mom; she would walk with me in front, leading me down the aisles with her hand death-gripping the back of my neck.
8. If we did not get straight A's we were punished, phones confiscated and grounded indefinitely.
9. In fourth grade my teacher told my mom to take me to an eye doctor after she noticed I was squinting a lot in her class. My mom told her I was just acting because my friend had gotten glasses recently and I wanted some too. Eventually when I did end up finally seeing an eye doctor it was determined my vision was severely stunted, and even when the doctor showed my mom X-rays of my deformed eyeballs she still asked, "And you're sure there's no chance she's making this up?"
10. We were sent to gymnastics for 4 hours a day, 3 days a week and my mom refused to send anything with us to eat but a peanut butter and honey sandwich even though we hated them. My sister and I would scrounge for change under the vending machines in the gym lobby until we found enough quarters to buy a snack, proceed to hide in the bathroom, eat it together and then wash out our mouths just in case our mom happened to be waiting in the lobby when we walked out.
11. We were on our own for breakfast and lunch and were strictly prohibited from ever ordering lunch at school-- she had somehow convinced us that if we did she would find out and we would be done for so I spent many years not having a real meal until dinner.
12. I was force fed 60-80 milligrams of Ritalin a day because it made me quiet and compliant despite it destroying my appetite and contributing to deep depression. Did I mention my mom dated the doctor who was writing those prescriptions for many many years?
13. We were mocked and body shamed if we tried to wear anything my mom deemed inappropriate and as soon as we were old enough to be interested in boys, she put us on a horrible horrible birth control shot called depo-provera (if you know you know). Another of her favorite forms of punishment was confiscating clothes, makeup, and hair products so we would have to go to school embarrassed about our appearance.
14. My brother would regularly terrorize us as well, hitting and punching us with no intervention or repercussion from my mom. There were a couple times he chased me around the house with a loaded gun, and another time he pinned me down and forced wasabi down my throat. One time he punched my sister so hard her entire upper arm was covered in bruises and when a concerned teacher flagged it at school my sister was forced to lie and say a box fell on her at work. This was the same math teacher I always suspected let me cheat on his tests so that I could get the grades necessary to avoid getting in trouble at home.
15. Toward the end of high school my sister had developed bulimia and began self-harming by burning herself with our curling iron. I confronted my mom and told her if she didn't get her help I was going to tell someone at school everything that was happening at home. My mom agreed to take her to a therapist but what I didn't find out until recently was that my mom took her to one singular appointment, stayed in the room with them the entire time and told the doctor my sister was a pathological liar.
16. My mom both enjoyed humiliating us and forcing us to vouch for her lies to other people. She would share embarrassing personal details or stories to friends and family in front of us because our discomfort amused her, and she would regularly force us to back up her lies to other people in order get out of things or serve a personal agenda, no matter how stress-inducing it was for us.

There's a lot more I could write about but this is just a taste of what I experienced growing up. There was the overt physical violence and anecdotal evidence for abuse, and then there was all the subliminal, psychological, and emotional trauma that was felt rather than seen, and was as unavoidable as the air I was breathing. Walking on eggshells around the house, spending hours isolated in my bedroom, my heart pounding when I'd hear the garage door open when she came home from work, the way she would lick her bottom lip and smile right before something bad would happen. My mom never told me explicitly that she didn't love me, I think in her own twisted way she probably does, but she sure made me feel unlovable. And unfortunately that planted a deep deep seed of self-hatred that I've spent many many years working hard to uproot. The worst part of all of it was that there was never really any redemption, justice or even a simple apology. Everything was swept under the rug and by all accounts my mom is still praised to this day for being an exceptional mother. My sister is the only person in my family I can talk to about any of this, and my mom and 2 other siblings still pretend nothing ever happened to this day.
I am lucky that I'm a resilient person and I was able to eventually get away from that environment. I didn't really start to find peace or freedom until the day after I graduated from high school when I boarded a flight and moved as far away from home as I could.. but even to this day, 10 years later, I'm still haunted by memories when I go back to that house. I've carried the her secrets with me for so long — a part of me wishes I was brave enough to confront her about everything now that she can't hurt me; stand up for myself now because no one stood up for me then ya know?

The sense of imminent mental collapse, of imminent breakdown of the Self, as if that unity of one’s body, thoughts, feelings et cetera is about to collapse? Neither in that stress-induced, hyper anxious, pseudo hysterical sense… nor in that philosophical, so to speak, introspection hyper-inflated, „I no longer know X & Y about myself”… not even in that prisoner of war coming out of his torture chamber (after prolonged isolation, sensory deprivation, or physical abuse) sense… But in that bedridden with LTR depression & health problems (from ADHD & RLS, to CFS, IBS & hypersomnolence) & increasingly having this feeling that I’m about to fall apart… disintegrate… Without panicking, without conscious anxiety… without any psychotic symptoms, i.e. genuine loss of contact with reality… Without BPD style melodrama… Merely the dreadful, morbid sense that my Self is about to fall apart in pieces, that the unity will be gone… I have never „left“ my own body from my own point of view…
I suspect that it is DPDR because all of my issues (ADHD-PI, SCT, RLS, CFS, hypersomnolence, sensory overload, psychomotor retardation, atypical depression with anhedonic, amotivational & avolitional features) unmistakably point out to hypodopaminergic rather than hyperdopaminergic aetiology, as in psychosis. Also, I’m remarkably resistant to stimulants, which are known trigger psychosis de novo in those susceptible… And the best I’ve felt in years is upon consuming a huge dose of Ritalin one day. My mind-scatteredness & „brain fog“ in general, sensory overload, the described psychiatric issues & most other issues temporarily vanished.
Which led me to believe that Selegiline or Parnate is what I need to augment my Ritalin (& if all else fails replace the latter with amphetamines), but against my will, my psychiatrist first put me on Sertraline & Effexor (which not only cancelled out Ritalin’s positive effects, but gave me pseudo-Parkinsonian extra-pyramidal symptoms & akathisia—yet another indication that my issues are hypodopaminergic in origin) & then Clomipramine, only marginally better. Only after squandering a year & being now crippled with PSSD-esque symptoms am I finally scheduled to receive EMSAM patches within two months & replace Ritalin with Vyvanse. I’m almost certain that the two will lead to the 90% functional remission I long for, but would nonetheless like to ask whether my present-day psychiatric issues are DPDR or not
I have been diagnosed with depression & ADHD, but that’s all, psychiatrically speaking. No PDs, though my ADHD-mediated affective volatility at times resembles BPD. Also worth pointing out is that my life has been objectively difficult, which was recognised by my psychiatrists as well, while discussing my longstanding treatment-resistant depression. I’m generally not an anxious individual. No, my treatment-resistant clinical depression at its worst is akin to that Bruce Wayne’s „You don’t fear death. Your punishment must be more severe.” state. Might be relevant for my question.
So, is this DPDR in your opinion? If so, perhaps DPDR is indeed strongly correlated with low dopamine, which is also indicated by reported cocaine / amphetamine / dopamine agonists withdrawal symptoms, which may prove helpful for those in this subreddit whose issues are more longstanding than mine. Thanks in advance

antipsychotics don't work

"Quetiapine and Aripiprazole...her health “deteriorated rapidly” as a result of the medication changes, and she suffered “very significant injuries”. Although on the drugs for a “relatively short” period, the “damage was enormous”, he added. Effects. She became more anxious and stressed, extremely tired, gained 20kg and developed a habit of self-harm...guilty of negligence and breach of duty in prescribing Risperidone, which, she said, is not recognised for treating panic disorder in adolescents...increasing the dosage, after her GP communicated elevated levels of prolactin...€200,000 settlement is the largest to date." https://www.echolive.ie/nationalnews/arid-41373172.html

experiments

"€6.5 million Horizon Europe project. PsyPal will investigate the potential of psilocybin-assisted therapy to ease anxiety and depression in patients in palliative care...WHO Europe estimates that three out of four people with major depression do not receive adequate treatments." https://sciencebusiness.net/news/drug-development/eu-launches-landmark-eu65m-study-use-psychedelics-treat-mental-disorders

corruption

majority democrat maryland house of delegates "Third Reading Passed (132-2)." Except republican programmer Robin Grammer and republican William J. Wivell who are the best congresspeople. senate "Third Reading Passed (134-2)" to inject, electrocute in your home. https://mgaleg.maryland.gov/mgawebsite/Legislation/Details/HB0576?ys=2024RS https://mgaleg.maryland.gov/mgawebsite/Legislation/Details/SB0453?ys=2024RS

religion

"psychiatrists ranked 23rd among 24 medical specialists in their low propensity for Republican Party registration...women who attend religious services at least weekly are 68% less likely to die “deaths of despair”—suicide, drug overdose, or alcohol poisoning. Men are 33% less likely." https://www.dailysignal.com/2024/04/11/faiths-proven-role-in-overcoming-mental-illness/
"Texas provides Jewish- and Native-American-designated prison units but not a Muslim-designated unit violates the Establishment Clause." https://reason.com/volokh/2024/04/12/short-circuit-a-roundup-of-recent-federal-court-decisions-258/ 2014 long island jewish hospital prison banned Quran twice, religiously interrogated me, "Muslims are a delusion" while christians got multiple priests and free bibles.

TV

"Alex Edelman: Just for Us." Re: psychiatry parents swatting 11 times, "What do you mean he's fine?" He compares cocaine to ritalin speed for schoolwork. https://www.hbo.com/movies/alex-edelman-just-for-us

This fanfiction from the Undertale fandom has got me stumped, the author says the number for the case file has a meaning but won't reveal what it's a reference to till someone finds out.
Here's a list of the guesses so far: - Numerology - Plutonium - Area code 239 - a laboratory - Saint Petersburg Lyceum 239 - BIO 239 - Ritalin - the death of Cao Rui - number of chapters in the Book of Mormon - Bible verses - Dante's Inferno quotes - Paradise Lost quotes - chapter 239 of One Piece - SCP-239 (My own guess which I already knew was wrong but I had to try)
Here's the clues the author has given: - Has nothing to do with math or science - Is part of a high school curriculum - "In fact, each of the persons thus far who has put forth a guess (and these guesses have been backed by substantial research, I'm very pleased and impressed), ranging from fortune telling to chemistry, has failed to locate the correct field from which I derived the numbers.
Oops, perhaps I let slip a clue with my wording just now..." (I don't know what the clue even is) - Is related to the themes of the story - Has religious themes and is a historical example of fanfiction but is not Dante's Inferno - "The answer is not the specifically numbered line in a play or literary work."
Honestly, this mystery is driving me insane. If anyone could provide any insight into this, please help.

This fanfiction from the Undertale fandom has got me stumped, the author says the number for the case file has a meaning but won't reveal what it's a reference to till someone finds out.
Here's a list of the guesses so far: - Numerology - Plutonium - Area code 239 - a laboratory - Saint Petersburg Lyceum 239 - BIO 239 - Ritalin - the death of Cao Rui - number of chapters in the Book of Mormon - Bible verses - Dante's Inferno quotes - Paradise Lost quotes - chapter 239 of One Piece - SCP-239 (My own guess which I already knew was wrong but I had to try)
Here's the clues the author has given: - Has nothing to do with math or science - Is part of a high school English curriculum - "In fact, each of the persons thus far who has put forth a guess (and these guesses have been backed by substantial research, I'm very pleased and impressed), ranging from fortune telling to chemistry, has failed to locate the correct field from which I derived the numbers. Oops, perhaps I let slip a clue with my wording just now..." (I don't know what the clue even is) - Is related to the themes of the story - Has religious themes and is a historical example of fanfiction but is not Dante's Inferno - "The answer is not the specifically numbered line in a play or literary work."
Honestly, this mystery is driving me insane. If anyone could provide any insight into this, please help.

I was a dead kid since birth/
Only screamed around mad at/
The world and mama had an alcohol problem/
So she couldn’t bother and it turned/
The house was a wreck, clouds bove’ my head/
Were I slept, everything burned, but my mama/
Told: Life goes harder, but it’s my urge,/
that you have no problems/
My father had a coma, cuz of attempted suicide/
He was rejected, so did I/
My mama gave me to adoption, cuz I was too stressful/
To keep me was not an option, what a fucking asshole/
Elected and selected, childhood was like an electric chai
Then got rejected, why should I fucking care?/
Well I found a family, that didn’t gave me to the adoption cente
They were in Tennessee, a crossing,/
it was the only damn option for me to have a/
A nice life, I’m a menace see?/
So I didn’t know what agony, would set this free/
Every day punched in the ugly belly/
Fucked up, for things I couldn’t handle, he?/
Not cocked just wanna go away, from these menaces, deem/
To kill myself, chill down I tell/
A crown just fell, deep inside the clouds/
Ma mama and ma father shouts/
It charges harder, but just don’t bothe
Be loud, the problems make ya stronge
But then it all fades away/
I just destruct myself, think of killing myself/
Filling coke, I just tell, how disturbed I felt, man/
And feel now, deep clouds coming out/
Shady, like I was back then/
Called out crazy, then end them/
Lazy, cuz I didn’t drugged myself daily/
Well I fucked myself daily/
That’s the reason, why no lady wanna help me/
I was mad at them, cuz they couldn’t save me/
Ran at an club with a knife, fucked for my life/
Went shortly out, it was so corny like I/
Was drunk and high and a dumb line of coke was involved/
She stuttered and cried, cuz I toke 9 lines, felt better than/
Life, stabbed her twice, like in a damn freak show/
She screamed loud, I punched (Shut your damn mouth!)
In this moment, it seemed out, like, fuck it’s all round/
Motherfucker’s around, I’m an Idiot/
No release like I slammed her at a bridge/
Now I stand there like this/
Damn I am pissed/
Theres no excuse mo for this, pitch/
Now the clouds are finally gone/
The Godfather, move like this Tom Sawyer, don’t bother too tight, a haunt for ya/
Gun shots right to his shoulder, a dumb farmer, cops wanna/
That I go outa my car, go mama, should a dude like me/
Who choose Ideas with no drama, should be sued by police/
See trough these seats, being tortured by low waterboarding/
Go trough his D.N.A, see him day by day/
Take way to much MDA and MDMA/
Next see me pay for coke and ecstasy/
Hennessy, it’s destiny fucking majesty/
Actually it’s the same we’re okay/
See today, I lost myself/
It’s only the damn Y.M.C.A/
Burn Churches, earn murderous curses, but you know it’s all worthless/
Wanna see me turn shirtless, go to a jerk circle or hear a god damn verse case/
Everything will turn grey and it deems, that you see me on the streets, hey/
You notice that you take cocaine and went sent raped to a slaughte
You’ve been tortured on every corner, there’s a door o
A corridor plus add a fucked up drug addict/
Fuck habits, you need to follow the white rabbit/
It seems underneath, there’s a rubbed, blood-infused carpet/
The corridor’s full of crap, rats and traps, it’s rushed/
With thug magic, clocks banging, the slaughter comes/
His shot gun and his Glocks hanging/
„You don’t need to do that!“ „But I can it“/
His daughter packs your head with a god damn canon/
His father shaves you dead, you see black, red and a violet carpet/
But you ain’t dead instead, you see them laughing at your cracked/
Abandoned scattered body parts/
Mix cyanide with white, with no license, I rewind timeless/
Classics, tired why? Ya’ll get an ass kick to the Matrix/
I remind, that I was full of panic, cuz of this madness/
By the second time, I went schizophrenic, it’s epic/
At the third time, I try a bite of magic mushrooms (fuck damn it)/
I arrive to higher minds, so I can die alright, an addict banging/
Whores, till they drive insane to dryer life, rambling through pleasuring/
Liar grounds, till they lie around and are dying out, a habit of letting/
Violence try around with kids, so it can press the average menace/
Into madness, I allow myself to introduce you to the real world/
Call me god or you all fall three blocks, I mean it seriously/
All these cops try to poorly upset me off into prison/
Listen, while I’m in the Park hanging with hot women/
You pissing cock is just jacking off to your own sibling/
While I’m bars rapping, you just shut up, that’s my god damn wisdom/
Or it goes with a lot of shots from this Winston, like this Hannibal or is it this/
Charles Manson, are you safe up in Prison with that fucked up cannibalistic Prick?/
Cars, Action, drifting in a large mansion is this Gods answer or is this/
A jaw cracking incident, motherfuckers listening/
All passion into this crime, not innocent, so why should I give a cent/
To these cop slashing niggas then, I don’t give a damn track bout them/
It’s unsetting, dip that in, try and not mention it, is it that hard?/
One shot, time stops, he’s bleeding, crawling, paranoid, android/
Call him Steven Hawking, peeling on his head, throw it at the carpet/
Now you never see him walking ever again, this wanna be Steven Hawking
This was just a little corny story, in the middle morning I gon’ tell more, don’t worry/
It was a little boring introduction to my world, ooh, why you’re screaming, my fist is bluffing/
Didn’t heard? Do I need to kick buckets or are you fucking turned? See It’s my urge that you have fun/
Rum with Tablets, it isn’t madness, motherfucking Faggots do it everywhere, I also had it/
Now you’re only a rumbling, tumbling doll of flesh, wrap, dead rape her, till her fucking breast/
Is plumping down her legs, man, I’m glad back, throw her dead visage in the packed garage/
Damn I’m dark, run over her with ma car, not sober, it’s not over, oh my god/
God’s dead, I shot in his head, with a shotgun instead of an Colt or an AK, no revenge, mam, thanks, man/
I go barehanded, fuck knife like stars of the YNC/
Thug life, I’m a masterclass rhyme MC, with a dark memory/
Death isn’t the penalty, then when, I would definitely be laying back on the street/
Put me in a mental hospital, I’m so gentle confident, back from release/
Don’t text me or speak, I preach my own peace, a piece of bones, see?/
That’s the only note I reveal, so shut off or you go packed in my lunchbox/
With overdosed hoes, this is not, where the fun stops, this is where the cum comes/
At the cocked crotch from central cee, between my mental health it’ s so empty see?/
Doin’ ecstasy, radically, LSD, Hennessy, easily it’s my penalty, later me’s sleeping/
On all the corpses I killed, on all the forces I build, on all the distortions I could break/
Doin’ my job as a taxi driver, on these messy tires, I see daily many liars/
Who try to don’t be petty bitters, but cash just blinds us, I see/
Nasty minors, who sell their body for some penny’s I’da try/
And don’t be a pessimistic writer, but this is the reality, let’s rewind us/
To the time up, I was a mindfucked, social worke
Put a potion Valium worth a million to mild children/
Then they move like stop motion, further with no distortion, building/
Them to machines, with no emotions, a sea and an ocean/
Couldn’t clean these evil distortions, easily worse abortion/
At home my mom’s there, she can’t live alone, cuz of more chromosomes/
Seeing TV, she sees me, asks: „How was it?“/
Out of it, I try to explain, she remains silent asks: „Why you complain?“/
Mom, don’t blame, day by day I’m feeling ashamed, see these people grey/
I say: „Bye, mom!“, then it all fades away, now I’m here/
In L.A, with a Taxi day by day, see these maniacs day by day/
Thinking what could it be, when I stayed the same day by day/
Put a gun onto your forehead, blow it go back, dope at/
Jennifer Lopez, a predator, but before bed, I had sex with your corpse back/
Then choke at the janitor, who stole crack, go packed with gold round my neck/
At the door, show’s back, you can’t kill me I was born dead, throw tec, so mad/
Shoot at hoes and editors, they’re so ass small like Lanniste
They’re only competitors for the smoke and predator, even the pope recognize me/
Cuz I chocked, cracked and wrapped him and then fed the poor, with bread full of wet cement/
Even the president remembers me, cuz I was attacking him daily, throw twenty babies/
Scream „Allah Akbar“ at the party, motherfucker, pop a pill then kill the police/
Then the whole NYPD in one release, fill till I bomb the whole city, (shit did it)/
Then I take the chain saw, give Hannibal Lecter a cannibal lecture, then brains fall/
All over the screen, you can scream, but it’s too kafkaesk, fuck the rest of this ass/
Sado Maso Rap, they just suck at best, what do you think, I’ve a fucked relapse?/
Yes, I had, mad, not your special guest, peer pressure down your ass/
The cloud’s dead over those, call it Heath Ledger, I beat rappers alphabetical, it’s a mean hange
It never ever seems better, but he’s at the top, screaming with real measure/
11.06 per line
Kick a bat, then choke down the slick cigarette/
Then spit it back, to you quitter ass and your Pinterest friends/
Don’t give a cent, my silhouette is picking them/
Is shitting them, is mixing Molly and/
Sips a bag crack and when they scream: „Shit, what’s that?“
Just say did I ask, kick your quitter ass back to the middle west/
Pick a guest, then I go to your nipple flesh, tickle that/
Slick a bread, then the cigarette falls to the pick up left/
Mister Bad kicks tha TEC, with a snap/
Never relapse or better be back, with bigger cash, come with me!/
Kiss ma ass, I’ma blow up like ken park, that sicko’s back/
I don’t show up, my friend calls, he’s really mad/
You greedy ass, didn’t need to kill the family/
Oh majesty, I’m a nice being man, but I can go really anxious/
Back then the TV went crazy, after the daily mass shooting in the cathedral/
But a needle fix’s it, pop the praline, what can I say, I’m just a ghost in a shell/
Between hoax and truth, there’s nowhere to tell, I’m only a small beetle/
But I can be a Star prior, my hair is on fire, Lennon, Cartney, can’t wait to retire/
Explosive Jihadist, a bit retarded, but fuck it, I’m with passion/
Fuck gravity, it’s only the inception, never give up,(Rick Astley)/
Better think of killing yourself (be big as they) in the spotlight, one mic, chilling in hotel/
From dusk till dawn, the guns are drawn, fuck the law, I got the claw/
Shot and saw, how he stutters, moans, then bust it all, over floo
A nightmare in halloween, right there’s the gasoline, burn MC’s/
Turn a sea into a blood realm, like kill bill/
Fight till we are gonna be enemies, no fantasy/
I’m the devil, nasty ecstasy, got me through it radically/
Better leave, or me’s gonna ram heavy metal/
Through your shattered knees, my system’s down/
I’d miss him now, but my fist is out, it is out/
First victim, was a pissing clown, I turned him in/
To a whipping hound, everything else was burned liquid/
With around second victim was just dripping down/
I couldn’t slit him down, what shall I do with him now, bitten out/
His wistful pounds of eyes, let’s kick a round (why?)/
Then his wrist and roundhead, do I bore you now, how?/
It’s around, a bit so loud, then I kicked him out/
Barking, starving, now you know what’s gonna happen with you now/
(Shoutout to EM), I’m to real, to pay and take a bit of tha vaccine/
But I’d keep scream for lean like rage against tha machine/
Ritalin, take the rest I’m a fiend, cold demon/
For no reason, I keep screaming, but nobody’s hearing/
Nose piercing, clean earring, a fiend fearing/
The police, but no panic, I’m Batman, with Magic Mush and Xanax/
Rapid, I slash them, choke with mo plastic than Kim Kardashian/
Tragic, like Manson, but I’m still mo bombastic, than an Afghan/
A package of crack in the back van, schizophrenic and desperate/
What’s my message at man, the message, don’t do crack, man/
An addict, slash an, panic bringer like tha clan then/
Climatic, banned and classic, like tha fuckin’ west then/
My eyes are blurred out, got that beetlebum/
Fight for my parklife, burned out, onto being busted away/
I try to write, but it turns out, after Song 2, I’m feeling numb/
Reading off the script, beat a cop, need a coffee and a TV/
They type bite, to earn loud our respect, wannabe Gotti, hehe/
Write, write, there purged sound is like mine, perplexed/
But still why, try, mock me and my CD, let’s see/
Who sells three times easily more copies after release/
Cocky, my knees bleed, but I’m taking this/
For forty of these fucked up braindead kids, who think they’re life is just a safe less miss/
Due to my wife, who is missed, this angel shit hits, locked off, dude do a mayhem, bitch/
It ain’t a risk, dude, try, got off, make a diss, then piss on this god/
Who thinks a thug can’t safe a chick, highlight this/
Boom take that risk, dawg, ask why I’d pick this shit miserable life/
Ooh, I just like this braindead shit, cuz I’m breaking this/
And everyone, anyone, so I’m taking this/
Break tha barrier, then marry a lady, ahh, don’t think I’m crazie
Go think fo yo Area 51,bury a body, in ma territorial/
I’d come, go soon to his burial with cult leaders and coke dealers/
Make, take gold Midas, Judas, go through as pope/
Toke coke then I do Jonestown, sold out, no mind reade
But a sight see ah and a Volkswagen, yo I’d go Bin Laden/
Those bros both been nodding for a week, borders release/
Keep these G’s or we make yo daughter fall asleep/
Deep cuts in my guts, need time off, bite off the Adams apple/
But God sucks, got that canon to handle, bust off/
Us nuts, fuck off, no interruption/
Destruction is the option, ends with concussion/
Busting, bend and popping, cocking again to Theseus/
We need us, thus we’d grow alone like these fetus/
Blow, no release, book the holy/
So we’d see us Mesias/
Parties, rave again on my Harley Davidson, sometimes AIDS a friend/
May call me cray again, horny, rape again, In my flight, basement again/
Inner piece, gainst’ my sinner enemies a.k.a whack MCs/
Where there best release’s a dead EP, got COPD/
Dealt, throw these weed blunts, it keeps fun, craving fo crystal/
Wes Craven nightmare, right there’s the pistol/
Baking, taking, I’m paired with missiles/
My tight mission is to befrei women with terrorism/
Parking with the BMW, see banned Gs starving in distance/
Wishing for their fantasy fiction, now in the packed alley with em/
Robbing, bombing my new edition, right blew the prisons kitchen/
Don’t be bitching, I keep reality with em/
Gunnin’ yo quarters to yo bum head, summon monsters like Lovecraft/
Come in it doesn’t cost ya, be real partners, ask god man right? Let’s spot man/
With small cottages, confident rebellion/
Call cops again, prepare gun/
I’m back from coffin, with TEC and complete London/
Snipe, pack pockets, beat strangers, caretakers/
Gotta beat these white boys, right choice like Tom MacDonald/
Dears, hear’s my voice, I choose, Zeus, Bruce, bump a vortex up/
My godlike fortress, you’re dead, nor cap, neck in the noose/
Whose the best gainst’ the soviets, get got it/
Mass monstrous, badass ain’t gains conscience/
Take, rape, no colon, go all in, fight like Parkinson, gun, come/
Dot com, none comma, bomb another summe
Brother I gotta, don’t cry momma, gon’ buy nother’/
Call me Columbine shot, ya, Osama shut up, bruh or me’s/
Choke, bite off ya neck, no respect, yo/
Don’t go yo perplexed, yo, that’s rap, yo/
Relax, go breath fresh air, so we won’t beef, that’s fair?/
Everyone hates me, stigmatize every little line/
Don’t take me serious, won’t sympathize, cuz of the bitch I’m like/
That I serve no purpose, I disturb the church and turn for the worthless/
It’s like a jerk circle, yo won’t come out, so yo won’t gon’ shout/
Your urge for the servants, blow, even if they won’t allow/
Burst their surface, beat em, go so loud, murdering, kill, till they surrende
Go stack ya, furthering, your letter to America/
They say, my music is horrific shit, what can I say, I got that politic, Tic/
It ain’t newish that this is for these false bitching kids/
Who would blew this all for pimping bitches or sniffing coke with no interest/
Thanks to bitch ass parents, who destroy the thing that, they love/
Say may sound way off topic, but what if something you enjoy/
And keeps you alive gets raid off your hands, yeah that’s bad/
Next day you can’t sleep, can’t get outta bed, think about suicide, the room is tight/
That’s fact, you release evil, even if the rules deny, lay relapse/
That’s fucked up, so I won’t shut up, till yo bastards, get the answers/
9 to 5, you won’t age, don’t be to late, I got the aggression of these motherfucking two dogs caged/
I am lined in this game, say my name, my impression is that you won’t change/
Buy and bite this chain, you don’t got too much to pay, only the pain of dudes depression, you got days/
They may be crashing, remained brains, why you fail, to leave the mansion, bro you got ways/
Get your fat ass out of this rap shit, it is not to late, it gets drastic, bro you got ways/
You ain’t god, this is not Beyonce, this is basically the worst shit, since the world trade/
Now the question is:
I raid the page from your petty rapers/
20 days later, the blood infects/
My eyes get black, plenty ways of destruction/
My stuff’s like a concussion, it keeps you quite down, my hound/
Mofucka’s dying, cuz of the street or overdose/
I’m lying, cuz these gods see me as over those/
I did Tupac, and trade, Biggie, and AIDS/
New thugs say, damn is he cray/
Fucker, Cop shooter, got numerous super stars/
In my basement, that’s that statement, you are/
Crashed in that car, where’s your face men/
Take that with humor, dawg/
Nuke a city, is it pretty, I’m patient/
I like agony, panicky screaming/
At that top of my alive lungs/
I need a shot gun, right Pun/
See these run, I clutch, my crotch/
CD’s, blunts, bleeding locked/
Please leave me, I’m done/
And than the bomb explodes/
Life goal
And I got bombs in my palms, right, broad/
I might got to crash the trade, when I fucking escalate/
Second day high school, ejaculate and I was high, ooh/
Escalade, that’s my life choose, why you try to/
Get me off, ooh, you blind you/
Ask the god, he’s just like you/
Now his head hanged off, so rewind to/
The day I wanted to be Manson, is your mind blew/
I dream of fashion and compassion, scream for a big ass mansion/
But I can’t comprehend that, there are plenty corpses under my bed/
Can’t force them to get back, I actually got no problems I’m just sad/
But everything awesome, I just need a needle and a glass/
(What’s your life goal) To become the biggest psycho/
You can’t end it, why so, get the next menace on yours wife phone/
I don’t think of hope, I’m an misanthrope/
Just shut up, when I fucking slit yo throat, oh/
(What’s with your family) Fucked travesty/
Actually fuck fame, the redroom is shinning, there’s another life here/
I just grew in time in with a father that didn’t like me/
I’m not suicidal, I just don’t got an Idea/
To what to do, me’s crying with my pills, I mean/
Drugs fucked up, kills my will to get a life, see/
But likely, it’s my psyche, think that I just unalive myself with cyanide, see?/
That’s my life goal/
Hey, remember me, I relapsed from these motherfucking Sedatives/
But back with a brand new EP, three weeks passed from the last release/
And I’m sober like a Tool track, who’s back/
Slap Winona Ryder, with a broom and/
She screams like a Duet or Duvet, (boah) I’m a wild cobra bite
Sniff air, while Coka piper, I’m no more nicer, to crack-bitches/
Had have no interest, smoke dope with imaginary friends then/
For instance with Lincoln in the cemetery, it’s back/
Cops want the pisstest, but I’d shot zig zag, cuz I’m not in that/
Instead shock Amis fussy, what do you want from me/
Money aka the devils lunch meal, the channels love me/
For the terrorists son breed, funny?/
Yeah, coming out loud like Pompeji, blow up like Chris Cornell/
In this hotel, it goes well, now down town, I’m drowned, walker it’s okay/
I take these blunts, my engaging gun to shake G’s on/
I rape for fun, I’m like K Dot, but/
I got my influence from Nine Inch Nails and Naked Lunch/
My wife is baked next to the angel dust/
I’m half awake and this bitch hurts to much like paper cuts/
I’m shaking thus, I ain’t stop, till I get bigger than the mayor got/
Yeah, the player God, make ya suck cock for a stupid spot/
The musics off, cuz drug abuse and cops are fools/
Boom it knocks with shots from the thug for the youth/
Nor the truth, I still gon’ refuse your number like a jew/
Thunder I knew, ignore the Zeus, he still needs to pay his dues, hey/
Bomber jacket, fuck the planet, that’s the new wave/
Don’t got an motherfucking plan and, just Xanax and Kool Aid/
It’s too late, Doomsday, my suit, hey, is still holy like an Afghan/
Here’s the Trash can for today/
So, first things first, I write my verse on Autopilot/
Then Burst a church, like the white clan, I got the license/
Murder purge with a tight motorcycle/
Chase Barbara Streisand, I promise, I kill ya’ll with kindness/
All remind this, I’m the best MC, you can’t get this/
The next release’s coming, it gets massive/
My tracks like Leprosy, you can’t stand, bitch/
I’m passive, right my penalty would be that I can’t rap shit/
The DEA sees me with haze, taking MDA or MDMA/
He, he, hey, while I slam beat damn fakes/
Fucker, Anthony’s over, I just smoke petty smokers/
Like Marijuana on a stoner, at the time relatively sobe
And the big three is relatively over, cuz it’s only me Big BIG/
I have PTSD and Drake has AIDS and HIV, ahh/
Remember Ex/Pornstar and I can tell X Pornstar that you ass called, ahh/
Now your son’s a sad mourner, cuz you had no prevention, but a blue pill, ahh/
Who kills your Jackson 5 hype, cuz like everyone was better at your prime, ahh/
Overshadowed by a clone of a clone, ahh/
Eyo and yes it is correct, I am a criminal
Perhaps, no cap my van is full off chemicals
But my fans are like a drop dead overdose, quite minimal
God, I guess I am back like Tom MacDonald on the subliminal
Mimic filled with circumorbital rings, because of Morphin and Gin
And I’m like Jack Kevorkians twin as you see me with often absinthe
Good Morning I’m in, moaning cuz it’s
To boring to think, how to solve my problems with binge drinking
I move demonic within the chronic Porsche like Clint Eastwood
My logic is this, I hope my life becomes a comic with this brief cook
I’m iconic, this is no feel good nor beat hook, I just wanna deal coke and beat hoes
I move Schizo due to these blows, my eyes are only beer, shows
Completely detox, me’s free blocks with three Glocks
He shots, then he’s off from beating these cops, free money shots
Mollys drop, call me god, he’s on the knock out
He drops loud, bombs blaow, he’s gone now
My eyes on the long south, pistols like Raekwon
Like I shot out missiles with Napalm, try slice permissions with fake songs
My lines gon’ pow like I go smoke crystal and haze on, fucker
Bullet proof vest, Pull it who’s back, Full sniff, do crack
Pitbulls with rabies, bitches and daisy nugget
Fuck it like Hailie and MGK, I’m dead, crazy, got it
My pockets wide with shady profit, bitch make me fuck it
I’m off kicked like bits from a daily gun click

On April 2nd, my 42 year old son Patrick died from fentanyl. We believe he took it intentionally because he wanted to die. I am so broken that my gifted, brilliant, talented son is gone. I don't even know how to begin to cope. I am angry right now, mainly at the church who forced us to put him on ritalin at age six because THEY could not deal with his hyperactivity. I cannot help but believe putting a six year old on legalized meth set him on the path that led to his death. I don't even know how to cry right now. I don't know where to put all these emotions.

So I've been recently looking into losing weight, and i tried asking my parents to get me artifical sweetners so i can reduce on my munchings
Result: This article. Also, my parents are great people, the problem is just that the news circles that are followed around here promote fear-mongering. I request someone please make a single reply that i can copy paste(after reading it ofc) into my messages and PLEASE include sources
Forwarded! Mr.Sunil D.Patil .Pune (Ex.Director Symbiosis.) Forwarded this post in a group which I am forwarding for your knowledge.......... KILLER IN YOUR FRIDGE SWEET POISON..A MUST READ !!! In October of 2001, my sister started getting very sick She had stomach spasms and she was having a hard time getting around. Walking was a major chore. It took everything she had just to get out of bed; she was in so much pain. By March 2002, she had undergone several tissue and muscle biopsies and was on 24 various prescription medications. The doctors could not determine what was wrong with her. She was in so much pain, and so sick she just knew she was dying. She put her house, bank accounts, life insurance, etc., in her oldest daughter's name, and made sure that her younger children were to be taken care of. She also wanted her last hooray, so she planned a trip to Florida (basically in a wheelchair) for March 22nd. On March 19, I called her to ask how her most recent tests went, and she said they didn't find anything on the test, but they believe she had MS. I recalled an article a friend of mine e-mailed to me and I asked my sister if she drank diet soda? She told me that she did. As a matter of fact, she was getting ready to crack one open that moment. I told her not to open it, and to stop drinking the diet soda! I e-mailed her an article my friend, a lawyer, had sent. My sister called me within 32 hours after our phone conversation and told me she had stopped drinking the diet soda AND she could walk! The muscle spasms went away. She said she didn't feel 100% but, she sure felt a lot better. She told me she was going to her doctor with this article and would call me when she got home. Well, she called me, and said her doctor was amazed! He is going to call all of his MS patients to find out if they consumed artificial sweeteners of any kind. In a nutshell, she was being poisoned by the Aspartame in the diet soda.. and literally dying a slow and miserable death When she got to Florida March 22, all she had to take was one pill, and that was a pill for the Aspartame poisoning! She is well on her way to a complete recovery. And she is walking! No wheelchair! This article saved her life.If it says 'SUGAR FREE' on the label; DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!I have spent several days lecturing at the WORLD ENVIRONMENTAL CONFERENCE on 'ASPARTAME,' marketed as'Nutra Sweet,' 'Equal,' and 'Spoonful.'In the keynote address by the EPA, it was announced that in the United States in 2001 there is an epidemic of multiple sclerosis and systemic lupus. It was difficult to determine exactly what toxin was causing this to be rampant. I stood up and said that I was there to lecture on exactly that subject. I will explain why Aspartame is so dangerous: When the temperature of this sweetener exceeds 86 degrees F, the wood alcohol in ASPARTAME converts to formaldehyde and then to formic acid, which in turn causes metabolic acidosis. Formic acid is the poison found in the sting of fire ants. The methanol toxicity mimics, among other conditions, multiple sclerosis and systemic lupus. Many people were being diagnosed in error. Although multiple sclerosis is not a death sentence, Methanol toxicity is! Systemic lupus has become almost as rampant as multiple sclerosis, especially with Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi drinkers.The victim usually does not know that the Aspartame is the culprit. He or she continues its use; irritating the lupus to such a degree that it may become a life-threatening condition. We have seen patients with systemic lupus become asymptotic, once taken off diet sodas. In cases of those diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, most of the symptoms disappear. We've seen many cases where vision loss returned and hearing loss improved markedly. This also applies to cases of tinnitus and fibromyalgia. During a lecture, I said, 'If you are using ASPARTAME (Nutra Sweet, Equal, Spoonful, etc) and you suffer from fibromyalgia symptoms, spasms, shooting, pains, numbness in your legs, Cramps, Vertigo, Dizziness, Headaches, Tinnitus, Joint pain, Unexplainable depression, anxiety attacks, slurred speech, blurred vision, or memory loss you probably have ASPARTAME poisoning!' People were jumping up during the lecture saying,'I have some of these symptoms. Is it reversible?' Yes! Yes! Yes! STOP drinking diet sodas and be alert for Aspartame on food labels! Many products are fortified with it! This is a serious problem. Dr. Espart (one of my speakers) remarked that so many people seem to be symptomatic for MS and during his recent visit to a hospice; a nurse stated that six of her friends, who were heavy Diet Coke addicts, had all been diagnosed with MS. This is beyond coincidence! Diet soda is NOT a diet product! It is a chemically altered, multiple SODIUM (salt) and ASPARTAME containing product that actually makes you crave carbohydrates. It is far more likely to make you GAIN weight! These products also contain formaldehyde, which stores in the fat cells, particularly in the hips and thighs. Formaldehyde is an absolute toxin and is used primarily to preserve 'tissue specimens.' Many products we use every day contain this chemical but we SHOULD NOT store it IN our body! Dr. H. J. Roberts stated in his lectures that once free of the 'diet products' and with no significant increase in exercise; his patients lost an average of 19 pounds over a trial period.Aspartame is especially dangerous for diabetics. We found that some physicians, who believed that they had a patient with retinopathy, in fact, had symptoms caused by Aspartame. The Aspartame drives the blood sugar out of control. Thus diabetics may suffer acute memory loss due to the fact that aspartic acid and phenylalanine are NEUROTOXIC when taken without the other amino acids necessary for a good balance. Treating diabetes is all about BALANCE.. Especially with diabetics, the Aspartame passes the blood/brain barrier and it then deteriorates the neurons of the brain; causing various levels of brain damage, Seizures, Depression, Manic depression, Panic attacks, Uncontrollable anger and rage.Consumption of Aspartame causes these same symptoms in non-diabetics as well. Documentation and observation also reveal that thousands of children diagnosed with ADD and ADHD have had complete turnarounds in their behavior when these chemicals have been removed from their diet. So called 'behavior modification prescription drugs' (Ritalin and others) are no longer needed.Truth be told, they were never NEEDED in the first place!Most of these children were being 'poisoned' on a daily basis with the very foods that were 'better for them than sugar.'It is also suspected that the Aspartame in thousands of pallets of diet Coke and diet Pepsi consumed by men and women fighting in the Gulf War, may be partially to blame for the well-known Gulf War Syndrome. Dr. Roberts warns that it can cause birth defects, i.e. mental retardation, if taken at the time of conception and during early pregnancy. Children are especially at risk for neurological disorders and should NEVER be given artificial sweeteners. There are many different case histories to relate of children suffering grand mal seizures and other neurological disturbances talking about a plague of neurological diseases directly caused by the use of this deadly poison.' Herein lies the problem: There were Congressional Hearings when Aspartame was included in 100 different products and strong objection was made concerning its use. Since this initial hearing, there have been two subsequent hearings, and still nothing has been done. The drug and chemical lobbies have very deep pockets. Sadly, MONSANTO'S patent on Aspartame has EXPIRED! There are now over 5,000 products on the market that contain this deadly chemical and there will be thousands more introduced. Everybody wants a 'piece of the Aspartame pie.'I assure you that MONSANTO, the creator of Aspartame, knows how deadly it is. And isn't it ironic that MONSANTO funds, among others, the American Diabetes Association, the American Dietetic Association and the Conference of the American College of Physicians? This has been recently exposed in the New York Times. These [organizations] cannot criticize any additives or convey their link to MONSANTO because they take money from the food industry and are required to endorse their products.Senator Howard Metzenbaum wrote and presented a bill that would require label warnings on products containing Aspartame, especially regarding pregnant women, children and infants. The bill would also institute independent studies on the known dangers and the problems existing in the general population regarding seizures, changes in brain chemistry, neurological changes and behavioural symptoms. The bill was killed.It is known that the powerful drug and chemical lobbies are responsible for this, letting loose the hounds of disease and death on an unsuspecting and uninformed public. Well, you're informed now! Please pass this on to ur family and friends!

So I've been recently looking into losing weight, and i tried asking my parents to get me artifical sweetners so i can reduce on my munchings
Result: This article. Also, my parents are great people, the problem is just that the news circles that are followed around here promote fear-mongering. I request someone please make a single reply that i can copy paste(after reading it ofc) into my messages and PLEASE include sources
Forwarded! Mr.Sunil D.Patil .Pune (Ex.Director Symbiosis.) Forwarded this post in a group which I am forwarding for your knowledge.......... KILLER IN YOUR FRIDGE SWEET POISON..A MUST READ !!! In October of 2001, my sister started getting very sick She had stomach spasms and she was having a hard time getting around. Walking was a major chore. It took everything she had just to get out of bed; she was in so much pain. By March 2002, she had undergone several tissue and muscle biopsies and was on 24 various prescription medications. The doctors could not determine what was wrong with her. She was in so much pain, and so sick she just knew she was dying. She put her house, bank accounts, life insurance, etc., in her oldest daughter's name, and made sure that her younger children were to be taken care of. She also wanted her last hooray, so she planned a trip to Florida (basically in a wheelchair) for March 22nd. On March 19, I called her to ask how her most recent tests went, and she said they didn't find anything on the test, but they believe she had MS. I recalled an article a friend of mine e-mailed to me and I asked my sister if she drank diet soda? She told me that she did. As a matter of fact, she was getting ready to crack one open that moment. I told her not to open it, and to stop drinking the diet soda! I e-mailed her an article my friend, a lawyer, had sent. My sister called me within 32 hours after our phone conversation and told me she had stopped drinking the diet soda AND she could walk! The muscle spasms went away. She said she didn't feel 100% but, she sure felt a lot better. She told me she was going to her doctor with this article and would call me when she got home. Well, she called me, and said her doctor was amazed! He is going to call all of his MS patients to find out if they consumed artificial sweeteners of any kind. In a nutshell, she was being poisoned by the Aspartame in the diet soda.. and literally dying a slow and miserable death When she got to Florida March 22, all she had to take was one pill, and that was a pill for the Aspartame poisoning! She is well on her way to a complete recovery. And she is walking! No wheelchair! This article saved her life.If it says 'SUGAR FREE' on the label; DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!I have spent several days lecturing at the WORLD ENVIRONMENTAL CONFERENCE on 'ASPARTAME,' marketed as'Nutra Sweet,' 'Equal,' and 'Spoonful.'In the keynote address by the EPA, it was announced that in the United States in 2001 there is an epidemic of multiple sclerosis and systemic lupus. It was difficult to determine exactly what toxin was causing this to be rampant. I stood up and said that I was there to lecture on exactly that subject. I will explain why Aspartame is so dangerous: When the temperature of this sweetener exceeds 86 degrees F, the wood alcohol in ASPARTAME converts to formaldehyde and then to formic acid, which in turn causes metabolic acidosis. Formic acid is the poison found in the sting of fire ants. The methanol toxicity mimics, among other conditions, multiple sclerosis and systemic lupus. Many people were being diagnosed in error. Although multiple sclerosis is not a death sentence, Methanol toxicity is! Systemic lupus has become almost as rampant as multiple sclerosis, especially with Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi drinkers.The victim usually does not know that the Aspartame is the culprit. He or she continues its use; irritating the lupus to such a degree that it may become a life-threatening condition. We have seen patients with systemic lupus become asymptotic, once taken off diet sodas. In cases of those diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, most of the symptoms disappear. We've seen many cases where vision loss returned and hearing loss improved markedly. This also applies to cases of tinnitus and fibromyalgia. During a lecture, I said, 'If you are using ASPARTAME (Nutra Sweet, Equal, Spoonful, etc) and you suffer from fibromyalgia symptoms, spasms, shooting, pains, numbness in your legs, Cramps, Vertigo, Dizziness, Headaches, Tinnitus, Joint pain, Unexplainable depression, anxiety attacks, slurred speech, blurred vision, or memory loss you probably have ASPARTAME poisoning!' People were jumping up during the lecture saying,'I have some of these symptoms. Is it reversible?' Yes! Yes! Yes! STOP drinking diet sodas and be alert for Aspartame on food labels! Many products are fortified with it! This is a serious problem. Dr. Espart (one of my speakers) remarked that so many people seem to be symptomatic for MS and during his recent visit to a hospice; a nurse stated that six of her friends, who were heavy Diet Coke addicts, had all been diagnosed with MS. This is beyond coincidence! Diet soda is NOT a diet product! It is a chemically altered, multiple SODIUM (salt) and ASPARTAME containing product that actually makes you crave carbohydrates. It is far more likely to make you GAIN weight! These products also contain formaldehyde, which stores in the fat cells, particularly in the hips and thighs. Formaldehyde is an absolute toxin and is used primarily to preserve 'tissue specimens.' Many products we use every day contain this chemical but we SHOULD NOT store it IN our body! Dr. H. J. Roberts stated in his lectures that once free of the 'diet products' and with no significant increase in exercise; his patients lost an average of 19 pounds over a trial period.Aspartame is especially dangerous for diabetics. We found that some physicians, who believed that they had a patient with retinopathy, in fact, had symptoms caused by Aspartame. The Aspartame drives the blood sugar out of control. Thus diabetics may suffer acute memory loss due to the fact that aspartic acid and phenylalanine are NEUROTOXIC when taken without the other amino acids necessary for a good balance. Treating diabetes is all about BALANCE.. Especially with diabetics, the Aspartame passes the blood/brain barrier and it then deteriorates the neurons of the brain; causing various levels of brain damage, Seizures, Depression, Manic depression, Panic attacks, Uncontrollable anger and rage.Consumption of Aspartame causes these same symptoms in non-diabetics as well. Documentation and observation also reveal that thousands of children diagnosed with ADD and ADHD have had complete turnarounds in their behavior when these chemicals have been removed from their diet. So called 'behavior modification prescription drugs' (Ritalin and others) are no longer needed.Truth be told, they were never NEEDED in the first place!Most of these children were being 'poisoned' on a daily basis with the very foods that were 'better for them than sugar.'It is also suspected that the Aspartame in thousands of pallets of diet Coke and diet Pepsi consumed by men and women fighting in the Gulf War, may be partially to blame for the well-known Gulf War Syndrome. Dr. Roberts warns that it can cause birth defects, i.e. mental retardation, if taken at the time of conception and during early pregnancy. Children are especially at risk for neurological disorders and should NEVER be given artificial sweeteners. There are many different case histories to relate of children suffering grand mal seizures and other neurological disturbances talking about a plague of neurological diseases directly caused by the use of this deadly poison.' Herein lies the problem: There were Congressional Hearings when Aspartame was included in 100 different products and strong objection was made concerning its use. Since this initial hearing, there have been two subsequent hearings, and still nothing has been done. The drug and chemical lobbies have very deep pockets. Sadly, MONSANTO'S patent on Aspartame has EXPIRED! There are now over 5,000 products on the market that contain this deadly chemical and there will be thousands more introduced. Everybody wants a 'piece of the Aspartame pie.'I assure you that MONSANTO, the creator of Aspartame, knows how deadly it is. And isn't it ironic that MONSANTO funds, among others, the American Diabetes Association, the American Dietetic Association and the Conference of the American College of Physicians? This has been recently exposed in the New York Times. These [organizations] cannot criticize any additives or convey their link to MONSANTO because they take money from the food industry and are required to endorse their products.Senator Howard Metzenbaum wrote and presented a bill that would require label warnings on products containing Aspartame, especially regarding pregnant women, children and infants. The bill would also institute independent studies on the known dangers and the problems existing in the general population regarding seizures, changes in brain chemistry, neurological changes and behavioural symptoms. The bill was killed.It is known that the powerful drug and chemical lobbies are responsible for this, letting loose the hounds of disease and death on an unsuspecting and uninformed public. Well, you're informed now! Please pass this on to ur family and friends!

I choked on food and had to give myself the heimlich, by falling on a chair repeatedly. This is the second time this year that this has happened. It’s happened 3-4 times the last few years. I made a Reddit post here a few months ago, and I thought it was psychological. Now, I’m afraid it may be a physiological issue, too. I’m deathly afraid of eating now. I don’t know what to do. Am I going to die?
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 185 lbs.
Conditions: OCD, MDD, GAD, ADHD, high-functioning ASD
Medications: Ritalin LA, Robaxin, Risperdal, Cymbalta, Tramadol, Mirtazapine, Propranolol, Prazosin

This has probably been beaten to death, but after looking through the sub, there're so many conflicting perspectives on this, it's difficult to determine what's right. I've been prescribed Ritalin and it really does feel like a flip has switched but it has become really apparent how different my mind is without it.
I've been trying to work my morning routine around my intake of caffeine and the meds, and been taking them apart because there's a lot of discussion regarding urinary pH, how coffee can decrease it, excretion of amphetamines and how it can also potentially prevent their absorption. I've tried to find studies for some concrete findings, but can't seem to find any besides the instructions of the drugs. Do you guys take take your meds without caffeine? Do you guys wait slightly before taking them? What's the general consensus on this? I know fruit juices and citric acid will increase the clearance of amphetamines, and potentially decrease it's absorption, but what about coffee? I feel like I need to have both meds and caffeine before I can get where I need to be mentally in order to start work.
TLDR; Can I take coffee and Ritalin together? Will it decrease the absorption of meds? Should I take it on an empty stomach?

Intro & background:
I'm suffering from severe anxiety and depression for the last 8 years In the 15th of August, 2016 I suddely (literally in the course of a couple days- after seeing like a sudden flash or elctric spark going through my eye) anxiety and depresion raiesd to unbelieveble heights followed by the worst couple of weeks of my life. I was losing my sanity. After 2 weeks of hell It calmed down a bit, but just stuck there. no relief. 24/7. 8 years with mild shifts. I seized to function due to constant mind- suffepain and EXTREME anxiety.
Before all that I was in the peak of my YouTube career, being the biggest content creato well-known personas In My country and earned more than my parents by the age of 16 (Comedy, I ain't no dumb gamer-streamer) but I never stopped pushing forward, even with the 100th pill failing me. Most doctors throughout the years prescribed me all sorts of AD's for my main problem- extreme and unstoppable anxiety which got to the point no amount of Benzos would calm me down.
Past Buspar:
I was previously perscribed Buspar back in 2021 and it worked WONDERS (I wish I could remember the dosage and how long it took to start working), to the point it improved my depression immensly, aswell. Thing is, two weeks later the whole thing flipped, It eveb got way worse than before.
I stopped taking it and forgot about it, got back to pursuing AD's. Nothing worked for the anxiety or depressin like buspar since then, except for Ritalin but it's very problematic and inconsistent, also raises anxiety somtimes.
The present
Last month or so I finally figured out most Serotonin AD's were WORSENING my ocean-deep depression, motivation and anhedonia, but after finally getting rid of those I was left with a worstend anxiety which in turn made me realise (I use to call it just "depression") that probably my biggemain problem is the EXTREME anxiety, which could explain why only AD's that had any form of sucsess were 2nd generetion Anti-psychotics like Rexuilti which I'm currently on, but I'm no doctor.
3 days ago, I got back on Buspar 3x10mg (30mg) per day. My anxiety got a bit worse (it comes in episodes, I hope It's a starter side effect, please let me know if it is, I can't remember how was the start of my previous experience with it in 2021) and I'm anxious that it won't work or that I started with too high of a dose, and the biggest question is: why it took a turn for the WORSE in 2021 after a couple weeks, and will it happen again?
I'll expand, please stay with me, details are crucial:

1. It's the only med for anxiety which is not an AD (AD's like SSRI or MAOI and probably most serotonin agoninsts do nothing or worsen my state like I mentioned and figured out a couple months ago. And yes, I've tried ALOT) and also not a Benzodiazepine (Which is addicting, builds tolerance- I got so immune to it I'm afraid to mention how many mg of Klonipin I need to take for some comfort out loud (also they never ever helped me like Buspar did).

2. Starting 2 days ago I immidietly noticed changes, like an actual feeling of my (sorry if TMI) libido coming back for the rest of the ride (I'm zero on libido. Nada), together with an inital brief feeling of tiredness (which was nice since I bearly sleep due to lack of tiredness (UNHEALTHY! and boring at nights..) and I might say some calmness. Last 48 hours were a roller coaster between (mostly) slightly worstened anxiety (and maybe some depression. or both?) and brief moments of raised confidense, steep (yet quite brief but unseen up until now) decrease in anxiety (again, at random and rare but quite magial to be honest) to the point I ACTUALLY ENJOYED WATCHING IRON MAN 2 the night after the initial dose- that is after years of uncomfortably watching movies/mostly avoiding them due to lack of joy, concentration etc. Also watched some videos on Youtube CALMLY (savouring every detail, being able to focus for 30 minutes without an urge to do somthing else and HAVING FUN instead of using it (YT) to pass the time, etc.), and had quite a fun evening with my friends as I was attentive and way funnier than usual, followed by coming back home and having the CONFIDENSE AND WILL to speak to a girl I matched with on Tinder and finally FLIRTED with her LIKE I USED TO. It was great but ended at around 4-5 a.m.
My point here is that it seems cpotential changes have sparked and I'm so hopeful it gets consistent and better- which leads to the actual point- I'm scared to death it won't work/seize to work.
3. Most riddeling, I can't tell why it turned on me in 2021 (not just a poop-out, I literally felt WAY worse) and I now fear it may happen again. What I did figure out is that most antidpressants (which I was and no longer on) have an interaction with Buspar. Also as I previously mentioned, AD's are BAD for me. My last theory is that back in 2021 once the Buspar kicked it I stopped taking Klopin (Makes sense, I know it's what younger me would do cold-turkey without a thought, but I truly can't remember) Which led to a severe withdrawl (I know for a fact now- stopping Klonpin is like a death sentence to me) and I blamed it's symptoms on Buspar and missed a huge apportunity by stopping. Again, It's another theory.
To summorize (I'm F*kn tired of writing this in 3 AM the best English my foreign brain can produce),
please advise, comment, share experiences, calm me down and put some sense and hope into me.
Thank you so much
​
​

Hi there, my name is Alex and i wanted to share my story and maybe feel abit better by doing so.
For the record i am german so please excuse my bad english.
For contextits wednesday and i just got home after a twelve hour shift and it is 3 am in the morning.
I got diagnosed with ADHD when i was 8y. old. (I am 30y old now) Back then, i really could not comprehend what that actually meant. In short, school was hell. Got bullied, no support from teachers and on top of that, the typical: "If he would just focus, he would be sutch a good student..." eventually i got put on RITALIN, but my stomach couldn´t handle it so i came of the meds. In the end, i left school after the equivelant of a highschool diploma only, and went into hospitality as a bartender with the focus on cocktails /speakeasy bars. This work suits me really well. High stress enviorment for a couple of hours, highly organized and creative work. I don´t want to pad myself on the shoulder but i am quite good at my job. Even so far that i had the oppertunity to travel alot with just Mixology. I lived and worked in about 8 countrys in the last 10 years and it worked well since i could find a new bar in a diffrent city/country in legit one day. By doing that i always had the excuse with alot of work to not form deep friendships or commit to a deep relationship with anybody. 5 years ago Depression started to kick in. Tired of living and i just wanted silence in my brain because i thought if my brain is in a constant -1 (negative) and death is 0 (neutral), how long do i have to suffer until suicide is an appropirate solution?
Last year i accidantly saw the diagnose of me when i was 8. years old and i realized that most of the struggels i had, in some way, always led back to ADHD. Ghosting people, not being able to stay at one workplace for long, usage of THC, the list goes on......For 3 months now, i am on Elvanse Adult 60mg. The change, i have in my brain, is insane. I can focus better, i can do kalkulations way easier, in general all the things i hated as a barchef now go quite easy. I even have, after 30 years, my first relationship.
​
Here is the poroblem tho: In general, i am a well rounded up person. I know how to cook, i know how to do research, i am quite good at things like Neuro- linguistic- programming, i am interested in law and politics and the research behind it. When it comes to sport, i did: Dancing, (semi proffesional) Kite surfing, BJJ, Snowboarding, Skateboarding, Soccer and a couple more. I am also an Athiest, but read the Q´uran the Bible and Torra so i can argue against them if i have to.
​
All of these things i do/did on a hobby level, not proffesionally.
And here lays the problem: In Hospitality all my efforts to become a rounded up person are highly appriciated but not paid for.
Ever since i got back on Medication i realized where i could have been and what i could have done. But now there is the feeling of: Your skill is Bartending, stick to it.
These days i talk to politicans, lawyers and doctors because of my job and i hear day in and day out that i should have done something simular and my potential is wasted.
Until 3 months ago i denied that and in the back of my brain i was like: You have no idea how worthless i am if you would deeply know me.
Now on meds on the other hand i feel like: Did i really waste basiclly 14 years of my adulthood when i legit could have done anything else, something meaningfull, something well paid, something with social hours and maybe, just maybe find true fullfillment, not by doing something i am competant at, but something i really WANT to do.
Yet, what i end up with, is: I had my chance, i am 30 now, all i know is how to pour one spirit into another. I messed up and there is no way back in time.
Even tho i am kinda happy that i am now way more clear, i can´t seem to get my brain to think something diffrent then:"You wasted your life!"
​
To be fair, i don´t really know why i write this.
But if anybody reads this and is young, please don´t do the same as i did and take care of your mental health ASAP. I didn´t, and god damn it, i regret it!
thanks for listening
love from germany!
​
​

Weirdo Romanian dude who was a psychic kid. Energetic outbursts in order to get the attention of others, who was always really sensitive to questions of life and death and the afterlife, who knew for a fact that animals had souls and that ghosts and faeries are real, who was probably really into Greek Mythology and Greek Epics, who would've answered if asked "I believe in the Greek Myths, that's my religion, that's what I hope constitutes the reality of the spiritual world". Someone who moved to the United States when he was 10 years old.
A frame for the frightened
He got off the stage at Cottonwood Junction. The stage was going west and he wanted to head north. Sometimes he decided which way to go by the signs, or his legs would pull him in a certain direction. Or maybe he'd hear about some country he wanted to see. Or he might just be avoiding towns where folks was known to be religious. That morning before he took the stage he had consulted the Oracle, which was a sort of Oujia board that had belonged to his mother. She'd been into table-tapping and crystal balls and had her spirit guides. One that he liked especially was an Indian boy called Little Rivers. Once when she was out he put on one of her dresses and made up his face like a whore and called Little Rivers and next thing the dress was torn off him oh he did it of course but the hands weren't his and then he was squirming and moaning while Little Rivers fucked him with his legs up and he blacked out in a flash of silver light.
He grows up and spends his life studying the Classics, he interacts with Plato (through Plato or in Plato; Socrates and through Socrates Diotima, Alcibiades, Phaedrus, Gorgias, Aristophanes, Hermogenes, Parmenides, Callicles and through Callicles Pindar etc...) he interacts with Nietzsche, he interacts with Schopenhauer. He learns Classical Greek. He interacts with Leo Strauss and Alan Bloom and Alexander Kojève. He spends most of his life up to the writing of Bronze Age Mindset, effectively cloistered off. Thinking in Classical Greek. Thinking in Homer and in Plato and in Nietzsche. I imagine by this time he had already gotten into Houellebecq, and obviously he loves David Lynch in part because Twin Peaks is one of the closest depictions of the Ensouled and Poetic Reality he dwells in, he also gives the impression of being someone who enjoys Weird Fiction in general especially Cosmic Horror; Lovecraft and Ligotti wouldn't be surprised if he was into Burroughs (before getting into Celine, maybe I'm wrong but I imagine Burroughs came first) and Clive Barker.
Very lonely. Spending years of his life working on a dissertation. A year later the whole cultural landscape shifts within academia. Leo Strauss and Strauss' students (both the ones that stayed in academy and the ones who got into positions of political power and loudly rocked their prestigious credentials as "students" of Leo Strauss... meaning they took a class with him one semester) are scapegoated for the Iraq War. The only Straussians left are geriatrics entombed within their respective departments. Tenure being the name of the magical formulae that binds their form and privileges. Still they are marginal.
Just a few weeks ago he spaced out in front of a night club. Scintillated by the neon putrescence. In this place he becomes Nemo. Mobster and Perverts and off-duty cops. Heaven is High and the Emperor is far away. Spooks darting between street lights. People turning into corners, disappearing. Can feel the rumbling of some mummified saint in a three-piece suit propped up in a booth, guarded by smudged plexiglass, coated in gold-leaf glimmering in perpetual LED glow of the e-candles and Christmas lights, two unlit cigarettes dangling from blackened leather lips. Considered paying a visit. Lighting a joss stick and reading aloud the articles from the titty-mags left as an offering. The saint is of a kingly character. Joyful and gregarious and always ready to receive company, capable of turning all company into good company. The aminos were kicking in. Glycine along with the 600mg of theanine preceded and proceeded by scholarly amounts of coffee. The sun having become his enemy, he found sanctuary in desolation and in ill-repute. Stared at the bouncer by the door. Wondered what it would be like to be him. Imposing frame under leather jacket with military-style epaulettes. There was a kindness and softness in the man's eyes. His gaze veered off to one of the apartment buildings on the side of the road. There was just one light turned on in the middle of the building and his mind wandered to who lived there and what they were like, and then to how it would be if he was the boy or girl who lived there. Many times I've wished, not so much that I was someone else, nor that I was immortal, but that I could live many different lives simultaneously and not be limited to being only one thing. At such moments of mood where you're both calm and at least feel free every detail of life becomes interesting, all takes the character of images from a peaceful dream that present themselves in turn and don't move you one way or another, because you see through them. I wonder then at least as a zoological experiment what it would be like to be a Vietnamese girl, a nail shop owner, or even an obese Angolan middle-aged woman running a pedicure operation with pink walls... yes, no form of hueman life is beneath me at such moments. I've even had dreams that I was a door or a vase, free to observe - I imagine only the seeing, the satisfaction of curiosity, and not the thousands of cares that must affect these people who I want to inhabit. But most of all then, when to this love of curiosity is added some sudden burst of energy, I start to wonder about men like myself of around my age, and what it would be like to be them, what they think moment to moment, what pulls them this way and that. I feel then a great longing for them and also for myself, and think of friendships that I could have had with them and the great tasks that could await. I feel beset by this as an almost erotic irritation that I will never know who lived in that building at that window, never see what they saw looking out. These ways... this is all my version of "love for mankind." Of the other abstract kind, it means nothing and those who invoke it are bullshitters.
He feels like he is going to die soon.
Containing all these Spirits within him. He discovers the Ideal. Out of his Particularity, something Universal. If he can express it then his life has been one worth dying for.
The lonely man declares,
“Where to recover true friendship then? In this case though, more than in others, how could they stop you, if you only learned to listen to instinct and follow the pleasure of desires? There's nothing in principle that the state can do to stop you, if you should give yourself over to real friendship.”
Behold! The Movement of the Spirit. From Bronze Age Pervert to Iron Age Minstrel. The Melancholy Dandy.
Iron Age Aging Catamite. Singing voice so very lovely. He can sure carry a tune.
“IAAC!” emotes the beautiful young thing noticing the leering old thing perched on the stoop.
The blinking neon sign above him reads, “Academy”.
He studies his reflection in the tinted shop-window, his scalp dyed in black ink evoking memories of Count von Count, indeed he has a passing mastery of Neopythagorean numerology. His areolas burgundy disks. Cheeks unnaturally red. The skin of his face stretched back by miniscule copper hooks. Lending to his leathery visage a certain oriental mischievousness.
“Jesus Christ.”
He attempts to soothe his anxieties by making his pecs dance. It’s just not hitting the same. Staring at bright youths in disgusting ways. Looking for him. “Hey kid you look like a star. You got potential. You can be famous! Wanna learn the secret to fame and fortune? You like to party? I got some alcohol in my place. Wow you write poetry? You ever read Nietzsche? You’re so smart, you aren’t like those other boys…” languidly he takes a drag off his cigarette, his glare slime-coated. Talon clasping the youth’s bicep. He leads the curious and lonely 19 year old into a World of Spiral Staircases.
Welcome to the Academy.
It’s undignified to enter old age in this manner. Desperate for affection, for admiration, and conversation. We should perhaps forgive him this error. In retrospect. It is more often than not sad rather than actively malevolent. Beings like this can still impart some knowledge, some secrets of magic, etc… In fact more often than not, being old and fucked up and lonely, they quickly become the ones exploited and humiliated and extorted. Just how old was The Promising Young Catamite? 26!? Practically snatched em out the baptismal font you wretched Lamia. Still don’t let the straw-chewing fool you. Though he might be a stranger to the wonders of the Symposium the Promising Young Catamite meets the bag of methamphetamine as an old familiar friend. Been on the Ritalin since grade school. His shock is performative. His little smile knowing. His cells will regenerate. His liver fresh. While you, you take two or three sips off the potion, and there you are slurring out secrets, a proper risk to National Security. And it turns out he has a girlfriend he sends money to and he’s been seen frequenting titty-bars. He never lied about it though did he? Those love poems weren’t addressed to you you simpering old fool. Intemperate slut. Even in your old age. No wonder you’re such an ornery spinster.
Perhaps in his manner he came to love the stupid old thing leering at him. Though this may be the case, just how many secrets, how much coddling, how many drugs, how much money must you pump out just to keep him around. Don’t be mistaken. He knows this and he resents you for everything and will throw everything in your face. You resent him as well don’t you? Wasn’t your whole thing that you’d manage to avoid falling into that murk? From the start it was fucked. And you knew and still went along with it because you wanted to didn’t you? That’s why you’re a Minstrel. Genre-Defining Minstrel. I read your letters. Your compositions. They’re so much better. You think he kept them? Just how much money have you sent him? Just how many times have you almost ruined everything? Isn’t this precisely what your teachings teach against? Maudlin old queen. Beautiful retarded old thing. Iron Age Minstrel ministering to a flock of frolicking Pee-wee Hermans, of melancholy dandies. Standing amongst them a Hierophant. It’s not a Death Cult just a Cult dedicated to a Dead Guy. Your song is so beautiful and so very sad. They say in unison, “I had wanted to kill myself he saved me.” There love isn’t enough for you is it? Are they just props? How much have they sacrificed? You think they’re weak and stupid? You told them not to reveal themselves. You told them to denounce you. Now look at you, despite all your talk, you find yourself responsible for these derelicts turned martyrs. Proudly and frivolously they identify as criminals. The ambiguity of you is a torture to me. I recoil but cannot break my attention. Your song is so very lovely and so very sad. What are we to do? I hate you. In this error. In this reckless and shameless weakness. I hate you. Stop waiting for him. He never left. Please stop making him the excuse for your condition. We’ll meet again someday. Whatever you do don’t turn around. Only way out is through.
This isn’t a tragedy, this is a farce, and it still manages to be heartbreaking.
He is funny and so very insightful my Iron Age Minstrel. I enjoy his company.
“Iron Age Minstrel give me some wisdom before I hit the road. Reveal to me the Asiatic Mysteries.”
“People are shit. Better to have never been born.”
He flicks the smoldering remains of the cigarette into a near-by puddle. Bleating out a wad of phlegm, wiping his wet lips with the sleeve of his shirt, he stares at me. The old thing that refuses to die shoots a goatish grin. My old lovelorn Devil. Even at this age. Stupid thing. I can’t do anything and it upsets me. That I would if I could snatch you up in my arms and press and press and press and in that heat burn off the years and greet the young man and fight alongside him for something, anything, or fight him in order to extract the cruel words from his idol heart even if I have to rip the organ beating from his chest.
He merely integrated the partial wisdom he had glimpsed as a sensitive young poetic man sitting in the wilds. It’s partialness begetting an understanding based on formal logic; It is natural for the strong to dominate the weak, the weak should look to be dominated by the strong for it is natural. Laws that empower the weak and disenfranchise the strong, reveals the weakness of the People. These laws are unnatural and originate from man and not from the gods. The weak are making laws that stifle the strong.
Therein lies the Revelation. Our Logos is Heraclitan. That All is in Motion. That at the Center of Everything is a Great Fire. Antagonism is Generative.
The philosopher's body is like a statue of Silenus playing his flute, that opens up to reveal a multitude of gods. The whole Cosmic Pantheon contained in the lithe and lovelorn Satyr's music. Apollo in his wisdom, molds King Midas' ears into Donkey-ears. It's not that Midas was wrong to declare Pan the winner of the contest between the rustic deity and the solar logos... Rather it was to reveal that nothing stays hidden for very long. We are social beings. Midas' barber whisper Midas' shameful secret into a hole in the earth and the earth reveals it to the reeds who in turn reveal it to the winds who in turn reveal it to everyone else.
Our species has bred into particular spaces. Geographical zones. We've bred into one another and into space and into our tools. Humans didn't just pop out of thin air. Still our breeding wasn't utilitarian. Seeing as we developed the capacity to romance. To sing and dance and blush. To experience Love as a catastrophe. Each Lover being in some sense an Aberration. We construct the places future generations will inhabit. We learn how to do it, again we are born and raised, bred and educated... into it. Our use of tools. Our capacity to develop and transmit techne or technology and the specs for the construction and use of it, through direct learning and the singing of songs that would be memorized. A Unity of Opposites, singing and writing. Poetry and prose. Verbal and non-verbal. That could be reproduced/copied and transported and copied and discussed which in turn transforms into commentaries that are in turn replicated. Clumping together. We construct a Republic. Build our Socialism. A multi-celled complex organism, bound by carbon, no wonder we ignite.
Scripture unfurls into a Cosmos populated by luminous daimons, ancestral eidola, and saints. This is the Golden Chain of Wisdom. A World populated by Heroes. Bond together by their love. To engage with the text in this manner, is to engage in a conversation with these forces, this is the genuine definition of esotericism. The deep reading is a conversation. Contemplative and ecstatic. I can’t help but note the continuity of materia between the act of prayerful study and sorcery. Tobacco, coffee, and whiskey. There is an interpenetration or interweaving of Light. The Mystery of the Earth and the Revelation of the World. The point is that it is not stagnant. This should not keep us from referring to the original text and conversing with it, allowing the letters to radiate luminous, receiving the pneuma and producing new commentaries. This is where the Novel gestates.
[To be continued]

TLDR:
Taking meds was associated with reduction in unnatural deaths from drugs alcohol and suicide of about 7 people per 10,000 people with ADHD over two years in a recent Swedish trial published in JAMA which is a serious journal.
—-
Hi. I’m a psychiatrist with ADHD who takes Ritalin. This is my alt account and I just want to share some research with you as your fellow patient. I am reading the BMJ.
In it, the education section BMJ 2024;384:q680 summarises a recent observational trial in Sweden. The authors followed up people with ADHD with and without medication for 2 years. People on meds died less of drugs alcohol and suicide. Effect was mostly driven by reduction in accidental poisonings.
It is consistent with data from Taiwan that shows reduction in head injuries in kids on stimulants which is dose responsive.
—
JAMA DOI:10.1001/jama.2024.0851
—
Gotchas:
It’s not an experiment it is just watching people and seeing what happens… so the people who take meds might be better supported or have some other factor associated with taking meds which is not a meds effect.
—
What I think as a patient:
It makes me glad I am on meds. I speculate that meds make people less impulsive, healthier and more regulated. They do that to me.
Ok laters. Not answering any medical questions.

I like this game. I had fun through the campaign and the beginning of end game, then the grind and aggro became unreasonable. At incursion level 40 (any of them) infused brutes just morph into a death sentence. Even with squad ultimate, they move 3 times faster than you. I can stun one, special melee him, turn to run and have no chance of escaping his recovery and speed. Their life bar is ludicrous times 3. When they explode they take 3 quarters of the map with them, and not even rock or structure stops you from being hit. Same with the Brainiac guns when you lose Promethium shield protection. They just shoot right through everything. The environment is an obstacle to you, but non existent to their damage. Infused grunts explosions are game killers too. Playing a short range build is almost impossible at these levels. The pay out, even if you are successful is unfulfilling. You earn maybe enough to change or elite a piece of gear. Speaking of eliting gear, you pay to have the right to pay more to change your perk. An elited weapon should come with unlimited changes for all slots at no cost to you. How the hell am I supposed to know what works when trying different builds is like taking out a second mortgage in resources? This mostly stems from the fact that content makers ran out on early access and bought a metric ass tone of Ritalin and Mountain Dew, stayed up for240 straight hours, and ground the shit out of a much easier end game, then they hung up there Neck Bombs and haven't been seen since.
RS's response was to turn the dial from fun to ridiculous. Mean while, the rest of us not playing at that pace, you know the casual gamer who puts in 4 hours a day (lmmfao) who took his time enjoying the nuances, getting the trophies, doing the AR challenges, is left holding the bag after the developers decided it was way too easy, it wasn't, you were just looking a guys who run Youtube channels, wanted to be first with all the content, and unrealistically played non stop until there was nothing left to do. They all stooped playing after the first 2 weeks and the numbers show it.
Now couple this with incursion missions where the guys you are supposed to take out for victory are not there or in another location like in Invasive Species, the Ludicrous 3rd round of Sending A Signal (first 2 rounds are easy, then unlimited constant aggro for round 3 always seeming to fall just short of intel when the Promethium shield drops and the game kills you, you call for a revive, and before you character even is able to move, the game kills you again and again, thus ending your mission, another wasted 20 minutes of game play with nothing to show for it). Unfair World says it all, at level 40 you will have 4 brutes standing on the tiny ledge that holds the last crystal so that you couldn't shoot it if you wanted to, or the infused grunt you kill that respawns in less than a second. Also, for the piece-de-resist'ance, I can't join co-op to even get help.
I even tried to drop from Incursion level 40 to 30, same thing, then 20, same thing. It's like you can't drop levels to get more gear and resources to improve your build to advance. I don't know how some of these guys ran through the content that fast, but punishing the rest of us for it wasn't right. I can't afford to spend half a day playing to be exactly where I was when I started.
I wanted this game to be successful. I ignored the hate campaign, bought some Luther bucks with my deluxe edition, and set out to have a good time which turned into a nightmare which WB and RS think they don't need to patch before they are ready to drop new content. I'm glad I didn't buy the comic books too.

Full name: Oswald Roderick Nuldias
Gender: Cis Male
Pronouns: He/Him/His
Age: 17
Height: 5'9
Species: Ascendant Human
Occupation: Speed Demon
Known aliases:

• Oz
• Ozzie
• The Wizard
• Dungeon Master Supreme
• Neil Degrasse Tyson 2.0
• MACHINE
• The Unstoppable and The Immovable
• The Inescapable Countermass

BEGIN STATEMENT:
"Okay! It is currently...checks watch 4:03 AM Pacific Standard Time in Chicago...I have not slept in the past three days because I ran out of Ritalin and Melatonin four days ago. But, regardless of these medicinal setbacks, I'm still standing! The great and mighty Oswald keeps on kick-"
One prolonged REM cycle later
"Sorry for that abrupt cutoff reader, I passed out at 4:05 and only got back to this three days after the fact...it is currently midnight."
"Anyway! Narcolepsy aside, let's go over my profile."
"I've always been the...tech guy. I build things, I tinker, dabble in robotics, all of that fun stuff. Nobody really questions how they work anymore because they all meet the same purpose in the end: spontaneous combustion. I get a bit carried away when it comes to voltage..."
"I've had my successes in the past, don't get me wrong. Virginia state science fair winner and champion four times running! But...ever since we moved out here to Chicago... it's been difficult in a lot of ways. Adjusting to school, finding parts for my experiments, making time with my schedule..."
"Coping with my brother leaving to serve...making friends, especially. At least, it was until I met Ronnie and Marshall. I put up ads all over social media to find people willing to help me with my projects, but because I built my reputation as 'The Kid with a Blast Radius' nobody would hear me out. They all thought I was dangerous...and honestly, I... couldn't really blame them."
"But then, those two showed up. Said that danger was right up their alley and that they would help me test whatever needed to be tested. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Were they playing me? Were they being genuine? Were they gonna demean my experiments just because they didn't understand?"
"All of those feelings evaporated the second Ronnie agreed to test my flight suit and ended up with nothing but a hairline fracture in his ribs and a bloody nose. I was so relieved to see him get up and walk out of that alive, because I knew in that moment, I had made a couple of great friends."
"From that day forward, I was their wingman, the guy they could lean on for support, be it technical or emotional, I would be there to help them out. I swore that I'd be fast enough to get everything done so I could do what I want, when I want, for me and them."
"I haven't slowed down since. I just kept running, and kept getting faster, kept hitting harder. I-...we made new discoveries together. The chief of which being the Ascendancy."
"Yeah, a sentient reality warping gene seed attached to humanity's collective genetic code that has been laying dormant within us for eons longer than we've supposedly existed sounds a little far fetched, right?"
"You'd think that, until you can suddenly manipulate all facets of kinetic energy, friction and inertia like I can. After...getting tossed off a building and falling to your potential death, of course."
"Yeah, there's a lot about it we still don't understand. But hey, I'm a scientist. How hard could it be to understand?"
FUN FACTS:
Keeps his bronze coated D&D dice set on his person at all times.
Has jailbroken multiple consoles to mod them.
Hates ice levels in any game he plays.
Plays way too much Deep Rock Galactic, Doom and Doom-likes, and Ghostrunner.
Mains Pitt in Smash Brothers.
Wears a set of sweatbands constantly.
Has minor dyslexia and diagnosed ADHD.
Loves hugs a bit too much.
Is demisexual but tends to chase his partners off with his excitable nature.
His older brother served in the military and taught him some combat tactics.
Fights using a form of capioera for maximum style points.
Has the complete Flashpoint series box set in near mint condition, along with a life sized cardboard cut out of Wally West's Kid Flash.
His favorite shows consist of:

• The Umbrella Academy
• Any Shonin anime
• Every iteration of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Is the only one of the Wayfarers with a definitive criminal record.
List of crimes:

• Tresspassing
• Failure to comply with an officer
• Fleeing from an officer
• Jaywalking
• Traffic violations

END LOG

Can anybody relate? I’ve been having flashbacks and cringing involuntary movements of my arms and legs. My body just tights up and twists at the thought of these mental images coming into my mind.
I’ve been dealing with my mother’s death for the past 3 months and believe I had psychosis for a while. Got incredibly paranoid and hallucinations. Was suicidal for a while. Her death was somewhat violent - in that I had to witness it and she suffered greatly and there was nothing I could do.
I’ve been a wreck ever since having flash backs and panic attacks. The only thing that helps even a little bit is my Ritalin - prescribed by my GP. I do not have access to a psychiatrist.
I’ve honestly never been so fucked up in my life. I feel like my brain is broken and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be better. I feel like I’m on drugs and I’ve been sober for two years. I look like death. I’ve had random passerby accuse me of being a drug addict because I look so bad.
It also doesn’t help that immediately following my mothers death not only was I the next of kin and executor of the estate having to deal with all of her affairs, we also lived together and my housing immediately became under threat due to increased financial strain and some incredibly toxic friends that I’d had around.

I didn't know where else to turn. I called the prevention line and they were completely useless. I don't know what I'm expecting here, but I think maybe just unloading the baggage will help. I think I'm ready to be honest with myself for the first time in my life, and to do that I need at least one other person to hear the true story of me. I wear a mask every day, and I've gotten so used to wearing that mask that I almost forgot who I truly am. I hope SOMEONE,anyone can relate to this, or be helped by my honesty.
I'm a lost, 38 year old little boy masquerading as a grown man. I was born in 1985 to a 14 year old mother and a 17 year old "father." Dad split when I was six months old, moved ONE MILE away from me, and lived there to this day. Yet, I've only spoken to him about 20 times iny entire life.
Mom moved on fast. By 17 she was married to another man and brought me two amazing brothers, but my stepdad was an AWFUL abusive drunk. Countless times he put my mom in the hospital, and would beat me nearly to death on a daily basis. His favorite weapon was a wire coat hanger, straightened out and then doubled over so it would inflict twice the pain. The smallest infraction was punished severely. One time he literally beat my ass with a 2×4, and broke my tailbone, which I only found out years later. The story they told the Dr was I fell down the steps sleepwalking. This was all secondary to the real abuse. He "pimped" me out to his brothers and friends. I would be given drugs in my juice and would wake up knowing something had happened, but I was on 4-7 years old and didn't understand. It wasn't until I was about 8 when I woke up in the middle of it. I told my mom what had happened and all hell broke loose. She tried calling 911 but my stepfather beat her so bad that she nearly died. While she was in the hospital I was beat viciously for days. When I finally managed to slip away and tell a neighbor what was going on, stepdad offed himself on the spot. I heard the gunshot.
You'd think this would be the end of the story, but it wasn't. I was so broken, completely broken that any chance of a normal life was shattered. By time I was ten I was a full blown junkie. My mom's new boyfriend was in a horrible crash, and was on the strongest doses of Oxy you could get, and was given the most pills legally allowable,and in the 90's, that was a LOT. He had so many pills that I could take 25 or 30 without him ever knowing. My middle school started noticing that I couldn't stay awake during any of my classes and recommended that I see a Dr. The Drs diagnosed me with Narcolepsy, and put me on even more drugs. Now I was an 11 year old snorting speedballs of Oxy and Ritalin. Everything began spiraling again. Eventually I was so out of control that I was sent to live with my grandparents. They did their best. For the first time I was shown true, unconditional love. However, I was already so far gone that nothing stuck. They tried to show me how to grow up, but it just never took. All I cared about was getting out of highschool, doing drugs, and moving to LA to start a voice acting career (my only talent is doing voices and impersonations.) But my PTSD kept me from holding down a real job for long. I bounced from job to job for the next 10 years, meanwhile moving from Oxy to Heroin, to Fentanyl. I suffered so many ODs that it's a modern miracle I'm alive.
Ten years ago I entered a rehab program lasting six months. Out of the 400 men I saw come and go, only me and one other person got clean and graduated. After graduation I was offered a job as a work therapy supervisor and life seemed to be going better. I worked at the rehab for a year, and then slowly my anxieties and trauma crept back up, and I became so crippled with fear of the outside world that I couldn't leave home. I found a job working for a hospital from home, doing accounts receivable and this worked for me until after the Pandemic and they tried to force me to go to an office. I made it a month before I suffered a panic attack so bad that I had to be taken to the ER in an ambulance. I never went back. I started DoorDashing to make money and fell in love with the gig. The freedom, the ability to set my own schedule, and the daily cash made this my ideal job. I'm a minimalist. EVERYTHING I own would fit in the trunk of my car. I'm one of those people who live so much in their head that money and material things mean nothing. Then one day I am dashing and I get pulled over for seemingly no reason. The cop tells me that I had an outstanding ticket that went so long that my license was suspended. Even though I had no idea that I was suspended, I was charged for it. My license has been suspended now for over a month, but because my job is driving, I can't make the money. I'm literally STUCK. I feel like I can't tell my family and ask for help because they've all spent thousands keeping me alive, and bailing me out. Countless times they've stepped up to get me out of a self-imposed crisis, and I just can't let them down again. And even though I'm now clean and sober for ten years, every time even the slightest thing goes wrong in my life, they think I've relapsed and start treating me as such. So now my life has ground to a halt over a lousy $200 reinstatement fee. No way to make the money without breaking the law and driving while suspended, and the nice cop the first time didn't tow my car, but they wouldn't be so kind the second time. So I have tried to do the right thing, and it's just a lose lose situation. I'm currently staying with my grandma, and she's close to tossing me out because I'm not working, and I'm afraid to tell her why. She's a pretty old school and bitter, and honestly just tired of me being a manchild.
The stress of everything has been crippling for someone so mentally broken. I'm falling into this state of despair that feels like its unrecoverable. My thoughts have gotten dark. I find myself just sitting and staring at my gun. Never put together a plan because I can't stand the thought of hurting my family. But everyday makes that possibility seem more and more comfortable. I don't know what to do. I am just so stressed and desperate that I can't see the forest for the trees. I can't develop ANY ideas or plans to dig myself out. Until I can figure out a way to get this stupid $200 reinstatement fee paid, my life, as I know it, is quite literally over. I haven't slept more than an hour a night for two weeks. My congestive heart failure has taken a turn for the worse from all the stress and lack of sleep, and I've lost 28 lbs.
This situation is killing me, and the only thought that brings me any comfort is the thought that I could end it any second.
I know this was ridiculously long and no one will read it, but for the one or two who will, know you are loved, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And if you are struggling too, and need someone who is completely judgement free, my inbox is always open. Thank you for listening. Much love and respect.