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fierrochase-falafel · 1 year ago

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Ted Lasso S2E9, Beard After Hours: What does it mean anyways?

Ok, so the Beard After Hours episode (season 2 episode 9) as a whole initially made no sense to me in terms of the story because of how cryptic and just bonkers it is, but slowly it makes more sense to me the more I rewatch it. I've rewatched it twice now and rest assured the third time, some epiphany may strike and I'll be back here to update this. Everyone seems to dislike this episode, and honestly I understand but there's also something truly fascinating about it. It's like an episode from a whole other show, even the title track sounds different, because this episode is meant to be an episode from Beard's life. This is what Beard's life looks like when he isn't with Ted, which is what the writers have said they were trying to portray. It's a speedbump of an episode where we watch him go through a wringer of a fever dream with no characters we know except the lads from the bar (I love calling them that) and Jamie's dad of all people, and you're left wondering why was this HERE and what does this mean in the context of season 2's overall story? Honestly...I have no idea, but it's fascinating to try and figure out. What I am starting to get a bit of a clue in on though is what this means for Beard's character arc.

Something I want to zero in on first is Beard dropping his keys over and over, something that I knew meant something the first time but I couldn't figure out what. Beard repeatedly drops his keys haphazardly, and there's always someone nicely giving them back to him in the night only for him to drop them again. This represents Beard being caught in a cycle where he struggles to accept help from people who care about him, and thus remains in his cycle. With the implications by the writers that this is what his life is like after work, we can assume he goes through something similar every night- a cycle. We find out more about Beard at the end of season 3, when he tells Nate about stealing Ted's car when Ted helped him (a bit like Zuko in season 2 of ATLA actually), even though he didn't exactly have a reason to steal the car if Ted let him into his house willingly- the main possible reason I can think of would be to get away and not have to need Ted for help. If he has Ted's car, he can go out and live his life by himself, right? With no help needed. There's a sort of expectation in that, that he can't rely on other people- which is actually why he ends up spending a majority of the night alone. He shows up to Bones and Honey with Baz, Paul and Jeremy and then leaves them to go to a room where he hallucinates being insulted by Thierry Henry (which is both sad and hilarious). He meets and leaves the woman, he meets and parts with her husband, he meets up with the lads from the bar again and doesn't join them further, and so on. Even though he had good reasons to leave for the most part (getting chased by a raging and strong man for instance), nobody in his night remains constant EXCEPT his hallucinations of the football pundits with special emphasis on Thierry Henry. They judge him, pressure him about losing the Man City match 5-nil, and make light of his deepest insecurities so he can simultaneously wallow in them by himself but ignore them by seeking the short but eventful company of other people. He wants to escape his thoughts instead of talking them out or being vulnerable with anyone else, so he does all this crazy stuff, only to end up alone and confronted by them anyways.

In regards to Beard and Jane, I have some complicated feelings about their relationship and it can atleast be considered unhealthy, but Jane does truly represent something good for him here and in his perspective, she is what he needs. At the beginning of the night, he refuses to join her because they were arguing beforehand. She apologises, does tell him she loves him, then gets angry with him and stuff via text throughout the night. I think Beard spending the entire night miserable accompanied by people coming and going until he meets Jane says a lot, because it's only when meeting him that he relaxes and dances a bit, and seems to genuinely have fun. In allowing himself to rely on Jane, to have fun and to see the world a bit brighter because of his love for her, he cuts himself a break (as is represented by Thierry Henry smiling at him with no comments). His keys have broken, and he's locked out of his house, yet you forget that for just a little bit because all he sees is her. It's in the camera framing when he sees her and everything. She is really intense and he matches her intensity, which may be comforting for him in a way, as it's not him being reliant but them being codependant on each other. Just as obsessed as he is with her, she is with him: she texts him like 90 messages just because he is absent from text for a little bit, and he has her on video call during his boss's dad's funeral. Everyone sees their relationship as a bad idea, and while I agree, I can see why he doesn't think of it as such, because their codependancy is something that makes him feel better, subconsciously or consciously. With her, he is never alone and both of them rely on each other almost as much as the other, putting them both at the same level of vulnerability if turned away or rejected.

Beard's arc with Jane perhaps echoes Nate's arc with Jade a bit- they both feel less vulnerable and alone with their significant others. This is a bit of a stretch (this is just one lens to look at it, and I definitely don't think this perfectly encapsulates all of Nate's arc), but maybe it makes them feel a little more secure in being able to care for someone without fear of not being cared for with the same level of intensity and need, or without fear of being misunderstood or underestimated. Nate gets over these fears when asking Jade out, fretting about it until she said yes and on the way to realising he didn't have to be so scared of rejection, and Beard developes a relationship with Jane that relies on both of their needs matching each other's. It hence makes sense that Beard would be the one who is subtly paralleled with Nate (especially before season 3's finale when he forgives him), as someone who did the effective wrong thing once and has since realised Ted just-- is nice. That sometimes people care about you, and that's just that. Beard is the one who calls Nate out in season 2 for his needless cruelty, and privately reprimands him, telling him to tell the truth or apologise when being overly harsh and judgemental. Beard is the one attempting to give Nate chances and Beard's the one angry when Nate doesn't take them, because Beard is growing to realise that reliance isn't something that automatically disappoints and sees Nate pulling away from everyone else in his anger and feelings of abandonment. Beard seems to have a tendency to pull away too, but he knows now he can rely on Ted and (kind-of) on Jane, so he knows Nate actively engaging in this behaviour is harmful to himself and the people who care about him. This is...just theory, and maybe it really isn't that deep- especially all this Nate stuff- but it's interesting to consider that maybe they were meant to have some parallels, and it's an interesting angle to look at Beard's character.

That's all I can really muster up about now, but there's always more layers if you're looking for them, and I bet there's more than meets the eye when it comes to Beard even after the 2nd watch. Heck, if I come up with enough more next time, maybe I'll make a part 2 or something. Till then, peace!

#ted lasso #ted lasso meta #willis beard #coach beard #nate shelley #jane payne #ted lasso jade #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso season 2 #ted lasso season 3 #you have not seen the last of me with this show #(I am deranged I am doing this instead of my mounds of work and I am going to regret this so fast)#but yeah who needs work when you have cryptic detour episodes like this #analysis time by me so I can track them in my tags #posts originating from my brain

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

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We’re Lost and Delirious and Can’t Be Found - Part 2

You know when you’re so tired that your eyes start to turn red? That’s me right now. My body is dying. This is great.

But hello everyone! This is the second and final part to this two-part series requested by @katherinehxward a little while back. I wasn’t planning on posting this chapter so soon but I’m having trouble writing other requests, so I thought I’d get this out so I don’t have to keep track of it anymore. This chapter is... strange, to say the least, but I hope you all enjoy! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I officially have one braincell dedicated to loving women.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Violence, dead bodies, toxic behavior, mentions of sexual assault

Part 1

Cathy wiped away the sweat that was gathering on her brow. Despite the cold night air, she was still working herself up as she dug into the mound with Anne. If Anne was struggling, she didn’t show it, her eyes hyper focused on the dirt below her. The beheaded queen had come this far because of the answering machine, she wasn’t going to back out now.

The shovels made a clunking sound against the dirt at every scoop, the ringing echoing through the quietness around them. “Anne,” Cathy asked as she stuck her shovel back into the dirt. “Why are we doing this?”

Anne didn’t stop her digging, but she slowed down slightly. She didn’t look at Cathy as she responded. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Halting her shovel as it was stuck in the dirt, Cathy leaned against it. “It’s way too crazy Anne. We followed some freaky answering machine to a house we’ve never seen before, and now we’re trying to dig up a body. There’s no reason for us to be involved with this. Hell, we should probably just leave. Maybe even call the police!”

The digging continued. “I thought you didn’t want to call the police,” Anne remarked as she tossed a shovel-full of dirt to the side.

Playing with her jacket, Cathy nervously eyed the quickly dwindling mound. “Yeah, well they’re more equipped to deal with this than we are.”

“And they’re going to believe two reincarnated queens in the middle of the night who think they found a dead body?” Anne stopped to watch Cathy. “If we go to the cops, we’re going to look deranged. We don’t even know if there’s a body at all.”

“Exactly!” Cathy cried as Anne went back to digging. “We can still leave and forget any of this happened.”

Before Anne could respond, her shovel his something solid. She froze and turned to Cathy. “No,” Cathy glared at her. “Anne don’t do it!”

But Anne was already dropping to her knees and grabbing handfuls of dirt, chucking them away from whatever the shovel had hit. Cathy couldn’t do anything as she watched Anne uncover the body. There was an agonizing moment of stillness as Cathy waited for Anne to reveal what they had found. “Oh my God,” Anne choked when she cleared the dirt away from the face. “Oh my God!” she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.

Cathy was frozen as she saw the face of the body. “How is this possible?” she mumbled, her stomach squeezing tightly. She had to hold herself back from vomiting at the sight.

Frantically, Anne unburied the rest of the body, her movements erratic and disjointed. When the body was uncovered, Anne pulled it into her arms. “Oh I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, tears streaming down her face by now. “This can’t be happening.” Cathy stood motionless, watching the devastated Anne cradle the body. “Kitty, I’m so sorry,” she cried into her cousin’s limp shoulder. “It shouldn’t have been you.”

A cold anger rushed over Cathy’s body. “What do you mean Kitty?”

Anne looked up, her eyes red rimmed. “I didn’t think the body would be my cousin! How did she even end up here?”

“Kitty’s fine,” Cathy hissed, stalking over to Anne. “Digging must’ve made your brain delusional. Your cousin is safe at home. You’re holding Catalina, and maybe you should show some concern for her.”

Making a sound of confusion, Anne looked at the body in her arms, blinking a couple times. “No, it’s Kitty. Cathy, why are you being so insensitive? My cousin is dead -”

“My godmother is dead!” Cathy screamed, pointing at the body, “And you can’t even see that? Wake up Anne, I didn’t pin you as crazy.”

Slowly setting the body down, Anne stood up, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not crazy, Parr. You’re the one who wanted to back out. Maybe this is all your fault.”

Rolling her eyes, Cathy spat, “How would this be my fault?”

“I don’t know,” Anne cautiously eyed her ‘friend’, “But I’m going to find out. Maybe you killed Kitty and you’re trying to convince me that I’m crazy so you can blame it on me, huh?”

Scoffing, Cathy clenched her fists. “And why would I do something so outlandish to frame you? I don’t care about Kat! Catherine, my godmother Catherine is dead and I think that takes top priority.”

“You’re such a stuck-up bitch Parr,” Anne snarled.

“At least I’m not a whore,” Cathy shot back. There was a moment of silence between the queens as they stared at each other, completely ignoring the body below them. And then all hell broke loose as Cathy hurled herself at Anne. She tackled the girl to the ground, pinning her wrist down. “You never care about anyone but yourself!” she accused, clawing at Anne’s skin.

Flipping them over, Anne sat on top of Cathy and grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip. “At least I don’t get scared when things get hard.” Anne attempted to slam Cathy against the ground, but the writer resisted. She pushed Anne away from her, holding the girl at arms length.

“You’ve never cared about any of us Boleyn,” Cathy screeched, twisting Anne’s wrists as best she could. “You deserved what you got!” The two of them huffed as they struggled to gain control over the other. A red rage had enveloped their minds, telling them to hurt each other. It was the only way they could win. Win what? Neither of the girls asked.

Rolling away from Cathy, Anne grabbed a shovel. She stabbed it into the ground next to Cathy’s head, chopping off a couple hairs. “You only escaped the same fate by lying. How does it feel to be a liar?” Picking up the shovel, Cathy swung it at Anne who jumped away, avoiding being struck.

Throwing the shovel to the side out of both their reaches, Cathy pounced on Anne and started yanking at her hair, knowing how it would hurt the girl. “You’re calling me out on being a liar when you’re the one who played the King for years? You ruined people’s lives and didn’t even care what happened to them!”

Anne kicked at Cathy’s hand, causing the two of them to go stumbling away from each other. “Well you’re the one who married a rapist and let my daughter SUFFER!” She charged at Cathy, rage in her eyes. Something in Cathy snapped when she saw Anne coming at her. As soon as Anne was close enough, Cathy grabbed her by the collar and threw Anne to the ground. There was a loud crack on impact. Eyes going wide, Cathy watched in horror. What had she just done?

A groan of pain came from Anne on the floor. She slowly sat up, rubbing her back. “The hell was that?”

“I - I don’t know,” Cathy stuttered, glancing at her hands. “I would’ve never done that but -”

She was cut off by Anne reaching behind her and picking up the answering machine she had landed on and broken with her weight. The circuitry was visible to the girls now, the wires a mess and the plastic broken apart. “It’s cold,” Anne muttered, shivering as she dropped the machine to the ground. “It’s cold, Cathy.”

Collapsing onto the dirt next to Anne, the final queen ran a hand through her hair. “What was all of that?”

“I have no idea,” Anne replied, bowing her head. “But I… I’m sorry about what I said. And for trying to hurt you.”

Something in Cathy understood exactly what Anne was feeling. “It wasn’t you who said it. It was whatever came over us.” Her eyes subtly drifted to the broken answering machine.

Anne didn’t miss where Cathy’s eyes fell. “You think it was the machine?”

Cathy shrugged, unsure of herself. “It all seems a bit outlandish, doesn’t it? But how else would we have gotten here, why would we say all those things? Why would we have seen two different -” her voice cut off and her eyes expanded. “Catherine and Kat!”

Both her and Anne scrambled to their feet and rushed over to where they had left the body. Anne spotted it first and practically slid across the grass to get next to it. “Cathy!” she called the girl over so she could see what it was.

Instead of the freshly deceased bodies of Aragon and Kat, there was barely a pile of bones sitting next to Anne. There were bandages holding the bones together, but the skeleton seemed fake when put together with its bindings. “It’s not them,” Cathy breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re both safe,” Anne agreed, setting the bones down.

There were so many questions left to be answered in the queens’ minds, but they knew deep down they would never be answered. Who had all the answers in life? No one really, and certainly not them. “I want to call this magic,” Cathy exhaled as the two of them started to re-bury the body. “But I don’t know what it was.”

“We don’t know a lot of things,” Anne replied, throwing her shovel to the side as she finished covering the dirt mound. “But I do know I’m sorry for the things I did and said when I wasn’t myself.”

“You’re not the only one,” Cathy replied sheepishly. “Look, about Elizabeth and Thomas -”

Anne put her hand up and cut off Cathy. “It’s been a long time Cathy. We’ve had time to move on from that. Please… please don’t bring it up again.”

Swallowing, Cathy nodded. “Alright Anne.” Picking up both discarded shovels, Cathy placed them on top of the mound. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And let’s never buy another antique again,” Anne forced a joke.

Cathy laughed for the sake of making Anne feel better. In reality, both of them could still feel a chill on the back of their necks as they left the mound behind them.

------------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #anne boleyn #catherine parr #we're lost and delirious and can't be found #part two #and that's a wrap folks #magic answering machines #who knows what happened with this #no one knows what day it is anymore #im functioning off of sleep deprivation alone

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kats-randomology · 6 years ago

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Playmate AU: Poor Decisions Lead to Poor Outcomes

The voids between dimensions were odd places, being the equivalent of a dumping ground for other realms, filled with all manner of lost items. A variety of trinkets, from shoes, to garbage, even hunks of land floated about in the dark space.

It was on one of the land masses that Liu Hai found himself stuck on, cursing into the void furiously, jumping between English and Chinese in his anger.

"How?! How did I miss his terrible luck?! That blasted McDuck tricked me! Tā mā de! Dào dì shí bā dài qù cāo nǐ de zǔ xiān, McDuck! AAAAGGHH!!!"

Heaving a aggravated sigh, he finally sat down and rested his head in one hand. He glanced down at his free hand, attempting to conjure even a small bit of magic, but could only manage a flicker of green. All he'd managed to do since arriving was adjust his robe size, which didn't accomplish much else except comfort. He muttered angrily as he looked himself over with a dissatisfied scowl; he hadn't been this scrawny since his adolescence...

How the hell was he gonna get out of here? Without magic, there was no way he was opening a portal, and there was no one to feed on here... In time he'd regain power naturally but that would take far longer than he was willing to wait. He wanted out now, he wanted to get out and hunt down those blasted ducks--!

"My, my, I haven't heard that kind of language in quite some time!"

The sudden voice came from behind, startling him; he quickly jumped to his feet and jerked around to face the speaker, and was met with a bizarre looking duck. He was quite tall, taller than himself even, wearing a faded jester costume, and studying him with brilliant red eyes.

"Wh...uh...."

The presence of another in this empty space was shocking enough to render him speechless, especially one this odd. His bewildered expression must've been humorous to the other, as he cracked a grin of shark-like teeth.

"What happened to all that fire? Cat got your tongue? I tend to have that effect on people; it's almost as funny as their screaming!"

Liu Hai continued his dumbfounded silence for a moment longer, before shaking it off.

"And...you are...?"

"Ah, right, how rude of me! I am Paddywhack, demon of mischief, devour-er of misery, that creepy clown faced freak that occasionally hides under the bed of that one guy in France!"

"....right....I'm Liu Hai, spirit of chance and fortune."

"Ooo, a fellow ancient being, then! So, your dimension decided to kick you out too?"

"No, I-- uh...had some....difficulties with a group of mortals..."

"Hey, me too! Though, I'm not stuck here like you presumably are, I just like to drop by once and a while to find new toys, like this ball!"

A basketball manifested in his hands, and he tossed it happily before it vanished away again. He returned his focus to Liu Hai, who watched his antics with a quirked brow, and tilted his head with another wide grin.

"Lucky you, I decided to do that today..."

"Yes, lucky me...wait, wait, you can leave?! Right now?"

"Of course...would you like to?"

Liu Hai paused, looking him over with narrowed eyes. He'd been jumping at the chance of escape earlier...but this was a bit too good to be true.

"What's in it for you? What do you want?"

"I can't help a fellow ancient spirit without there being a catch?"

Paddywhack's seemingly innocent grin was met with a skeptic frown.

"It's in my line of work to expect some form of clause..."

"A clever mindset to have; but, I'm offering this free of charge, seeing as I'm in a good mood today."

He held out a hand, smiling a little less worryingly.

"Interested? I mean, unless you waaant to stay here, instead of I don't know...looking for whoever was crazy enough to set you off..."

Liu Hai frowned, looking away in thought; he didn't have any better options. Staying here was one, but not one he particularly enjoyed...this Paddywhack was bizarre, to say the least, but seemed to be genuine in his offer. And if he did try anything, well, magic wasn't Liu Hai's only method of defense.

Plus, once he got back to Macaw there were plenty of places to start restoring his power, so he wouldn't be without magic for long anyway.

And he couldn't bare to wait any longer here, in this bleak empty place...

A place that McDuck and his kin had put him in, while they milled about out there laughing at him. The thought sent a new wave of anger over him, and he returned his gaze to Paddywhack.

"Alright."

He took the offered hand in a firm hold, and Paddywhack's grin widened slightly. He moved to speak, but Liu Hai suddenly pulled him close.

"And if you even think of turning on me, regret won't even begin to cover it..."

A laugh was given as a response as Paddywhack pulled himself free.

"You're fun; now then, if you'll step into my work space..."

A snap of fingers conjured a small box at their feet, and Liu Hai stared down at for a moment, once more speechless.

"That's...that's a jack in the box."

"I know, good model right? I've had it for centuries!"

He noted Liu Hai's uncomprehending expression with a humored smirk.

"Don't worry, it's bigger on the inside."

"....we're supposed to go in that?"

"Just take my hand."

Liu Hai eyed him curiously, but consented. Paddywhack grinned, gave a sharp tug on his arm, and then in an instant, everything was a blur of color, sounds, and smells. Like going through a long neon tunnel at lightspeed. It was a bizarre experience that left his brain reeling as it tried to keep up. It was over just as quickly, and he found himself standing on...sand?

Looking around, he found the new environment was just as strange as everything else had been today.

An unusual assortment of objects, from large building blocks and shears, to what appeared to be a tree of candy; off in the distance he could make out other vague shapes, possibly mountains, or perhaps just large mounds of the other odd trinkets Paddywhack had collected over the years.

"I see you're...very avant-garde in your decor...fitting I suppose."

Paddywhack snickered at this, and the sound put him slightly on edge, but he brushed it off as a result of the multitude of strange and insane things he'd come across in the last fifteen minutes. He turned away to look at the rest of the environment curiously as he continued.

"Okay, return me to Macaw, there are plenty of game houses there I can use to regain power and restore my House...though Las Vegas in America could also work, puts me closer to McDuck...no, he’d probably hear about it and come ruin everything, best to stick close to home for now. I have the advantage there. Now how do you make this thing go?”

He waited for an answer, but received nothing but unnerving silence. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder at the other to see him simply standing there, watching him with a sinister grin. And then he laughed.

It was a chilling sound, starting off at a high pitch before deepening into a deranged cackle. Liu Hai, now most definitely on edge, turned to face him with a small curl in his lip. The laughter died down finally, and Paddywhack wiped a tear from his eye as he stepped closer.

"Oh, oh...I've encountered many saps in my time...but you, you were sooo, easy!"

He leaned forward, leveling his sharp gaze with Liu Hai's increasingly suspicious glare.

"And here I thought you'd be a challenge, Liu Hai..."

"What are you going on about?!"

"I've known about you for some time; I picked up on that little goose's negativity and considered stealing him away...but then I got a whiff of you. He might've been miserable and angry, but you..."

His grin was wide, too wide, and with a note of disgust Liu Hai realized he was salivating.

"There is sooo much more; buried under all that calm, collected attitude and suave manner is a festering sore that I'm dying to tear into."

Liu Hai stared for a moment, caught somewhere between dumbfounded and anger; eventually anger won out, and he let out a snarl as he took a step back.

"I don't know what inane nonsense you're talking, but if you think you can just show up and make a fool out of me--!"

"Like those pesky ducks you were going on about did?"

Flushing briefly, Liu Hai loosed a growl and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"I've had enough of your drivel, take me home, now!"

"Mmm...no, I don't think I will. I've been waiting for an opportunity to invite you in, and when's a better moment than when you're so hopelessly blinded by rage you'll willingly step into my playground?"

"I am not staying here, and I am not playing your childish games, now let me out!"

Paddywhack's eyes were smug as he straightened, and gestured around with both arms.

"And just what are you going to do if I don't?"

Liu Hai started to retort, but stopped as things suddenly dawned on him; he had no idea how to get out of here, doubted he even could without Paddywhack's aid, and he had no magic, nor anyone to feed on...he glanced upward, but saw no signs of a door, or anything beyond the yellowed sky that offered an escape. Even if he did overpower Paddywhack physically, he had nowhere to go afterwards.

He was well and truly trapped in this bizarre prison.

And he'd so stupidly walked himself in.

Wide eyes slowly came back down to meet the other's, and Paddywhack grinned triumphantly.

"What was that you were saying about regret?"

"You...you're a fool if you think you can keep me here! I will not be your prisoner!"

"Prisoner? Oh no, no, don't look at it like that. You're not my prisoner, you're something more, sooo much more..."

He took a wide step forward, one arm reaching towards him and wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer. He felt the prick of claws against his back, while the other hand lightly tapped his nose.

"You're my new playmate..."

Finished this last night on the last dregs of a coffee fueled writing craze. I really hope that Chinese is accurate, I googled Chinese swears and got a few that worked ^^’

Liu Hai, honey, when a creepy looking clown invites you into his jack in the box, you say, “No...”

#toad liu hai #paddywhack #Playmate AU #fanfiction #my writing #disney #duckverse

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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It will never leave me alone

It's hard for me to write all of this.

So much has happened, over so long... Putting it into words is difficult to say at the least.

But I want my story to be heard. Whilst I have the mental fortitude to put pen to paper (so to speak) I'm going to. Writing seems to be the only control I have anymore. I'm going to carefully lay out as best I can, the sequence of events which have led to me sitting down tonight and telling the world my living hell.

I was seven years old. As all children do I was playing. I was blessed enough to be born in a generation that played outside most days, when the weather would allow. I often find myself thinking; if it rained that day would I have contemplated suicide over a hundred times in my life?

Because that day, at only 7 years old - I was introduced to the true meaning of fear.

We had a large farmhouse, surrounded by the most idyllic scenery imaginable. The British countryside really is as picturesque as you see on TV, if you're not from the UK. Because of the vast expanses of land, from the moment I could walk I would go exploring.

I'd have to wait though. My mother would usually sit with me in our back-garden. I say backgarden, it was more like a massive outstretch of fields and hills, broken up by knee high rubble fences, weathered away over hundreds of years. Whilst I would sit on the grass and play around with toys and the bugs (no playstations in those days) my mother would lie in a deck chair reading and smoking.

I don't blame my mother for falling asleep after her third drink. This was her routine, and its not like a bored housewife in 1970s rural Britain had anything better to look forward to. How could she ever know that knocking back that third double sealed her sons fate forever.

As soon as the book flopped forwards onto her lap, I knew she was out for the count. So as usual, I took the opportunity to have a wander. Every time I got the chance I would delve further outwards. Its amazing what untouched country has to offer. For a child of seven years old it's truly a magical experience. At such a young age you don't know what things are, and to discover nature in such a pure a rich format just begs for adventure.

Forgive me for being so descrpitive and elobarate with the build up of this. I have wanted to speak about this for so long. I am frightened that I won't feel as dedicated to tell my story again for a while, or maybe never again. So I want to properly build for you, the picture of my life. If only in a desperate attempt to convey the torment of my days.

On that day, I wandered far. I don't even remember trying to go that far out, but by the time I turned around I couldn't see the house anymore; only trees, small hills and bushes. The light had started to turn into that dark orange, where the sky goes slightly pink and all the bugs decide to wake up from their siestas.

I remember distinctly when the fear started to crawl inside me. I had turned around to come back, and was having some trouble tiptoeing around a muddy pond. It was only a few feet wide. In the daytime it usually looked quite nice, nestled under a large oak tree with lillys and other green plants bordered around. But in this red, dirt muddy light and with the nats starting to bite, it filled me with a sense of dread.

Trying not to get my feet in the pond water, I was carefully stepping around the edge when I heard a thump and a snap behind me. Even as a small child, you know when a sound does not belong.

The second that 'SNAP' reached my ear, the sense of dread in me turned cold with fear. I was unable to move and my brain refused to send the signal to my feet to run. Instead I stood as still as a statue as a slow rhythmic breathing started to make my ears burn red.

Another crack and some grass shuffling and I finally had the nerve to swing my whole body round. What I saw almost killed me then and there.

I screamed. I didn't even go through a thought process. The reaction was instinct. Like how you blink without even thinking about it.

Underneath the large oak tree, stood in the middle of its trunk on top of the brambles and dead twigs at the edge of the pond; the most monstorous man I've ever seen.

He was as tall as the trunk of the tree, at least seven feet. His shoulders hunched up and his arms reached down so they could swing absently down at his thighs. His long hand and fingers would mean he could scratch his knees without bending.

But a strange shape and tall figure doesn't strike a lifelong fear into somebodies heart. No. But that face. That face would guarnatee a restless nights sleep until the end of time.

Long and thin. Picture a slightly elongated egg. White as porcelaine and without a shred of hair. No eyebrows, no brizzling facial folicles - nothing.

His eyes were black and large. They were two different shapes, one a perfect circle and the other narrow and lopsided. Both of them were hollow and seemed to bore into the face, like the eye sockets of a skull. But you could see it faintly, a slight orange glow around the edges the eyes. The glow seemed to vibrate and emit an energy so foul it hurt to look to long into them.

Where his nose should have been was nothing. Just a flat blank space of white. But this meant the face had more room for that mouth.

It was gawping at me. A massive mouth strecthed into a demented smile. The lips were red. Chipped and scarred, blood oozing and drooling out of them. The inside of the mouth was dark so I couldn't make out any teeth, but I saw grey chunks of it's tongue moving around like a slithering snake within.

It clapped it's disgusting mouth at me and dollops of it's bloody spit splattered over me. I ran.

As I sprinted back home; through the trees, over the small mounds and in between all the bushes, I could hear it behind me.

It was heavy enough to be causing the ground beneath me to shake and I could heard it tearing through everything like a bulldozer. I probably would have slowed down if it wasn't for the sound is was emitting.

A screeching, like the loudest bird you've ever heard, coupled with the most deranged cackling ever coughed out by somebody.

I finally saw home and used all the strength I had in me to propel myself the last hundred feet. My mother must have heard me screaming (or the monster screeching) because when I reached the familar back garden she was waiting, arms outstretched. As I held my mother for dear life and she picked me up and carried me into the house, I remember looking over her shoulder at the monster that would now haunt me for the rest of my life.

It stood out in the field, hunched over. It wore a long black coat, that right then was billowing in the wind, and wrapping itself around its strangley shaped body.

The head was craning sideways, and with the black coat almost making its body fade into the darkness, the white face shone brightly, those orange edged eyes glowing feircly. Even as we reached the backdoor I could clearly make out what that sick black, dead mouth was doing. It's grey tongue was slowly making it's way across the cut and bloody lips, licking them like a predator before the hunt.

If only that had been it. One terrible memory for me to carry forever and never understand. A horrible black page of an otherwise colourful and delightful book.

But no, it was only the beginning of my torment.

After that first encounter it came to me that very night. After my mother had calmed me down enough so she could put me to sleep and go have some more self medication, it showed itself to me.

Before I managed to close my eyes and allow sleep to just take away all of those days events, I heard a creak at the bottom of my bed. I already knew what it was before I looked up and saw the skeletal like face leering at me, towering so high its bald head was grazing the ceiling.

It let out a low chittering sound, that echoed as it made it's way around the room. Then it spoke.

Almost like a prerequisite to having a terrible appearance is a god awful voice. This was not a let down. The sound was gutteral. Like water was stuck at the back of its throat and a trombone was enunciating the words. But you understood everything, because the words pierced you like cold daggers.

"You ran fast today little one," it said, that chittering sound echoing through. It ruffled it's body and excitedly jostled its head, opening its mouth wider and sucking in, before sharply snapping its head back towards me and meeting me head on with those awful eyes.

"No matter how fast you run, how far you go, I will follow you, little angel". The last word knocked me off guard. As the monster uttered the word it clasped the end of my bed with its long hands; caked in dirt, dead skin and blood, the nails grey and decrepid.

LEAVE ME ALONE. I screamed it loud and with force. It just smiled, the black hole curving into a crescent and now I could see it's teeth. Sharp and numerous, and with rows. If you've ever seen a great white shark, you can picture it.

I threw my blankets over me and could feel as the thing started to crawl onto my bed. The mattres being pushed down as the creature shifted it's weight closer towards me. Just as I felt a cold wave crash over me my bedroom door opened and my mother and father rushed in.

After that night, it came again and again. Never really allowing me to sleep. It never attacked me. Believe me this was not a relief.

You see, a human being can get used to anything if they're forced to put up with it long enough. Even a seven foot tall demon monster that just stares and talks to you every night. But the uncertainty, is what kills you. This thing has never attacked me.

But I will never know if it ever will. Oh it torments me. It follows me everywhere I go. Work, friends, parties, funerals. You name it. It's always there.

And at the end of every day it's there to tell me about all the thing's in the world that hate me. Everything I have done wrong. The mistakes that are going to make my life a misery. It tells me I am lucky to have it.

When I'm really doing bad, it strokes my head with those decaying hands. The smell of rotting flesh causing me to gag and swallow my own vomit out of fear of angering it.

In the beginning I would anger it a lot. For that it would make me pay. I would watch as it disrobed and presented itself to me. A sickly grey humanoid shaped body; broken, crude and tormented into knots of creaking bones and dying skin. Standing arms outstrecthed in the middle of my room it would throw its head back and roar in that terrible screech/cackle for hours, until my head felt like it would explode.

I've learnt to tolerate this beast in my life. I've never had a relationship with another person. Friends are fine, but I've not allowed any too far into my life. I'm too frightened about what this monster might do to them. I live alone now after so many years at that farmhouse.

Even moving into the city did me no good. This thing followed me right here. It could have helped move some of the furniture at the very least.

As I get ready for sleep nowadays I sometimes call out to see if it's already waiting in my room, at the bottom of the bed. If I try to sleep straight away I can get away with the creature only staring at me and purring that gutteral sound. It's my burden.

What hurts the most though. The thing that gets me more than anything is why?

It has never given me a reason. I have racked my brain for answers and cannot think of a single thing I did wrong that day.

Is it just my luck that on that day, at that time and place I walked into a gate of hell and now I'm stuck with this demon for the rest of my life.

As I get older I watch the beast at the end of my bed. Unwavering and tireless it stares at me, licks it lips and vibrates unnervingly all the while. Always arched over, and head titled sideways. Like it's about to pounce. But it never does.

That restlesness, that unending expectation for something to happen... It will be the death of me.

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remedialmassage · 7 years ago

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What a Traditional 21-Day Ayurvedic Detox Looks Like

One yogi takes us along on her transformative journey through the ultimate 21-day Ayurvedic cleanse, panchakarma.

Kitchari—basmati rice and mung dal cooked with spices and ghee—is a panchakarma staple.

I'm perched on a toilet, holding my right ear with my right hand and moving my upper body in circles. I’m at the Shankara Ayurveda Spa at the Art of Living Retreat Center in Boone, North Carolina, and instead of relaxing in the sauna, I’m praying for poop. It’s day six of my eight-day stay at the Center, where I’m doing a traditional panchakarma cleanse. Today is all about virechana—a.k.a. extreme bowel evacuation. Sure, panchakarma involves many lush body treatments, and I’ve had my fair share over the past week―with practitioners massaging me with warm oil, pounding every ounce of tension out of my muscles with sachets of healing herbs, and dripping warm oil onto my third eye―all to reset my nervous system and rid my body of what it doesn’t need. Yet this intense cleanse also involves eating a Spartan diet and devoting an entire day to trying to, well, eliminate. “Virechana isn’t just about cleansing the body, it’s also about cleansing the mental and emotional self,” says Medha Garud, director of Ayurveda programs. “The process helps you release many of the impressions and habits, called samskaras, that you are carrying in your system.” Easier said than done, I think to myself as my insides churn. It’s humbling to realize that I may be one of those people who yoga teacher and Ayurvedic health consultant Kimberly Rossi, director of spa and business development, says “really wants to hold onto their crap.” Eventually, I plead with Vaidya Lokesh, the Center’s Ayurvedic doctor, for some relief, which is how I found myself doing these strange ablutions in the bathroom. In that moment, I was in the toughest stretch of the panchakarma, a cleanse that called into question every aspect of my lifestyle and boiled it down to one central question: How do my choices augment or interfere with my well-being? While the answer was still unclear, one thing was certain: I was on a 21-day mission to find out.

See also Rejuvenate with a 4-Day Ayurvedic Fall Cleanse

Prepping for the big release

My recalcitrant bowels may be proof of my habit of resistance, but when the opportunity to travel to the Art of Living Retreat Center for this intense detox first presented itself, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I knew panchakarma wouldn’t be easy—I lived in India for most of my 20s and had seen many people go through it—yet I was aware of the physical and mental benefits most people experience after completing it. The promise of the upsides outweighed the possible downsides. As it turns out, it was a good thing I started panchakarma with such an eager attitude. “Panchakarma is not for the faint,” says Eric Grasser, MD, an integrative doctor in Santa Fe, New Mexico, who combines functional medicine with Ayurveda. Even the ancient texts caution that panchakarma needs to be undertaken by those in fairly good health. “For the very frail or debilitated, panchakarma is simply too intense,” says Garud.

Part of panchakarma’s intensity can be attributed to the cumulative design: It’s a three-stage detoxification process that traditionally lasts for three weeks. The first stage involves diet and lifestyle changes that prep you for the second, most intense stage of the cleanse; the third stage is all about transitioning out of that second stage and into a lifestyle that’s sustainable for the long haul. And every Ayurvedic doctor I spoke with says each stage is crucial, helping to maximize panchakarma’s effectiveness, minimize potential complications, and provide a protective container for the profound inner release the cleanse is intended to bring. Fortunately, I’m healthy and was confident I could physically withstand the extreme overhaul.

Exactly one week before my stay at the Art of Living Retreat Center, I was told to eliminate dairy, meat, sugar, caffeine, alcohol, and processed foods from my diet—all considered a burden for digestion. Even vegetables are a no-no, because their fiber unduly taxes detoxification, says Garud. I was also instructed to drink only hot water between meals in order to strengthen my digestive power and flush out toxins. Kitchari, a lightly spiced, one-pot meal of basmati rice and mung dal, cooked with heaps of ghee, became my new culinary best friend; I consumed it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Why so much ghee? It loosens the body’s impurities—a process called oleation, says Grasser. “Most toxins are fat soluble, and the liver makes them water soluble so they can be eliminated,” he says. “Oleation works like a detergent, binding to the toxins and coaxing them out of the body.”

Within a week of taking the sugar and caffeine out of my diet and eating bowl after bowl of gruel, I felt my irritation levels flatlining. As a 45-year-old mother of two, my current phase of life can be distinguished by a line from a movie based on Nikos Kazantzakis’s novel Zorba the Greek, in which marriage, house, and kids are referred to as “the full catastrophe.” By catastrophe, I don’t mean disaster—rather the poignant enormity of one’s life experience.

In my case, the exalted spiritual quest of my 20s in India had given way to a more advanced testing ground: domestic life. I’d forgotten how to be in right relationship with my body, never mind everything else. I’d spent so much of my time gauging whether my life measured up to some external ideal of success—with my career, family, and most of all myself—I didn’t know what a headspace unobstructed by negativity felt like. I sweated the small stuff (household division of labor, pet peeves too numerous to count) and squandered the big stuff (the fact that I was healthy and blessed with a family). The sweet relief of knowing I had enough eluded me. I never stopped comparing, and I always came up short. But after a week of mindful eating and self-inquiry, I was starting to sense that panchakarma could give me the clarity I craved. I wanted to know what my part was in my own stuckness, and how to cop to it.

I’m no stranger to putting myself in the hot seat; self-inquiry had practically been my day job during my eight-year stint in India, studying with a teacher whose central question was, Who am I? But such provocative inquiry had been put on the back burner, despite a three-decade-long yoga practice. At the beginning of the cleanse I didn’t grasp the drastic measures necessary to get me back on track, but I felt like I was off to a promising start.

See also “I Followed an Ayurvedic Lifestyle for a Month—and Here’s What Happened”

Showing Up for the Experience

When I arrived at the Art of Living for the more intense, second phase of panchakarma, I was introduced to Lokesh, the Ayurvedic doctor, who took my pulse and determined my main dosha (pitta) and the one that’s most out of whack (vata), or “deranged” as Ayurvedic practitioners say. (For more information on the three doshas and how they affect health, see “Understanding the Doshas” on page 34.) Based on his assessment, Lokesh assigned me a roster of specific oil-based treatments, such as abhyanga (oil massage), shirodhara (liquid forehead treatment), and marma (Ayurvedic acupressure), all designed to help lubricate me from the outside in. The pampering is functional, yet undeniably luxurious. Dosha-specific oils prepared with herbs saturated my skin and hair. The firm, vigorous strokes of abhyanga tenderized my skin and soothed sore muscles. During shirodhara, a copper vessel, oscillating back and forth like an ancient pendulum, drizzled a steady stream of warm oil onto my forehead. And after each oil treatment, I was ushered to the steam room to further open the srotas (channels of circulation). Oleation, both internal and external, functioned as the antidote to my vata gone rogue.Throughout my stay, my diet looked exactly as it had during my prep phase, with kitchari served up three times a day. However, the amount of ghee I was prescribed increased each day by one or two tablespoons per meal. I downed more ghee than I imagined was humanly possible. I watched as the moat of ghee around my mound of kitchari widened to an alarming degree, yet I quickly learned to love its over-the-top richness. My body took to it—never has my digestion been so seamless—and all of the other 10 panchakarma participants who traveled to the Art of Living for this detox said the same.

Between the yummy kitchari, the hours spent unspooling on the treatment table, the daily yoga and meditation, and a welcome break from technology (I was urged to put away my cell phone and laptop the moment I checked in), I felt a sense of sattva (purity) as a lived experience: my thoughts breached out from, and returned to, an unperturbable silence; the anointed contours of my body were made sacred; my breath assumed generous volume; my heart spread wide within me. Everything felt softer. The brittle shell of my coffee-slugging, hard-charging, strung-out self felt like it had been cracked in ways I hoped would never be put together again.

I appreciate how panchakarma functions as a highly choreographed intervention, albeit an ancient one. The kind that tapers gently but has a ruthless persistence. The rules made sense, yet could chafe all the same. In my group, many had good days that alternated with a healing crisis of some sort or another: diarrhea, headaches, sore throats, tiredness, spontaneous grief. Again, experts say this is to be expected: “Anytime you move something that may be stuck, it’s a flush. You’re bringing the doshas out from deeper tissues and you’re bringing emotions out from deeper places where they’re not flowing. Then all of a sudden everything starts to flow,” says Grasser. Whatever we had on lockdown was coming up for air—and there was no safer place for it to happen.