Post by DULCIE LORELLE JACOBS on Nov 29, 2009 19:31:42 GMT -5
Name: Dulcie Lorelle Jacobs
Age: 17
Gender: Female
class: low risk
Birthday: December 8th
Face Claim: Uffie
Height, and weight: 5'6 & 127lbs
Personallity:
Experience:
Dulcie stared despondently down at the cheery breakfast in front of her. In an attempt to encourage her to eat more, it appeared one of the nurses had taken it upon themselves to shape her breakfast into a smiley face.
It didn’t help.
She had only been there a week, and it was torture. They made sure she received a different nurse everyday so that she couldn’t get attached to any of them (although for the amount of time they were there, that would have been nearly impossible anyways), and they weren’t letting her out of her room for another two days to analyse how she faired being confined from others by reading what she wrote in the diary they were forcing upon her.
As much as she disliked the diary, she disliked the idea of how they’d feel if she didn’t write in it even more. It wasn’t all truth -she didn’t want to displease them by admitting her hate for the diary and her hate for being there- but Dulcie did admit (through a thick layer of sugar-coating) that she was having trouble sleeping, that her appetite was gone but she ate as much as she could anyway, that she was grateful for them taking care of her, and that she missed her ex-boyfriends, her friends, and her mom so fucking much. She didn’t admit that she scarcely slept, or that she only ate the food so she wouldn’t offend anyone and deeply wished they’d stop bringing it to her, that as grateful as she was it wasn’t enough, and that she missed them so much she could hardly think; hardly function. Even her body was rejecting how desolate everyone had left her. More than once Dulcie found herself suddenly wracked with muscle cramps, headaches, and nausea. Sometimes she’d start trembling, and it’d become hard to breath. All of these occurred whenever she thought of how their care to her basic needs wasn’t enough; how she needed someone actually there and with her to tell her she was fine and to take care of her –not just some far-off presence.
With a small sigh, she picked up the plastic fork and started eating the smiley face’s eye -a fried egg- with great difficulty. Any food was like sawdust in her mouth, but even when she did have an appetite Dulcie avoided eggs: they made her feel sick. More than once she’d considered telling the nurse this, but every time she’d open her mouth to do it, she pictured the nurse getting upset and breaking down, or getting furious and demanding Dulcie be sent to even further isolation.
So Dulcie kept quiet and ate her eggs.[/blockquote]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
class: low risk
Birthday: December 8th
Face Claim: Uffie
Height, and weight: 5'6 & 127lbs
Personallity:
Obviously, Dulcie is very dependant on others. It also makes her quite passive. Due to her disorder she goes to others over the smallest decisions, lets others tell her what to do, rarely disagrees with what others say, is afraid to make even small requests, will do things she doesn’t enjoy if she knows it will please someone, and not only hates being alone but fears it to an extreme extent. The idea of being left to take care of herself gives her anxiety, so Dulcie finds others who are willing to take control for her. Unfortunately, these people are often abusive, and -even more unfortunate- this is far from being a problem with her. She’s not a masochist, but she’s willing to put up with a lot if it means her boyfriends will stay with her. To further try and keep people in her life, Dulcie’s very admiring and affectionate.Illness:
The DPD also keeps her from being a critical person, so it enhances her already friendly -albeit shy and docile-personality, and helps her stay exceedingly patient and loyal to a fault. Outside of her DPD, Dulcie is a bit of a joker; she likes to laugh almost as much as she likes to make others laugh, and will always choose a comedy over a tear-jerker. Playing her DS (mostly the Pokemon games), cooking, and knitting are her favourite ways to relax. She’s bit of a drinker and her drug use consists of pot and coke, though the latter's only for ‘special occasions’. While she hasn't used other drugs, she's not against them.
Dependent personality disorder is the main problem; when its ‘needs’ aren’t met it results in generalized anxiety disorder, separation anxiety disorder, depression, and a minor eating disorder.Family:
Mother: Marcie Jacobs (in jail)History:
Aunt & Uncle: Irene and Paul Weld (Dulcie's current guardians)
Cousin: Anne Weld (in college)
She spent almost thirteen years on the run with her crazy mother, Marcie. Dulcie’s pretty sure it wasn’t always like this; unless what she’s pretty sure are blurry first memories are actually dreams, she lived with both her parents until around age three or four. She doesn’t know why her dad stopped being a part of her life because every time she asked her mom would just tell her “it doesn’t matter baby, you’ve got me.”Likes&Dislikes:
She knew why they were always running though.
Her mom had a criminal record -nothing too horrible, but she would be facing time in jail- that she was too wild to take responsibility for. Living was about freedom, so who were They (‘They’ being the government, the cops, and everyone else who had ever told her ‘no’) to tell her what she could and could not do? So she ran, and ran, and ran. The more she ran, the more she built her criminal record. Her footsteps seemed to be made of a trail of thievery, vandalism, and occasional violence. Not to mention the whole ‘running from the law’ and ‘endangering a child’ thing.
Dulcie was blind to all this though. She saw her life as a blur of places and faces: the only steady thing she ever had was her mom.
So she clung to her.
When she was thirteen, the running stopped.
Her mom found them a small, slightly decrepit apartment in a small town with low law enforcement. There, she went through a series of low-paying jobs (and looking back, Caleb’s now sure she dabbled in the drug trade) and home-schooled Dulcie. By the time she was fifteen, she was only behind by one grade in her education. Not to say she was excelling, but Marcie made sure her daughter got by enough that no one would start asking questions.
By the time she was fifteen and a half, someone had recognized her mom, and the cops were called.
The day they took her mom to jail was when Dulcie’s problems started really showing.
Years of being with her mom only had manifested into dependent personality disorder, but of course no one (including herself) had noticed, as she didn’t know life without Marcie. When she started living with her aunt Irene and her husband (both of whom, until then, she hadn’t seen since birth) she was a mess; she barely ate, spoke, or slept and she was constantly worrying to the point where it was physically affecting her. Of course, she never told them about the latter, so to them she just looked like a girl who was depressed over her current situation. Since this was more than understandable, they didn’t worry too much and went back to their work as usual.
Dulcie hated their work.
She had tried to replace her mom first with his aunt, but she was too busy with her real-estate work.
Then she tried her uncle, but he was too busy with whatever the hell it was that he did (something to do with numbers and math, and therefore Dulcie didn’t care to know).
With her cousin Anne off in college, Dulcie was left with only one thing: making a friend. Her aunt had enrolled her in a local public school, and so far she hated it. Not only was she behind because she came half-way through, but it seemed like everybody knew who she was and why she was there, and because of that everyone was more than willing to point and stare, but unwilling to approach her. It took until second semester started for her to make a friend.
Who then turned into a boyfriend.
Who quickly turned into an abusive boyfriend.
This happened with a few more times until she was seventeen, when her aunt started noticing things were wrong. She had always noticed Dulcie was especially clingy to her boyfriends, but that didn’t concern her since her daughter had been the same way. She also noticed her niece sometimes had bruises and other injuries, and this rang a tiny alarm bell in her mind, but she accepted her excuses of bitches picking fights and stupid gym accidents. After all, she was getting them while in every relationship, and wouldn’t the she know to keep out of a relationship like that, especially if it had happened before?
In the end, though, it all unravelled.
It wasn’t intentional, really.
Irene had just been going into Dulcie’s room to get her dirty clothes for the laundry and accidentally walked in on her changing shirts. In those few moments before she quickly covered up Irene saw all she needed; she saw bruises littering her front, back, and upper-arms (some of which looked like someone had grabbed and squeezed as hard as they could).
Once again, Dulcie lost someone because the cops were called.
At first, Irene just assumed all her nieces following symptoms were just due to how the abuse affected her mind (as the doctor and Google said it probably would), so she got her a mental health professional. However, after a few months of this, the professional suggested that Dulcie take some tests, just to see if there was something more to it. Once the results were revealed to that Dulcie had dependant personality disorders, which had a chain affect to multiple other disorders, Irene was at a loss over what to do. Luckily, the professionals had a suggestion: sign her niece into Aldridge Resort. They told her it wasn’t as bad as it sounded -that they specialized in low risk patients like Dulcie and could make her better in no time- and at the time, it seemed to make the most sense.
Now Dulcie’s the one left to make through her aunt’s mistake.
-TextingRoleplayer Name/ Alias: Boo
-Chocolate milk
-Disney movies
-Having and making friends
-Sexually/for relationships: men.
&
-Eggs
-Needles
-Having no one
-Talking on the phone
-Being treated like glass
Experience:
I've been roleplaying on and off for four years.Roleplay sample:
[/size]Sometimes I get a little wild
please forgive me.
[/size] _____________________________________
_____________________________________
[/color] [/font]_____________________________________
Dulcie stared despondently down at the cheery breakfast in front of her. In an attempt to encourage her to eat more, it appeared one of the nurses had taken it upon themselves to shape her breakfast into a smiley face.
It didn’t help.
She had only been there a week, and it was torture. They made sure she received a different nurse everyday so that she couldn’t get attached to any of them (although for the amount of time they were there, that would have been nearly impossible anyways), and they weren’t letting her out of her room for another two days to analyse how she faired being confined from others by reading what she wrote in the diary they were forcing upon her.
As much as she disliked the diary, she disliked the idea of how they’d feel if she didn’t write in it even more. It wasn’t all truth -she didn’t want to displease them by admitting her hate for the diary and her hate for being there- but Dulcie did admit (through a thick layer of sugar-coating) that she was having trouble sleeping, that her appetite was gone but she ate as much as she could anyway, that she was grateful for them taking care of her, and that she missed her ex-boyfriends, her friends, and her mom so fucking much. She didn’t admit that she scarcely slept, or that she only ate the food so she wouldn’t offend anyone and deeply wished they’d stop bringing it to her, that as grateful as she was it wasn’t enough, and that she missed them so much she could hardly think; hardly function. Even her body was rejecting how desolate everyone had left her. More than once Dulcie found herself suddenly wracked with muscle cramps, headaches, and nausea. Sometimes she’d start trembling, and it’d become hard to breath. All of these occurred whenever she thought of how their care to her basic needs wasn’t enough; how she needed someone actually there and with her to tell her she was fine and to take care of her –not just some far-off presence.
With a small sigh, she picked up the plastic fork and started eating the smiley face’s eye -a fried egg- with great difficulty. Any food was like sawdust in her mouth, but even when she did have an appetite Dulcie avoided eggs: they made her feel sick. More than once she’d considered telling the nurse this, but every time she’d open her mouth to do it, she pictured the nurse getting upset and breaking down, or getting furious and demanding Dulcie be sent to even further isolation.
So Dulcie kept quiet and ate her eggs.[/blockquote]