#Inner Resilience

[historiareiss80]

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Ralph Waldo

[haveacupofjohanny]

The Journey of an Independent Daughter: A Story of Survival and Growth

Read my latest piece, 'The Journey of an Independent Daughter: A Story of Survival and Growth,' I peel back the layers of what we often mistake for independence, revealing the hidden survival mechanism.

Mi Hija Es Muy Independiente: My Daughter is so Independent A story goes around my family often when someone talks about my childhood. They would say, “You were so quiet, so self-sufficient that your mom would have to go find you sometimes.” When hearing this story, I would equate that to my aggressive sense of independence and how mature I was from a young age. But then, when I started talking…

[livingwellnessblog]

Breaking the Myth: You're Already Enough to Start Manifesting!

Breaking the Myth: You're Already Enough to Start Manifesting!

Breaking the Myth: You’re Already Enough to Start Manifesting! In life, we often hold ourselves back, convinced we’re not “healed enough” to pursue our desires. But here’s the truth: this belief is a myth, not a reality. A belief is just an opinion that we developed without noticing, usually in childhood, either way. It is false! Imagine thinking you have to be in perfect shape to step into a…

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Tips To Become More Emotionally Intelligent

Embrace self-awareness & self-reflection: Observe how you feel, behave, and how people generally respond to your words/actions in different situations

Practice self-regulation: Learn to differentiate between your feelings and the actions that would be appropriate in a specific setting or interaction. Internalize that feelings are fleeting and non-factual. You're in control of how you respond/(don't) act on these emotions

Engage in active listening: Pay attention to what others are saying with the intent of understanding, not responding

Focus on emotional differentiation: Understand where your thoughts, feelings, intentions, and opinions end and another person's identity/perception begins

Display radical empathy and acceptance: Understand that almost all people's words and actions result from their own beliefs, past experiences, and current life circumstances/priorities. Put yourself in their shoes when attempting to understand their choices, behaviors, and times they come to you to discuss a problem, success, or major life decision. Accept that you can only control what you do. Very little of other people's actions/the world's workings are personal. Things are happening around you, not to you

Let go of your ego: View yourself as objectively as possible with the potential for improvement. Abolish any superior complex or overwhelming desire to prove your self-importance in others' lives and decisions

Remain open-minded: Question your own beliefs and opinions. Stay curious as to why you believe them to be true/authentic to you. Allow your opinions to change or have the capacity to modify your beliefs upon hearing new information. Understand your worldview and values are valid, but they're not definitively correct beliefs, just because they resonate/feel comfortable for you

Be receptive to feedback: Embrace constructive criticism as a self-improvement tool. Approach it with curiosity and optimism, not as a personal attack

Differentiate between your feelings and capabilities: Your thoughts are not facts. Remember you can do things you don't feel like doing most of the time (work, waking up in the morning, working out, etc.). Learn the difference between being a slave to your emotions and genuinely running out of energy

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 1.

Masterpost. Next part.

Content warning: slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, implied future torture, characters express fantasy racism (slave owners are surprisingly not good people).

The slave auction was a grand building, standing tall and proud of its purpose and the wealth of those coming there. It was a place of privilege – on one side of the grand stage, at least. Or on one side of the iron bars, if you were afforded the honor of seeing the stock before the official bidding began – a rare, sparingly given to the most esteemed of patrons opportunity.

Lord Edarwis Teelo greatly enjoyed being one of them. He passed by the row of cells with the dignity that fit his status he had to fight to present – getting to choose before anyone else laid their hands on the collection was exciting. It'd taken many years of work and effort. He couldn't wait to have it all pay off.

Most were boring offerings. People from all over the kingdoms, a few criminals but mostly those sold to slavery to pay off debts. A servant went on about each of them before Lord Teelo threw him a quick glance. The boy was clever enough to close his mouth, letting the lord enjoy the walk in silence, rarely interrupted by any of the scared prisoners. They watched his every move, of course, at least most of them – eyes wide and scared or shut tight or cast away. All pretty faces (the auction only sold the best), skin ranging from deep browns of the Ashai coast to pale pinks from the northern border.

One of them caught the lord's eyes and he paused, studying the boy closer. Young, barely of age, either shaven cleanly or still unable to grow a beard, with such cute little curls on his head and wide hazel eyes. He was a candy for the eyes, shivering in the corner of the sell, twisting his naked body to preserve some sense of modesty.

"He's from Deruveer," the servant chimed in. "From the province. His family needed money after the draught and he was the youngest son. He's rather timid, a great choice if you want someone to do the chores and not bother you much."

Lord Teelo hummed. The boy was pretty, and convenience didn't always mean boredom. He decided to let him be for now, continuing on his way.

The next thing that got his attention was a dull distant clanging, like metal meeting stone with force. "What's that?" the lord wondered.

The servant answered readily, "Ah, it's from our special collection. They're not trained very well yet – you see, my lord, they are from the Northern Steppes."

"A barbarian?" Lord Teelo drawled out, impressed.

"Not just. They were a chieftain of some tribe there, – one of the bigger ones, I've been told. Our army hunted them for a while, until the chief decided to finally surrender. I don't think they expected this kind of a future, though. They are rather unruly."

"Show me," the lord demanded.

It didn't take long for them to reach the special section, and the clanging became all the louder as they came closer. "They want attention," the servant explained with a vaguely apologetic tone. "Their rations have been cut since they bit the handler, and it hasn't improved their temper, yet. It will eventually though. They are sturdy, but nobody is unbreakable."

The lord hummed, turning the corner and finally being able to take in the person they'd been discussing. He expected – something impressive, matching the tales of unruly northern barbarians, dressed in furs and carrying strange weapons, their skin white as silk or even the snow they saw every year there and covered in nasty scars from constant skirmishes against each other. They were all tall as giants and muscular as lions, – all but the one Lord Teelo saw before him, it seemed.

The barbarian sat in the corner of their cell, naked as all slaves were, even though they didn't seem to even try covering anything. Their skin was pale but in a disappointedly human-like way, adorned with iron cuffs and chains going to the wall and a muzzle fitting tightly around their face and leaving only blue eyes and greasy hair out. They caught Lord Teelo's gaze with determination and moved their arm out as far as they could before jerking it back towards the wall. The chain clung against the stone.

"I expected them to be taller," Lord Teelo expressed their disappointment.

"Yes, yes, I also found their look underwhelming when I first saw them," the servant agreed quickly. "But even though they're rather skinny – they can put up quite a fight! If you decide to buy them, my lord, it is advised you keep them in chains and with guards by your side, at least at first. They're a piece of work for sure."

The lord hummed. "Who else do you keep in this special collection of yours."

"Ah! You're gonna like her," the servant brightened. "A real royalty in our modest house! Follow me, my lord."

The cell he led the lord to was bigger than the rest, and less bare. There was a table, a chair, an honest to gods rug, even, and a whole tea set a woman was enjoying in silence. She wasn't dressed as a queen, Lord Teelo noted, her clothes were rather revealing and obviously made to showcase her beauty more than cover her modesty. But she was dressed – more than most people here could say for themselves.

"Royalty?" Lord Teelo mused. The woman turned her head, deeming him worthy of a long look – and it did feel like she was obliging him. The lord gave his best unimpressed stare back.

"She's the princess of former Terzita."

"Ah. The Night of Storms?" the lord guessed as the princess looked away. He watched her, noting the faint bruises running over the tense shoulders.

"The poor thing watched half of her family murdered before her eyes," the servant agreed. "Such terrible fate. It doesn't make her for a more obedient slave, of course – she's still thinking she should be treated with special dignity. We humor her here – but you are not obliged to do the same, my lord."

He didn't, did he. It would be so fun to put her in her place. Oh, yes, he could enjoy a royal maid. And if she didn't feel like playing the role – he would enjoy teaching her what would come of disobedience.

"You have anything more impressive?" Lord Teelo wondered, not taking his eyes away from the woman.

The servant didn't think for long. "We do," he smiled brightly. "Very special. This might be the most special slave of them all, one you can only see once in a lifetime."

"Oh?"

"It's not a human," the servant declared proudly. Lord Teelo perked up with interest. "Nor is it from the archipelago."

"Ah," Lord Teelo responded and the boy smiled at him, seeing right to his excitement. He showed the way without needing to be prompted.

The thing – the creature, – was huddled in the corner, lying on the ground as the two men approached. Its ears – long, obviously inhuman – perked up at the footsteps, but it didn't move from its place. The lord studied its back, the weird patterns streaming down in swirls of color against the unnatural, obsidian black of its skin – furless, at least, and slightly more human in this. Its spine ended up a tail, curling by its legs. A tail!

"Hey!" the servant called out and rattled a key against the iron bars. The creature moved abruptly to face the sound. Lord Teelo was mesmerized by the yellow of its iris and the black of the rest of its eyes. The pupils retracted into slits when they caught the light.

"Is this a fey?" the lord let out a astounded gasp. Even bringing up the fairytales felt childish, but what else could it be?

"We don't know for sure," the servant replied in a whisper respectful of the marvelous situation. "It doesn't speak Tragesh – or any language, for this matter. It doesn't seem incapable of learning – oi! You, want some food?"

"'uud?" the creature mimicked, flashing fangs in its attempt. Its face made some movement Lord Teelo couldn't read. "Yuu hath no 'uud."

"Astounding," Lord Teelo shook his head. Even if he didn't end up owning the creature, just seeing it was a miracle! "Can it do magic?"

"We keep it in a Shiel's collar," the servant explained. "It hasn't shown any, but – we like to be cautious in this case. It is included with the purchase, of course."

"I see," Lord Teelo tore his gaze away with some difficulty. "Anything else?"

"I'm afraid not, my lord," the servant smiled apologetically. "Was something from our collection to your liking?"

Lord Teelo nodded and then thought about it. Money wasn't a problem, but he was only allowed to buy one slave before the auction – which one would it be?

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is)

@isikedmyself878

Tell me to be tagged in new parts!

[storytellerslense]

JJ Maybank character analysis

The meaning of the gun

"I got this thing, you know, to protect us" (JJ Maybank, Season 1, Episode 3)

At the start of the Pilot we see JJ Maybank as a funny, imaginative, rebellious guy who, although doesn't really think through the consequences of his actions, seems quite harmless.

However, his personality becomes a bit darker and erratic after he steals a loaded gun. He gets literally obsessed with always carrying it around and, to the dismay of the Pogues, does not hesitate to show it off for intimidation.

The possession of the gun holds a deep symbolic meaning for JJ Maybank, which goes far beyond the simple necessity of self-defense. Psychologically it can be described as "compensation" and a "defense mechanism." These terms describe how individuals use symbolic objects or behaviors to cope with inner conflicts or to make up for a lack of control in their lives.

The gun as a symbol for power and control

For JJ, who grows up in an environment where he has little control over his own life and safety, the gun symbolizes the opportunity to regain control. The gun gives him the feeling that he can protect himself and his friends.

Also, JJ is the one who faces the most oppression from many sides—whether it's from his abusive father, societal stigmas, or conflicts with the Kooks. Owning a gun represents a form of power that he otherwise lacks. It serves as a means for him to defend himself against those who oppress him.

In a powerful scene in Season 1, JJ points the gun at his abusive father and later breaks down crying to his friends: "I can't take it anymore... I was gonna kill him!"

The gun as an expression of JJ's inner conflicts

JJ's decision to possess a gun is an expression of his inner anger and desperation. The weapon represents his deep-seated frustration and his drive to combat the feelings of helplessness that overwhelm him due to his familial and social circumstances. It also expresses JJ's self-destructive tendencies. His willingness to take extreme measures highlights the depth of his emotional pain and despair.

The gun as a proof of coming of age

For JJ, forced to grow up early due to parentification, the gun also symbolizes his claim to independence and maturity. It is a means through which he can prove himself as capable and adult, someone who can protect himself and others.

Because he is often not taking seriously, JJ believes that possessing a gun will earn him more respect. It is an attempt to strengthen his position in the social hierarchy and assert his autonomy.

"(...) Remind you that I am the only one who can properly defend us." (JJ Maybank, Season 1)

The key moment of JJ losing his weapon

In "Outer Banks" Season 2, Episode 4 JJ Maybank finally gives up his weapon. It happens when the Pogues are about to get cornered by the police. JJ brandishes his gun in order to assert control over the situation. Recognizing this, John B steps in by assertively taking the gun out of JJ's hand, letting it fall to the ground, gently reassuring him, that he is going to be ok.

This message was extremely important for JJ, lifting the heavy weight of responsibility finally off his shoulders. JJ, being usually prepared to constantly put his own life on the line for the well-being of his father or his friends in order to "earn" their love and respect, was now protected and guided himself by his best friend.

"It's gonna be alright." (John B., Season 2, Episode 4)

After a short moment of indecisiveness and shock, JJ gives in and completes the act by quickly kicking dirt over the gun, so it stays hidden before the police can find it.

This is one of the most powerful, though underrated scenes in Outer Banks, because it really marks a key moment of JJ's personal development. It signifies his willingness to confront his inner demons: giving up control- for once not relying on himself but really trusting someone else's judgement. He is also accepted and cared for without having to proof himself or fulfill someone else's needs beforehand.

[yourspiritguide-quotes]

What is to give light must endure burning

- Viktor E. Frankl

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

[thecalminside]

It’s ok not to be ok. We aren’t supposed to feel good all the time. Life will beat you up. You get back up. Humbled. Feel. Your strength within will hold you and pull you to more of itself.

[elysiumxflowers]

Life's a b!tch, and then some 😜

[tmarshconnors]

"The man who has anticipated the coming of troubles takes away their power when they arrive."

Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger, usually known mononymously as Seneca, was a Stoic philosopher of Ancient Rome.

Seneca – Roman philosopher and a major figure in Stoicism, emphasizing preparation for hardships.

Stoic resilience – A mindset of expecting and accepting challenges to mitigate their impact.

Mental preparedness – Foreseeing difficulties strengthens one’s ability to confront them.

Tranquillity – A state of inner calm achieved through preparation and detachment.

Philosophical optimism – Viewing life's trials as inevitable but manageable with the right mindset.

[rebellenotes]

Grieving What You Cannot Touch

I’ve always found it strange how we’re taught to grieve for tangible losses—a person, a place, a thing—but never for the intangible. Nobody tells you how to mourn the parts of yourself you’ve outgrown, or the life you thought you’d have, or the innocence that quietly slipped away when you weren’t paying attention. It’s an ache without a name, a grief that doesn’t fit into tidy boxes like funerals or goodbyes. And yet, it lingers, just as heavy, just as real.

I feel like that type of grief is often closely related to nostalgia. Or rather that nostalgia is, amongst other things, the experience of grieving the past. But it’s not just about longing for what was—it’s about grieving what never was. The version of your life that didn’t come to pass, the connections you hoped for but never formed. For me, it’s the emotional relationship I never had with the male members of my family, particularly my father.

Growing up, I never experienced the father-daughter bond I’d see in movies or hear about from friends. My dad was always emotionally unavailable—distant in a way I couldn’t name as a child but felt keenly in the space between us. I’ve recently learned that when I was 2 or 3 years old, he was in and out of the hospital due to his cancer. During those formative years, my world revolved around my mom, not my dad. And as I piece these things together as an adult, I can’t help but wonder how those early days shaped me. Did I subconsciously decide, even as a toddler, that I couldn’t rely on male figures for emotional connection? Did I carry that into my relationships later on?

The grief here isn’t just for the past; it’s for the ripple effects it has in the present. I grieve the father I wish I had, the kind of dad who would have taught me how to trust male figures, how to feel secure in their presence. But I also grieve the way that absence shaped me into someone who still struggles with those connections today. It’s not a straightforward pain. It’s layered with love, disappointment, and a quiet understanding that sometimes people can’t give you what you need—not because they don’t care, but because they didn’t know how.

This kind of grief is tricky because it’s not rooted in a single event or moment. It’s a slow, quiet loss that stretches across years, shaping you in ways you don’t realize until you look back. And when you do, it’s not just sadness you feel—it’s a mix of everything: anger, longing, confusion, acceptance. You grieve what you didn’t have, what you didn’t know to ask for, and what you’ll never fully get back.

And yet, in grieving, there’s also clarity. There’s a sense of giving yourself permission to name the loss, even if it feels abstract. To say, “This mattered. This hurt. And I’m allowed to feel it.” Because mourning isn’t just about closure—it’s about honouring the weight of what was missing, even if it can’t be replaced.

But how do you fix something so… floating? Something so abstract and unfathomable for a lot of people. How do I tell people I grieve the loving father-daughter relationship I never had? People respond, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and it feels comforting, until I realise they assume my father is gone. But I’m not talking about the physical presence of my dad. I’m talking about the absence of a loving connection between us. 

How do you grieve something that technically exists but doesn’t feel whole? It’s not a loss in the traditional sense—it’s not someone who passed away or a relationship that was severed. It’s something more elusive: the absence of what could have been, of what you needed but didn’t receive. It’s mourning potential. It’s grieving love that never bloomed in the ways you hoped it would.

I’ve tried to explain this to others before, and it’s always met with a kind of confusion. People are quick to console when they think you’ve lost someone physically. They know how to respond when grief has a name and a date. But when you tell them, “I’m grieving a bond that was never there,” they don’t know what to say. It’s like trying to describe the shape of an empty space, a void that only you can see.

And maybe that’s what makes this kind of grief so isolating. It’s hard to articulate, hard to validate, even to yourself. You start to question whether it’s fair to feel this way. After all, my dad was there, right? He worked hard, he provided for us, he was present in the ways he knew how to be. So why does it still feel like something is missing? Why does it hurt so much to see other father-daughter relationships filled with warmth and emotional closeness?

That’s the thing about intangible grief—it doesn’t adhere to logic. You can’t reason your way out of it. It lingers, sneaking into quiet moments, catching you off guard when you least expect it. It’s in the way your heart aches during Father’s Day commercials or when a friend talks about their dad being their rock. It’s in the little pang of envy you feel when you see those bonds you never had, knowing they represent something you’ll always yearn for.

I’ve also frequently grieved the way my life could have looked if I didn’t have anxiety. If my depression didn’t make me sleep all day to escape the real world. Sleeping At Last once sang “How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?,” and I can’t help but relate so hard it feels like my heart is going to cave in on itself in pain. 

How do you cope with such grievances? I wish I knew, but I’m learning that coping doesn’t always mean finding answers. Sometimes, it’s about sitting with the pain and letting it exist without trying to solve it. Grieving intangible losses—whether it’s a relationship, a version of yourself, or time you’ll never get back—isn’t something you can fix. It’s something you have to feel, piece by piece, day by day.

For me, part of coping has been allowing myself to mourn without guilt. To acknowledge that these feelings are valid, even if they don’t fit into the conventional mold of loss. I remind myself that grief isn’t a competition—it doesn’t have to be “big enough” or visible to others to matter. It matters because it matters to me.

I also try to focus on what I can rebuild, even if it’s just in small ways. I might never get the father-daughter relationship I longed for, but I can work on fostering meaningful connections with others. I can let myself feel the hurt without letting it harden me. I can remind myself that grieving isn’t about staying stuck in the past—it’s about making peace with it so I can carry it differently.

As for the time lost to anxiety and depression, I try to show myself the same compassion I would offer a friend. It’s easy to blame myself for the days spent hiding under the covers or the moments I missed because I was too overwhelmed to participate in life. But blaming myself doesn’t change the past—it only adds to the weight I’m already carrying. Instead, I try to focus on the moments I can reclaim, even if they’re small. A walk outside, a conversation with a friend, a little step forward.

I think that’s the hardest part about grieving intangible losses: the fact that there’s no closure, no finality. It’s a process, not a destination. It’s messy and nonlinear, and some days it feels like you’re back at the beginning. But even in those moments, there’s a kind of resilience in simply continuing. In saying, “I’m still here, and I’m still trying.”

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe grief doesn’t need to be fixed or resolved—it just needs to be acknowledged. To hold space for what was, what wasn’t, and what still could be. Because in that space, there’s room for healing. There’s room for growth. And maybe, just maybe, there’s room for hope too.

[audaciousevolution]

🌟 Quote of the Day: Resilience ✨

Resilience means finding strength in flexibility, and each day is a new opportunity to adapt and grow. Embrace challenges with openness, knowing you are capable of facing whatever comes your way.

[mad3lyncline]

Dear Inner Child – Peach PRC

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi femme!

How can i become emotionally intelligent?

Embrace self-awareness & self-reflection: Observe how you feel, behave, and how people generally respond to your words/actions in different situations

Practice self-regulation: Learn to differentiate between your feelings and the actions that would be appropriate in a specific setting or interaction. Internalize that feelings are fleeting and non-factual. You're in control of how you respond/(don't) act on these emotions

Engage in active listening: Pay attention to what others are saying with the intent of understanding, not responding

Focus on emotional differentiation: Understand where your thoughts, feelings, intentions, and opinions end and another person's identity/perception begins

Display radical empathy and acceptance: Understand that almost all people's words and actions result from their own beliefs, past experiences, and current life circumstances/priorities. Put yourself in their shoes when attempting to understand their choices, behaviors, and times they come to you to discuss a problem, success, or major life decision. Accept that you can only control what you do. Very little of other people's actions/the world's workings are personal. Things are happening around you, not to you

Let go of your ego: View yourself as objectively as possible with the potential for improvement. Abolish any superior complex or overwhelming desire to prove your self-importance in others' lives and decisions

Remain open-minded: Question your own beliefs and opinions. Stay curious as to why you believe them to be true/authentic to you. Allow your opinions to change or have the capacity to modify your beliefs upon hearing new information. Understand your worldview and values are valid, but they're not definitively correct beliefs, just because they resonate/feel comfortable for you

Be receptive to feedback: Embrace constructive criticism as a self-improvement tool. Approach it with curiosity and optimism, not as a personal attack.

Differentiate between your feelings and capabilities: Your thoughts are not facts. Remember you can do things you don't feel like doing most of the time (work, waking up in the morning, working out, etc.). Learn the difference between being a slave to your emotions and genuinely running out of energy

[novadreii]

Mmm actually I think we do owe love and care to our loved ones! We do owe each other things sometimes! There is a duty of care in our relationships that we should do our very best to uphold. It's the basis for human connection? An informal agreement we have with someone dear to us that we will support and cherish them and not just when it's easy and in the ways that feel effortless to us but also in the ways that they feel most loved.

We owe each other consideration. We owe each other a chance to chime in on important things and we should not make unilateral decisions. We owe each other reassurance sometimes too! Gasp!

I know that we're unlearning our generational trauma collectively but what's the point if we draw such hard boundaries around ourselves that nobody is let in, and nobody is helped, loved or considered when they really need it?

What is the point of being connected to another human being if it's understood between the two of you that if shit hits the fan, they are loyal only to themselves and you can get fucked?

I get it. We need to be self-sufficient. We can't rely on someone to the point of falling apart when they leave the house. But entering into a relationship or close friendship (or nurturing our existing familial relationships that are healthy) is a declaration that we CAN but don't WANT to be 100% self-sufficient anymore. We'd like to outsource a portion of our bandwidth to the other person. And in exchange, we take on some of theirs. It can't be rainbows all the time: again, most of us are traumatized by our parents in some way. We have behaviours that make us unpleasant sometimes! But why does that necessarily mean that we cut each other off when we show symptoms? When we actually need to cash in on some support the most? Where pray tell lies the nuance between "cut off abusive people who have no intention of changing" and "sometimes our loved ones can act ugly on the road to healing, but as long as they commit to bettering themselves I will see them through it"???? Does the latter not exist at all?

The act of caring and being cared for is one of the only fucking things we have left that can sustain our hearts in this bleak world. If you don't want to be burdened with the expectation of reciprocation in your relationships then what is the point of seeking connection? You are missing a fundamental fucking variable.