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All tagged depression
Follow the pattern.
Is being autistic more common among those with gender dysphoria? Or do autistics wrongfully identify as transgender due to their autism? Everyone seems to have an opinion, but maybe the question should be first and foremost asked to those who actually are autistic, and transgender.
Michael Katchan is an artist from Australia, who has come to terms with his own demons. In this interview we get personal and talk about his mental health, how it inspired his creative journey, and the woman who changed his life.
What do we know about trauma, fear, PTSD and the brain? In this article I’m exploring the brain, and how abusers try to destroy the most important system that helps us function in society.
The road to justice, activism and the truth. Can you hear the sound of the parade Alex?
I was sexually assaulted while drugged, while under the care of the hospital I had been staying at. My rapist, youtuber Exurb1a, sexually assaulted me outside the hospital. I'm here to point out the blind spots in Mental Health Care.
I had to be raped and hospitalised to receive my autism diagnosis. This is my story, and all the signs that were missed.
Rebecca points at her phone. "The police is always listening. Remember that when you talk to me, if you don't want to share certain things with them."
They wear normal, casual clothing. Nothing white or clinical at all, that hints to where I am.
All his dark jokes since the night he abused me, weren't funny to me at all. They felt like carefully crafted, subtle threats, disguised as jokes. Threats nobody else could pick up on, but me.
This next bit might come as a surprise to you if you've been reading about what has happened between my ex-coworker youtuber Exurb1a and I; especially if you've seen the videos I shared while I was depressed.
Pillows and tables are nice. A new home is lovely. But I'd get rid of all the material things, if I could just feel home again in my body.
I'm suddenly terrified I'll take Karol and Agnieszka down in my dark pit and have no idea why I put myself in this situation or how to get myself out of it.
The police-officer looks at me, and shakes his head softly.
"We don't know how it's possible this happened. I don't understand how our colleague you saw in January didn't do what he could have easily done that very day. I just talked to my colleagues about it. If this was taken up months ago, you could have started with truly digesting this, and give it closure."
The ceiling is white and I've been staring at it for hours. I'm somewhere in Germany, and I don't know what to do. I just want to melt into the pastel bedsheets and disappear. Fade out. Not be alive.
He's not online, and hasn't been for a while. I can't hear his phone buzzing in the other room either. All I can hear, is the sound my fists make while banging against the wall.
I hear the snide voice of Exurb1a through the phone. I've never before heard such a cold voice directly aimed at me. Sure, I've had arguments with people before, but hearing this tone come out of someone's mouth, is definitely new to me.
When everything that happened these last few months happened, I thought: if my friends and I had and still have to go through all of this, at least let me turn it into something good.
He's 27, still inside, and waiting for the green light for his next treatment: electroconvulsive therapy. There's a dark joke in there somewhere.
My stomach hurts and I need to vomit. Blood on the floor. Everything is a mess. Is this my punishment for being so naive?