A/N: Just a quick drabble about Sam and his fidget spinner from 14x06 "Optimism". #LetSamHaveHealthyCopingSkills2k18
Sam wasn't dumb. He knew he had a few mental illnesses. If he could guess: PTSD, depression, insomnia, maybe an eating disorder (but that might've been stretching it). It was just hard to eat when you were frightened all the time, when it sat in your chest and stomach. It stole your appetite. Sure, maybe he worked out too much sometimes. But that helped relieve stress, right?
Really, Sam was doing a little digging online, even as he felt stupid about it. He needed coping skills. He knew he needed coping skills, and in the world of hunting those tended to involve alcohol and sex. Addiction, like Dean had, frightened him. He'd been an addict, his poison far worse than that of his brother's. And sex? He wasn't looking for it. Sam needed something healthy and that was hard to come by. Why not do a little research?
Wish I could see a therapist.
He had, last year, but that hadn't gone well, had just been for a case. A therapist couldn't help without knowing all the facts, and if they knew all the facts he'd probably get diagnosed with schizophrenia or some other illness that could cause hallucinations and delusions when untreated.
So no, no therapy.
Just him, his laptop, his notebook, and whatever neat little strategies he found out.
Some seemed silly, or too difficult, or like things Dean would laugh at if he knew.
But Dean doesn't have to know.
He was doing this for himself. Trying to get better.
"Yeah, just trying to get better," he murmured to himself alone in his room as he typed fidget spinners into Google's search bar. He'd heard of them, and wondered what could be so great about them.
It didn't take Sam long before he was purchasing one from Amazon. The little object seemed neat. It made a noise, it'd give him something to do with his hands so he wouldn't bite his nails or chew at his skin. It'd give him something to do while waiting, something to keep him busy that wasn't exhausting so his mind wouldn't wander off into pain and he wouldn't have to overwork himself to avoid agony. Really, he had been overworking himself. He told Dean he'd do better, that he'd rest. This was just part of that. He chose a blue one that was only $5.99, and he smiled when he placed the order. He'd pick it up on one of their supply runs. Dean would never even know. It'd just be for him.
After picking up the fidget spinner from the post office a few days later, Sam found himself using it when he couldn't sleep, the repetitive motion calming him, soothing his mind when it roiled with anxiety. It didn't stop his subconscious from conjuring up nightmares that weighed down on him like a ton of bricks, but it gave him something to do when he woke up, something to touch, to ground himself with.
He started to take it on cases with him, keeping it in his jacket pocket, using it when he felt safe, using it when he felt anxious, even finding himself smiling more.
It wasn't much. It didn't take away the pain - nothing could do that - but it was something, and something was better than nothing.
