Not sure what I want to say this week. My hope is to have a peaceful, calm brain week, to be honest. Less thinking, more doing. I finished episode three of Teddy, my very naughty shota series. I’m hoping to clean up the first two episodes, same with the first 3 of City Howls, and have another City Howls ready in a week or two. Lol, I wince just mentioning a deadline—let’s say the near future? At some point, while I’m alive, these things shall come to pass. XD
So… I kinda freaked the fuck out
Oh, I know what to talk about! I had a freak out this week. A full blown, WTF, did I wake up in the real world, crazy anger moment. Whoo. I didn’t even know I still had it in me. I didn’t even know I could still be triggered, but fuck, I was. I might still be. @[email protected] It’s actually kinda cool to realize I can still freak out over something. It’s like finding a pattern in my brain that I get to poke at and smooth out until I find a chill state of being again. This is all mental association focused on one moment.
Okay, so I have a twin brother and he had a fever this week. He’d been sick for 2 weeks (working while sick, too, the stupid ass.) Now he was suddenly complaining of his sinuses feeling like they’re going to explode and he had bloody snot, etc, etc and a fever. I drove him to his primary care and when he came out he had a prescription for an antibiotic… and an antidepressant. A SSRI.
I flipped. Fucking flipped.
Our biological mother was bipolar. I am bipolar. Given the genetic tree, there’s a good chance he is on the bipolar spectrum. SSRIs make people with bipolar fucking crazy—I know first hand because I spent a year being fed SSRIs by mental health professionals, and I was fucking crazy. I lost a year of my life (nearly took my life) while being told these doctors were making me better (they didn’t give a fuck about my input of how none of this felt better) until one finally had the stones to say, hey, I think you’re on the bipolar spectrum and these pills are hurting you. I walked away after that. They had my medical history and it took them a year to put it together. Got off the pills and saw just how much they were making me crazy. I still had PTSD, I wasn’t a ‘stable’ being by any means, but I also wasn’t being pumped full of something that was making me insane.
I feel like I need to add something here about me not being a doctor—and I’m really fucking glad about that because doctors seem to let their textbooks do a lot of the thinking for them these days instead of looking at what’s right in front their noses. Taking yourself off of psych meds can be dangerous. It can kill you. Withdrawal isn’t fun and I don’t think there is a psych med out there that doesn’t punish you for stopping it. Going on psych meds can be just as dangerous if you’re not working with an empathetic human being who actually gives a fuck about your wellbeing. Even if they care, these drugs can harm you. Those little pills are not passive and you should be informed about every interaction you have with them. Every time.
Anyways, I was so triggered—let’s be honest, I’m still not dealing with this shit well. XD There is a lot of anger, a lot of what ifs. I’m still not sure if I’m rational about the situation. An adult walks into a doctor’s office asking for medicine because he’s afraid he had the flu and he might be hit with a secondary infection—the flu has been killing a lot of people this year. The doctor takes this time to immediately evaluate him on a mental health level and prescribe him a psych med, not bothering to see if he has a family history, or if these meds are even right for him. You’re depressed, let’s send you home with some happy pills. Ignore he can’t stop these happy pills once he starts because of withdrawal and severe chemical imbalance potentials. Ignore if you’re of a certain brain chemistry, these happy pills can make you suicidal. Don’t question his ability to make rational decisions when he’s coming in with a fever of 101 after being sick for 2 weeks. Ignore how simple daily exercise can improve mood or the stabilizing of blood sugar—and again, I love my brother but the stupid fuck is diabetic and eats like a dumbass. Blood sugar has a huge effect on mood, as does not supplementing Vitamin D3 this time of year for those not living near the equator. No, ignore all of that. No, you have a fever, let’s send you home with some happy pills.
There is a leap of logic in this situation I am not following. It’s a situation where I see someone at their most vulnerable—sick and in need of help—being given a drug that can have long term consequences on mental health and wellbeing with no proper evaluation. My bf says my reaction (the logical one, not the emotional WTF XD) is justified, but I just don’t know. I was triggered. I went into a doctor’s office over 10 years ago, explained I hadn’t seen a doctor since my mother died, my father was now dead, I was homeless, and had just gotten out of an abusive living situation. She handed me a pill that made me suicidal in under 2 weeks. Just until I could see the psych doctor. Something to hold me over. It worked for her, the prescribing doctor, and she really didn’t want me to be so upset. Well, I became more upset and ended up in a psych ward because of it.
You think that would have been enough for me but I still gave these people a year because I felt so lost, I wanted someone to fix me. It took a year to realize they couldn’t, I was the only one who gave a fuck enough to figure out this problem and solve it. It was isolating, frustrating because I couldn’t talk to a doctor like a person. Very few would see me as more than a bunch of symptoms—and some of them were angry, resentful that their choice of pill wasn’t ‘fixing’ me. I was apparently failing them. I have doctors now who I can talk to—actually, all the doctors I have are people I made sure would talk to me like an equal and the ones who wouldn’t, I discarded. I’ve had potential new doctors immediately try to take me off of things that work. I’m talking serious life-altering meds, such as thyroid and cortisol supplements that keep me alive and functioning. As an adult I was able to say fuck off and find a new doctor. But my fuck, there were still tears to realize that these people would literally choose to hurt me because I didn’t fit into their textbook. It’s my body, it’s my brain, it’s my life and I am not obligated to suffer just because a doctor wants to see what this pill will do next.
That well meaning doctor ten years ago wanted to help me and instead nearly killed me, and for all I know, she’s doing it to every person who steps into her office—an office half a state away and yet here is the same fucking behavior 10 years later with different doctors. I had serious life problems when I walked into that doctor’s office—PTSD, homelessness, death in the family, abuse—but my brother today? He’s held the same job for 4 years, pays his bills, eats consistently, has no self destructive behavior (if you ignore the sweet tooth.) His life is not reflecting a mind of chaos or pain. I think he could wait until a real psych doctor or therapist sees him before handing him a pill. Why couldn’t a doctor supposedly trained for this situation see the same thing? Or is this exactly what they’re trained for now?
Medicine is an industry in America, a system to make money. Huge money is in medicine. It’s why we’re having political battles over healthcare. It’s not about socialism or universal health care; someone wants all that money and they can’t have it if a different health care system is in place. It’s where opioids are being prescribed like candy and patients are becoming addicted. Where staff infections are growing because of antiquated ideas of hygiene. Where the flu vaccine they want to make that will actually work for every genetic mutation of the flu is just too expensive to produce, so we’ll probably never have it. Where it took them this long to admit that early screening of mammograms usually leads to false positives and a huge amount of stress for the women involved. Not to mention, where my doctors have looked more unhealthy than me, overweight, overworked, underpaid and super stressed.
Growing up, I liked to think of doctors as people who helped people—that makes sense, right? I think doctors want to help people, certainly. Now all I see are tools being used to push pharmaceuticals to an assembly line of patients who are rushed through the door. Doctors are the drones at the end of the line to hand over whatever sexy new ‘life saving’ pill that took millions to billions to develop.
I know that’s really fucking cynical, and still, that’s where my brain goes because I haven’t ever left a doctor’s office without a script in hand. My bf has a dentist who refuses to pull a bad tooth or fix it, but hey, if he needs botox, they offer that now. It’s all about the money, not about the patient. I truly feel for those who don’t feel empowered to get the help they need, those who find their health slipping and it becomes the new norm no matter what pills are handed to them.
Would I have ever gotten my health back if I were in the normal system of health care? They don’t believe in the thyroid meds I take, they don’t believe adrenals ever need help unless you have Addison’s, they don’t know how to diagnosis Lyme disease because they’re looking for antibodies the body hasn’t produced instead of the bacterium itself. Mold toxicity is automatically mental health problems because mold toxicity presents as a mental health issue and no one is asking those psych patients what the fuck they’re allergic to. We look at this big, amazing, modern world with so much knowledge and information but our systems of health care aren’t catching up. It’s like watching dinosaurs lumber around, too big, too set in their ways, unable to realize that we know more and need to innovate. We’re still trying to get racist misinformation out of medical texts because they used to experiment on blacks and said they felt less pain than the frail white women.
I want the world to be as smart and sensible as I know it can be, but that’s just not going to happen. It’s still far better in some ways than my mothers’ generation—both my biological and adoptive mother were experimented on in psych wards—but there is still so far to go. When you walk into a doctor’s office complaining of pain or cold or mental duress, just be aware of whatever substance you end up putting in your body as a result. You gotta have your back cuz they’re not answering to anyone. Their textbooks says you’re wrong and they’re right every time. If your life grows worse, no one is held accountable. If you die, no one cares. No one sues the doctors or the pharmaceutical companies if you shoot your brains out over the wrong psych med prescription. And I’m not saying it’s all bad, it’s all wrong, but I know more people in the other half of the small state I live in who have gotten knee and hip replacements surgery recently while no one I know in this area has. Being closer to the big hospitals with surgeons on hand might be enough to suddenly need surgery for every ailment. Again, an absolute jump in logic, but that’s where my brain goes because I’m cynical as fuck about the entire thing.
He went in for a cold and came out with an antidepressant. What is the rational jump there?
Hidden in the suburbs, a prostitution ring of boys gains a new star.
Teddy didn’t expect to be trapped in the back of a truck with a horny postman today of all days. Lief’s birthday party is moments away and Teddy just knows he’s going to be late. Mr. Sullivan likes that he’s new, really likes his mouth, and has no remorse ruining Teddy’s brand new outfit. Worse, he leaves Teddy aching with no relief to be had. Teddy can only hope to get home and cleaned up before Lief’s party is over.
Fancy new clothes, parties, and a room of his own are just some of the perks of moving in with his Granny. Lief, the boy next door, ignites a blossoming love Teddy has never felt before. Life is perfect, but Teddy is learning nothing is what it seems in his new home.
Each episode in this mm shota/ageplay serial is over 10,000 words long and features encounters between older men and petite, youthful bottoms. Playful and sexy with dark undertones, don’t miss the latest erotic installment of Teddy’s Naughty Adventures!
“Glad you found time in your very busy schedule to join us.”
I only agreed to model nude for a community art class because I needed the money. I figured it would be easy, fun even. But that was before I came sprinting into the studio on the first day, late and viciously hungover, and found myself face-to-face with Axel Hawthorne. Suddenly I was stripping down in front of the very man who had blown me off after a brutally hot night on the dance floor…and letting him draw me. Hot tempered and abrasive, I knew there was more to Axel than met the eye. As the term went on I decided I was going to figure out why an award-winning artist was teaching local art classes. And why I couldn’t get his stupid, gorgeous face out of my head.
I would do anything for my fated mate…
Freddie Hawkins was everything, but ordinary. The cocky wolf shifter was undeniably handsome, but his past was something he never wanted his omega to learn about.
He was always looking for his dream-come-true omega. More than anything, he wanted to settle down and start a family. So when he found the fated mate of his dreams, all he wanted to do was grab some alone time with him. He didn’t realize their kiss could change the fate of the entire world.
Jonas Bishop was a wild and independent jaguar shifter, ready to start a new life. He wasn’t exactly looking for love. Instead, love found him at the worst time imaginable. After they kissed, the town of Frisky Pines disappeared in front of his eyes. It wasn’t long after that he discovered he was pregnant… with triplets?!
One desperate night, a rent boy hot enough to scorch the motel sheets, meets a man doomed to burn for love.
Christian Ryder is cursed with pyromancy, a deadly ability he has difficulty controlling. Having hurt lovers in the past, he has sworn off personal attachments.
Tanner O’Bannon is broke and desperate. The recent loss of his father has thrown Tanner into a tailspin of debt he can’t afford to pay. Working as a rent boy allows him to pay the mortgage and his college tuition, but it’s burning away his soul in the process.
Through the machinations of an escort agency these men are thrown together. Smoldering embers of desire fan the flames of love, but will it be enough to make Christian overcome his fear of love, or to save Tanner from the fire?