JACKLYN | You're Not Sick

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-EDITED-
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Notes: none of this is real. Brooklyn's mum is so supportive and sweet in real life! Also mentions of Bipolar and Anxiety
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Waking up wasn't something that Brooklyn usually enjoyed, you had to be crazy to like the sensation of being wrenched from the peaceful, restful world of dreams back into your life's problems. But normally when he'd just had a nightmare waking up was a relief.

Not this time though. No, Brooklyn only felt numb, with a creeping feeling of dread, doom and despair left behind from the all too real dream he'd just had. Perhaps it was a feature of being older but he never, or at least very rarely, had dreams about monsters or volcanoes or going to school with no trousers on. (on a side note, I once went to school with odd shoes on and was generally so sad all day 😂)

Replacing these were dreams that were definitely less glamorous but far more scarring, to him at least. Like dreams about messing up and everyone hating him or how secretly all his friends actually despised him and only acted nice because they felt sorry for him or, most hauntingly, getting sick just like his mum.

Over time he'd come to terms with his mother's illness and had accepted that he didn't need to be in constant fear that he'd end up the same. But occasionally something like this would happen, a reminder like a slap in the face that bipolar disorder wasn't just another make believe childhood monster, it was real. And not only was it real but he had an increased chance of getting it because it did have a genetic trend.

He thought he'd gotten over it. No, that was a lie, he knew he wasn't over it and he never would be, it was scary. But he wasn't hung up about it like he was sometimes when he was young. It was all because of stupid school and the PSHEE session, that's why he'd had the nightmare.

They'd studied mental illness and during it Brooklyn felt like someone must have derived a personal hell for him especially. He knew it wasn't a big deal really, lots of people had mental illnesses, at least more than you'd expect. But he just couldn't get all the memories of his mum out of his head. He knew first hand how scary she was sometimes, how sad she got, how much trouble she'd be in. He knew how distressing it was for those close to you.

He knew how terrified she was, because, especially when it'd gotten really bad, what was more distressing than her lapses of control was the few moments when she was back to normal. When she curled up in a corner and cried the most heart felt sob he'd ever heard and hugged him close saying she was sorry and that she hadn't meant anything she'd said or done and that he was precious and shouldn't have to put up with this. She'd said it would all be okay again soon but he'd seen how scared she was. He didn't want to be like that and he definitely didn't want to put the people he cared about through what he'd gone through.

When he was in class and they were talking about mental illnesses he felt hyper aware. It didn't matter that they weren't talking about bipolar disorder specifically and it didn't matter that he knew consciously that no one was looking at him, no one even knew his story. But it just felt like everyone was staring, sneering. All the people who looked scared or disgusted at the topic were looking at him, all the people with pitying looks and all the people laughing at the stupid loonies were staring at him.

He'd had a panic attack three times that day which didn't exactly help his self image. Brook didn't tell anyone, he never did. They'd go away anyway, there was nothing the teachers could do so why tell them, waste their time, make a fuss and humiliate himself? He'd excused himself for the bathroom one of the times and just sat out the other two.

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