I should just bold this whole mess. Contains Saint Andy the Eternal Martyr, comparisons to Castiel, demands that the DAYDians he's ignoring not contact him for "their own good" (but his SPN friends are cool because they're "fighting his monsters" and prevented a relapse), claims that Andy hallucinated Neville in his bedroom, claims that Andy got fired because someone told his boss "online lies" about him, and a repeat of the old standby that Brittany recognized Andy's mental illness and unlike all his other relationships, that one contained no Astral Undead Shamans.
Oh, and Andy has a "paranoid streak to his mental illness". You'd think stating that would be redundant, since he claimed to have paranoid schizophrenia. Oddly enough, this doesn't feature in this week's explanation of why he hurt people -- this week, he admits it's because of a "hysterial need for attention and "fucking up".
I’m an extrovert. Big time. To the depths of my being. I’m not Rachel Berry or Tinkerbell, I don’t need APPLAUSE to live, but I do need PEOPLE. Human interaction. Even if it’s online, I have to have it…though I’ll start missing touch until I do something stupid and promiscuous if that’s all I get. If I feel truly isolated, I go into such incredibly, incredibly dark places in my head that I’ll actually, physically start shutting down and even hallucinating people to talk to.
But being an extrovert and needing people does not mean that I am immune from being hurt by people, and unfortunately, I also have a paranoid streak to my mental illness.
No, it’s not the kind that attacks other people because I think they’re out to get me. That’s just not in my personality. I’ve hurt people, oh yes, but always doing things that were out of a hysterical need for attention, that I thought were helping them, or just flat-out fucking up. What it does do is attack me instead.
What it DOES do is tell me that someone is talking behind my back, is about to turn on me and say they never meant any of the nice things they ever said and hated me all along, that anyone can and will turn on me in the blink of an eye and without so much as a whisper of warning or giving me a chance to do anything about it. It tells me that there are people who will do anything necessary to make sure I’m alone forever and will never succeed at anything. It tells me people want to hurt me or just don’t care if they do. It tells me that I’m sick or hurt or dying and it doesn’t matter because I can’t get care because I’m not worth it. It tells me that people are going to leave me, that I’ll be alone if I’m not good enough (protip; it never thinks I’m good enough) if I don’t do enough, if I don’t “earn” it by giving enough, creating enough, drawing enough, writing enough, amusing enough, helping enough, saving enough people and hurting myself enough in the process. It puts me through hearing the voices of loved ones saying horrible things about me. It tells me that I’m always about to lose everything and there’s nothing I can do to stop it or save myself, but maybe, maybe, maybe if I just give give give a little more and try try try a little harder, this time ONE person will still be willing to keep me around.
It doesn’t help that all these things have happened to me. More than once. For real. Over and over again, in fact. Even recently. Like, this week for some of them.
It doesn’t help when I’m currently rationing my meds and hunting for work and being denied and rejected and ignored fifty times a day because I lost my job when someone called my boss with an anonymous tipoff of online lies about me.
It doesn’t help that Brittany’s birthday was a month ago and my grandfather died a year ago yesterday and Brittany’s murder is two weeks from now and people have been actively as awful as they possibly can to me about the latter in particular. She’s the most awful loss I’ve ever had in my life. It already feels like someone has turned the saturation down on happiness ever since her light went out of the world.
I’m really, really fighting it. I swear. But my sleep habits are getting erratic, I’m having more physical symptoms, the thoughts are getting more intense, and in the place on the edge of sleep or when I’m very tired, I’ve SWORN I got phone calls or texts or emails from people I love telling me to fuck off or worse. I’ve had panic attacks when a meta has been “late” or I haven’t been able to post “enough” or felt like I can’t get a piece of art “right.” I’ve woken up with my phone in my hand sobbing at a blank screen, or typing on a turned-off computer trying to “answer them.” I’ve felt more and more like I have to fake Perfect ALL THE TIME OR ELSE.
In the past, when the paranoia got bad, I would hole up with one particular person (or a very small circle of people) I loved and believed I could trust and cling to them like an overly affectionate and desperate to please barnacle. This was hugely, hugely toxic every time, the only exceptions being Brittany, and that’s because she was strong enough to hold me at just enough arm’s length to make me stand on my own and MAKE me socialize with others.
I’m not doing that this time…and please, please forgive me, I’m avoiding the people who would be SO easy to go into “Savior barnacle” mode with emotionally, because I know if I get close to them in this state, I’ll limpet (or take their refusal to let me limpet as proof that they don’t actually care about me and as a betrayal and be heartbroken). Tim, Dana, Rebecca, and Alanna in particular, I love you so much, and yes, I am ignoring you, and oh, God, it’s tearing me to pieces and I’m so, so sorry, but I swear it’s for your own good right now and PLEASE don’t try to talk me into doing otherwise until I’m back on full meds AND back FULLY on top of my own head. There are qualities in our friendship way too vulnerable to going Bad Places right now.
I also am not in a place where I can engage with the Daydverse much at all, because I’m so close to tipping on the exact lines between real and not real that I need to engage in ruthless analysis of external things, not the creation of internal ones. I started going into Neville’s headspace to write. Then I heard his voice. Like, out loud. I saw him out of the corner of my eye in those green Auror’s robes. And I know that no matter what your opinions of reality and HP or the multiverse or anything like that, that Yorkshire motherfucker ain’t standing in my room. So yup yup nope. Not now.
And right now, as I’m typing this, I’m shaking so hard and so terrified and nauseated I’ve had to take off most of my clothes, breathe deeply, and lie down. I’m saying no. I’m turning people down. I’m saying I can’t. I’m saying I won’t. I’m saying NO. When people need me and want from me.
And they’re all gonna hate me, gonna leave me, gonna turn on me. I’ll come back and they’ll have all left and the Daydverse will be gone and I’ll have no Daydians and no friends and they’ll have decided they hate me because I’ve let them down. I’ve let them down and broken promises and I’m not there when they need me and want me so they’ll never need me and want me again. They probably already hate me and this was my last chance. If I really love them, I’d do this for them anyway. I’d find a way. I’d make myself. Not to mention now the SPN fans will see this and leave in DROVES. They’ll know you’re a fuckup. You’ll never get a job now. People will find this. They’ll never want you around. No one wants you. You’re not good for anything. You’re useless. Utterly useless. A lazy drain and waste of resources with no money, no job, and no one will have you.
But I’m going to hold the line here. I WILL. I’ve got to. Because it really does matter that much to me, and I’m not going to let my brain take anything else. And I know they really do care and aren’t going anywhere. I’m stronger than this and so are they.
I don’t really believe that. But I have to.
In the mean time, I want to give a huge, huge, huge thank you to the Supernatural family. I have friends here that I can spend time with, talk with for hours, but who are strong enough and self-contained enough and PEERS and LIKE me but don’t NEED me. I’ve never really had this before in such a real way that didn’t have five hundred fucked-up caveats. I don’t have to be afraid of you OR afraid of myself with you, no matter what the Bad Things try to tell me.
It’s no exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t for the interaction and the analytical, exterior-based socialization and support and the love you’ve all shown, I’d either have gone into another toxic relationship or just completely shut down or decided fuck this whole spinning turkeyfarm and exited stage left pursued by my own hallucinatory bear. You’re fighting my monsters without even knowing it, and at least so far, you’re winning. This is abjectly terrifying because it’s vulnerable and it’s admitting to needing and admitting to not being good enough, but you deserved to know.
SPN fans are a family, and this is the family business. You’re killing things and saving someone.
Andy admits he abused people for "attention"; remains the victim of an unjust witch-hunt
Oh, and Andy has a "paranoid streak to his mental illness". You'd think stating that would be redundant, since he claimed to have paranoid schizophrenia. Oddly enough, this doesn't feature in this week's explanation of why he hurt people -- this week, he admits it's because of a "hysterial need for attention and "fucking up".
http://andythanfiction.tumblr.com/post/48811356825/my-angel-wings-were-burned-and-restrained
My Angel Wings Were Burned and Restrained
I’m an extrovert. Big time. To the depths of my being. I’m not Rachel Berry or Tinkerbell, I don’t need APPLAUSE to live, but I do need PEOPLE. Human interaction. Even if it’s online, I have to have it…though I’ll start missing touch until I do something stupid and promiscuous if that’s all I get. If I feel truly isolated, I go into such incredibly, incredibly dark places in my head that I’ll actually, physically start shutting down and even hallucinating people to talk to.
But being an extrovert and needing people does not mean that I am immune from being hurt by people, and unfortunately, I also have a paranoid streak to my mental illness.
No, it’s not the kind that attacks other people because I think they’re out to get me. That’s just not in my personality. I’ve hurt people, oh yes, but always doing things that were out of a hysterical need for attention, that I thought were helping them, or just flat-out fucking up. What it does do is attack me instead.
What it DOES do is tell me that someone is talking behind my back, is about to turn on me and say they never meant any of the nice things they ever said and hated me all along, that anyone can and will turn on me in the blink of an eye and without so much as a whisper of warning or giving me a chance to do anything about it. It tells me that there are people who will do anything necessary to make sure I’m alone forever and will never succeed at anything. It tells me people want to hurt me or just don’t care if they do. It tells me that I’m sick or hurt or dying and it doesn’t matter because I can’t get care because I’m not worth it. It tells me that people are going to leave me, that I’ll be alone if I’m not good enough (protip; it never thinks I’m good enough) if I don’t do enough, if I don’t “earn” it by giving enough, creating enough, drawing enough, writing enough, amusing enough, helping enough, saving enough people and hurting myself enough in the process. It puts me through hearing the voices of loved ones saying horrible things about me. It tells me that I’m always about to lose everything and there’s nothing I can do to stop it or save myself, but maybe, maybe, maybe if I just give give give a little more and try try try a little harder, this time ONE person will still be willing to keep me around.
It doesn’t help that all these things have happened to me. More than once. For real. Over and over again, in fact. Even recently. Like, this week for some of them.
It doesn’t help when I’m currently rationing my meds and hunting for work and being denied and rejected and ignored fifty times a day because I lost my job when someone called my boss with an anonymous tipoff of online lies about me.
It doesn’t help that Brittany’s birthday was a month ago and my grandfather died a year ago yesterday and Brittany’s murder is two weeks from now and people have been actively as awful as they possibly can to me about the latter in particular. She’s the most awful loss I’ve ever had in my life. It already feels like someone has turned the saturation down on happiness ever since her light went out of the world.
I’m really, really fighting it. I swear. But my sleep habits are getting erratic, I’m having more physical symptoms, the thoughts are getting more intense, and in the place on the edge of sleep or when I’m very tired, I’ve SWORN I got phone calls or texts or emails from people I love telling me to fuck off or worse. I’ve had panic attacks when a meta has been “late” or I haven’t been able to post “enough” or felt like I can’t get a piece of art “right.” I’ve woken up with my phone in my hand sobbing at a blank screen, or typing on a turned-off computer trying to “answer them.” I’ve felt more and more like I have to fake Perfect ALL THE TIME OR ELSE.
In the past, when the paranoia got bad, I would hole up with one particular person (or a very small circle of people) I loved and believed I could trust and cling to them like an overly affectionate and desperate to please barnacle. This was hugely, hugely toxic every time, the only exceptions being Brittany, and that’s because she was strong enough to hold me at just enough arm’s length to make me stand on my own and MAKE me socialize with others.
I’m not doing that this time…and please, please forgive me, I’m avoiding the people who would be SO easy to go into “Savior barnacle” mode with emotionally, because I know if I get close to them in this state, I’ll limpet (or take their refusal to let me limpet as proof that they don’t actually care about me and as a betrayal and be heartbroken). Tim, Dana, Rebecca, and Alanna in particular, I love you so much, and yes, I am ignoring you, and oh, God, it’s tearing me to pieces and I’m so, so sorry, but I swear it’s for your own good right now and PLEASE don’t try to talk me into doing otherwise until I’m back on full meds AND back FULLY on top of my own head. There are qualities in our friendship way too vulnerable to going Bad Places right now.
I also am not in a place where I can engage with the Daydverse much at all, because I’m so close to tipping on the exact lines between real and not real that I need to engage in ruthless analysis of external things, not the creation of internal ones. I started going into Neville’s headspace to write. Then I heard his voice. Like, out loud. I saw him out of the corner of my eye in those green Auror’s robes. And I know that no matter what your opinions of reality and HP or the multiverse or anything like that, that Yorkshire motherfucker ain’t standing in my room. So yup yup nope. Not now.
And right now, as I’m typing this, I’m shaking so hard and so terrified and nauseated I’ve had to take off most of my clothes, breathe deeply, and lie down. I’m saying no. I’m turning people down. I’m saying I can’t. I’m saying I won’t. I’m saying NO. When people need me and want from me.
And they’re all gonna hate me, gonna leave me, gonna turn on me. I’ll come back and they’ll have all left and the Daydverse will be gone and I’ll have no Daydians and no friends and they’ll have decided they hate me because I’ve let them down. I’ve let them down and broken promises and I’m not there when they need me and want me so they’ll never need me and want me again. They probably already hate me and this was my last chance. If I really love them, I’d do this for them anyway. I’d find a way. I’d make myself. Not to mention now the SPN fans will see this and leave in DROVES. They’ll know you’re a fuckup. You’ll never get a job now. People will find this. They’ll never want you around. No one wants you. You’re not good for anything. You’re useless. Utterly useless. A lazy drain and waste of resources with no money, no job, and no one will have you.
But I’m going to hold the line here. I WILL. I’ve got to. Because it really does matter that much to me, and I’m not going to let my brain take anything else. And I know they really do care and aren’t going anywhere. I’m stronger than this and so are they.
I don’t really believe that. But I have to.
In the mean time, I want to give a huge, huge, huge thank you to the Supernatural family. I have friends here that I can spend time with, talk with for hours, but who are strong enough and self-contained enough and PEERS and LIKE me but don’t NEED me. I’ve never really had this before in such a real way that didn’t have five hundred fucked-up caveats. I don’t have to be afraid of you OR afraid of myself with you, no matter what the Bad Things try to tell me.
It’s no exaggeration to say that if it wasn’t for the interaction and the analytical, exterior-based socialization and support and the love you’ve all shown, I’d either have gone into another toxic relationship or just completely shut down or decided fuck this whole spinning turkeyfarm and exited stage left pursued by my own hallucinatory bear. You’re fighting my monsters without even knowing it, and at least so far, you’re winning. This is abjectly terrifying because it’s vulnerable and it’s admitting to needing and admitting to not being good enough, but you deserved to know.
SPN fans are a family, and this is the family business. You’re killing things and saving someone.
And this time, they say thank you.
Tagged: personal, mental illness, fandom, trigger warning, suicidal thoughts.