Stiles Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likerightnow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-04-25 09:16 pm
likerightnow) wrote in muserevival2014-04-25 09:16 pm
Entry tags:
065.1. Muse prompt
"Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place,
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you?"
• Welcome To My Life, Simple Plan
Stiles should have figured it was going to be a weird and confusing day when his dad sat down at breakfast with him and used pointing out that he wasn't eating his Froot Loops as a segue into the much more difficult subject of suggesting Stiles see a psychiatrist. It didn't stop him feeling blindsided and scared by the time the sun set on the day, though. The heads-up and time to prepare himself wasn't enough.
It hadn't taken much nudging to convince him to go to the appointment at the hospital. Apparently the psychiatrist his dad had made the appointment for him with - 'Only if you want to go,' had been the disclaimer - knew about the werewolves, and the supernatural, and everything that had gone down in Beacon Hills. She knew about Stiles involvement in it, and that his body had been used to wreak havoc and destruction on that very hospital just a few weeks ago. Stiles knew he hadn't been right since the ice bath, and that alone was something he maybe needed to talk to someone about. Maybe it would help him to sit down with someone and actually say, 'Hey, I think I'm losing my mind' rather than just thinking it and bottling it up inside.
Without even thinking about it, Stiles had sent Isaac a text message asking him to come with him and his dad to the appointment at the hospital that afternoon. Probably also without even thinking about it, Isaac had texted back straight away and promised he would be there. It was Stiles frame of mind that had him not really agreeing to get back together with Isaac when they had ran into each other in the store the night before. They had talk, and talked a lot, but Stiles hadn't been able to come to a resolution when push came to shove. He had needed to think about things... even if thinking about things was all he seemed to do lately, like he couldn't switch his mind off at all.
It turned out that even though Stiles invited Isaac along, it would mostly lead to Isaac sitting the waiting rooms for hours on end either on his own or with the Sheriff. Stiles had a really long initial assessment with the psychiatrist where she asked him so many questions, his head was spinning. Then she seemed to use these different leading questions that meant he had to open up more and talk. Talk, he did. He talked a lot. Once the flood gates were opened, it was like it all came pouring out of him, and at three separate points, he had broken down crying when bearing his soul to this chick got too much. The third time was solely Isaac-related. He told the doctor how bad he felt for losing his shit like that when usually he wasn't the sort to lose his temper like that. He was hurt, embarrassed, but most of all, feeling ridiculous amounts of guilt for how it had all played out.
After that, Stiles went through another pile of tests and examinations. During that time, the doctor had a one-on-one meeting with the psychiatrist, and honestly, it wasn't something Stiles wanted to be present for. His dad was the one who had to shoulder all this for better or worse, and if he wanted to talk openly and honestly about Stiles behaviour, that was cool, but Stiles didn't really want to hear it. He even gave the go ahead for her to talk to Isaac if she needed to. Isaac had been close to him since the ice bath when everything seemed to explode, so he might help with clues or something.
Now, closed up in his room alone, Stiles sat on his bed with his laptop open in front of him. He knew after the appointment, both his dad and Isaac had been worried about him. Stiles was used to those concerned and worried looks now. He had been on the receiving end of a hell of a lot of them in the recent months. As soon as they got home to the Stilinski home, Stiles had paused on the bottom of the stairs, the large pile of pamphlets cluched in his hand along with a paperbag from the pharmacy containing no less than three new medications inside. "I just... need to be alone. Alright? I just want to be alone." He had turned and started to scale up the stairs, but paused halfway up and turned back. "And don't tell anyone yet. Not Melissa, not the pack. No one."
Maybe it was asking a lot, but Stiles had to figure out how he felt first. The glossy brochures and patient information print-outs were spread out in a haphazard mess on the bed around him, the pharmacy bag dumped on his armchair for later when he could work his way up to popping those new pills. On the Mayo Clinic website, he slowly typed 'Bipolar Disorder' into the search box, and started to read. He had started with Wikipedia, because he knew Wiki probably better than Google. Now he was working his way through the list of helpful websites the doctor had given him, and he was reading as much information as he could get.
At the end of the May Clinic one, he sat back against the mound of pillows behind his back, the dull ache in his head turning into a full blown borderline migraine from information overload. Bipolar Disorder and associated Anxiety Disorder had been the official diagnosis, but the psychiatrist had distinctly said she believed he had it for some years not and the ADHD was a sign of it being in its mild stages. She also believed the ice bath had triggered it, causing the panic attacks again like he had when his mom had died, and the nogitsune probably targeted him as a vessel because he was mentally strained. Now that it was triggered, though, it was going to have to be treated with medication and ongoing counselling so he could go back to feeling normal.
But what was normal? He had asked her that, coming close to tears in the wake of the dignosis with his dad and Isaac sitting either side of him in the doctor's office. She had reassured him that his usual happy self had every chance to returning if the condition was controlled. If it wasn't, he would continuing having these ups and downs. Ups and downs which had lately been characterised by anxiety, agitation, anger, depression, lack of appetite, insomnia, poor sleep patterns, fatigue, feeling of hopelessness, etc. etc. She had even said that increased sex drive could be a sign, which would explain his behaviour on the camping trip when he got drunk. After that, he had hit another low and it was just all made worse with the fight with Isaac.
It was a lot to take in, but the more he read, the more he understood. It was a mental illness, but that didn't mean he was crazy. It was a mental illness that made him an easy target for the nogitsune. It was a mental illness that could trigger angry outbursts if not controlled. It was a mental illness that could make him feel absolutely crap about himself. Suddenly, so much seemed to have an answer. It was both a relief and daunting.
He set the laptop aside and got up to go grab the pharmacy bag. He tore it open and upended the contents onto the bed. Two of these to be taken at night, and the other in the morning. This seemed to hit it home once and for all for Stiles that it was happening. He popped the two pills out into the palm of his hand and sunk down on the side of the bed to stare at them. Soon, he tossed both pills into his mouth and washed them down with a swing from his can of soda, flopping onto his back as he swallowed them down.
Everyone else got to be a werewolf, or a banshee, or just generally awesome. What did Stiles get? Possession by a super demon and a mental illness.
Stiles Stilinski // Teen Wolf
Do you ever feel out of place,
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you?"
• Welcome To My Life, Simple Plan
Stiles should have figured it was going to be a weird and confusing day when his dad sat down at breakfast with him and used pointing out that he wasn't eating his Froot Loops as a segue into the much more difficult subject of suggesting Stiles see a psychiatrist. It didn't stop him feeling blindsided and scared by the time the sun set on the day, though. The heads-up and time to prepare himself wasn't enough.
It hadn't taken much nudging to convince him to go to the appointment at the hospital. Apparently the psychiatrist his dad had made the appointment for him with - 'Only if you want to go,' had been the disclaimer - knew about the werewolves, and the supernatural, and everything that had gone down in Beacon Hills. She knew about Stiles involvement in it, and that his body had been used to wreak havoc and destruction on that very hospital just a few weeks ago. Stiles knew he hadn't been right since the ice bath, and that alone was something he maybe needed to talk to someone about. Maybe it would help him to sit down with someone and actually say, 'Hey, I think I'm losing my mind' rather than just thinking it and bottling it up inside.
Without even thinking about it, Stiles had sent Isaac a text message asking him to come with him and his dad to the appointment at the hospital that afternoon. Probably also without even thinking about it, Isaac had texted back straight away and promised he would be there. It was Stiles frame of mind that had him not really agreeing to get back together with Isaac when they had ran into each other in the store the night before. They had talk, and talked a lot, but Stiles hadn't been able to come to a resolution when push came to shove. He had needed to think about things... even if thinking about things was all he seemed to do lately, like he couldn't switch his mind off at all.
It turned out that even though Stiles invited Isaac along, it would mostly lead to Isaac sitting the waiting rooms for hours on end either on his own or with the Sheriff. Stiles had a really long initial assessment with the psychiatrist where she asked him so many questions, his head was spinning. Then she seemed to use these different leading questions that meant he had to open up more and talk. Talk, he did. He talked a lot. Once the flood gates were opened, it was like it all came pouring out of him, and at three separate points, he had broken down crying when bearing his soul to this chick got too much. The third time was solely Isaac-related. He told the doctor how bad he felt for losing his shit like that when usually he wasn't the sort to lose his temper like that. He was hurt, embarrassed, but most of all, feeling ridiculous amounts of guilt for how it had all played out.
After that, Stiles went through another pile of tests and examinations. During that time, the doctor had a one-on-one meeting with the psychiatrist, and honestly, it wasn't something Stiles wanted to be present for. His dad was the one who had to shoulder all this for better or worse, and if he wanted to talk openly and honestly about Stiles behaviour, that was cool, but Stiles didn't really want to hear it. He even gave the go ahead for her to talk to Isaac if she needed to. Isaac had been close to him since the ice bath when everything seemed to explode, so he might help with clues or something.
Now, closed up in his room alone, Stiles sat on his bed with his laptop open in front of him. He knew after the appointment, both his dad and Isaac had been worried about him. Stiles was used to those concerned and worried looks now. He had been on the receiving end of a hell of a lot of them in the recent months. As soon as they got home to the Stilinski home, Stiles had paused on the bottom of the stairs, the large pile of pamphlets cluched in his hand along with a paperbag from the pharmacy containing no less than three new medications inside. "I just... need to be alone. Alright? I just want to be alone." He had turned and started to scale up the stairs, but paused halfway up and turned back. "And don't tell anyone yet. Not Melissa, not the pack. No one."
Maybe it was asking a lot, but Stiles had to figure out how he felt first. The glossy brochures and patient information print-outs were spread out in a haphazard mess on the bed around him, the pharmacy bag dumped on his armchair for later when he could work his way up to popping those new pills. On the Mayo Clinic website, he slowly typed 'Bipolar Disorder' into the search box, and started to read. He had started with Wikipedia, because he knew Wiki probably better than Google. Now he was working his way through the list of helpful websites the doctor had given him, and he was reading as much information as he could get.
At the end of the May Clinic one, he sat back against the mound of pillows behind his back, the dull ache in his head turning into a full blown borderline migraine from information overload. Bipolar Disorder and associated Anxiety Disorder had been the official diagnosis, but the psychiatrist had distinctly said she believed he had it for some years not and the ADHD was a sign of it being in its mild stages. She also believed the ice bath had triggered it, causing the panic attacks again like he had when his mom had died, and the nogitsune probably targeted him as a vessel because he was mentally strained. Now that it was triggered, though, it was going to have to be treated with medication and ongoing counselling so he could go back to feeling normal.
But what was normal? He had asked her that, coming close to tears in the wake of the dignosis with his dad and Isaac sitting either side of him in the doctor's office. She had reassured him that his usual happy self had every chance to returning if the condition was controlled. If it wasn't, he would continuing having these ups and downs. Ups and downs which had lately been characterised by anxiety, agitation, anger, depression, lack of appetite, insomnia, poor sleep patterns, fatigue, feeling of hopelessness, etc. etc. She had even said that increased sex drive could be a sign, which would explain his behaviour on the camping trip when he got drunk. After that, he had hit another low and it was just all made worse with the fight with Isaac.
It was a lot to take in, but the more he read, the more he understood. It was a mental illness, but that didn't mean he was crazy. It was a mental illness that made him an easy target for the nogitsune. It was a mental illness that could trigger angry outbursts if not controlled. It was a mental illness that could make him feel absolutely crap about himself. Suddenly, so much seemed to have an answer. It was both a relief and daunting.
He set the laptop aside and got up to go grab the pharmacy bag. He tore it open and upended the contents onto the bed. Two of these to be taken at night, and the other in the morning. This seemed to hit it home once and for all for Stiles that it was happening. He popped the two pills out into the palm of his hand and sunk down on the side of the bed to stare at them. Soon, he tossed both pills into his mouth and washed them down with a swing from his can of soda, flopping onto his back as he swallowed them down.
Everyone else got to be a werewolf, or a banshee, or just generally awesome. What did Stiles get? Possession by a super demon and a mental illness.
Stiles Stilinski // Teen Wolf