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gatheringbones · 2 years ago

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[“Alex tells me he had long been aware of the existence of transsexuals, and he had even contemplated transitioning earlier in his life. He had known a couple of people over the years who had transitioned, but he had no idea of how to go about doing so, and he lacked the money and the wherewithal.

In the early 1990s, “the conversation changed,” he says, making it possible for him to contemplate transitioning. He heard about support groups for transgender men. FTM groups were forming in San Francisco and Seattle. A burgeoning “queer” movement was challenging the dominance of radical feminist ideas and was offering female-assigned individuals who wished to embrace their inner maleness a way to do so affirmatively, with a sense of pride. Writers and activists like Sandy Stone and Kate Bornstein were talking about a different, more expansive understanding of the radical potential of gender switching, rejecting medicalized notions of trans people as having the “wrong body,” or as being mentally deficient. The term “transgender” was established as a way to move beyond the medical model of “transsexualism” and to include a broad array of gender-variant persons who wished to challenge the binary. It enabled Alex to call himself transgender.

“I did not want to have to say I was ‘crazy.’ I don’t even like saying I’m dysphoric, though I fit the narrative,” says Alex. “I didn’t start T until I found a very good doctor who didn’t demand a letter from a therapist. I wouldn’t confess dysphoria in order to get access to top surgery. I won’t do it. Why would I want to make myself even more marginal?” However, once there was a “weakening of pathology, of judgment,” he decided to move forward.

Meanwhile, Kristin, Alex’s closest friend, settled in Seattle after graduation, where she found an accepting culture and a lively butch presence in the lesbian community. She worked for a state representative, and when she visited the state capitol to lobby on his behalf, people sometimes perceived her “as a boy.” But mainly she felt okay about looking different, and she fell in love with a woman, Jennie, who affirmed her right to be who she was. Kristin is pretty flat chested and small hipped, and “looks like she wants to,” more or less. She presented as a masculine female. It helped that her family tended to be supportive. “Even though I don’t really operate as a woman, I operate in the sphere of women, and there were a lot of really strong women in my big Polish family!” Also her dad, now deceased, was queer, and her brother (who appears in this book) is a transgender man.

Because Kristin, unlike Alex, received a lot of support for her gender nonconformity, she said it never became a major source of distress for her—which isn’t to say that it hasn’t been a challenge at times. She contemplated transitioning for a while but eventually made peace with her body. Being in therapy helped. “I thought that my anxiety was special and everyone else was normal,” she tells me. But as she found ways to ease her generalized sense of anxiety, she became more comfortable with her body and her gender nonconformity. “I thought, ‘Why do I care so much about what other people think about my gender?’ I have a right. I have a fucking right to be who I am,” she tells me, her voice cracking.

And as she became more comfortable with herself, she found ways to deal with bathroom confrontations. “Now when people come up to me and tell me I’m in the wrong bathroom, sometimes I look my body up and down and look at them quizzically and say, ‘Oh, really?’ Thanks!” She makes light of it. “The more comfortable I am, the more likely they are to think I’m in the right place and leave me alone. Now it’s even funny at times.” But airports, she says, are still particularly challenging. Heightened security seems to extend to the policing of gendered bodies in bathrooms. The other day, a blond woman in her fifties came over to her as she entered a bathroom stall and started yelling, “You’re in the wrong place—the men’s room is over there.” Kristin just smiled and said, “Thank you,” and the woman left in a hurry.

“I get why some people transition,” says Kristin, “to be normal, and not have people gawking at you all day. It takes a whole lot of energy.” Still, she came to the conclusion that transitioning would not solve her problems, and that it might open up new, unknown challenges.

Alex, on the other hand, made the decision to modify his body and present as a male, and it has made his life much easier. He no longer gets harassed walking down the street, and he’s no longer as angry. “I still look young,” he tells me, “but at least the beard and receding hairline prove I’m through puberty!” He is much happier now, he says. “I honestly don’t feel I’ve changed that much. That is, ‘transitioning’ didn’t change me so much as it forced others to see me as I saw myself. Yes, the bodily transformations were welcome and comforting. I felt that I was finally ‘home.’ But how do you separate that feeling from the sense that you’re finally recognized by others for how you see yourself?”]

arlene stein, from unbound: transgender men and the remaking of identity, 2018

#arlene stein #gender stuff #currently reading #trans literature #lesbian literature

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gwydionmisha · 7 months ago

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Personal: Transness and Physio

Wednesday I was at physio as is generally the case on Wednesdays this physio cycle. (Current goals: Arm unsupported above my shoulder prolonged to the front at all to the side, Undoing damage from the wrong sling the first two weeks of healing, and strength building). My main pre-op physio had a free moment and stopped over to check on my between patients.

Him: How are you doing?

Me, cheekily: ready for this to be over.

Physios *laugh*

He turned to ask my physio for more detailed info. Which involved pronouns. Look, my pronouns are on file. My prefered name is unfailingly used by staff in this facility and all the healthcare settings I routinely used for… most of a decade or something like that. I used to have to pioneer a lot of health care providers, including Poverty clinic (second trans patient getting trans related health care there, back when there was one ignorant and low key transphobic provider, but it was far better than the extremely transphobic endocrinologist who wasn't taking new patients anyway so everyone had to trek down to seattle for everything), and just about every specialist I saw for years and years, often with people for whom English was a second language who were flat out confused my my medical charts.

For the record, once word spread (and trans provider word spread FAST on the trans grapevine) and Poverty clinic got deluged by desperate poor people who flat out couldn't afford 150-300 per health apointment and a whole day of travel, a second super cool doctor self educated and started taking patients. Within a year or two the whole staff had training. A couple years later they did a big survey, flat out changed the name of the clinic so as not to scare trans people, added prefered name/pronouns/gender to all forms and are a makor provider for two counties, providing an ever expanding range of care. Poverty clinic's main population had been HIV, kids who's parents couldn't afford health insurance, and unhoused. They are so much more now, and my whole reason is the better for it, because a whole lot of other practices got better and new services opened up all over the western part of my state to deal with demand that having two cities with trans heallthcare drew to the reagon. (A whole lot of other places have safe clinmics now and if you are in a blue county, you are likely okay to be fairly open. People can live in cheaper towns and cities and still have care a reasonable drive or bus away. It absolutely wasn't the case fifteen years ago. For some things the choices were seattle, san franscisco, and that one city in colorado. For hormones and trans friendly psychiatry it was only slightly better.) I am incredably proud of all the medical practices I pioneered and made safe for other people.

Thing is though, it's still not perfect. I'm pretty relaxed about pronouns, but where people are super careful about names, some people are waaaay better at pronouns than others. I bowl down the middle on purpose, in non-medical customer service settings, people take their best guess and I don't make a fuss unless someone else does or is obnoxious or I get duling customer service people who are in conflict and each sure they are right (Which is hilarious, but I consider it polite to step in at that point). I will back up a child if their parent corrects them to the wrong thing. I will happily give pronouns when a polite person asks.

In medical settings outside of places trying really hard to get it right like Poverty clinic or weirdly the Christian Hospital, people mess up pronouns about a third of the time. I think the masks make it more confusing for them and I am always in a mask in a medical setting unless I need to take it off for a medical thing.

The room in the physio clinic where I go, it is pretty much middle aged straight guy therapists (There's a woman sometimes and a younger guy I see doing legs now and then, but mostly it is middle aged straight guys who look like gym teachers. Guys like my late Uncle when I was growing up who was also a physio). Trans stuff doesn't come up. I spend the entire session working one on one with these guys, so while names get used now and then the pronouns are all 1st and 2nd person, you follow? There is enough conversation that I'm pretty sure none of the three guys who've worked on my arm are MAGAS. I peg them as likely democrats, but where on that spectrum? No fucking clue. They are all good guys and good physios. I do not know their stance on right to pee, you follow?

So the most classically straight ex-college athlete guy turns to the very gentle, very pacific northwesty type married with children postsurgical guy (I have no idea how to describe this type of northwest guy to someone who's never been here, but if you have it's really obvious. Loves being out in nature and likely has nature based hobbies. Cares about feminism and the environment in a genuine way. Relaxed about their masculinity and masculinity in general, so are usually some degree of queer friendly. Other stuff. It's hard to explain, but trust me. If you live here, you will meet a lot of this kind of guy. The two people I had my longest relationships with were this kind of PNW guy. I dated a bunch more. ), who is currently super slowly and gently stretching my arm, and asks him more technical stuff about my progress because he was worried I hadn't put on quite enough muscle before surgery.

This involved pronouns. Get this: THEY WERE THE CORRECT PRONOUNS. Both guys used correct pronouns. They also included me in the conversation. Bravo, Physio Dudes! Seriously, I had no idea how that was going to go when the pre-op guy opened his moth and it was A+.

#Personal #Trans #Nonbinary #Healthcare #Physio #Pronouns #neo-pronouns #PNW Life

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hihigherdi · 7 months ago

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I tried another edible last night and while I slept through the night, I wasn’t refreshed, I think it does disrupt the sleep cycles I need most right now so I’m going to stop. I made some pasta for breakfast and then fell back asleep until 9:30am. Watered all my plants and am just kind of in a daze, per usual. I had bad stomach issues that almost made me throw up while literally dealing with things in the other direction, and that sent me into a dark dark place. It's been a dark couple of days. I keep trying to feel normal, be normal and I feel that way in the mornings until I don't.

I had my therapy appointment scheduled tonight which I was dreading, I've definitely been in avoidant mode with people. And 10 minutes before, I found out a code in Seattle will prevent me from Airbnbing the duplex which made me freak out, it happened because my sister was talking to the manager of the building next door who hasn't fixed his rusted out railing that is leaning into my property and she went to ask him about it. She mentioned we were going to Airbnb it and he said "that is illegal on the water". So I freaked out and made her feel like shit in the process, right before this therapy appointment.

I logged on and immediately burst into tears, telling him it's hard for me to be with people when I am in a bad emotional place. So he kind of gently started therapizing me which was annoying but I just went with it because that's what we're doing. He asked me what I do with my time and I told him "nothing. I watch the clock until the time passes and I can say another day is gone, done, in my rear view mirror and I am that much closer to this being done. I am waiting for time to pass. I watch it pass. That's all I do."

All of the sudden I quietly said "I am just so fucking mad. I am so pissed this is happening to me. I am so angry."

I've told a therapist I was sad/depressed/scared/in despair before - but never angry. I never show that, ever. Ever. For some reason I did and he said "something in your face just came to life when you said that. What's happening in your body?" and he was right. I felt this....life, just course through me. Like I was awake for the first time in a week. So there's something here. I kept thinking of Richard Gere's character in Pretty Woman saying "I went to therapy for 10 years just so I can say 'I am angry at my father'" - that stuck with me.

But I am mad. I am so mad at so many things. I'm mad I have cancer, it fucking sucks. I'm furious. Being mad at my parents for being terrible human beings was never an option, it's like being mad at the strung out fentanyl addict on the street. They aren't there. That's what it always felt like. But if I were honest, that's what I tell myself - my mom was as fragile as she was because she didn't love us enough to get help. She was too prideful. Too scared. And she prioritized both of those things over a course of action that would have made her a better parent. I get to be pissed at that.

I hung up and felt so much better, called my sister and apologized and I'm so glad I did because she was beating herself up badly. We'll figure it out that place will rent to traveling nurses in 5 minutes. It will be great.

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gaytotaldrama · 1 year ago

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duncney week day 4 (a day late): first 'i love you'

an unsent letter from C to D, years after the end of the show.

duncney song of the day: 'i've got your number,' elbow

also on my ao3!

Dear Dunc

To whom it may conce

For the idiot with the green mohawk

Duncan,

I don't go to therapy, but Bridgette does, and she told me about this exercise her therapist set her where you write down everything you want to say to someone in a letter and then you don't send it. Therapy would take up way too much of my time, yet here I am on my bed, writing to you of all people.

It's been years since we last saw each other, or even spoke - since they carted you off the island and tossed you into some disgusting cell. I'm sure you're already aware, but destroying Chris's house was a really stupid idea. I understand that you were trying to prove your "villain status" or whatever, but all I could think about watching you leave was DJ and his rabbit. It made me feel sick, seeing what happened to you. Gwen and I pretended to be happy about it, but I don't think either of us were at all.

I know she called once or twice, while you were in there. I know Geoff and DJ came to visit you. I know Bridgette sent you little care baskets through the mail.

I know I never did any of those things. It all hurt so much, still. And even when it didn't, I never figured out what I would say to you.

But now, I have an idea. More or less.

However angry I was with you after you and Gwen kissed, it didn't mean I wanted to see you thrown in prison. I know I can be petty and vengeful at my lowest moments, but I always imagined you'd be eliminated in some humiliating spectacle. You'd go home. And we'd never have to see each other again, unless Owen ever decided to throw that reunion bash he was talking about.

And then when that bash happened, you were locked up again for violating your parole. And you weren't there.

I thought about filling these pages with all the reasons you were awful to me, every nitpick and tiny detail that made me hate your guts. But it's not like I was the perfect girlfriend, either. And, Duncan, we were just kids. None of us knew what we were doing, what it was we even wanted. Chris knew that and he used it against us every which way, exploiting us on international television.

I don't know if I really forgive you yet. I guess I'd have to see you in person to know. I've spent most of my time post-Total Drama working to forgive myself. Which has worked. Somewhat, at least.

Geoff says you're in Seattle. He says you're working as a tattoo artist. He says you go to AA meetings every week at the recreational center. That's good. That's really good, Duncan.

I work. Sanford, Sanford & Patel - started as a secretary, but I've clawed my way up a bit since then. Helped win some major cases. Hopefully it won't be long before they're adding a Reyes up on that sign.

Bridgette, Geoff, and I have game night every Wednesday evening. We take turns cooking dinner. Sometimes Bridgette slides me a CBD gummy to help me fall asleep at night. I jog, in the mornings. When I can, I go to the gym. Every now and then, I pick up Geoff's guitar and strum it a little. I still remember when you taught me my first bar chord. I couldn't make a sound on the B minor then, but I've gotten better, now. I've really gotten better.

I have a cat. This little precocious furball that Bridgette brought back from the shelter. She likes to claw at my nice leather desk chair and she doesn't like strangers at all; I adore her. Her name is Scruffy.

Every couple of months, I fly out to visit Gwen in Vancouver. They showed me the inky moon you put on their collarbone - I think it's beautiful. We go and get coffee together, catch up. She's got an art exhibition down in Bellingham in the fall - I plan to go, but I don't know if you'll be there. I don't know if I want you to be or not.

I've had a few boyfriends, but none of them could keep up with me. One time, Gwen and I got drunk and slept together. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but it was kind of good. Which is kind of funny. To me, at least.

Oh, and Geoff and Bridgette are engaged. Which I guess you already knew. It only just happened, so there are no real plans yet, you know those two. Never once made a list in their lives. But I guess if you're not at Gwen's show, we'll see each other at the wedding.

Would you talk to me? If we met again, would you even talk to me? I like to think I'd talk to you. But it's a hell of a lot easier to say it in writing than it is to do it in person.

Would you miss me?

I've missed you. I know people say you never stay with your high school sweetheart, but look at G and B, case in point. We didn't stay together, but sometimes I imagine what it would have been like if we had. Where we'd be right now.

Damn it, ok, I'm just going to say it: I love you. We never got around to telling that to each other while we were dating, but I think it's always been true, since all the way back in season one. I love you, Duncan Russo. It's totally humiliating, but I do. I still really, really do.

And I wish you were

Maybe if I

And I guess there's nothing to be done about that. Over a decade, and I'm still hung up on the boy who I kissed in the back of the Killer Bass cabin, right after puking my guts out. There's only so many people who would kiss someone with vomit breath, but you did. You didn't care. I mean, it was totally disgusting, but you kissed me back. I'll always remember the way you kissed me back.

Just...I just hope you're ok, ok? Or if not, then that you're something close to it. That show screwed every single one of us over, some more than others. The shit Chris did to us was messed up, and if I could go back and time and withdraw my audition tape, I would.

But then I guess I'd never have met you. And I don't know if that would be better or worse for me in the long run.

Thank God you'll never see this letter.

Love,

Courtney

#duncney week 2023 #duncney #td fanfiction #my writing

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loverockawaitsyou · 1 month ago

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Random, but how I ended up in Seattle: I left a culty work exchange/commune in Los Angeles...

I will be posting in segments because it's a long, messy story that's full of nonsense that even I can't believe is real.

So, it's been about 1.5 years since I've moved to Seattle! How time flies!

I thought randomly of posting about some of the story behind my move, especially since the place I came from is close to being dissolved.

In July of last year, I left a deeply toxic, weird situation and restarted my life. While I love my life in Seattle, it hasn't been easy. I still struggle with my trauma and have only recently begun trusting people again and trying to be part of community. I've also been processing what I've been through and understanding how awful it really was. It was not normal.

Back in July 2020, I answered a sketchy ad on a sketchy site for a "live-in writer/editor." The ad promised a "free" place to stay in exchange (on a part-time schedule) for editing for one of the main bosses, a "world-renowned" sex therapist. I would be working for an old married couple. The wife was the sex therapist and her husband was her business partner, a self-proclaimed prince with no country from Italy who was also a controversial magazine publisher in the '70s. The couple had their heyday in the late '90s and early 2000s after appearing a few times on a few TV specials.

It seemed too good to be true, and it was. However, I was excited about the prospect of living in LA for "free" while pursuing my writing endeavors. At the time, I was a budding film critic, which is a notoriously low-paying career path, if it even pays at all, ha.

Over the past four years:

I moved into the community during COVID lockdown.

Went to a BDSM convention with my bosses and it was a miserable experience.

Participated in the filming of maybe three documentaries.

Upon my first visit to Seattle, lied to my bosses to get away because they almost never allowed time off except for emergencies/funerals (the Big Lie was so I could go see Stone Gossard's band Painted Shield... and see if I actually wanted to move to Seattle). At that point, I hadn't had an actual vacation since before COVID.

Close encounters with numerous stoners, junkies, and freaks.

On that note, numerous weird shroom trips.

Got involved with a guy who happened to be a wicked podcast bro and community Casanova. This was my first actual serious relationship, unfortunately.

Experienced a police raid while said guy was in my room after a hook-up. There was a small story in the local news. Pictures of my room were taken.

The main money I earned at the time, and what ultimately funded my exit was editing for an adult industry trade publication, a.k.a., I posted news articles mostly about p*rn and s*x toys.

Tried to speak out about the mistreatment I endured and was threatened with a trip to LA Superior Court.

But I went digging about and found a shit ton of other stuff including mail fraud, tax evasion, eviction records, and other s*xual crimes (really bad stuff), and accounts from former employees.

Now another current employee has been branded an extortionist for demanding her pay after months of being shafted and "squatting" until she is paid. I discovered her YouTube videos because I was following her (she hasn't updated in ages). However, she is my ex's most recent girlfriend, so things are weird. But we had a long ass conversation and I support her legal terrorism.

Meanwhile, life in Seattle is picking up!

#true story #seattle #moving #memoir #writing

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dangerousdispositions · 6 months ago

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➪ CARMINE DURANTE

if you’re hearing WHO WE ARE by HOZIER playing, you have to know CARMINE DURANTE (HE/HIM; CIS MALE) is near by! the 36 year old PEDIATRIC ER NURSE at SUMMER VALLEY REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER has been in town for, like, FIVE MONTHS. he's known to be quite FICKLE, but being OPTIMISTIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that he resembles MANNY JACINTO. personally, i’d love to know more about him seeing as how he's got those TWEETY- BIRD PRINT SCRUBS, CRIPPLING CAFFEINE ADDICTION, AN OVERABUNDANCE OF THROW PILLOWS, DARK CIRCLES UNDER HIS EYES and A NEVER- ENDING STRING OF HALF- LEARNED HOBBIES vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around DOWNTOWN long enough!

name: carmine durante

age: 36

d.o.b. & sign: august 5th, leo.

occupation: pediatric er nurse at summer valley regional medical center.

hometown: seattle, wa.

gender identity & sexuality: cis male, homosexual.

relationship status: single.

likes: fruity drinks, nicotine (but he isn't proud of it), strong coffee (with plenty of cream and sugar so it doesn't actually taste like coffee), wearing bright colors and prints, staying busy.

dislikes: liars, feeling weak, his boundaries being disrespected, feeling like he isn't in control of any given situation, lack of/ improper communication.

CWs for domestic violence, murder (not graphic).

Carmine was born the youngest child to a single mother. His father was never in the picture when he was young, and honestly, he was never missed. With three older sisters, their little house was crowded and chaotic enough. They fought like cats and dogs sometimes, sure, but they were a tight- knit group. Francesca, 5 years older than him, Alessandra, 3 years older, and Gianna, 11 months older, were all fiercely protective of their baby brother, and their mother was hard- working but so loving towards them. She was gone more than any of them wanted, seemingly always at work, but there was never any doubt that she loved them.

Then, when Carmine was eleven, his Dad came back, and everything changed.

It started out slow. At first, his presence seemed like a good thing-- it meant his Momma wasn't quite as stressed about money all the time, and she could start working just the one job. He smelled funky, and Francesca whispered that it was alcohol, but he brought them presents sometimes, treats and fast food, and once in a while they even got to go to the movies.

He had a temper, though, and once it started slipping up everything happened so fast. To Carmine, who hadn't been paying all that much attention to his mother's relationship, it felt like the flip of a light switch. His Dad kept getting angry, and his Momma seemed a lot sadder all the time, and quiet.

Then there were the bruises. Then there was Francesca, who stood up to him one time and got a broken wrist for her trouble, and it kept getting worse, until a once happy, healthy family started disintegrating into something broken and fraught.

It wasn't fair, but they didn't leave, and then it was just too late.

Carmine doesn't remember a lot about the day his mother died-- he doesn't want to. His therapists have told him it might come back in bits and pieces, and sometimes it does. Sometimes he has these bloody dreams that he's pretty sure are memories, but mostly he remembers the foggy, drug- hazy month he spent hospitalized after it all happened. One thing he does know is that he's pretty good at compartmentalizing under pressure, shoving feelings and panic both aside in order to focus on what needs to be done, and that ability is what eventually lead him down the path of healthcare-- though it took him a couple of years after high school to find a direction.

Carmine has always been a bit of a flighty person, ready to go wherever the wind takes him and do whatever captivates his attention for more than five minutes at a time. Outwardly, he's exuberant, excitable, carefree and extroverted, a truly bubbly happy- go- lucky person under most circumstances despite the trauma that's helped to form who he is. At a glance, you wouldn't think he was someone that has a hard time connecting with people, and although he tends to accumulate friends wherever he goes, he struggles to form deep connections, particularly romantic relationships. He can come across as a sweet, slightly airheaded tender person, and it's not completely unfounded but part of that is a defense mechanism. He craves control, right down to what everyone else thinks of him.

Medication keeps his ADHD from ruling his life, but obviously it doesn't wash the symptoms away entirely. He's always been consumed by a variety of hyperfixations and interests that take over his life for a while and then fizzle away, sometimes to be circled back to, sometimes not. He enjoys traveling, and loves changes of scenery, and the idea of moving was an attractive one. At first it felt like it was a hard call to put any distance between himself, his sisters and the city he grew up in, but a friend of his from college lived in a seemingly idyllic town and in the end the decision to move came easily. So he packed up and found himself in Hemlock Springs, excited for all of the potential that came along with making a life somewhere new.

He works 3 12- hr shifts a week, 7pm- 7:30 am, and then has 4 days off. His wardrobe largely consists of pink and yellow, lots of shirts with funny sayings or random patterns and prints. He makes time to go on daily runs with his dog, a big, white standard poodle named Tulip, and on his days off from work he tends to stay busy. He's a very high energy person and gets stressed out if his life isn't scheduled down to the minute in his flashy planner.

#hemlock.intro #carmine.#muses

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kateeorg · 2 years ago

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Ted Lasso 3x03 Spoilers

So, you know how Ted Lasso pulls a lot from classic romcoms?

And you know how they just dropped the bomb that Michelle is dating someone who used to be not just her therapist, but hers and Ted's marriage counselor?

You know what romcom we haven't referenced yet in this show?

First Wives Club.

And guess what? That movie also has a plot line where the main character's separated and then divorced spouse turns out to be sleeping with their therapist/marriage counselor.

And I wonder - are we going to be delving into just how creepy that is? For a therapist who knows all your vulnerabilities to then romance one half of the couple and act condescending to the other? Especially since the genders and relationship balances are flipped, with the counselor being male and Michelle being otherwise an amicable ex (not a sleaze like Annie's husband Aaron was in that film). Because they didn't really talk about wha the therapist did in that film, it was more about getting back at the husbands. She disappears after the first act.

(And yes, part of me would enjoy it if Ted pulled a Diane Keaton-style flip out on the therapist, but I'm more concerned it would hurt Ted's soul, and it would be harder to play for laughs here than there)

There's also a bit of a parallel with Rebecca, as she is the dumped ex-wife (though not first wife) that Rupert left for a younger woman, who Rebecca is now trying to get even with. And Rebecca also at one point WAS the younger woman. And she does resemble Goldie Hawn's Elise Elliot

And then there's Keeley getting dumped by Roy, though they weren't married and he didn't leave her for another woman. Still, there's a bit of a parallel with Brenda and Morty in that film., the only one to get back together with her husband at the end because he realized he was acting out of insecurity and saw the light.

Maybe I'm taking the parallel too far, but after the extended You've Got Mail reference last season (Bossgirl and LDN152, I see you) I wouldn't be surprised. And it would be fun to see Ted, Rebecca and Keeley plotting something together.

EDIT: Because also, while Ted Lasso does use romcom tropes, it also subverts them. Hints that Ted is the secret admirer? Nope, it's Sam. Dr. Fieldstone might be an unlikable therapist character, like Dr. Marsha Fieldstone from Sleepless in Seattle? No, she and Ted just needed to see eye-to-eye a bit better. Plus Ted using romcom lines to "romance" Roy into being a coach. So I could see Ted Lasso using this parallel to First Wives Club to poke into the breach of therapist trust here, especially since it's shaped Ted's responses to therapy in the past.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso meta #first wives club #romcoms #romcommunism #parallels

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seanorpenmslmftinc · 2 months ago

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youtube

Sean Orpen MS LMFT Inc. provides couples counseling in Seattle that focuses on long-term relationship health. Sean Orpen offers individualized sessions that help couples address challenges such as trust issues, communication breakdowns, and emotional distance. With a focus on developing healthy relationship habits, Sean guides couples through meaningful conversations, fostering a renewed sense of connection and mutual respect.

Sean Orpen MS LMFT Inc. 1200 Westlake Ave. N. #407, Seattle, WA 98109 (360) 529–0862 My Official Website: https://www.orpentherapy.com/ Google Plus Listing: https://www.google.com/maps?cid=12727529731991012456

Our Other Links: Sex Therapist Seattle: https://www.orpentherapy.com/sex-therapy-in-seattle

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#Couples Counseling Seattle #Best Couples Counseling near me #Relationship Therapy Seattle #Marriage Therapy Seattle #Sex Therapist Near Me #Youtube

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bodyalive · 2 years ago

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John Gottman’s Four Horsemen of Marital Failure Watch out for these 4 bad behaviors that lead to divorce, says marriage expert— While 39% of marriages are destined for divorce in America, it doesn’t have to be that way. Not if you watch out for these four signs, according to John Gottman, Ph.D., cofounder of the Gottman Institute, a center that shares a research-based approach to relationships. Gottman, who founded the institute alongside his wife, Julie Gottman, is known as the relationship therapist who can predict whether a couple will divorce with over 90% accuracy. In his research, Gottman noticed four negative communication patterns that can predict divorce, which he calls the Four Horsemen: Criticism Contempt Defensiveness Stonewalling But not all is lost, he’s also shared ways to combat the horsemen and improve your relationship. Here are the warning signs: The problem: Criticism The first horseman, and perhaps the most common, is criticism. Whereas a complaint is about a specific issue, criticism is an attack on your partner’s character. Finding yourself critical of your partner isn’t the end of the world, but if it becomes pervasive, it could lead to other trouble within the relationship. “It makes the victim feel assaulted, rejected, and hurt, and often causes the perpetrator and victim to fall into an escalating pattern where the first horseman reappears with greater and greater frequency and intensity, which eventually leads to contempt,” Ellie Lisitsa, a doctoral student in clinical psychology at Seattle Pacific University and former staff writer for the Gottman Institute, writes in a blog post on the topic. The antidote: Complain without blame Instead of launching into attack mode, experts suggest using a “gentle startup,” or the Gottman Method approach, “that makes a straightforward comment about a concern and expresses a need in a positive fashion.” This requires using “I” statements to share a need and avoiding “you” statements, which insinuate blame. The problem: Contempt The most destructive of the Four Horsemen, according to Gottman, is contempt. In his book Why Marriages Succeed or Fail, Gottman writes: “When contempt begins to overwhelm your relationship you tend to forget entirely your partner’s positive qualities, at least while you’re feeling upset. You can’t remember a single positive quality or act. This immediate decay of admiration is an important reason why contempt ought to be banned from marital interactions.” The antidote: Build fondness and admiration Gottman claims that one of the best ways to build fondness and admiration within the relationship is by looking to the past and recalling what made you fall in love with your partner in the first place. The problem: Defensiveness Criticism can often lead to defensiveness, which is another way of blaming your partner. Instead of admitting responsibility, a person decides to play the victim and tries to make the issue their partner’s fault. Defensiveness most often occurs when a person is feeling attacked or criticized by their partner. This can also include gaslighting, denial, and manipulation. The antidote: Take responsibility The antidote to defensiveness is to accept responsibility for your role in the situation, even if only for part of the conflict,” writes Lisitsa. “In healthy relationships, partners don’t get defensive when discussing an area of conflict.” Taking responsibility requires showing an interest in your partner’s feelings and acknowledging the role you played in the conflict. This enables you and your partner to talk through the issue and work as a team to resolve the problem. The problem: Stonewalling Stonewalling, which typically happens in response to contempt, is when a person withdraws from a conversation, shuts down, or stops responding to their partner altogether. This can look like “tuning out, turning away, acting busy, or engaging in obsessive or distracting behaviors,” writes Lisitsa. The antidote: Take a break Instead of shutting down mid-conversation, experts recommend deciding on a neutral signal, such as a word, phrase, or hand motion, to signify that you need a time-out. “So if you are stonewalling and feeling flooded, say that you need a break using whatever signal, word, or phrase you and your partner have decided upon. Let each other know when you’re feeling overwhelmed,” suggests Lisitsa. “Then you need to walk away and do something soothing on your own. This break should last at least 20 minutes since it will take that much time for your bodies to physiologically calm down.”

[Thanks to Sharon Moon]

#Sharon Moon #Psychology #Marriage #marriage counseling #John Gottman #Body Alive

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greatpain · 8 months ago

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𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 ...

⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.

FULL NAME: guinevere lovelace. NICKNAME(S): neve (if you must use a nickname, this is preferred), winnie (reserved for family). ALIAS: previously known as agent bloodhunter. AGE: twenty9. DATE OF BIRTH: august 5. PLACE OF BIRTH: seattle. CURRENT LOCATION: apex city, washington. GENDER: questioning. PRONOUNS: she/they. ORIENTATION: bisexual. OCCUPATION: reporter for apex news network. EDUCATION LEVEL: bachelor's degrees in journalism and political science.

⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

HEIGHT: 5'10. TATTOOS: none. PIERCINGS: ears. SCARS: many on her left shoulder / arm and others scattered about. STYLE: sleek, striking, bold. enjoys a dramatic overcoat or statement piece. incredibly fond of accessorizing.

⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.

ALLERGIES: none. SLEEPING HABITS: average. incredibly light sleeper. never sets an alarm as she just seems to wake up when she needs to. EATING HABITS: well. meal preps. SOCIABILITY: 7/10. interrogative and prying though she keeps a front up to make herself / her questions seem unassuming DRINKING / SMOKING / DRUGS: socially / no / no. RADIANT STATUS: n/a. solaris failed to work. OTHER: hard of hearing in left ear.

⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.

LABELS / TROPES: intrepid reporter, reluctant hero, fallen hero, action survivor, undercover as herself, badass normal, deadpan snarker, hidden heart of gold, undying loyalty INSPIRATIONS: lois lane (dc comics), veronica mars (veronica mars), karen page (marvel) TRAITS: determined, resourceful, compassionate, scrupulous, stubborn, distrustful, impulsive, resentful, envious, closed-off, pragmatic, adaptable, observant, driven, independent LIKES: coffee, traveling, martial arts. DISLIKES: red tape, being underestimated, sensationalism. WEAKNESSES: impulsivity, severe trust issues, difficulty with authority, emotional guardedness, tendency to shoulder burdens alone. STRENGTHS: investigative skills, resilience, adaptability, resourcefulness, negotiation, martial arts. FEARS: betrayal, powerlessness, loud noises. HABITS: checking her surroundings / checking for exits, strict routine, double/triple checking any information, carrying a weapon at all times, limiting true / deep personal connection. HOBBIES: martial arts, cooking, cryptic / logic puzzles, urban exploration.

⋯⋯⋯ FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: evelyn lovelace, biomedical agent, whereabouts unknown. FATHER: marcus lovelace, psychiatrist, alive. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: n/a. BEST FRIEND: none. EXES: womp womp. SIBLING(S): elidyr lovelace, field agent, deceased. CHILDREN: none. PET(S): a betta fish, unnamed.

𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 …

marcus and evelyn lovelace were part of mercy organization from its inception. evelyn in particular was a young researcher in biomedical who was part of the team that made solaris what it is today. a couple years before project genesis, she gave birth to her second child, guinevere. marcus was more hesitant about mercy and decided that it was best for him to raise her and her older brother, elidyr, in seattle while evelyn continued her work in apex city.

when guinevere turned fourteen, marcus was offered a position as a therapist in apex city, and the family was properly reunited. it wasn't surprising when eli joined mercy as a legacy junior agent a couple years later.

neve practically idolized both her parents and older brother and always assumed she'd follow in their footsteps. she excelled in her studies, driven mostly by an eagerness to make them all proud.

she studied journalism and political science before joining mercy as well. eli wasn't shy about being related to her, going as far as to help her train whenever he had the availability. their mother, however, decided it would be best if she stay out of the way of her children, though she occasionally checked up on them when possible and without raising suspicion of favoritism.

during her time as a junior agent, she forged a close bond with an agent who was in the same joining class as eli. both neve and this agent were driven by a shared sense of idealism and a desire to make a strong difference. when it was possible for them, the agent volunteered for project genesis and underwent the solaris treatment.

unfortunately they underwent a practically catastrophic transformation, emerging a changed person. when they'd previously been quite bright and optimistic, they'd become cold, calculating, and ruthless. they were given incredible powers but to neve on the outside, it seemed that it cost them their humanity.

neve began to distance herself from them out of concern for them as well as herself. still, she was chosen to come on what should have been a relatively easy mission that included their (former?) friend as well as elidyr along with another agent.

what should have been a routine recon mission spiraled out of control when the four agents' cover was blown and they were ambushed. off guard and outnumbered, the team were forced to fight for their lives as they fled. guinevere watched as the fourth agent fell dead, and then as their (former?) friend used elidyr as cover for the two of them to escape the immediate fight and find a way out. neve made the split second decision to detonate a cache of explosives they had discovered earlier, allowing them a distraction to escape the carnage, though the mission had clearly been an absolute failure as valuable intelligence was lost along with two agent lives.

haunted by these events, wallowing in blame, and tormented by the knowledge that she was somehow responsible for the death of her brother and another agent, she knew she should have left right then. however, she figured that if she was already so close to graduating from junior agent status, she may as well see it through and take solaris.

yeah... solaris didn't work for her. they waited weeks and it amounted to absolute zilch.

horrified by everything she experienced and disillusioned by project genesis and mercy as a whole, her decision to leave mercy behind and forge her own path was reinforced. she cut ties quickly and started up an anonymous blog regarding apex city as a whole.

also um at some point her mom went missing???? so she's also using what remains of her connections to figure that out.

a year ago, she was given a job interview at apex news network, and was hired as a reporter. she's determined to uncover what the hell is really going on, though she keeps that very much on the downlow as she doesn't want to seem too conspiracy theorist. for now she does her due diligence as a reporter and ex-mercy agent by utilizing what remains of her connection to mercy to get information that will be useful to the network.

𝟶𝟶𝟹. 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 ...

coming soon but $10 to anyone who wants to take up either marcus lovelace or the (former?) friend / current mercy agent. mwah <3

#mercyorg:intro

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yourfriendmelanie · 9 months ago

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i am scared to share anything, even to my therapist. i never share to anyone. i think i don't want to say things out loud because if i don't say it out loud then maybe it didn't happen, or it didn't exist. that's not true. ever since i could remember i hated my life. maybe in 2010? 2011? 2012? 2006 when my parents split? who knows. this really bad thing happened to me in 2012 i think. i do remember 12/12/12 at 12:12pm. my fifth grade teacher took a picture of our class at that exact time! i remember i hated going to school after this happened... i think. or i just didn't want to. my mother wasn't around a lot, it was usually just me and my brother, at least to my recollection. therefore, i could skip school. keep in mind i am 12. i was born in September of 2000. i was raised by so many people. i have a "broken" family. my friend that was on my volleyball team told me in seventh grade that i have a broken family. I've never forgotten that. i never thought of my family like that. i knew it was somewhat fucked up, but i knew a lot of my friends in Seattle had similar family situations. i moved to a more rural or town like, it has 10,00 people, and most families seemed picture perfect. anyway, i knew my family was fucked up but i didn't know it was thaaaat fucked. i feel like i was cursed from the beginning. i was raised by my mom and dad from ages 0-5 or 6, then just my mom from 6-12 or 13, and then living with, not raised, by my aunt, dad, and uncle. it is all fucked up. i feel like living with them has been like living a lie, but let's not talk about that right now. i have no "full" siblings. i have three half siblings. i had a full brother but he was a stillborn. i wish i could have a sibling to grow up with but i didn't. i was alone a lot. my brother was five years older than me and he was in and out of the hospital a lot and received more attention to me, obviously because of his health. it just made me sad. and made me feel unwanted. but my relationship with my mom and dad have been good. i was very mad at my mom in middle school, i was angry that she neglected me for so long and i felt like she had no remorse for that. i know it was because of mental health and i forgave her. my dad suffered from alcoholism ever since i could remember, but now as of 2024 he is six year sober. he still pisses me off but i forgive him for literally being such an absent dad, but now he is great and i love him.

i have love. I've been loved. i am loved. i give love. i do have love. haha that sounds like an affirmation, but i do believe that i have had many boyfriends and we've been in love. I've been in love, but i don't know what love is actually. i know i love dogs, and i know i love my boyfriend and i love my friends. but i do not know what a healthy relationship looks like, romantically, at all. i have never seen a healthy romantic relationship ever. my dad and my mom we're very abusive towards each other. my aunt and uncle are weird and i do not think they love each other, but have been married for over 40 years, so what do i know. i thought my boyfriend's parents had a good healthy relationship. then i found out that his dad left his mom, not while they were married, for a couple months. then he went back and they are so beautiful and funny towards each other. i still do think they have a great relationship. i am scared that i am being pulled towards men that are unhealthy, like my mother and father's relationship. i usually feel unloved and i know that that is incorrect. i am doing DBT and it has been good. i have learned so much, and have so many more coping skills. i think it has been helping my communication skills and my relationships, romantic and other. like, a lot.

i wanted to make this post on tumblr because i have always loved tumblr. when i was depressed in 2012 and 2013, tumblr helped me express myself with pictures and poetry, and i want to start sharing... whatever i want. i feel like this is a diary entry, but i promise not all of my posts will be like this.

xoxo,

mel

#sad thoughts #sadgirl #therapy #trauma coping #depressing shit #sorry for being depressing #dbt

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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The Bezzle excerpt (Part V)

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I'm out on tour with my new novel, The Bezzle, a cyberpunk revenge thriller about Marty Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant, and a guerrilla war he wages on a prison-tech provider that treats incarcerated people as assets to be strip-mined:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab

As part of the promotion for the book, I've been serializing an excerpt: Chapter 14, in which Marty takes on a side-quest to recover the stolen royalties of one-time funk star Stephon Magner (AKA Steve Soul) which were stolen by his scumbag manager and then sold on to an even scummier sample-licensing clearinghouse.

Today, I bring you part five, in which Marty's simple cross-referencing project is violently altered by an encounter with the criminal gangs of the LA Sheriffs Deputy departments, a real crime-syndicate whose reign of terror continues to this day:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-05-17/dozens-of-lasd-deputies-ordered-to-show-suspected-gang-tattoos-reveal-others-who-have-them

I'm posting this installment en route to San Diego, where I'll be appearing tonight at Mysterious Galaxy

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow

From there, it's back to LA, where I'm appearing on Saturday evening with Adam Conover at Vromans:

https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Cory-Doctorow-discusses-The-Bezzle

And then on Monday I'll be at Third Place Books with Neal Stephenson:

https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/event/cory-doctorow

From there, I'm off to Portland, Phoenix, Tucson and points further:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

Here's part one of the serial:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

Part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#copyright-termination

Part three:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#lawyer-up

Part four:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#poacher-turned-keeper

And now, part five!

The storefront had an old break room with a first-aid kit, and a bathroom with a sink. I sponged myself clean in the mirror, ate two expired Aleves and three 200 mg expired Tylenols out of the kit. The ass was ripped most of the way out of my pants, so I moved my wallet to my front pocket, which my massage therapist had been nagging at me to do for years.

I opened the door more carefully this time and limped out into the parking lot. My rental—a little red Civic—was the only car left in the parking lot, except for a rusted junker with no tires that was the perennial sentry of its farthest corner.

I bipped the doors open with my fob, checked the back seat, then slid inside. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and winced, which pulled at my bruises and set blood oozing from my lip and cheekbone again, which made me wince harder. I was already halfway to Quasimodo and I tried to remember if there was a 7-Eleven on the route home where I could buy a couple of bags of frozen peas for the swelling.

I reset the mirror and backed out of my spot. The pain was increasing. They’d have Advil at the 7-Eleven, and I’d remembered where there was one on the way back to my Airbnb.

As I waited for a red light at Eagle Rock and Colorado Boulevard, I watched as a homeless man labored across the road with his shopping cart. I was still watching him when I realized the light had been green for some time and had just toggled yellow. I made the turn and headed up Colorado, but I was barely a hundred yards down the road when I heard a siren blat and saw the police lights. I checked my mirrors and saw the LASD cruiser directly behind me, racing right up to my bumper, slowing only at the very last moment. The cruiser’s high beams blinked insistently and the siren whooped.

I pulled over.

I waited while the officer slowly got out of his car and walked to my driver’s-side window. I kept my hands at ten and two. The officer tapped my window and made a roll-down motion, so I hit the button, moving slowly, putting my hand back.

I got a light in my face, squinting and thus reopening my cheekbone and lip.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling the blood ooze down my chin. “I was beaten up,” I said, stating the obvious.

“That is unfortunate,” the officer said. “License and registration.”

I got my driver’s license out of my wallet and found the rental papers in the glove box and handed them over. He crunched back to his cruiser and I watched him in the side mirror. He’d left his cruiser’s headlights on and in the glare it was hard to tell, but it looked like there was another cop in the car whom he was conferring with. After a long delay, he came back.

“Step out of the car, please.”

I did. He turned me around and had me plant my hands on the hood, kicked my feet apart, and roughly frisked me, getting his hand inside the rent in the seat of my pants and patting my boxer shorts and giving my balls a hard squeeze.

“Sir, do you know why I stopped you?”

“I don’t,” I said.

“You proceeded unsafely through a traffic signal. Have you been drinking, sir?”

“I haven’t.”

“Have you consumed any cannabis or other drugs?”

“I haven’t.”

He turned me around and shone his light in my eyes. “If I search your car, am I gonna find any drugs?”

“No, sir.”

“Because I am gonna search that car and if I do find drugs and you’ve been lying to me, this is gonna be a lot worse than it needs to be.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. My head hurt. My face hurt. My back hurt. This was a bullshit stop.

I expected the deputy’s partner to get out of the cruiser while my tormentor tossed the rental car, but he stayed put. I did, too. Obviously. I wasn’t going to take off on foot. I’m a forensic accountant, not a gang kid getting fifteen minutes of fame on Cops.

He spent long enough on the rental that I started to worry. Who knew what some previous driver might have shoved between the seats? But after pulling out the floor mats and tossing them onto the grassy verge beside the car, he finally stood up.

“All right, sir. I’m going to go and get a breathalyzer test. You can refuse it and I will then suspend your license for twenty- four hours. I will arrest you for a suspected DUI and bring you in for a blood test. If you fail that test, you will be subject to additional criminal penalties. Do you understand me?”

He had old coffee on his breath. My face hurt. “I’ll take a test.”

Back to the cruiser. It had been half an hour at least. Once the breathalyzer was done—fifteen minutes, if memory served—I could go to the 7-Eleven for painkillers and frozen peas. I decided I’d add a six-pack, I was so tired. My face hurt. I knew that mouthing off to this cop wouldn’t make things go faster, quite the opposite, but as he took his leisurely time coming back to me, I was hard-pressed not to.

I blew. “May I sit down?” I asked. “My face hurts.”

He didn’t bother to look up from his phone. “Stay where you are, sir.”

I stood. My face hurt. Time crawled. Finally, the breathalyzer beeped. He held it up and squinted at it, then used his phone to light up its face.

When he did, his sleeve rode up and revealed the “998” tattoo on his forearm. Suddenly, I didn’t care so much about the pain in my face.

The cop looked at me. He was an older guy, but quite a silver fox, in a Clooneyoid sort of way. Had the same smile lines at the corners of his lips and eyes. But on him, they looked mean. Dangerous. A man who would smile at you while he beat your face in.

“All right, sir,” he said. “I’m going to write you a citation for reckless driving and you will be free to go.” He smiled. “Thank you for your cooperation.” It sounded like “fuck you.”

Back to the cruiser again. When he was done writing, he switched off his headlights, and the bubble light inside the car lit up his partner. Heavyset. Smiling. Excellent teeth. He gave me the same look as he had just before kicking me in the ribs. I gasped involuntarily and my ribs burned. His smile got bigger.

The Clooneyoid deputy returned with my ticket. I looked at it and then I realized he’d said “reckless driving”—not “dangerous driving.” This was a summons, not a citation. For a misdemeanor. Two points off my license and I’d have to go to court. Depending on the judge, I could be in for fines or even a jail sentence.

Clooneyoid saw me figuring this out and he smiled, too. Everyone was having a great time tonight except for poor old Marty Hench.

“See you in court, sir,” he said.

I exercised extreme care on the drive to the 7-Eleven, even backing out of my parking spot and reparking so that I was perfectly centered between the white lines. The clerk didn’t bat an eye at my hamburger face. I gave myself five minutes to bury my bruises in the frozen peas before I backed out and drove the rest of the way to my Airbnb.

I drove five under the limit the whole way, and when I got out of my rental, I looked long and hard up and down the street for an LA Sheriff’s Department cruiser.

ETA: Here's part six!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab

#pluralistic #the bezzle #martin hench #marty hench #red team blues #fiction #crime fiction #crime thrillers #thrillers #technothrillers #novels #books #royalties #wage theft #creative labor

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