if you could, please spread this around. drug addiction is horribly stigmatized in part because people do not understand that it is truly a disease. help spread awareness. help people like me feel less ashamed of our illness
-the disease model dictates that a disease is classified as such when a certain organ experiences a defect that results in symptoms
-in addiction, the brain is the organ effected. this puts addicts at an automatic disadvantage, as modern science and medicine lacks full understanding of the brain
-the symptoms of addiction are behavioral, causing another disadvantage. they are likely to be written off as the person simply being “bad” (lying, manipulating, etcl.)
-in order to be an addict, you have to have the gene for it. most people have this gene (over 50%)
-the frontal cortex of our brain controls our emotions, personality, love, morality, responsibility, decision making and will power
-the midbrain is not conscious and we have no control over it. its entire function is to keep us alive; it is a life or death processing station. when in danger, the midbrain activates and tries to save your life
-research on mice shows that addiction does not live in the frontal cortex, but in the midbrain
-when someone predispositioned for addiction is exposed to a drug, that drug “hijacks” the midbrain and your brain now believes that it is necessary for survival
-when the midbrain is activated, the frontal cortex (which remember, controls our choices and morals) shuts down
-when scanning a non-addicts brain and showing them a drug or alcohol, the frontal cortex lights up. when showing that same drug to an addict, the midbrain lights up
-normal brain activity can take years to recover after active addiction
-in addicted brains, the number of dopamine receptors is extremely low. no matter what drug is abused, the same results will occur
-each person has a certain dopamine threshold–when the line is crossed, we are happy
-drugs release a large unnatural amount of dopamine. the brain cannot handle it, and in response kills off dopamine receptors
-as a result, you need more dopamine to feel happy. you can no longer enjoy things that you used to, because nothing but the drug releases enough dopamine
-chronic and severe stress is very similar to addiction in the brain (trauma, abuse, etc.). it raises the dopamine threshold in a similar way as taking a drug does
-this means someone who has been traumatized or abused may only feel joy and pleasure when high as opposed to a “normal” person who can feel happiness from everyday activities
-a neurochemical called glutamate in the brain follows around dopamine and lays down memories when something pleasurable happens. this is what creates our triggers; our brains remember very vividly the happiness and joy of using as opposed to the pain of withdrawal
-we have no choice whether or not we have cravings. cravings without relief is complete and utter suffering–the midbrain is active and causes us to feel uncomfortable and sick in a desperate attempt to get us to use (remember, the midbrain thinks its dying)
-recovery focuses on strengthening the frontal cortex by providing it with new coping mechanisms when cravings occur, so that the midbrain cannot “hijack” us and force us to use
guess who decided to animate and color 2 minutes and 50some seconds of MAG 200? that’s right baby. I’m going to be working on this one for a while, but I finished the animatic, so enjoy the wip.
I think a lot about gaining weight as a form of healing
Character: gets a lil bit fat after a life of hardships
Me: groundbreaking incredible life changing
Character: *gets fatter as a visual indicator that they have let their life collapse / they have let their skills erode and are less powerful than they were before / they have become lazy and complacent*
Me: no! bad!
Character: *gets fatter as a visual indicator that they are allowing themself to enjoy things / they are no longer experiencing previous hardships and dangers / they are generally happier*
fanart for The Hound, the Healer, and the Hunt! aka huntfic, aka that fic detailing the burgeoning relationship between two of jonah magnus’s beaus in an au where one’s a werewolf and one’s a hunter and i’m a gay
Beginning his acting career on stage, he debuted in films at the age of 24 and quickly gained international attention for his performances in silent films. Later, he began acting in talkies and became equally successful in them.
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He was in a relationship with Lucie Mannheim from 1914 to 1915, then in 1918, Veidt married Gussy Holl, a cabaret entertainer. They divorced in 1922 and he married Felizitas Radke, who came from an aristocratic German-Jewish, in 1923. Their daughter was born in 1925 and after her birth, Veidt was so hysterical from joy they had to sedate him and keep him in the hospital overnight. He last married Ilona “Lilli” Barta Prager, a Hungarian Jew, in Berlin in March 1933.
Veidt was bisexual and a feminist.
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After a successful career in German silent films, where he was one of the best-paid stars of UFA, he and his new Jewish wife Ilona Prager were forced to leave Germany in 1933 after the Nazis came to power. The couple settled in Britain, where he took British citizenship in 1939. For the next nine years, he acted in number of British productions including “The Thief of Baghdad”.
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Even after leaving England, Veidt was concerned over the plight of children cooped up in London air raid shelters, and he decided to try to cheer up their holiday. Through his attorneys in London, Veidt donated enough money to purchase 2,000 one-pound tins of candy, 2,000 large packets of chocolate, and 1,000 wrapped envelopes containing presents of British currency. The gifts went to children of needy families in various air raid shelters in the London area during Christmas 1940.
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In 1941, he moved to the USA, where he was casted as Major Strasser in Casablanca (1942).
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In the 1930s, Veidt discovered that he had the same heart condition that his mother had died from. The condition was further aggravated by chain smoking, and Veidt took nitroglycerin tablets.
Oh this is TAME compared to the usual relentless Unhinged Hoopla the mycologists usually get up to.
I have had the tremendous good fortune to know several mycologists, all of whom I would trust with my life and to help me hide a body should the occasion arise but not with a Ham Sandwich. A Short List of the bullshit I’ve seen the Mycologists do:
Went out on a late-summer mushrooming expidition with some as part of a class in scientific illustration to collect samples. The scandanavians are notorious about keeping thier family mushrooming grounds a secret but in order to go up with the mycologists, we all had to be blindflded for the better part of an hour in the car as we got close, and put our hands on a copy of All The Rain Promises And More because they didn’t think the Bible was “Serious Enough” and swear to keep any educated guesses we had about where we were a secret.
I thought this was perhaps over-doing it a little, until Valerie (not her real name) waved me over to a patch of rather boring looking white mushrooms and told me, Quote: “Now, when I was a young woman*, this was a more serious issue but should you ever find someone worthy of a slow, painful death, all you need is a sliver of these. The first symptom is stomach cramps and by then it’s too late. The toxin interferes with the body’s ability to translate DNA into protiens, and once it sets in, it’s irreversible. He’ll be dead no more than five days later of liver failure.” “That’s fascinating Valerie. I will keep it in mind.” “You’re a smart G- No. What’s the word. Thing that comes out at night**. Anyway, I’m sure you can find your way back here.”
*for context, Valerie is old enough that when she was born, women couldn’t vote. Sometimes, fools have the hubris to ask her what she thinks of the Good Old Days and she tells them that it’s so good that divorce and women’s rights has become a thing, instead of ‘having to beat a man to death and blame it on the poor mule” to get out of a bad marriage.
**Valerie also seems to have confused Nonbinary People with Nocturnal Animals, but she’s not wrong.
She was also entirely correct that I figured out where the mushrooming grounds are despite the blindfold but the book oath still holds.
Anyway, back to the Bullshit .
Valerie was 97 at the time of this expidition and still hoofing it p and down the side of a mountain to identify specimens.
The trouble with being out in the CO Mountains in late summer, and ESPECIALLY in a part of the mountains that has an awful lot of high-calorie tasty things like Chanterelles and Boltetes and Morels and Puffballs is that there are other things that enjoy all these lovely fungi as well
like Black Bears.
Hyperphagic and hyper-territorial Black Bears because it’s fucking october and they are trying to get fat AND laid.
Sure enough, we’d been up there a few hours when I hear a sort of shuffling from uphill and see a rather large bear ambling purposefully in our direction.
He can undoubtedly smell us.
He does not care.
There are Boletes to be had
“Uh. Valerie.” I Interrupt her lecture on how to determine the likely age and spread of the underground fungal body of Boletes so you can tell if a patch will be there next year or not. “There’s a Bear.” She looks up to where I am pointing less than 100 feet away and shugs. “Well it’s his house first. So long as he stays over there it’s fine.” “Valerie I don’t think he’s staying there.” I say, considering if I can sprint back to the van while carrying her or if I’m going to have to file a death report with the police.
“What are you pointing at?” asks the Department Head. She is not only Finnish, but has an actual doctorate in Mycology, and much, much more unhinged than Valerie is.
“B e A R !” I say, trying to keep my voice down while conveying the appropriate sense of urgency about the fact that a 300lb and likely half-mad with hunger carnivore is headed towards his favorite mushroom patch and we are in the way.
My Department Head striaghtens up to her full 6′4″ and I swear, bristles her hair like a fucking Myazaki cartoon.
She makes a loud, harsh barking noise at it that I now recognize as the Finnish Profanity “PERKELE!” and slaps a ponderosa to show she means business.
The Bear
Stands
Up.
This is very definitely a Boar Black Bear and I’m doing a quick headcount so emergency services can bring up an appropriate number of body bags.
“Oh.” Says my Department Head.
“It’s only a little one.”
It is at this point that I remember that she is from the North parts of Finland and she has a Polar Bear Skull in her office.
As I am realizing this, she storms directly towards the bear, continuing to curse it in Finnish, picks up a stick in one hand and a rock in the other and throws the latter in a rather elegant curveball that only misses the bear as he realizes the Mycologists are back and ducks, before hightailing it up the mountain.
“He’s only a little love, there was no need for that.” Pouts Valerie.
“He would have made a good rug.” Says my Department Head.
the debate on the ethics of hunting bears on foot with rocks continues until a third Mycologist, Ralph, Discovers an Elk Skull with Mushrooms blooming out of the bone.
“Ooooh! Ossiphages! This is a lovely find!” Says Valerie, and we gather around to coo over the delicate gray caps growing along the elk’s rotted browridge.
the madness is contagious, apparently.
“Do you think your conciousness is transferred to that which consumes you after death?” Ralph asks.
“I hope so.” he continues like he has not just said something absurd and nightmarish. “Its so horribly noisy being an animal. I’d live to be an ossiphage fungus.”
We all nod in agreement. Something moves in a bush and several of us pick up rocks in case the bear has decided to make a career change into carpeting.
At one point Valerie takes a bite out of Boletus.
“Hm. Good Specimen. Needs some salt and butter.” She nodded aprovingly. “Weren’t you just telling me we have to do a cut test to see if they’re poisonous or not?” I ask, as she had in fact, juct finished telling me that.
Valerie swallows, THEN looks down at the bite she’s taken out of it.
“Well it didn’t turn purple so I guess i get to live today.” She smiles, serenely.
Anyway, Mycologists are absolutely bonkers and you should definitely go make friends with them.
