#and our brain keeps fixating on it to try and find some kind of solution or something that would help

[thethingything]

I need to get ready for bed but I remembered the dentist appointment that's coming up in less than 2 weeks and ended up dissociating for over 2 hours (I'm honestly not sure how long it's been) and I do not feel good in the slightest after that

[fantasywriter19]

1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.2 Leaving Home Forever

“A precious find?” I asked dubiously. “What is that even supposed to mean? And why would mom have you take me out of school right now?”

“I can answer everything right now… or I can take you home, and your mother can answer any questions you have.”

I looked around. No one was even doing the classwork anymore, their gazes were so fixated on the man. “Fine,” I sighed, compiling all my papers together to put them away.

As I did that though, he stood back up and walked over to the teacher to talk to her some more. What else could he really ask of her if all he came for was me? I thought, slowing my progress to stare at my teacher. If I really listened, I could hear others' thoughts, but today was an exception. All I could hear was static… like I was being blocked off.

I zipped up my black messenger bag and threw it over my head to rest on my shoulder, wanting nothing more than to go home and find out what the point of all this was. Obviously this man had some type of ability to block me from reading thoughts, so all I could do was hope he answered everything truthfully. I won’t be able to personally get through to his brain. That’s a fact.

“Thank you, Miss Kold, you have been most gracious,” Albus Dumbledore said as I edged toward them. He then turned to me, “Are you ready?”

“I guess,” I mumbled.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Dumbledore!” Ms. Kold said cheerily as I followed him out the room. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Melody.”

“Bye,” I waved apathetically.

I followed him through the halls, staring at his back with uncertainty. If he was really a wizard, then I couldn’t do anything against him. If he wasn’t really a professor of a school of magic — actually kidnapping me — how was I supposed to defend myself? I didn’t have a wand, or any means of knowing how to really use my magic besides for the mind reading — and that obviously wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

I stopped walking, “How do I know I can trust you to actually take me home right now?”

He turned, a small smile lighting his face up, “Did Orele teach you to be this cautious around strangers?”

Orele (uh-rel-ee) is my mom’s name. Personally, I was kind of jealous of it. It rolls across the tongue so perfectly, and it’s simply elegant. My name is basically just another word for pretty music.

“No. I’m just naturally wary of others’ intentions,” I admitted. “Never trusting a stranger is a fundamental rule in my book.”

“Is it only because you know you cannot read my mind that you don’t trust me?”

I took a timid step back, “You sensed that?”

“I am capable of many things, Miss Gray. Knowing when you are trying to read thoughts is one of them. I take it your mother doesn’t know?”

I hesitated. I told her about me reading other people’s minds at the zoo while I was talking to the snakes, but the way I described it was like an accident. If she knew I did it on purpose… well, anyone could take a wild guess at how any good mother would react to that.

“If I keep this a secret, just between the two of us, would it help you trust me?”

What other choice is there? I thought wryly. If he’s a kidnapper, he’s way too good at noticing what’s going on around him anyway. I have no other choice. “I guess so.”

“Just a bit of friendly advice. When you attend my school, the thoughts of both students and teachers are theirs and theirs alone. If I find out you have been invading their private thoughts, the only solution would be expulsion.”

My blood went cold at the thought. I might not have been the most respectful of students, but I had never been suspended or expelled — my mom would kill me, and then revive me just to kill me again… not literally, but she might as well… I sighed thoughtfully, a threat like that could only be given by a school principal, or in his case a headmaster.

“Do I make myself clear, Miss Gray?”

I nodded reluctantly, “Yes sir… let’s just go already.”

We made our way outside, but he stopped in the middle of the staircase leading to the sidewalk.

He held his arm out, “Hold tight to my arm.”

“Why?” I asked hesitantly.

“I am going to Disapparate to the house — call it teleportation, if you must.”

With a shrug, I locked my arm with his, only to be thrown off by the immediate sensation of my feet losing ground. I held onto his arm for dear life as I felt like I was being squeezed through a tube. I couldn’t tell what was happening to my body as it also seemed to stretch out and compress in tandem with the tube… until everything felt normal again, and I saw we were on the front step to my home.

I took deep breaths as I silently thanked the ground for being steady under my shaking legs, touching a hand to my queasy stomach. “Please tell me I don’t have to do that ever again,” I choked out.

He opened the front door to wave me inside, “I can’t promise you anything.”

Why couldn’t traveling for a wizard be less painful? That was worse than a rollercoaster, I thought as I heeded his gestures.

The first thing I saw was mom attempting to find a comfortable position to sit on the couch, looking up in dismay as I entered the living room. “Hi, Honey…” she anxiously stated.

“Okay…” I said, breathing out some more air as I placed my bag on dad’s tan leather armchair. “What is going on with letting this strange guy —” I gestured at the tall man “— take me out of school early?”

She folded her hands together as she looked at me, “I contacted Dumbledore to come here soon as we finished talking about magic. I want you to go to Hogwarts… it’s the best school in the world and, with Dumbledore there, it is the safest… I went there when I was younger, of course, so we’ll have to move to London with —”

“Mom,” I had to interrupt. This wasn’t making any sense. “Why London?”

“The school is hidden somewhere in Scotland, and there’s the station in London where the train travels directly from there to Hogwarts.”

I felt Mr. Dumbledore’s eyes on me, as if he were studying me. I blocked my emotions so as not to look completely vulnerable. Even if he’s keeping my secret, I don’t like him much…

“Why would we have to move? Is there not a school around here?” I asked.

“Well, yes, in Massachusetts… but I prefer that you go to Hogwarts. The school term starts in September, and —”

“Well then, not to be ungrateful about the early leave, but why was it so important for me to be here right now? Why not wait until school is done? What is the importance of this man being here right now when I’m not going to start school until September?” I asked.

Mom sighed, turning to Mr. Dumbledore with a small smile, “I’m sorry, but could I speak to Melody about this alone for a minute? Then I’ll make sure she gets ready.”

“Ready?” I shrieked. “We’re still in May… at least the last I checked!”

“Of course,” Mr. Dumbledore tilted his head and left the room, as though my confusion was a minor mishap.

“Mom, what —”

She looked at me, lowering her voice to a deep whisper. “Sit. Down.”

I paused. That was never a good sign. But come on! I’m frustrated! I have no clue what’s going on! I sat down next to her and she swiftly placed her hands in mine.

“You have a lot to learn about the wizarding world. The best place to do so will be at Hogwarts, even if you’re not enrolled as a student yet. Professor Dumbledore, and maybe others, will teach you.”

“Why can’t you? Aren’t you coming?” I felt a knot appear in my stomach, dreading the answer I sensed coming.

I thought correctly. She shook her head regretfully, “I have some things to take care of here. Besides, I can’t travel with this package.” At ‘package,’ she stared pointedly at her stomach. “I also have to handle your father before I come to London.”

I attempted to snatch my hands away, but she held tightly to me.

“Before you yell again,” she whispered dangerously low, “it’s for the best. I don’t expect you to understand now, but you will in time. He… he can’t know about the wizarding world. It wouldn’t be beneficial to him.”

I built an emotional barrier in my head to keep from getting more upset. Being magical should feel like a blessing, not a curse, “Why can’t I stay here until you can go? It’d at least give me the chance to say goodbye to dad.”

Mom bit her lip, “I can’t teach you what Dumbledore can…. And before you worry so much about your father… you should know that he isn’t your real father.”

She’d said the last sentence so quickly that I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “I’m sorry, what did you say? He’s… I mean, I’m not… he isn’t —”

“No. Jim isn’t,” she asserted. “If you’re good while you’re with Dumbledore, maybe then I’ll tell you about your real father. In the meantime… I suggest you forget Jim.”

“It is not that simple!” I snapped, aghast by how suddenly she was trying to brush all the news off. Nothing was making any sense, and she wasn’t even giving me a moment to process all of it. “He’s been my dad for ten years, how are you just going to expect me to forget him?”

Though she was sad, a smile pushed through, “That’s my girl. I’m glad I did one thing right.”

I blinked back at her, “… What?”

A breathy laugh burst from her chest, “You look so lost, let me explain… one of the things I can’t stand in the wizarding world has been Pureblood supremacy. It’s where Pureblood wizards look down on everyone who isn’t. There are the Muggleborn wizards, born to non magical families, and there are also the Halfbloods that are a mix. There are more Halfblood wizards than anything, and Purebloods are dying out, but the last thing I need is for you to fall into the category of kids who will look down on Muggleborns.”

My mouth set into a thin line, I opened my mouth to retort further only for her to quickly place a finger against my lips.

She glanced around warily, dropping her hand from my mouth before whispering, “I know it’s all very sudden, and you want a better explanation, but seeing as we haven’t been given much time to do so… my hands are tied.”

Digesting the information, I looked away to see Professor Dumbledore standing back in the doorway. “Pardon me, Orele, but do you happen to have any lemon drops?”

“On the counter in the kitchen,” she readily answered, not even looking his way.

“Thank you,” he inclined his head and walked away again.

Mom touched a gentle hand to my cheek, tracing her thumb softly against the skin. “For what I mentioned before, ideally I need you to keep that mentality. Don’t look down on others because they were born with Muggles. Don’t even look down on others who — though born to a wizarding family — don’t have any magic of their own — they’re called squibs.

“My other rules, whether during your time at Hogwarts this summer or in the years to come, are these: respect your teachers — I mean it. I’ve been too lenient about you talking back to your teachers here. I don’t need you doing the same at Hogwarts. When you talk to a teacher, you will address them with sir, ma’am or professor. Same with the man in the other room, he is called Professor Dumbledore: say it with me.”

“Mom, I’m not a child, I get it —”

“Say it with me,” she stressed.

I sighed, mumbling “Professor Dumbledore” in sync with her.

“Yes?” he appeared in the doorway, the bowl of lemon drops in his hand while he popped one into his mouth.

“One more thing, Melody,” she said, moving her hand from my cheek to my chin to make sure I looked her in the eyes. “I can’t stop you from making enemies, but I will not stand by you making no friends. Make at least one friend this year.”

“Mom. Don’t I have until the first day of school for you to give me that warning?”

She grinned, “I may forget. Besides, it gives you plenty of time to come up with a plan for making a friend.”

“Thanks for the confidence, mom, I truly appreciate it,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“There goes your sarcasm,” she brushed her hand through my hair. “Now you better go get your things ready. Take Professor Dumbledore with you.”

“But mom…” my emotions were widespread. A large mixture of worried and confused. How am I supposed to pretend like any of this is okay? Or normal? “How long until you come get me?”

"Oh Melody, I know what you're thinking about... your birthday at the end of this month.”

I forced another emotional barrier up and nodded. “I’ve never had a birthday without you and dad.”

Mom entwined her pinkie with mine, “I promise that as soon as I come get you, we will spend a whole day together to celebrate it. It may be late, but it will be the best one yet. Okay?”

Reluctantly, I nodded, standing so I could start packing to try occupying my mind. Some magical day this is. I looked at Professor Dumbledore, “Follow me.” When I led him down the stairs to my room, I barely made it to the bottom before he took out his wand.

My closet door opened, and out shot my black and red suitcase. Once it made it to the middle of the room and opened, everything flew neatly into it. When it zipped back up, all that was left were my bed and bookshelf.

I walked forward and picked it up by the handle. It was heavy, but nothing was spilling out from the weight. I gave him one look and said, “Cheater.”

His eyes twinkled humorously.

Without all my clothes, pictures, and books.. my room seemed incredibly bare. I looked around, knowing it would be forever, perhaps even never, before I saw this room again. The possibility didn’t lighten my mood, because my life seemed to be taking a strange turn… in my own mind, for the worst.

I followed him back up the stairs and through the living room to the front door. Mom was already waiting by the exit.

She threw her arms around me once I set the suitcase down, “I’ll miss you Honey.”

“Jeez mom, I get that I’m going to leave, but you seem to be rushing me out the door,” I said, hugging her back. “Want me to go that badly?”

She chuckled hollowly, “Never. I’ll count the days till I see you again.”

We pulled apart. I reached for my suitcase, only it wasn’t where I put it… it was already outside, floating two feet off the ground next to Professor Dumbledore.

“I take that back. He’s rushing me out the door.”

“At least I know that so long as you’re with him, you’re safe,” mom stated.

My eyebrows furrowed, “This is the second time you’ve mentioned ‘safe.’ Are you going to explain what is so dangerous that I need him more than you and dad?”

“There are a great many dangers in this world, especially the wizarding world. I don’t know the situation in Britain at this point in time, but I’ll bet it’s the same as when I left.”

“Then might I suggest that staying here would be safer?” I had to ask. Last ditch attempt.

She shook her head vigorously, “No. Now shoo.”

I sighed, stepping outside next to the headmaster.

“Take my arm,” Professor Dumbledore said, holding his arm out.

I hesitated, looking back at mom who waved back at me with that same sad smile.

“Don’t worry, you will see your mother again.”

It kind of reassured me, so I put my arm over his, and he Disapparated.

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[scorbusfest]

Scorbus Fest 2020 Masterlist

FIC:

Break The Ice (T, 7.7k) by Honeysworks

Prompt: Scorpius is a figure skater, Albus plays ice hockey. They train at the same ice rink. Albus finds himself looking for excuses to hang about in the locker room after training just so he can bump into Scorpius.

An Issue of a Dragon (G, 5.7) by @truemeg

Albus returns to school with an extra little something in a box: a dragon. Albus is confident he can take care of it on his own. But Scorpius knows better.

A Million Times (M, 14k) by bellatrix187 @greenandgreyeyes

Albus has been pining after his best friend for two years now. After almost a week of house-sitting with Scorpius for his parents’ friends Dean and Seamus, he has had enough of keeping it inside him. He has no idea what Scorpius is feeling, how to bring it up, or what it will mean for them, but will the discovery of a few dirty magazines spark a conversation about their sexualities and force him to confess?

Turning Circles (T, 38k) by roonilwazlib @xpectopatronerd

Scorpius is a figure skater, Albus plays junior hockey. A random schedule change causes them to bump into each other for the first time - and from there, it’s a slippery slope into mutual pining and endless maybes. They might train at the same rink, but will any of them be brave enough to break the ice?

Featuring secrets, crushes, secret crushes and everyone’s favourite Father of the Year, Draco Malfoy at his very finest. This is basically forty thousand words of fluff and fun, set in a Muggle AU in the North of England.

Our Golden Age (E, 2.6k) by @ladderofyears

Scorpius Malfoy is sixty years old and has just lost his wife Cecily after a long marriage. His best-friend of many decades Albus Potter comes to stay with him at Malfoy Manor.

You Being Okay Is All That Matters (G, 3.4k) by @accioscorp

A final shift before a well deserved break for Scorpius is flipped upside down when an accident at the local creatures sanctuary sends Saint Mungo’s into chaos but Scorpius’ mind is only focused on one thing … whether Albus is okay or not.

Five times Albus noticed a thing about Scorpius and one time he didn’t (M, 4.4k) by @eleonorapoe

Albus has known Scorpius his whole life. He knows how he likes his sandwiches, which side he falls asleep on, the noise he makes when laughing his ass off. Until one day, on “The Morning of Bed Head”, Albus discovers there are things about Scorpius that can still surprise him. They say the third time's a charm, but it takes Albus five times to realize that he hadn't noticed the most important thing about Scorpius at all.

I’d Take Every Jump For You (G, 12.7k) by Augurey_ray

Scorpius is a dressage rider and spends every second of his free time at the stables. Albus? Albus isn't as much of a fan. One day their paths cross and, well, they have their hurdles.

Five Times Things Did Not Work Out as Planned, and One Time They Did (G, 11.3k) by WhenSheReads

Pretty much what the title says--things may not always work out for Scorpius and Albus, but that doesn't mean things are bad.

Different kinds of “addictions” (G, 7.3k) by @sapphicfangirll

After a fight with James, Albus rushes to Malfoy Manor to seek comfort from his favourite blonde. Once he goes back home Albus might just realise that there's more to his brother than meets the eye.

(This one-shot involves two of my hcs: a)Albus having adhd b)Albus knowing sign language; it's the first in a series of one-shots centered around adhd!Al)

brainfunks and cereal (G, 1.1k) by ivermectin

In which Albus worries, and Scorpius reassures him.

Under False Pretenses (G, 7.2k) by scorperion21

Albus Potter is a highly trained magizoologist, but he's not opposed to a little help from a Creature Healer every now and again if absolutely necessary...

Scorpius Malfoy doesn't need to know that the only reason Albus keeps calling on him is because of his all-consuming crush. Does he?

A Force To Be Reckoned With (G, 7.3k) by @rinrin-obliviate

Lily Luna Potter was a force to be reckoned with.

At least, that was how she viewed herself. Being the youngest, she was responsible for carrying four brain cells--one for her, one for Albus, and two extra ones for James. She was blunt but tactful, short but unrelenting, but mostly, she was brave but not stupid.

So when Albus landed himself in trouble more serious than time-turners and world domination, it was Lily who just had to help her brother pull his actual shit together.

She shot a last, warning glance at James. “I’d like to be your voice of reason at this point, but right now I’m sleepy and I need to go to bed.” She turned to Lily. “Try not to let your brother blow up the whole school.”

She unblinkingly returned Rose’s gaze. “Which brother?”

“Both.”

The One in Which Albus Should Have Been a Bit More Clear (M, 2.1k) by ringelchen @lordofthegoods

Albus just wants to be a good friend and deliver a love letter to Scorpius. It doesn't quite go as planned.

Edible Flowers (T, 21k) by @littlerose13writes

Albus Potter has grown up in the wizarding world, has been around magic all his life and is used to the eccentricities being a teenage wizard can bring. But when he’s struck down with muggle flu, he wakes up in a world that seems to have turned upside down.

His sister is a bully, Polly Chapman is his friend and, weirdest of all, his best friend Scorpius suddenly seems to be his boyfriend. Albus would quite like to get back to normality in time for the fifth year Summer Ball if that’s not too much to ask.

i want to be the only one (but you are) ; scorbus (T, 5k) by dungeondreams

albus isn't the fondest of physical touch with most people. luckily scorpius malfoy isn't most people. (alternatively; albus is kinda touch starved and scorpius is more than happy to change that.)

lemonade roses (T, 40k) by @dustyspines

By some calamitous twist of fate, Albus Potter finds himself faced with the realisation that he’s not okay; his sleep has been hijacked by vivid nightmares detailing the night his life fell apart on the Quidditch pitch, his sense of self is slipping away as he drowns in a sea of expectations, and his relationships begin to fracture when the vicious ghost of inevitability snaps at his heels. The solution should be simple: break up with Scorpius Malfoy. But this is Albus Potter, and nothing in his life has ever been simple, so why should that change now?

this is me trying (M, 15k) by @fidgetyweirdo

Just a few weeks ago, Scorpius's life was on stable footing - perfect grades, infatuation with a brilliant woman, and, most importantly, his best mate, Albus, at his side. But when Albus kisses him and Scorpius is left with no choice but to break his heart, for the first time since they met, the future of their friendship is in question. Scorpius can't lose him, though. So even if it involves blundering through awkward conversations and setting up multiple, disastrous blind dates, Scorpius won't stop trying.

Amuse Me (G, 19k) by @rinrin-obliviate

Albus didn’t really find amusement parks entertaining.

Even with Scorpius Malfoy spending the entire day with him, Albus never really fancied the concept of crowded areas, roller coasters that would intentionally plummet you to death, or rigged carnival games that served nothing but stuffed toys and candy floss. Honestly, if him falling for his best mate was not going to be the death of him, this one was.

He just wanted to survive the day.

My reason within (T, 9.7k) by Patronuslight7

Albus and Scorpius have now seen their Patronus forms. One of them is completely disheartened, the other hasn't given up trying to explain just yet.

A special day (G, 6.3k) by @sapphicfangirll

The one where Albus hyperfixates on pjo, Scorbus and their favourite third wheel go to muggle comic con, they make some new friends and they might just participate in the cosplay contest. Ft trans!Scorpius, adhd!Al and questioning Albus+nonbinary boy!Al who uses he/they pronouns.

I Pour Light Into You (G, 4.5k) by @motherofmercury

Albus is a top Magizoologist and is assigned a new and exotic creature that spits toxins, landing him in St. Mungo’s. His husband, Scorpius, is the Healer in charge of his recovery, leading to some small angst and much hair stroking.

A Love Like Old Boots (T, 20k) by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion

Each time Scorpius glanced his way, Albus made sure to smile as though nothing was amiss. As though it wasn’t exceptionally odd to come out of your morning lesson and find your ex-boyfriend of three years standing in the grass with his hands in his pockets, waiting for you.

To be a Boy (E, 17.8k) by @shipperysails-bookofspells

Scorpius’ life was perfect. He was talented at school, had the best friend anyone could ask for, and his boyfriend, Albus Potter, was making him happier than he’d ever dreamed possible.

But all of that began to unravel when suppressed insecurities are brought to light, causing Scorpius to question what it means to be a boy.

FIC AND ART: 

Same Order Every Time (G, 2.1k) by evie_adams273

Albus didn't want to take the job as a barista. He hadn't intended to have it for this long. Not because he actively disliked it. Simply because it was so dull. At this point, he knew who all the regulars were. He knew every second of every day. Until today.

ART: 

Albus’ oral fixation (G) by @eleonorapoe

Albus has a bad habit of chewing on his hoodie lace which makes Scorpius unable to focus on studying.

What Happened In the Weeds (G) by @motherofmercury

Just two soft boys kissing in a field for scorbusfest!

something you didn’t even have a name for (G) by @lumoshyperion

A tender moment shared between two boys in love, inspired by a Richard Siken poem.

until you hear that music play again (T) by @marisdrawings

Albus is a singer/guitarist at a local pub. Scorpius is a stressed newbie in town who lands himself on the same bar as a customer. He caught himself incredibly flustered and smitten for the pub's own singer to the point where it's the first place he visits every night. They get to know each other, Albus offers to be Scorpius's guide in exploring the whole city, and the rest is history. (prompt by @rinrin-obliviate)

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 5) | The Boyz Imagine

Ep 5: in which Kevin says it’s okay to be different 

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main Characters: Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz.

Genre: fluff, slice of life, comedy, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

----------

“I managed to take out his tumour, but I’ll need him to stay for a few days just so that he can recover fully. He’s under anesthesia for now but he should be up soon,” Kevin flips through his newest patient’s medical file and scans the page for his details. His name is Yeon Hanjo, eight years old, who had suddenly collapsed to the ground a week ago with no indication of an illness whatsoever. An MRI scan of his head and body had shown that the small child had been keeping a tumour hidden within the side of his skull for some time and after some thorough deliberating and research about the best methods to go about the operation, Kevin had managed to successfully draw the tumour out without any mishaps or complications. 

Mrs. Yeon bows before Kevin once more with barely restrained tears coating her eyes. She holds a tissue in her hand, which seems already wet and crumpled into a ball, and Kevin reaches out with another tissue that she takes gratefully. 

Mr. Yeon is at her side, one hand on his wife’s shoulder to provide her comfort, “Thank you, thank you so much Dr. Moon. We--We don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

Kevin lets out a small, genuine smile, “it’s my duty. Hanjo’s life is just as important as anybody else’s, if not more.”

A few hours after the parents have left and Kevin has done his rounds as he is supposed to, he makes way to Hanjo’s room with a box of chocolate in hand. 

Hanjo is already awake, blinking at the night sky from his hospital bed. The child turns his attention towards the door when Kevin pokes his head in with a smile, “hello Hanjo. How are you feeling?” 

The child shrugs, and looks away. 

Being familiar with the way children react when they are forced into an unfamiliar setting where strangers prevail, Kevin steps in, closes the door behind him and takes a seat at Hanjo’s bed. The child is still not looking at him, chin adamantly pointed towards the outside world. 

“I bought something for you,” Kevin opens up his box of chocolates and offers him the box. Hanjo peeks into it for a few seconds of silence, looks up at his face, then pushes the box away.

While Kevin isn’t used to children not wanting any chocolate, that doesn’t dissuade him from trying. He closes the box and sets it on Hanjo’s bedside table. 

“In a few days, you can go back home. Aren’t you glad?” Kevin chats on despite the reluctance in Hanjo’s body behaviour, “what’s the first thing you want to do when you go back, Hanjo?” 

Still, the child stays silent. Kevin sees his lower lip tremble but decides it is better off not to mention it. He takes it as a fact that Hanjo might be shy, unwilling to converse because he’s a stranger. The only solution to that though is for Kevin to keep trying, which he does day after day. Every time he’d bring something different -- a different candy, or toy that boys his age would’ve liked -- but Hanjo refuses every single item without delay. 

When the date of Hanjo’s discharge looms closer and closer, Kevin can’t help himself but urge him to speak by prompting the child with good news, “you must be excited, only three days left!” he grins at the child in hopes of getting a smile back, at least. 

Hanjo, on the other hand, merely blinks. Then, a fat tear rolls down his cheek before he bursts into tears.

“Hanjo,” Kevin’s demeanor softens then, gently tugging the said child in his arms and scooping him close against his chest. The child keeps on crying, his face now red and tears cascading down his cheeks, staining Kevin’s white coat. His parents, having heard the commotion from outside, quickly slip in with mirroring expressions of worry and take the child from Kevin’s arms, who is left confused and slightly concerned at the child’s suddenly sad countenance. He cannot, for the life of him, understand how Hanjo’s mind works. Kids like him shouldn’t be crying like their world is tearing apart, shouldn’t be subdued and silent and just afraid of everything. 

No, there’s something that’s bothering Hanjo. And Kevin finds his answer a few hours later. 

“Hanjo spent most of his life in Florida, where he was born,” Mrs. Yeon says to him. After Hanjo had fallen asleep, she had ushered to buy Kevin a coffee at the cafeteria. She now sits opposite him, coffee cup clasped between frail fingers with skin wrinkled and saggy from years of work, eyes rimmed with blue aprons and mouth tugged down in a tense, awkward line, smeared with a pale chalky lipstick.

“We moved here just a few months ago. He hasn’t told me anything, but his teacher tells me that he hasn’t been very...interactive with the other kids,” she purses her lips as if in discontentment, “he barely talks, not because he doesn't understand. We talk to him in Korean all the time at home. Somehow though, he barely says a word here. It’s like he doesn’t want to make even the slightest bit of effort.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Kevin asks with furrowed eyebrows. 

She shakes her head, “no, well. We’ve tried asking him about school and stuff, maybe mentioned his teacher’s comments once or twice but that was it. We don’t want to push him either.”

He can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the said young boy, knowing all too well how strange it is to move oneself to another country altogether, a country where the language is different, the people are different, and how it feels like your entire life has just turned upside down because of that mere fact. 

“Oh that’s just like little Kevin when he just moved here,” Hyunjae can’t help but snigger, prompting Mae to whack him across the back of his head.

“Ouch!” Hyunjae throws her a scowl, “why are you even a doctor? You should just become part of the mafia. Seriously! That hurt--”

She proceeds to shove a piece of lettuce in his mouth to muffle his protests. Juyeon and Kevin exchange knowing glances, before shrugging. 

“You should talk to him,” Mae suggests, and though she’s trying very hard to act normal, Kevin can feel the unease rolling off her, how she’s not looking at him and permanently fixating her gaze on her platter of food. He makes a mental note to ask Juyeon about it later.

For now, he replies, “yeah I should. It’s just a saddening thought. Children shouldn’t have so much trouble earlier on in their lives.” 

“Hey touff, we all haff prwabems,” Hyunjae attempts to say with his mouth still full. He swallows before gulping down some water. Slamming his cup down, he jabs a finger in Mae’s direction, “you and I have a problem.” 

“The only problem that I’ll have with you is killing you by asphyxiation, and before you ask, there is food involved,” Mae cooes. 

Hyunjae shivers, “psychopath.” 

“Nu-uh, Sociopath? Probably. But psychopath?” she scrunches her face up as though contemplating the thought, “nah, I’m too kind.” 

“You flatter yourself too much,” Juyeon rolls his eyes.

“Can we focus on the problem at hand?” Kevin waves his chopsticks around dramatically, ignoring Hyunjae stealing his piece of chicken and replacing it with some ginger instead. 

“Kevin, we all know that you’re the wondrous child talker here,” Hyunjae says, “we’re all counting on you to babysit our kids one day.” 

“Excuse me? Is there kindergarten written on my forehead?” 

“You mean, there isn’t kindergarten written on your forehead?” Hyunjae gasps dramatically, “here, let me--” 

“Don’t you dare, Lee Jaehyun.” 

Kevin waits until Hanjo’s parents leave with promises that they’ll be here to watch over him tomorrow morning, before slithering inside the children’s ward. Hanjo spots him, but doesn’t say anything as the said doctor sidles up to his bed and takes a seat on the abandoned chair next to him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Kevin murmurs. The child watches as he pulls out a box of pocky sticks. His mother had stated that Pocky is the only asian snack he eats. Surely enough, Hanjo doesn’t hesitate to grab it with his little chubby fingers and Kevin gazes down at him with a fond sympathy gripping his chest.

But then, Hanjo glances up at him uncertainly. Kevin puts a finger to his mouth, “can you keep a secret?” 

Hanjo pauses, contemplates him for a moment. Then, he nods. 

“Cool, because I can’t actually sneak in any outside snacks,” Kevin whispers with a soft chuckle at the alarm washing over Hanjo’s face, “it’s okay, don’t worry. This is between you and me, alright?” 

It takes a few seconds for the child to decide that Kevin’s intentions aren’t all that bad, before he slowly pries open the packet and digs into the snack with barely restrained excitement. Kevin just watches him with fondness, glad that for once it seems like he’s done something for Hanjo, when the child suddenly sticks out the packet, urging him to take some. 

“Oh,” Kevin blinks in surprise, before drawing a pocky stick, “thanks, Hanjo. That’s so nice of you.”

Hanjo just nods, before returning his attention to the said chocolate covered sticks. As his mother had stated, it is indeed his favourite snack. 

“Do you often eat pocky, Hanjo?” Kevin asks. 

The child shrugs, urging Kevin to ask, “do any of your friends eat pocky?” 

At this, Hanjo’s mouth pauses as if in contemplation and Kevin knows that he has hit a nerve. Not just any, but a sensitive one. He hurries to continue talking for fear that he might lose momentum, “you know, I never really had any friends when I first moved here. I used to eat pocky because it reminded me of the snacks my mom used to buy for me, back when we were still in Canada.” 

He can practically see the cogs turning inside Hanjo’s brain as he mulls over the newly acquired information. 

“I was shy back then. I didn’t know how to approach people. They all spoke Korean, I understood them. But I was so scared that they couldn’t understand me for some reason. After all, I never spoke Korean back when I was in Canada, just with my parents.” 

Kevin let the information sink in for the child who was now gazing up at him with newfound interest alight in his big brown eyes and it takes everything inside the said doctor not to squeal at how adorable he looks. Instead, he pauses and waits, waits with the hope that Hanjo will react to this, however he wants. 

“How?”

Kevin blinks. Hanjo’s mouth is open, curiosity filling his features as he continues hesitantly, “how...did you...make friends?” 

While Kevin wants nothing more than to punch the air in success, he decides that this is not the right moment to be celebrating that fact. Instead, he clears his throat and allows his arm to rest on the side of the child’s bed. 

“Actually, the pocky sticks helped me. The kids at my school always brought the same type of pocky sticks and then one day, when one of the girls in my class didn’t have any snacks, I offered her one,” Kevin smiles at the memory flashing before his eyes, “I thought she’d laugh at me when she started talking to me because of my accent. I wasn’t completely fluent. Surprisingly though, she was very interested to know what I had to say, despite the fact that I was so scared she’d just turn away from me.” 

“What was her name?” Hanjo asks.

“Her name?” Kevin tilts his head, “actually, she works here too. Her name’s Mae, she’s a doctor from the Cancer department.” 

Hanjo pauses for a few seconds, before he looks down at the box of pocky in his hand, “I don’t like talking in Korean,” his voice is small, barely a whisper, “I don’t like it here. Everything is different. Everyone is different.” 

“You know, Korean is one of the hardest languages to learn. And you know English. Do you know how amazing that is?” Kevin smiles down, one of his hands going to pat his head, “I know how it feels. It doesn’t feel like home, because home is far far away. But it will get better, Hanjo. It’s okay that you’re not fluent in Korean. You’ll get there, eventually. Look at doctor Kevin, see?” he motions towards his own chest, “I was in the exact same position as you were, once. But it really gets better, trust me.” 

Hanjo is frowning at the snack in his hands now, as though there are different thoughts flying about in his brain, thoughts too complicated for him to explain. But he surprises Kevin when he suddenly looks up and holds out his pinky. 

“Promise?” Hanjo asks, “promise it gets better?” 

“I promise,” Kevin hooks his finger with the child’s, “and you know what? You made your first friend right here,” and he pats his own chest with an amused smile. Hanjo’s lips tilt up in a mirroring expression, albeit hesitant, and Kevin’s heart melted right then and there in a puddle of Hanjo goo.

-----------

Knock knock. 

Kevin blinks away the drowsiness as he raises his head from his desk where he’d been napping just a few seconds ago. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he spots Hyunjae and lets out a groan at the mischievous smirk on the latter’s lips. 

Whenever Hyunjae’s in a mood, he’ll have some kind of face that warns people about it. 

“Get lost, Hyunjae. Not in the mood,” Kevin groans while his friend saunters in as though he hasn’t been straight out rejected. Kevin buries his face back into his arms and Hyunjae quickly lays his head just beside him. 

“What?” Kevin asks with his eyes still closed.

Hyunjae merely giggles, before blowing softly on his face. 

Kevin whips his head around, “you’re so annoying. Get lost.” 

“But Kebiiin,” the taller man whines and nestles his face even closer so that Kevin’s soft hair tickles the bridge of his nose, “I have important news!” 

“What news?” comes Kevin’s mumble.

“I’m getting married.”

“To who?” 

“To you.” 

“No you’re not.”

“Okay fine, to Juyeon.” 

“No you’re not.” 

“Okay fine, to Mae then.” 

“Do you know,” Kevin asks slowly, “why is she acting so weird?” 

“Weird?” Hyunjae snuggles even closer, breathes in Kevin’s soft vanilla scent, “like usual Mae kind of weird or weirder than weird?” 

“No, she hasn’t been talking to herself. But she has been avoiding me.” “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Kevin whips around to look at him in alarm. 

Hyunjae draws back to stand, leaning against the opposite doctor’s empty chair as Kevin straightens to look at him with growing concern, “what do you mean by ‘oh’?” 

“She did ask me something weird the other day.” 

“About?” 

“About who you were crushing on.” 

“WHAT?” Kevin’s eyes grow wide, “what did you tell her?!” 

“That I had no clue.” 

“Oh thank god,” Kevin visibly slouches in relief. Then, his eyes grow wide, “wait--Does she know then?! That I--” All it takes is for Hyunjae’s face to take on a suspicious air for Kevin to realize that he is not out of dangerous waters yet.  He scrambles up and holds onto Hyunjae’s sleeve, “what?” Kevin demands like it’s a life or death situation. Which it is to him, “why do have that look on your face?” 

“Look Kev, mate, I definitely did not do anything.” 

“But?” 

“I never said there was a but.” 

“You implied it!” 

“Okay fine,” Hyunjae huffs, “but, someone seems to have leaked this information to her, like it or not--” 

“What?!” 

“--and we all suspect that it’s the Neurosurgery resident, the one that comes from Toronto--”

Kevin sucks in a sharp breath, “Jacob Bae?” 

“If anyone asks, this did not come out of my mouth,” Hyunjae is quick to defend while raising his arms in the air in mock surrender, but Kevin is too preoccupied at the thought that his secret is now out in the open for everyone to dissect and digest. How in the world does Jacob know about this? He barely even talks to him! 

Unless...unless it’s that obvious? 

His head snaps up so suddenly, eyes dark and so vividly intense on Hyunjae’s that the latter can’t help but yelp in return, “Hyunjae,” Kevin says slowly, “you’re sure...you’re sure you didn’t say anything?” 

“Are you implying that I lied to you?!” Hyunjae gasps mockingly, “Kevin, I’m--”

“Shut up and be serious for one second.” 

“Of course I didn’t! Who do you take me for?!” 

“Shit,” is the only thing that Kevin has to say, “Shit. Shit.” 

[rena-rain]

Evidence for ADHD Marinette

Marinette has some tendencies in the show - that she does over and over again - that scream ADHD to me. Obviously I can’t cite every single instance in the show that points toward that, but here are some examples of ADHD traits/symptoms Marinette repeatedly exhibits on screen.

Forgetfulness, Time Management

Forgetting things. A hallmark of ADHD.

Let’s look at Timebreaker. Mari was all set to do her homework and wait for her parents’ client, completely forgetting that she was supposed to bring a banner for a race between her friends Kim and Alix - across town. Alya calling her at all didn’t even remind her, she had to be told explicitly what was happening before she remembered. Then proceeded to freak out because she’d accidentally made two commitments at the same time.

Marinette completely spaced on the race, even though it was important to her, because there was something else right in front of her: homework, her parents’ anniversary, and the Eiffel Tower cake. She was then certain that she could make it to the race and still be back at the bakery to meet Mrs. Chamack - which was a resounding NOT for anyone who watched the episode. The only way she got away with it was by literally being in two places at once. ADHD often comes with a bad sense of time, so while 20 minutes probably felt like enough time to Marinette it passed way more quickly than anticipated. 

Forgetfulness, Distractability

Ah, another instance of Alya reminding Mari of her plans. In this case she’d lost track of time because of the Adrien ad playing on a loop on her computer - to the point that she was still not dressed even though all her friends were out and about (including the ones waiting for her at the pool).

As soon as she realized she was very late, Mari grabbed her stuff and sprinted out of her house without changing out of her pajamas. Even when Tikki told her she was forgetting something she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion - although she may very well have forgotten both her swim suit and to change. 

Impulsivity, Creativity

Marinette improvises all the time. And she has a habit of diving headfirst into dangerous, crazy plans. The girl was facing down a T. Rex headfirst in Animan, and when she got her lucky charm her weird, creative problem-solving skills told her to jump into its mouth and jam it open.

In general, I think her use of the lucky charms indicates a wild creativity that’s characteristic of ADHD. Current research shows a very high correlation between ADHD and creative personalities, and Dr. William Dodson (who has been studying ADHD for 25 years) has found that “by the time most people with the condition reach high school, they are able to tackle problems that stump everyone else, and can jump to solutions that no one else saw.”

Marinette exhibits this surprising and unorthodox problem solving when she spots a series of seemingly unrelated objects that will somehow end the fight. Take Copycat for example. She got a freaking SPOON and she decided to make it into a homemade fishing rod to hoist the fake Chat Noir into the air by his belt. WHAT EVEN

more Impulsivity

Even before she got comfortable in her skin-tight supersuit, Marinette did demonstrate an inclination to take impulsive risks in the origins episode. Master Fu tested her by deliberately walking in front of a moving car to see if she’d save him.

There was no hesitation here. She saw Fu, saw the car, and immediately ran out to pull him to safety. The whole thing happened in a few seconds. Obviously this action was motivated by her inherent kindness; she didn’t do a dangerous thing because it was dangerous. Plenty of good people (none of whom seemed to be at the crosswalk that day, they all noticed nothing) would have wanted to do something but hesitated, or not reacted in time.

Not Marinette. While she was clearly scared for him, the high stakes of the situation didn’t faze her; she just acted instinctively. According to Dr. Dale Archer, ADHD brains do well under pressure, because high-stress situations get the dopamine flowing and those levels make them snap to attention.

Time Management, Impulsivity (again)

In Lady Wifi, Marinette ran into class late for no indicated reason, something she does frequently (and only sometimes it’s because of Ladybug duties) to the point where her chronic tardiness becomes a running gag. This is an extension of her inability to judge time accurately as discussed above. 

Also demonstrated in this episode, ADHD’ers will often have outbursts and accidentally say things without thinking. Upon learning what happened to Alya from Nino, she lost control and shouted “What?!?!?!” not once, but TWICE. It could also allude to emotional dysregulation (a less-known ADHD symptom) because she was unable to keep her emotional reactions to her friend getting in trouble under control. 

Hyperfixation, Emotional Dysregulation

Hey, remember when Marinette was so absorbed in that Adrien ad that she forgot about her friends and her clothes? I think the Adrien video hit her with a double whammy, because she’s deeply infatuated with him and this new thing about the guy she likes ensnared her attention.

So Marinette is obsessed with Adrien, right? I’m sure most of us would fawn over a new ad starring our crush-who’s-also-a-model. But she has a one-track mind when it comes to him. Hyperfixation is an extremely intense obsession and focus on a subject, and I think her crush can qualify because it tends to dominate her life and attention. While many things may be difficult for Marinette to maintain focus on, ADHD is great for focusing on things that are interesting, challenging, and new. So when that beautiful ad showed up, this new thing related to her fixation pushed all the happy dopamine buttons in her brain. She obviously finds Adrien interesting because she’s interested in him, and she keeps trying to get him to notice her romantically and that’s definitely a challenge.

If you’d like/need another example of Marinette hyperfixating on something, I give you: fashion. Okay, maybe that’s more of a passion than a fixation, but the episode Mr. Pigeon DID give us a hyperfocusing Marinette when she spent hours and hours on end designing and making the derby hat for Gabriel Agreste’s competition.

Moving on to emotional dysregulation. We’ve seen Marinette overreact to Alya being mistreated in Lady Wifi. Even casual watchers of Miraculous will know that Marinette has similarly powerful reactions to feelings and events concerning Adrien. I can’t even begin to count the number of times she's screamed around him.

Remember that time she publicly yelled at Lila in Volpina? Her jealousy and annoyance at her lies completely dictated her decisions here and she went way overboard - as Adrien was quick to tell her. She laid into her. NOT normal behavior for Marinette when she has her head on straight. Tikki sure wasn’t supportive of Marinette using Ladybug like this.

Tikki also wasn’t too pleased when she used her lucky charm to break up Adrien and Chloe slow dancing at his birthday party. This is another time her jealousy overtook her.

And one more little overreaction here. In Copycat, Marinette was totally spiraling in true melodramatic fashion about the consequences of stealing a phone. She imagined a life sentence. This is characteristic of how ADHD’ers often have trouble regulating emotions, leading to overblown responses to various stressors. Is it just me, or does she get particularly worked up when she’s fantasizing (both good and bad)?

I can’t find a picture for it, but another time Marinette was reacting very strongly to a predicament was in Mr. Pigeon when she paced back and forth, flipping through her sketchbook, and ranted at Alya about how difficult a derby hat design would be. She was pretty disheartened by her lack of immediate inspiration; she was even curled up on the bench dejectedly while Alya tried to help her.

It’s also worth mentioning that she totally ran into a wall after Adrien complimented her drawings.

I could add more, but this post is already basically an essay and I think you get the point. If you share the ADHD Marinette headcanon do please add any examples you think of!

[kazhewbrekker]

vilify me - chapter 1

Vilify Me

Shatter Me AU where Ella and Emmaline were raised as children of the Supreme Commander of Oceania, and everything that happened after.

Fandom: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi

Relationships: Juliette Ferrars/Aaron Warner

Additional Tags: Ella Sommers!AU, Implied Torture, Child Abuse, basically ella and emmaline were raised by their biological parents,Childhood Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Restore Me spoilers, Defy Me spoilers, i might add more tags later

( AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4)

vilify v.

1. to lower in estimation or importance

All the children of the Supremes spent time away from home, visiting each other on the regular, it was a much needed break for their parents and good for networking. And when you were young and sick of being treated like test monkeys, a little bit of freedom never hurt.

Emmaline was one of the older kids, alongside Haider and Warner. So she grew out of the visiting trips earlier then I did. Instead she became obsessed with getting ahead and learning everything she could about everything. She didn’t have time for her little sister or taking a small flight to another continent every weekend. I understood, maybe not then, but eventually.

Sometimes I still think about how different she would have been had she opened up more, if not to me then to the rest of us. But I suppose we really were outliers, when it all came down to it. Emmaline was untouchable, in a metaphorical way, she was not only going to inherit our mother’s title as Supreme Commander of Oceania, but she was also the strongest Unnatural on the planet. The scientists always got it wrong, they downplayed her power so frequently in order to raise mine up, but I wasn’t as strong as her. It seemed like I was the only one who realized that.

I didn’t want to see what would happen if someone stood against Emmaline. Not even me.

The warmth of morning became overbearing the later after dawn I waited to get up. My conditioned body still continued to rouse me at five o’clock sharp, before even the sun had decided to get up. But I was on vacation, or the closest thing to vacation I could get, so there was no way I was going to leave this bed until at the very least eight in the morning.

“Ella, love.”

His voice was quiet, so quiet I could have ignored it, but he placed a hand on my shoulder to shake me awake. His palm was frigid. I jumped a foot into the air and rolled across the bed, hugging the sheets to my chest.

Aaron Warner stood before me on the other side of the bed wearing his usual ensemble of immaculate clothing. His surprise at my reaction quickly turned to amusement, he looked as if it physically pained him to restrain his laughter at my antics. I gave him a sidelong glare before laying myself down once again, but on his pillow.

“Are you going to get up before noon?”

“Excuse you,” I said. “Some people like to sleep in.”

I listened intently as he moved around the room. The fabric under my chin was cold and smelled faintly of soap and little much else. He probably hadn’t slept for very long at all, and I could vaguely remembered he’d come to bed late too.

“Did you even go to sleep last night?” I turned my head up, but found he wasn’t where he’d been before. I sat up on the bed and found him bringing in a tray covered in metal containers that I knew to be military issued meals. “Breakfast in bed? Don’t spoil me or I’ll never leave.”

Warner place the tray on my lap, the quirk to his lip hadn’t disappeared just yet. I hesitantly opened the first dish to find fruits chopped into squares, the others had what looked to be eggs and ham and some kind of baked bread. I picked up the cup of coffee placed off to the side and held it up to my lips, watching Warner as he watched me from his seat on the edge of the bed.

He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “I will admit I didn’t sleep as long as I could have, but I am still expected to work while you’re here.”

“Responsibilities, I’m familiar.”

“Yes, precisely,” Warner laughed. “As for breakfast; no crumbs in my bed.”

He watched and waited as I partook in the food laid before me. I wasn’t a huge fan of eating, food equaled energy and energy gave me the ability to use my body properly and that was all there was to it. Maybe that was something the Reestablishment had trained into us, to only see things in terms of power. If you didn’t get a benefit from something then it had no use, and therefore it could be thrown away as simple as that. Food, people, it was all the same in the Reestablishment’s eyes.

“What’s the agenda for today?” I asked between mouthfuls of bread.

“I have another meeting in an hour, and I have to visit the compounds around 1400 hours.” He eyed the bread with disdain, “The in between time I am all yours.”

“How generous.”

“Do you plan to be sarcastic for the rest of the morning?”

I sigh reproachfully. In truth I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that he was busy. Warner’s father like to pile up work in Sector 45 more than any of the others, just to get a rise out of his son, and especially when he knew I was visiting. I could beat the old man black and blue for just that alone.

I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed. There honestly wasn’t much to do on base without Warner around. I did come to North America purely to see him, more often than not.

I could easily do my own work from the comfort of my own home.

“Are you alright?” He said, with a hint of worry, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing,”

He raised an eyebrow.

“The only reason I don’t want to tell you is because it’s obsolete. You’ll feel guilty and that will make me feel even worse.” I said, “I miss you and I want to spend as much time with you as I can. But I hardly know what to do with myself here when you’re gone.”

Warner winced, confirmed my fear that he’d take the burden of my discomfort onto himself. “You could join me during work―?”

“And distract you the entire time.”

“There isn’t an easy solution.”

I picked the tray up out of my lap and wiggle my legs out of the blanket. The carpet was cool under my bare feet as I walked over to the table and set the empty tray atop it. It’s only when I’d crossed halfway over the room that I realized how chilly it was in this room without trousers. I pulled on the bottom threads of my shirt as I headed back to the bed, Warner’s eyes never left me as he sat quietly, waiting. And I only had to meet his gaze once before he was fixating on the far wall.

Ever in full control of temptation.

“I know there isn’t, that’s precisely why I didn’t want to mention it.” I stood in front of him so our knees touched, his expensive black polyester against my skin. “Beside, I come here to escape from all the military talk, your board meetings would give me hives.”

He laughs, but it’s restrained. His hands hesitantly test the waters and reach out to me. Which I oblige by lacing our fingers together and sitting myself on his lap with my legs pinned on either side of him. It only takes a moment of surprise before his dimples are on full display and he uses his grip on my arm to drag me in closer, while the other unlatches itself to cradle around my waist and keep me secure in place.

“So you’ll quietly wait for me to return and absolutely not cause trouble in which I will have to fix,” Warner said, “right?”

I winked, kissed his cheek, and replied. “Of course.”

“When was the last time you heard from Warner?”

Emmaline never did beat around the bush, she’d waltzed in my bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her. I placed the book I had been annotating down and tried my hardest to project my annoyance into the air between us.

“Awhile ago,” I hissed. “Why?”

She shrugged. I watched as she wandered around my bedroom, the walls painted a pale pink, the mature version of what had originally been the color scheme for our shared bedroom when we were children. In Emmaline’s own bedroom, I’d find almost an identical spread of pastel purple. Mum had always loved coordination.

“Emma, seriously, if you’re just here to bother me get out.”

Her fingers glided along my bookshelves. Objects that Dad had told me to throw out months ago, the Reestablishment saw no need for literature of any kind. I wondered if Emmaline shared his sentiments, she’d always been so complacent.

Finally, my sister turned to look at me point-blank. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Then get to the point.”

“Nazeera told me today that Warner and Lena are together.”

I stood up.

“Like, he’s staying in Europe?”

I could briefly register my heart picking up speed inside my chest. My brain racing to keep up, sorting through every conversation we’d ever had on the topic of Lena. Warner didn’t share many sentiments about being around the other Supreme kids. Had he ever even brought Lena up before?

Emmaline sighed. “Els, you know what I mean.”

“He would have told me.”

“You said it yourself,” she turned back towards the door. “You haven’t heard from him in awhile, maybe things change.”

I went back to bed before I caused havoc. Warner could do with a rest from any of my particular antics, despite what he might believe, I didn’t enjoy making his life harder. I just got bored. In any case, he was lucky his bed was so comfortable.

When I finally rolled out of the red sheets and dressed properly it was already midday. The shower was hot and the water was sharper then back home, but the smell of the soap and the fabric of the towels was comforting. Sometimes it scared me how at home I felt in North America, how much time I’d spent on the other side of the world. Something my sister never understood.

In the corner of Warner’s closet there was a place for my clothes, personally picked out by him, and all perfected to my own tastes. I didn’t like Anderson’s dresses, or the shorts and sleeveless shirts my parents insisted I wore. The Reestablishment liked to remind people I was a weapon. Remind them what one single brush against my shoulder would do.

When I was younger the power felt nice, but it always turned my stomach to see how maids and nannies would watch me with disdain, even fear. Emmaline got similar looks, but not to the same caliber. I’d grown to hate the sight of my own skin. Warner had sat through enough of my tears to know that giving me pretty dresses that exposed my legs or frilly shirts that showed my arms and stomach was the worst possible gift he could give me.

He gave me jeans, leggings, sweaters that came down to my thighs. I had turtlenecks and boots without heels, shirts with sleeves that went past my wrist. They were comfortable and functional, and of course fashionable. He’d given me so many lectures on color theory that at this point I could retell it to myself from memory.

That was the other feeling that came with vacations at Sector 45. For once, in only one place in time, I could completely be myself. And I could go wherever I pleased.

As in any military base, the decor was minimal and the walls were stark white. The building was as boring as it was tall. I wouldn’t get lost though, most of these bases were carbon copies of each other and I’d grown up in these skyscrapers. And I was going to observe the training rooms, not Warner’s private ones that I refused to visit on unpaid time off, but the soldier’s training rooms. They were the same in context, maybe a little less high-grade and much larger. Any soldier who was off duty went there to work on what they lacked.

I passed the hallway guards who shot me strange looks. I couldn’t be sure if it was because they recognize me or because they couldn’t believe a five foot three, little girl was walking around base. Anderson didn’t seem to like employing women, did he?

Delalieu noticed me turning the corner and fluttered towards me, “Miss Sommer, is there anything I could do to be of assistance?” He looked wary and anxious, but then again when didn’t he.

“I’m just fine,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting with Warner?”

He shook his head, “It’s not that type of meeting.”

Strange.

I moved towards the training room doors, they weren’t the doors that the soldiers came in through as those were connected to the barracks and the dining hall. They were the doors that Warner would enter through when he wanted to observe his soldiers, maybe punish them when they were unassuming.

Delalieu didn’t so much as stop me, but move towards the door as I attempted to open it. My hands were still bare and I could almost feel the shudder that went through the old man as he saw them revealed against the metal of the handles. The lieutenant's movement caught the eye of the guards and they moved in closer.

“There is no reason to trouble yourself with the soldiers, Miss Sommers.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No!” He urgently replied, “Of course not.”

One of the soldiers was leaning in towards the conversation, attempting to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. Who was training these imbeciles? The other actually put a hand on my shoulder and I felt a rush of nausea.

“What seems to be the problem here?” His voice was deep and booming. The soldier was trying to be intimidating, but I could only be concerned with how much I wish I’d worn short sleeves despite the discomfort. “Well―?”

I grabbed his hand.

The soldier’s knees buckled to the ground as I felt the familiar surge of warmth, of strength. I whipped around and kicked him dead-center in the chest sending him rocketing towards the far wall. A loud sound cut off. He’d been screaming, my ears had tuned it out.

I rubbed my hand against my jeans. And looked back at Delalieu.

The guard who had been observing was now straight backed and looking forward like he should have been when I arrived. I scoffed. Delalieu stood out of my way as I opened the metal doors into the training room. They would have all heard the scream. Good, at least then I wouldn’t have to explain myself to anyone again.

This side of the compound wasn’t known for being very hospitable. I almost shivered at the feeling that emitted from the grey walls. Dad was leading, five feet in front of me with a higher-up military persona on one side and what looked like a doctor on the other. They expected me to follow as we went down the winding hallways towards the basement level. I was very familiar with the basement level.

“Alright sweetie,” Dad said.

He opened a chamber door, it creaked under the pressure. I resisted making any sign of displeasure and merely nodded. Walking in and listening as the door closed behind me the second my feet passed the threshold. I was not afraid. I would not tremble.

Supreme Commander Anderson was in charge of any and all missions and assignments I was given. In simple terms, he was my boss. And I hated it. He’d given me the same mission since I’d started training under his care at the ripe age of eight years old; obtain information in relation to the rebel groups opposing the Reestablishment’s control.

The Executioner was in. Ella Sommers was nowhere to be found.

Before me, tied to a chair in the middle of the room, was a man not much older than me. He had the makings of a beard on his face, though he looked ragged. As if he had been struggling to no avail for hours. Maybe days. I stepped out of the shadows of the corners of the room, so he could see me in full view. I caught his attention immediately.

What a vision I must have been. A fourteen year old girl in a dress as green as fresh grass, little white sandals, and her hair done into braids on either side of her head. My appearance made me seem as least three years younger than I was. But if I were to stare myself down in a mirror, I would see the storms behind my eyes. I was not a child.

“Who are you?” The man asked, his voice distinctly accented.

I cocked my head to the side. “You don’t know me?”

He narrowed his eyes. Reassessed myself as I stood before him, I made no threatening movements, but I could see the pulse in his neck jump. He was on edge and didn’t even understand why.

“Why would I know a little girl?” He gritted his teeth, “What are you doing here, huh?”

I’d forced Warner to sit down and watch a nature documentary with me once. He disliked movies, but he preferred anything that had any educational value to the frequent romantic comedies I laid before him. It had been about predators and prey. How the prey could sometimes sense that they were being hunted simply on a whim, but that often it was still not quick enough of a warning to spare them from the predator. It was a biological reaction that ever creature possessed when confronted with a bringer of death.

“I was under the impression that your organization was looking for me.”

The man bit down on his lip. His fear was rising, palpable, as I inched closer.

“But that’s fine if you don’t know who I am.” I raised a hand, “Allow me to introduce myself.”

I found my way to the dining room easily. Warner sat on the far end of the table with a stack of papers in front of him, and two sets of cutlery placed for two people on the table. I found my seat next to him and smiled. He looked up only after a minute of ignoring me.

He looked unimpressed.

“How was your day, my dear?”

“Excellent,” I unfolded my napkin, “and yours?”

Warner blinked and set his papers aside, “Eventful.”

“Do tell,”

“I got a report from my Lieutenant that a guest of mine had debilitated and almost killed one of my men in the middle of a very important meeting with the surrounding sectors.”

I tried my best to look convincingly troubled.

“Ella,”

I wasn’t a very good actress.

“In my defense,” I said, “he touched me first which could very well be seen as an attack.”

There was a bottle of red wine on the table that I picked up and inspected heavily, the label was all but scratched free of any information besides where it came from: Sonoma, CA. When I looked up, Warner was staring straight ahead with a confounding expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked, “Stop thinking, Aaron. Don’t you dare--”

“I’ve come up with a solution.”

My forehead slammed into the porcelain plate. I groaned, and it wasn’t from the newly formed bruise. If only I could find comfort in the dishware. Warner laughed.

“You’re being over dramatic.”

I pushed myself up, squared my shoulders, and took a sip from the wine bottle itself. Warner was leaned back in his chair, watching me with faint amusement, like we we’re playing a game. The bell dinged, signaling that dinner would now be brought in for us. I met his eyes.

“I learned from the best.”

Anderson's eyes turned up at me like a glare, "Report on the status of rebel interrogation."

"Yes, sir." I met him with a practiced ease. Standing from my chair with a ramrod-straight back and an expressionless face, "The Reestablishment has acquired thirteen rebels as of this month. I have interrogated," tortured, "five of the hostiles."

"How many of those were killed by your hand?" The Commander of Europe asks, focused on the papers in front of her and with a voice of disinterest.

"All five," I responded immediately, "sir."

There is a quiet that no one interrupts, not because of the deaths but because of the abject disappointment. They've not heard any of the information I gathered, though they might have read it in the packets of text they seem to be much more interested in flipping through before them.

"Report." Warner's father repeats with a sternness that makes me want to rip his spine out through his throat. There's a beat, a pause, before I begin.

"Number of soldiers is inconclusive, it is estimated no more than a thousand within the North American capital. I was able to extract two safe houses which have since then been removed. The central base of operations, known as Alpha Point, I have only been able to obtain generalizations when it comes to location and management."

"And why is that?" Its Nazeera's father, the Supreme of Asia, this time. "What reason do you have for not finding this rebel stronghold."

My jaw doesn't twitch like I feel it does. There will be no comfort in this room, the Commanders will tear into my failures with promises of punishment if I do not succeed in the future.

"Rumors, sir."

"Rumors?" Anderson's blue eyes have never left my face. I have never flinched in his presence. "What rumors?"

I still, turn my chin a little higher, "The Unnaturals know of me by name."

There's a commotion. It starts with my parents, I'm unsure if they are outraged by the breach in security or the safety of their own child. I don't turn to see the anger that would be clear upon my sister's face. But unfortunately, I don't have to search far for him.

Over his father's shoulder, Warner's eyes burn with a brand of guilt I'm far too use to. For a moment I feel as though he could swallow me whole with that look. The concern, so tangible, for the first time this meeting my heart is in my throat.

He makes me worried about my own safety. Only because I couldn't bear to leave him alone here. Even if we aren't speaking currently.

"Enough," The Commander of Africa slams his stack of papers on the desk. I don't turn to look at him. "Finish the report, Miss Sommers."

They don't usually call me Miss Sommers. That is a name reserved for my sister. My big sister, queen of this world and the next. Most powerful Unnatural, next Supreme Commander of Oceania.

"Yes, sir." I bathe in the silence, "Once the soldiers had realized, individually, of my identity their demeanors had changed."

Anderson was back to staring me down, "How?"

"Some tried to win my sympathy, those were the ones that relinquished the most information. The others attempted to either provoke me or stay silent. It seemed, although there was no chance of escape, they had wanted to observe my ability."

"That's to be expected." I recognized my own mother's voice, "They see her as one of their own, or a betrayer of their own. That will be a good angle to use."

It didn't matter if I agreed. "In the end they were disposed of."

Anderson laced his fingers together and settled his chin atop them, there seemed to be a flicker of amusement in that gaze. It made my stomach revolt. The way he looked at me like a spectacle, a circus animal for them to cage and abuse when they willed it.

"Were they impressed?"

"Excuse me?" My mask faltered for only a second.

"Were the rebels, the Unnaturals, were they impressed by your ability when you killed them?" Anderson’s grin was small and quiet. His words rang and bounced across my skull.

"I believe it was more painful than they had anticipated."

Anderson finally settled back into his seat, "Good. The rebels hear of a girl who can kill a man with a touch, they're going to believe it's instantaneous. Prove them otherwise. I want those eight prisoners interrogated and properly disposed of, and as your commanding officer on this task, I want reports written to me before the tenth of next month."

And just like that, I was dismissed. I settled back into my seat beside Emmeline and felt as her gloved hand crept across the space between us. It was an offer, a broker for peace, I wouldn't take it. I didn't need comfort. This was my task, the job I was raised for.

I would not be the weaker sister between the two of us.

[your-dietician]

14 Ways To Deal With Heartbreak As Told By A Counselling Psychologist

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/14-ways-to-deal-with-heartbreak-as-told-by-a-counselling-psychologist/

14 Ways To Deal With Heartbreak As Told By A Counselling Psychologist

Nelly Wadia , 08 Jul 2020

Heartbreak By kittirat roekburi | www.shutterstock.com

I’m pretty sure that everyone who reads this blog would have gone through a painful heartbreak at some point. We’ve all cried out in pain and pined for the person we’ve lost. Breakups are hard for both the breaker-upper and the breaker-uppee, in different ways of course. For the person who has been broken up with, they become crippled with the rejection and wonder what they could have done differently? And there’s always the question about whether there is an easy way to recover from a broken heart. But it’s a long, winding journey and a time-consuming one as well because healing doesn’t occur overnight. The worst part is one minute you start feeling better and like you can conquer the world and the next, a wave of darkness overtakes you. So, we reached out to Anagha Bhave, Therapist and Counselling Psychologist for tips on how to get through heartbreak.

Here’s a look at a few pointers on how to move on and deal with heartbreak:

1) Grieve

We believe we should stay strong through heartbreak, but the truth is we need to live through it. We’re only human and we should be allowed to be miserable and mope about the house. It is important to really understand and accept the circumstances that led to this heartbreak. Take some time off and cry to your heart’s content, binge on your favourite foods and indulge in your self-care routine. Even if getting out of the relationship was a good thing, you will still experience deep emotions of loss because you were attached to this person. Grieve because it is the first and most important step to healing and you’ll feel a whole lot better after letting it all out.

Grieve the heartbreak. By Antonio Guillem | www.shutterstock.com

2) Focus on methods that will be helpful for your mental health

One’s self-confidence takes a huge hit when our partner tells us that they no longer wish to be with us and our self-esteem and mental health is hugely impacted. Re-building what breaks is hard and takes time. Keep reminding yourself of your strength by being independent and doing things on your own. Eventually what was once lost will find it’s way back to you. Focus on what makes you happy, do everything that you wanted to do but couldn’t because of the limitations that were prevalent in the relationship. Ask yourself the difficult questions—what are your strengths and how can you amplify them? What are your weaknesses and how can you improve on them?

Don’t fixate on the lack of things and instead, focus on the many blessings you have. Give yourself credit on how far you’ve come. Pay attention to how you work through life’s obstacles. Avoid the negative self-chatter, it will inevitably stunt your growth. You have to consciously remind yourself that you are better than how you perceive yourself.

3) Get a hobby

The best way to overcome any painful experience including heartbreak is to find a hobby. Take a cooking class or a painting class or a class in robotics. Anything that keeps you busy and helps you be productive will ease you out of your emotional funk. Set up a routine that works for you and stick to it, care for yourself and work on expanding your horizon. This will automatically keep you from sinking into your unhappy place. Plus, you’ll meet new people and be plenty distracted. You never know when lightning may strike again. Replan your life immediately and make a checklist of how you want to approach this new side to you.

Engage in a hobby. By Vadym Pastukh | www.shutterstock.com

4) Work-out

Exercise, go for a run or a walk, meditate, do some yoga. Getting in shape and feeling healthy can revive one’s purpose and help them rebuild their self-esteem. Not forgetting to mention that working out releases endorphins in the brain which is a happy chemical. Make a conscious attempt at practising self-care, and indulge yourself with things you may otherwise skip.

Work-out. By Gorodenkoff | www.shutterstock.com

5) Confide in friends and family

Communicate what you are going through with your loved ones. Talking about your emotions may help you walk your way through the entire situation. It also helps shed light on the people that truly care and appreciate you. Thus, making you more grateful for the goodness in your life. It might allow you to finally approach this heartbreak more objectively. And your near and dear ones will also shine a light on areas that you might have conveniently ignored or approached more subjectively. Meaning, by talking about the good and bad parts of this relationship, you’re able to seek out different perspectives that would help you move on.

6) Get therapy

If you’re not open with your family and friends and prefer to open up in the presence of a stranger, then you should definitely seek out therapy. Alternatively, if you have no one to talk to then contact a therapist who will listen to your problems. One that will offer solutions and advice on dealing with heartbreak. Counselling can be an effective tool to overcome any form of trauma and we should move beyond the stigma attached to getting help. At the same time, you will also discover several things about yourself and your reactions to things in life. This entire process might just set you on a journey of self-discovery.

Seek out therapy if need be. By wavebreakmedia | www.shutterstock.com

7) Spend time with your friends

After a heartbreak, it is better to not withdraw because it will only amplify those feelings of sadness and rejection. Your friends are like the perfect hype crew if they call you to hang out say yes! They will hear you out and buy you food and sweet treats to make you feel better. They might drag you to a movie or a party to enjoy your time. The best way to pull yourself out of heartbreak is to spend the most amount of time with your friends. It is likely they too would have suffered through a breakup and they might talk you through yours.

Spend time with your friends. By Jacob Lund | www.shutterstock.com

8) Avoid mind-numbing substances

While getting drunk every day may seem like the best idea to dull the pain, this may have some major long term side-effects. The same logic applies to drugs. It is only a be a temporary high after which the low will be a major low. What’s worse is you could end up getting addicted, leading to more problems later.

Avoid mind-numbing substances. By fizkes | www.shutterstock.com

9) Validate your emotions

A lot of the times we tend to suffer in silence and tell ourselves that our feelings aren’t important enough to ponder over. The truth is you need not diminish your feelings because someone else’s suffering might be greater. The expectation to be happy and have positive thoughts all the time will invalidate your sadness—a pattern called toxic positivity.

10) Remind yourself why the relationship ended

Life can be unfair and unpredictable but accepting that sometimes life doesn’t go our way can be helpful. Reset your expectations from life and yourself and you might find happiness within. You have to fight the urge to go over every detail of what you could have done differently to save the relationship. The reality is that it ended and needed to end. Both partners need to be happy together and if one isn’t then you’re only delaying the inevitable. Remind yourself of the pros and cons, think about the things your partner did to upset you and cause you inner turmoil. It’s no one’s fault, sometimes people grow apart and it is no indication of anyone’s worth. Accept that the relationship is over and close that door forever. Holding out hope as we’ve discussed only leads to disappointment.

11) Avoid getting in touch with your ex

Whether it was an amicable end or a painful heartbreak, avoid getting in touch with your ex. If you find that hard to do, delete them off all your social accounts. Trying to keep tabs on them will only hurt you further and stall your progress by moving on with your life. Trying to stay friends with them when you are still not over the heartbreak is a bad idea. These kinds of equations rarely work and always leave you feeling confused but hopeful. You definitely do not need this while you’re in the midst of trying to build yourself back up. It might also be some form of a power play for them knowing that they can control you or the situation because you so desperately want them back in your life. They might reach out, but they might do so to keep you in their life as an option or to fulfil a basic sexual need, and not because they miss you. So don’t wait for someone who walked out of your life once.

It is also likely that you might want to hold on to pictures and mementoes of your time together, but if these things are emotional triggers for you, then it might be best to throw them out so that you don’t have constant reminders lying around. Out of sight, out of mind is definitely a good tactic to apply in this situation.

Avoid getting in touch with your ex. By Antonio Guillem | www.shutterstock.com

12) Don’t try to make them jealous

While you’re out spending time with your friends it’s best to try and not make your ex jealous. We think that by doing say they might want to rekindle the relationship and they might even do so but not for the right reasons. If you were truly having fun you wouldn’t have to prove that you’re happy without them.

13) Don’t jump into another relationship

A lot of people tend to want to jump right back into the dating pool because it validates them and fills the void of rejection. It is perfectly normal to get on dating apps and acknowledge that there are lots of options. However, getting involved with someone before you’re ready may hurt them if they’re looking for a genuine connection while you’re simply looking for a distraction. You also run the risk of rebounding on the next person if you rush into it too soon. Dive in when you are truly ready to look for something.

Don’t start dating too soon. By Tero Vesalainen | www.shutterstock.com

14) Set goals to overcome heartbreak

Set small but achievable goals. Every day, do 1 thing that you wouldn’t normally do and before you know it, you’ve come a whole year into the future. A better and more evolved you. Resilience will help you not only overcome this situation but far worse scenarios in the future.

On a separate note, I also want to discuss the possibility of having to work with an ex after a break-up:

If you happen to work together this could be a tricky situation to manoeuvre through.

You could look for a way to minimise contact, maybe switch timings or departments.

Try to fight the urge to look in their direction.

Spend time interacting with your other colleagues.

Loop in friends at work to help you resist the temptation to talk to your ex.

If you’re familiar with their route to work or hangout spots, avoid it till you feel better and more in control.

Don’t isolate yourself and avoid going to office gatherings altogether, go and hang out with your colleagues and have a great time.

Working with an ex after a break-up. By aslysun | www.shutterstock.com

The pain from heartbreak is equivalent to intense physical pain. At the end of the day, the loss of a partner is no indication of your worth and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

What are some of the things you’ve done to deal with heartbreak? Let me know in the comments below.

We often have conversations around relationships on Malini’s Girl Tribe. To be a part of them, join the tribe here.

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[ghostlystore]

The New-York based artist guides us through Several Shades Of The Same Color.

Max Ravitz, aka Patricia, produces techno with a spelunker's wide-eyed exploratory flair. His new album offers infinite ways in which a listener can roam along with him. Released July 14th across three 12"s, Several Shades Of The Same Color was Bleep's album of the week and is featured among Bandcamp Daily's essential picks — they summarize it well: "The whole thing is a marvel, the kind of maze-like album that keeps revealing surprise left turns and secret passages. Several Shades reveals Patricia to be a true synth artist, comfortable in multiple mediums, bending all of them to his will." Below, Max fields our questions with patience and consideration. Sit back, cue up the kaleidoscopic trip, and get to know the mind behind the maze.

[ Several Shades Of The Same Color in The Ghostly Store | iTunes | Spotify ]

Suppose by nature an interview asks us to defy some of Several Shades Of The Same Color's listening tips ("Don't think; Just hear."). If that's alright, explain your mindset behind encouraging listeners not to over-analyze?

I could literally write a several page essay on this one topic, but I'll try my best to keep it reasonable... I'm gonna start with this immense quote by Igor Stravinsky (anyone reading who isn't familiar with Stravinsky, get familiar): I consider that music is, by its very nature, powerless to express anything at all, whether a feeling, an attitude of mind, a psychological mood, a phenomenon of nature, etc....If, as is nearly always the case, music appears to express something, this is only an illusion, and not a reality.... In my mind, music serves as an extension of language, aimed at expressing ideas that can't be described with words. Obviously lyrical music has the capacity to make this expression a bit more overt, but music began as a non-lyrical tradition and it's real power lies in abstraction. To our brains, all sound is just stimuli used to generate information. Our ears monitor fluctuations in air pressure, and our brain filters these fluctuations through past experiences to determine the source of the sound, and its meaning. For example, say you've watched an action movie with gunfire, after which, you hear a gunshot in person without seeing the shot fired, you will assume the sound was made by a gun, because you recognize it as similar to the sound from the movie. Your brain looks for these associations to derive meaning from sound, and in turn, generate the appropriate bodily response. Music, in its simplest form, is nothing more than a series of these air pressure changes, and our brain tries to translate this stimuli into information. Determining the source of the sound is often the easy part, as most people know what different musical instruments sound like, but our brains trying to understand the meaning of music is where the great nebulous mystery lies. Music journalism is often an attempt to translate this mystery into words, and its pervasiveness nowadays encourages people to approach listening from an analytical point of view where music has to have meaning. Personally, I don't listen to music in an attempt to glean its message. I'm not looking to understand why music makes me feel a certain way, the fact that it makes me feel things I don't always understand is more powerful than knowing why. If my goal as a musician was to convey some clearly discernible message through my work, I might as well just be a writer. Music inherently defies description, so the record's listening suggestions were meant to encourage people not to analyze it too much.

On that topic, what is 'body music' to you?

Well I consider body music to be any music that a listener can feel, as opposed to think about. I would say most lyrical music strays away from being body music, as the addition of words will lead the listener to consider what is being said. Also, to be clear, body music can of course elicit thoughts and ideas, but is able to do so without using formal signifiers like words. Ultimately, I tend to avoid defining musical concepts, as definitions can give rise to rules and restraints. I also avoid classifying music by genre , because in my mind, genres are essentially a set of guidelines for what a type of music is 'supposed to be'. In general, you'll find I have an aversion to the idea that music needs to follow any rules.

Your music is recorded live. Is there a certain effect or freedom or constraint to this approach?

My current solo recording process is aimed at heavily restricting what I allow myself to do. I used to spend weeks, if not months editing songs to death trying to achieve some sense of perfection, then I'd reach the end of that process and not even like what I made. After moving to New York, I met a few likeminded producers, and began collaborating more and more. Having worked in relative isolation up until that point, getting to see how other people would approach recording and production was very useful for me. Eventually I made a rule for myself that I could never take longer than a day working on a song, and if I couldn't finish it in a day, I'd just move on. In the past, I would get attached to ideas, and like one element of a song so much that I'd try to force it to work, but having a one day limit makes me move on from ideas that aren't working. In the end, I find the songs I like best, are the ones I make quickly anyways.

When performing live, how closely do you follow the recordings? 

Not at all. My live and studio practices are two entirely different things. I've been collecting recording gear since I was 15, so I have a lot of equipment. On any given song I record in my studio, I can be using drastically different gear, so trying to approximate these different techniques live becomes difficult. My solution has been to just approach live performance differently. At shows, I play 90% improvisational material that has almost no relation to my recorded stuff. Occasionally I'll end up liking something from a live set enough to try and recreate it at home, but that doesn't happen often.

What were the conditions or emotions and logic that lead you to this record? When did the concept of three LPs, an epic, first enter your mind? 

My only real goal in developing the record was to make something long. I wanted the opportunity to show a wider range of my musical interests than a 4-5 track record would allow for. I think that longer albums are often given more exploratory leeway than something like an EP, and I wanted to show some weirder/slower/different music than I had released in the past. I thought about doing a 2x12", but I became fixated on the idea of the 3x12", and was lucky enough to have Sam Valenti from Ghostly be open to the idea. The track-listing itself was arranged by a friend of mine named Russell Butler, who also releases on Opal Tapes, the label that put out my first and third Patricia records. I sent him the 15 tracks to listen to, and asked him to come up with the sequencing because I was struggling to do so, and I'm really happy with what he arrived at.

The title and artwork reflects the music's stoicism in ways I can't quite define. Can you? 

Well the title has a few personal meanings to me, but I'm not going to share them, as I don't think they're relevant to the music. In terms of the artwork, it was done by my friend Molly Smith. I just sent her the music, gave her very little input, and she did all the heavy lifting. It was an incredible amount of work on her part, as all the images are meticulously-drawn pointillist pen drawings, and she did all the layout and graphic design work on top of that. It was a wonderful symbiotic working relationship, and I couldn't be happier with how the records came out. The chosen imagery could be related to her interpretation of the music, but that's really a question for her.

Spectral Sound is releasing the album in conjunction with your own label, Active Cultures. It's a pretty new venture — tell us about it. 

Well I wouldn't even call Active Cultures a label, it's more a swirling entity lacking in form :) While releasing music will be an aspect of the project, it's really just a means to not only give myself more freedom to explore ideas, but also support my friends who are making interesting things. I find the idea of curation intriguing, so Active Cultures will allow me to flex that muscle a bit. Actually, Molly Smith who did the artwork for my record has helped develop the aesthetics for the project. I also worked with Bill Converse aka Tide Eman, who produced the Active Cultures record that came out in June. That was followed up by the Patricia LP co-released with Spectral Sound. There are a few other releases coming together, but the next record will be an archival release of music recorded by Todd Sines in the '90s, from around his .Xtrak and Enhanced days. I also recently started working on developing a website with a friend of mine named Jesse Pimenta, who records music as Dreams and has a record coming out on Apron records soon. Not sure what else to say, time will tell where it goes.

[kemetichaote]

How I See the Divine

I’m just going to permit myself to vent here because I haven’t done so in a while, or possibly ever. This thing exists for a reason... might as well take advantage of it. Also, this does get kind of spooky and spiritual so I guess for that reason it does actually make sense to put it here.

I sat with myself for well about an hour, consulting with my...tuplas? Thoughtforms? I don’t even know what to call them at this point, either way I have worked with them for most of my life to aid me in executive functioning and emotion regulation.

Anyway, I basically reached the conclusion that although my whole life I have hated and dissociated from myself and effectively not KNOWN it at all I need to learn to embrace it way more. Because who is to say that your highest self, often your inner voice, is not, in fact, the divine--or a manifestation of it? Or vice versa?

Further discussion below the cut:

When you’ve been made to feel small your whole life, this gets messed up--you suppress your inner voice. Even resent it. This is because people have been telling you as long as you can remember that you’re thinking too much, you’re feeling too much. You are doing too much. You are, effectively, too much.

This pedantry is not necessarily abuse. (I really don’t want to get into this discussion actually--it hits close to home. If anyone wants to have #discourse about this please message me privately.) The way I see it, abuse can and does often wear this mask. But here, I’m talking about compassionate people. People who mean well, people who know better...people who truly love you, even. Because they know of no other way of escaping suffering themselves. They have learned the art of disappearance, of suppressing. These people do not feel their emotions, or even bear witness to them. They just “roll with the punches” and learn to deal with it without any regard to anything higher than themselves and how the comfort of others factors into their own comfort levels. (They may be religious, or even devout, but that’s not what I’m talking about here so bear with me.)

Everyone is selfish.

But to those like me who feel constant signs coming from themselves and/or the divine, this is a difficult truth to swallow. How can these people suppress my crying out against this very real suffering at the hands of other humans--unfairness, injustice, cruelty? At whom can I direct my emotions?

The natural solution for me historically, and I’m sure for many others, has been to direct it right back at people. After all, if the world won’t listen, why would the divine? When you lose touch (or fail to make contact altogether) with your inner divine voice, you lose touch with others on this plane of existence. These people around you are not “truly” voiceless in your eyes. You tell yourself that they could use their voice if they knew how. But this is about as useful as if we were to take this literally. Everyone has their own struggle, their own suffering, and therefore their own unique sense of voicelessness.

I read somewhere--it was a suggestions blog or something similar, paraphrasing something else I’m sure--that in order to escape suffering collectively, we must first escape it individually. What this means to me is that we must be mindful of the suffering to start with, and then following from that be able to claim power over it by essentially eluding it. By just as much as fixating on our own suffering, we are perpetuating, even inflicting it onto others.

But how can we abandon suffering if we are constantly experiencing it? Or even just bearing witness to it? Furthermore, how can we abandon suffering if the divine itself seems to perpetuate it? How do you, then, honor the divine, when it seems to hold you in utter contempt? Even Christ is said to have cried out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46) as he suffered on the cross.

This is answered with yet another question (I swear I’m not trying to be woo-woo and annoying, this is just how I write!): how do you honor others? Most will say, I treat them the way I want to be treated. Why? Because this shows a basic level of respect for other people. Okay, then, how do you honor yourself? Uh. It’s a tricky question. So let’s go down a different path for now: how do you honor the divine?

For me personally, I would say I partake in worship. I sing in church. I leave offerings...but I haven’t been so hot about doing that lately. Hmm... I pray. I don’t know if that’s actually honoring them though? Like, I ask for small, realistic things. I seek these blessings and therefore, they are found. I thank them. I feel grateful. Is that honoring them?

I told myself, or the divine told me, or whatever, that YES, that IS honoring them, because you are doing what they would want you to do to honor yourself. You are honoring them by welcoming them into your life. Welcomes are not stay-forevers...they know that you can, and may, kick them out at some point, just like you would with just about anyone who you felt overstayed their visit. (Maybe you have done it before, and everyone knows it’s probably going to happen again, and no-one is saying anything and it’s really awkward!) But you should KNOW that as soon as YOU say the word they will honor you! and! they will honor themselves! They will tell themselves, “we are free.” They will not be there on your doorstep, nagging for re-entry. Nor will they be waiting at your threshold with fire and brimstone at the ready for your next f*ckup. (Whether you are at peace with what happens upon or after death is up to you and your belief system; this is merely discussing the present moment as it currently exists, where you are not dead and you certainly should not be thinking about death right now and, therefore, the divine likely isn’t thinking about it either.)

Unless, of course, you don’t honor yourself. You don’t believe that you should have healthy boundaries--where you resent yourself for reaching out to anyone in the first place--and how do we reach out to the divine specifically, other than through introspection and self-directed action?

...It’s kind of spooky, isn’t it?

I guess what I’m trying to get at is this: I want to share my wisdom. I want to tell you, honor your own inner divine voice. This is not necessarily restricted to the devout. I’m talking about your higher self, as something that can (I think?) be defined by organic structures in the brain (or at least psychoanalysis). You can call it whatever you want. Freedom from suffering begins with self-directed compassion, and if embracing the divine helps you be self-compassionate, I say go for it.

Look at it this way: no matter what path the river of compassion flows, do what you can to maintain that flow, or honor its existence. Ask for help from your inner divine voice first. Ask it, what do I need exactly, in a fundamental sense? (Think of this as an emotio-spiritual Ockham’s Razor...you need to pinpoint what this need is. A language-based explanation or label might not be necessary, but I think at least a strong emotional energy-based impression is needed.) Then ask it, how would consulting with another human give me the knowledge to find what I need? Only then would it be honoring someone else--and therefore yourself--to ask for support. Because you’re not trying to get what you need directly from this person...this is unrealistic, emotionally coercive, harmful, and self-defeating. You are asking for knowledge from others, and you will interpret this knowledge using your own intellect that you have gained from your own experience. You will then use this interpretation to make a judgement. When this judgement leads you to what you truly needed, you have gained wisdom. All of these forces have to be called upon with full knowledge that your experience of them does indeed shape them. Fundamentally, you must trust your own experience, but understand that this experience was likely colored by suffering. You must bear witness to your suffering without becoming it or making it your Truth.

These are all things that must be cultivated all the time, for all time. Imagine that your Self is a patch of earth. Cultivating comfort (read as: freedom from suffering) comes from planting honor in the ground. The watering of the soil is compassion; maybe you got the water from the aforementioned compassion river. The sun shining above is the divine. It is up to YOU to place the garden where the sun will strike and where the water is accessible! 

Now, keep watering...and you might say, wow, I have all these comfort crops not just for me, but to share with others! Maybe others have begun watering the crops, too. Good for them! Should this mean that you stop watering? Assuming that freedom from suffering is, in fact, a perfectly sustainable agricultural phenomenon, then maybe ;) but for the purposes of this metaphor, it would be unwise of you to stop watering, because how can you trust that others, being human themselves, won’t stop watering too and let the crops die? Then you will have effectively dropped the ball on others and yourself. And of course “divine intervention” won’t quite be enough; the divine/your wisdom shows you that water falling yields better crop...it is up to you to cultivate it. 

The trick is to, as paraphrased from Voltaire, tend to your own garden. Honor it. Honor others when they give and receive help. And honor yourself, because it all started with you. Honor the divine...as an aspect of or apart from yourself. Whatever works for you personally. Compassion is the water of life, but honor comprises the atoms in everything. 

[naturecpw]

How to Quiet Your Mind Chatter

To break the tape loop in your head, talk to yourself as another person.

By Liz Greene March 10, 2021

We’ve all been there. Stuck in our own heads, fixated on a two-minute conversation from three days ago. We replay it over and over. I shouldn’t have snapped at Dad. He was always so patient when I was growing up. We get stuck. The voice in our heads goes from an ally to a vicious nag, just looping uselessly over the same things, again and again and again.

Ethan Kross, an experimental psychologist and neuroscientist at the University of Michigan, wants to teach us how to control the voices in our heads. Not the voices of mental illness, mind you, just the little voice we all have, cheerily (or naggingly) narrating our lives as we go about our days.

The goal is not to stop talking to ourselves. That would be a bad thing.

According to Kross, our inner voices can be one of our greatest strengths—when we can control them. Those inner voices can take us to whole other worlds, allow us to imagine different pasts or exciting futures, but they can also trap us in a hell of our own making.

In his new book, Chatter: The Voice in Our Head, Why It Matters, and How to Harness It, Kross walks readers through a number of different strategies to control mental chatter. A key strategy is “distanced self-talk,” using language to create mental distance from yourself. The best medicine for being stuck on a problem is to gain perspective on it. And a way to gain that perspective is to talk to yourself as if you were another person. You can never be certain what he was thinking, Liz. He might have appreciated your retort.

I spoke to Kross via Zoom about how we can define mental chatter, what goes on in our brains during a chatter spiral, and, of course, how to control that nagging, looping voice in our heads.

quiet minds: Ethan Kross, author of Chatter, wanted to “really get out what we know about what chatter is, why we experience it, and how to deal with it,” he says. “I’ve always been passionate about translating what we know for others so it’s not just scientists talking about it.”

What is chatter?

When we experience problems, we often turn our attention inward to make sense of them. But we often get stuck. We ruminate, we worry, we catastrophize. Chatter refers to those negative thought loops that characterize that experience of being stuck. It can involve perseverating about the past, which we call rumination, perseverating about the future, we call that worry. That’s what chatter is.

How can you recognize the difference between your normal stream of consciousness and when you are starting to go into a chatter spiral?

Typically it’s when you find yourself rehearsing the same things over and over again. Rather than coming up with a more clear, objective solution to a problem. And you find that those negative thoughts are really beginning to prevent you from doing other things in ways that can be counter-productive. I think most of the time when people are experiencing chatter, they know it.

The human mind didn’t evolve to always be in the moment.

What are the effects of chatter?

It can make it really hard for us to think and perform well. And one principal reason for that is you only have so much ability to focus at any given moment in time. And so if all your focus is devoted toward your chatter, good luck getting anything done.

It can also have social consequences. When we experience chatter it can often lead to enhanced friction in our relationships. And it could do so in a variety of ways. We go to other people and talk about our problems and we keep talking about them and keep talking, and that pushes other people away. Or, when we’re experiencing heightened negative emotions, we often can lash out at other people. We displace our emotions on them.

What chatter does is take a stressful experience and prolong it. Stress in and of itself isn’t bad. What makes stress bad is when it’s prolonged over time, and that’s what chatter really does.

How do we quiet chatter?

Different strategies work for different people in different situations. And it’s really about combinations of strategies. When I experience chatter, I do several things. I’ll do distanced self-talk. I’ll do temporal distancing. I have some chatter advisors that help give me some perspective. Those aren’t the people who I’m necessarily closest to, but they’re people who are adept at helping me when I’m struggling with something. And I’ll also take walks in nature and tidy up the office around me.

In Chatter you talk about how you halted a particularly bad spiral by calling yourself by name. That’s fascinating to me, the idea that what we call ourselves in the privacy of our own head has real discernible effects.

We know that it’s a lot easier for people to give advice to others than it is to take that advice ourselves. And what we’ve learned is that language provides us with a tool for coaching ourselves through our problems like we were talking to another person. It involves using your name and other non-first person pronouns, like “you” or “he” or “she.” That’s distanced self-talk. It’s a tool that many people stumble on without really understanding how it works. The lab work shows this tool gives you some mental space, some psychological distance from our problems, which helps you give yourself more constructive advice for how to deal with a situation.

Why do you think that is?

The idea is that when you use a name to refer to yourself, it’s almost like an automatic perspective switch. It’s switching your perspective because you’re so used to using these parts of speech when you address others.

Does it matter what you call yourself? First name, last name, nickname?

We haven’t systematically explored whether it’s, you know, “All right, Ethan, you could do this” or “All right, E-man,” or things like that. We think the reason why names and pronouns are so useful is that these are parts of speech that we almost exclusively use when we think about and refer to other people. We know that with kids you can get benefits by having them imagine they’re a superhero. This is called the Batman effect, where if a kid’s struggling with a problem, you say something like, “Okay. Matt, what would Batman do in this situation? Imagine you’re Batman, and guide yourself through the problem.”

When you get rejected by another person, you don’t know what to do. We find it helps to talk about your personal experience not in the first person but using the generic version of you. What we find is that this is a linguistic device that helps people make meaning out of their negative experiences. It pushes the experience away from you. It’s not just me who’s experiencing it, it’s the world. Anyone who experiences something like this would respond this way. That gives you some distance and also helps you normalize your experience.

The human mind didn’t evolve to always be in the moment.

In Chatter you say that nature, even virtual nature, can have a really positive effect on our inner voice.

Yes. The idea behind why nature can be so useful is it gives our attention the ability to recharge. And the way it does so is by subtly drawing our attention to things that are interesting to us, but don’t necessarily take a whole lot of bandwidth for us to make sense of. Virtual nature can still have a positive effect, but there does appear to be a dose response relationship. So the more intense and immersive an actual experience is, the larger the gain. Another mechanism that explains how nature can be useful is by promoting feelings of awe. The sense that you’re in the presence of something vast that you can’t explain. That gives you a sense of perspective, makes your concerns feel smaller.

Why do our brains chatter?

When we experience negative emotions and try to analyze our feelings, we often zoom in narrowly on the experience to the exclusion of other ways of thinking about the event that could lead us to feel better. This leads us to get stuck in a negative cycle of thinking and feeling where we rehash what we felt and are feeling in ways that lead us to feel stuck. This psychological experience corresponds to increased levels of activity in brain networks that support self-referential and emotional processing in the brain. With respect to why this happens, it’s a case of an otherwise adaptive response—engaging in self-reflection to solve a problem—that runs off track in a particular circumstance.

What does a chatter spiral look like in the brain?

We see heightened levels of activation in a network of brain regions that are active when we think about ourselves as compared to other people. So this self-referential processing network, which tends to be more active among people who are clinically anxious and depressed, is also active when you look at people experiencing chatter.

And what is the self-referential network?

It’s a group of regions along the cortical midline: the dorsal singulate, the posterior singulate—it’s the same network that lights up when you put a person in a brain scanner and let them think about whatever they want to think about. Their thoughts naturally drift to self-related experiences. So it’s thinking about the self. That’s what’s more active when people are in these chatter states.

What kind of testing have you done to back these ideas up?

We’ve done some work in the brain with distanced self-talk, in the self-referential processing and emotional processing areas. What was interesting about the brain-imaging work is we see less activation in self-referential and emotional-processing networks, but we see no additional increase in activations in cognitive control networks, which are often invoked when we’re trying to regulate ourselves. The idea behind that is it feels difficult to rein in our emotions. But these linguistic shifts seem to be a bit easier for people to use. The shifts they provide to people’s perspectives are a bit more effortless. And we think part of the reason why that is, is because of just how tightly linked names are with thinking about other people.

There’s a trend at the moment in popular culture toward mindfulness. How do you feel about that?

I think mindfulness is great. And I think there’s a lot of great data behind it. The only caveat I would have about mindfulness is that it’s one tool amidst many. I think the challenge is to figure out how the different tools work together. The message behind mindfulness is sometimes taken too far in the sense of “you should always be in the moment.” The human mind didn’t evolve to always be in the moment, and we can derive enormous benefit from traveling in time, thinking about the past and future. So I think the challenge is to figure out how we can help people travel in time in their minds more effectively without getting stuck, rather than saying shut down the time travel machine altogether when you’re upset.

Can chatter be productive?

The inner voice is often amazing. It’s a super power. It helps us do a lot of different things. I equate chatter with an unproductive state of the inner voice. So I think once you’re in chatter, thought loops, we’re not talking productivity anymore. We’re talking about the opposite. But that is not to say that the goal should be to silence our inner voice or stop talking to ourselves. I think that would be a bad thing. The challenge is to figure out how to talk to yourself and use language to weigh in on your problems without getting stuck in chatter.

https://nautil.us/issue/98/mind/how-to-quiet-your-mind-chatter?utm_source=pocket-newtab

🗣  Comments 🗣

How to quiet the mind chatter? Try cannabis. It doesn't always work, but it may provide a workable way to deal with the mind chatter if you're willing to listen.

Doesn't everyone have an ongoing internal conversation with themselves? A You/I dialogue? How else does anyone thrash out decisions, conflicts, emotions? Calm or console or castigate oneself?  But why would anyone use their name? "Honey" or "Moron" perhaps, depending on the emotion, but your name? Like the voice of a scolding boss or parent? Instant resistance! Do people even identify with their names inwardly? Nature, mindless physical work, a book, a movie, a distraction that facilitates the inner conversation by freeing the mind often produces breakthrough, resolution, even fresh creative ideas. Zen? Also writing it all down to organize chaotic thoughts and emotions helps.

So long as one avoids abusive chatter toward the self. This is a result of early exposure to abusive  modelers, and a source of suffering, when early learned.Culture itself is what we learn as behavioral norm, and when our own behaviors and choices are stunted through having learned abusive response, we transmit it, signal it, to others who may consequently avoid us or themselves label or mislabel us in stereotypical ways (to understand the Fundamental Attribution Error, a common mistake in evaluating others' behavior, especially that of novel individuals, we have to abandon such stereotyping of ourselves and our own behavior).SO, if noting that your inner discourse is abusive, the negatively emotional repetition is the important self-signal of need of kinder response - the most important change you can experience, as we treat others as we treat ourselves.Depression and inappropriate response to sensory input, others and other organisms, situations etc. tripping excessive emotional response, rage or overattachment, are dysfunctional in the extreme, even though they might seem to create comfortable hierarchy in which to survive.

The area is Cingulate, and is involved with arousal of memory to deal with novel present responses.This is a general statement, as brains asses sensory input with interoceptive associations. The cingulate areas mentioned are important central connections to what's called Default Mode Network, and likely highly involved in the intelligent response to contingencies  that constitute dreaming information..Low activity there is related only to reduced introspection, which cognitive scientists and psychologists do not regard as functional or "good."as stereotyped response is the root of some of our worst social/antisocial problems.So, searching for appropriate, novel responses to both positively and negatively valenced experience is an important part of consciousness, whether in humans or other mammals with large cingulate gyri - often wide-ranging with consequently increased exposure to novel events and meetings.Of course, emotional, mental, physical agility requires that all the brain is available, and activity areas do cycle. The interviewee is primarily speaking of dysfunctional dissociation from the present. But it cannot be stressed enough that those whose cingulate areas are diminished in activity may be those whose chosen responses to novel experience is excessively conservative or detached from present reality. Every individual remains unique, and the valences of their experience differ. We attempt to resolve painful experiences, and sometimes teach ourselves to withdraw from repeat of any that we overgeneralize as intrusive or painful.

Mind Chatter

[kimberlylam1997]

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Feel Like You Live for the Weekend? Small Ways to Recharge During Your Week

So many people feel like they just need to get through their workweek so they can finally relax and unwind on the weekend. They feel like they’re running on a treadmill they can’t get off from Monday to Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday, they can finally collapse on the couch or actually have fun.

One reason we feel this way is that we don’t have clear boundaries between work and home, so the weekend is when we let ourselves be “off,” said Alicia Hodge, Psy.D, a licensed psychologist and speaker in Maryland whose work centers around assisting people to overcome anxiety, gain new perspectives and enhance their self-care. “Unfortunately, living for the weekend puts an incredible amount of pressure on 48 hours.”

Another reason is that our work environment might be anything but enjoyable. Maybe you don’t like the work you do because you’re not being valued or supported or living in your purpose, said Holly Sawyer, PhD, a Philadelphia-based therapist specializing in helping professional women live their best life.

When we have the mentality that we’ll live our lives on the weekends, we miss out on joy and fulfillment during the week, our needs go unmet, and we only add to our frustration.

However, there are many small ways you can feel nourished and supported throughout the week, even if your job is demanding or stressful. As Hodge said, every day is an opportunity to savor a sweet moment—you don’t need to fixate on Friday night.

Here are some suggestions to get you started.

Address any stress. The first step is to reduce or eliminate stressors at work, said Ilona Salmons, Ed.D, LMFT, a Los Angeles-based psychotherapist that works with high-achieving professionals to resolve personal and occupational issues, including chronic stress and burnout. “Many of us can eliminate at least one or two things.” She suggested asking yourself: “What are the things that are causing me undue stress that have a clear and actionable solution?”

Embrace the new. “[I]ntroduce new experiences to your week,” Hodge said. And these experiences can be small, even tiny. Hodge shared these examples: Bring a new food for lunch; take a different way home and notice the differences; go outside and use your senses to savor your surroundings.

Pause to reflect. Sawyer suggested journaling in the evenings about your day. For instance, she said, you might journal about: three things that went well; three things you’re grateful for; three ways you acknowledged and cared for yourself (e.g., taking several breaks, listening to calming music while working); and three intentions for tomorrow.

“No one can predict the next day, so we can at least try to set our heart’s intention on what we would like to project in the workplace in hopes of getting the same positive energy in return.”

Transition when you get home. Include some kind of break between work and home to help you reset, Hodge said. For instance, you might practice deep breathing for 5 minutes, she said. You might change into comfortable clothes, perform several stretches or take a quick shower. You can do the same if you work from home (once you’ve decided you’ve completed your work day).

Practice pampering. After work, engage in simple activities that appeal to your senses. For instance, Salmons suggested giving yourself a facial or applying a face mask or scrub. Take a long bath with the works: light candles, use drops of essential oils, put on your favorite music. What feels like pampering to you? How can you include that in your week in small ways?

Have an evening routine. A routine “can keep your body in a rhythm and will give your brain cues when it is time to rest,” Hodge said. For instance, she said, your routine might look like: not checking work emails 30 minutes before bed, writing a small list of what you’re grateful for; and listening to relaxing sounds as you fall asleep. Think about what sincerely soothes you.

Create small moments with others. You can do this both at home and at work. For instance, some of Salmons’s clients take the time to stop by their colleagues’ desks to say “good morning” and chat for a few minutes. Other clients aim to engage in at least one prosocial activity per day, such as giving a compliment, bringing a colleague coffee or offering to help on a project.

“Attorneys I interviewed who said they had at least one colleague whom they could trust reported that these relationships played a significant role in reducing stress.”

When at home, some of her clients have stopped discussing work with their spouses and instead use that time to reconnect or do something fun together.

If you have kids, Sawyer suggested asking them about their day, letting them read to you, and finding ways to laugh together. As she said, “Laughter is great medicine.”

Meet multiple needs with one activity. That is, go to a fun networking event, which includes professional development and social time, Salmons said. You also might take a walk with a friend, or start a monthly book club with family.

In other words, “group things together to get the most out of your time,” Salmons said. To start, think about what you need, particularly during the week, and what single activities check off several of those boxes (e.g., the need for connection, the need for calm, the need to play).

Identify what’s siphoning your time. You might have more time than you think for things that rejuvenate and energize you. Many of Salmons’s clients who are high achievers also procrastinate. “Once we work on their procrastination, they find that they free up a lot of time by being more effective and efficient while at work—and consequently don’t have to work overtime or [bring] their work home.”

Another time suck are mornings if you end up taking a while to get ready. This is when Salmons’s clients have streamlined their wardrobes or lay out their clothes the night before. This saves time, which can be spent doing something that brings joy, such as journaling, meditating, dancing, drawing or cooking breakfast.

Social media also siphons our time. “[M]any people spend hours per day on social media: 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there, it all adds up,” Salmons said. If you reduce your social media use or eliminate it altogether, you can free up hours each day to practice self-care and other meaningful activities, she said.

In other words, take a look at how you structure your days and accomplish tasks. Can you do something to simplify your process, to decrease decision-making—and thereby give yourself more time to do what really matters, to do what you love, to do what makes you smile?

“Recharging during the week is simply about being intentional and also having self-compassion,” Hodge said. “Show yourself your value by making time for the here and now versus reserving happiness for the weekend.”

from World of Psychology https://ift.tt/2CIuFOc via theshiningmind.com

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Feel Like You Live for the Weekend? Small Ways to Recharge During Your Week

So many people feel like they just need to get through their workweek so they can finally relax and unwind on the weekend. They feel like they’re running on a treadmill they can’t get off from Monday to Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday, they can finally collapse on the couch or actually have fun.

One reason we feel this way is that we don’t have clear boundaries between work and home, so the weekend is when we let ourselves be “off,” said Alicia Hodge, Psy.D, a licensed psychologist and speaker in Maryland whose work centers around assisting people to overcome anxiety, gain new perspectives and enhance their self-care. “Unfortunately, living for the weekend puts an incredible amount of pressure on 48 hours.”

Another reason is that our work environment might be anything but enjoyable. Maybe you don’t like the work you do because you’re not being valued or supported or living in your purpose, said Holly Sawyer, PhD, a Philadelphia-based therapist specializing in helping professional women live their best life.

When we have the mentality that we’ll live our lives on the weekends, we miss out on joy and fulfillment during the week, our needs go unmet, and we only add to our frustration.

However, there are many small ways you can feel nourished and supported throughout the week, even if your job is demanding or stressful. As Hodge said, every day is an opportunity to savor a sweet moment—you don’t need to fixate on Friday night.

Here are some suggestions to get you started.

Address any stress. The first step is to reduce or eliminate stressors at work, said Ilona Salmons, Ed.D, LMFT, a Los Angeles-based psychotherapist that works with high-achieving professionals to resolve personal and occupational issues, including chronic stress and burnout. “Many of us can eliminate at least one or two things.” She suggested asking yourself: “What are the things that are causing me undue stress that have a clear and actionable solution?”

Embrace the new. “[I]ntroduce new experiences to your week,” Hodge said. And these experiences can be small, even tiny. Hodge shared these examples: Bring a new food for lunch; take a different way home and notice the differences; go outside and use your senses to savor your surroundings.

Pause to reflect. Sawyer suggested journaling in the evenings about your day. For instance, she said, you might journal about: three things that went well; three things you’re grateful for; three ways you acknowledged and cared for yourself (e.g., taking several breaks, listening to calming music while working); and three intentions for tomorrow.

“No one can predict the next day, so we can at least try to set our heart’s intention on what we would like to project in the workplace in hopes of getting the same positive energy in return.”

Transition when you get home. Include some kind of break between work and home to help you reset, Hodge said. For instance, you might practice deep breathing for 5 minutes, she said. You might change into comfortable clothes, perform several stretches or take a quick shower. You can do the same if you work from home (once you’ve decided you’ve completed your work day).

Practice pampering. After work, engage in simple activities that appeal to your senses. For instance, Salmons suggested giving yourself a facial or applying a face mask or scrub. Take a long bath with the works: light candles, use drops of essential oils, put on your favorite music. What feels like pampering to you? How can you include that in your week in small ways?

Have an evening routine. A routine “can keep your body in a rhythm and will give your brain cues when it is time to rest,” Hodge said. For instance, she said, your routine might look like: not checking work emails 30 minutes before bed, writing a small list of what you’re grateful for; and listening to relaxing sounds as you fall asleep. Think about what sincerely soothes you.

Create small moments with others. You can do this both at home and at work. For instance, some of Salmons’s clients take the time to stop by their colleagues’ desks to say “good morning” and chat for a few minutes. Other clients aim to engage in at least one prosocial activity per day, such as giving a compliment, bringing a colleague coffee or offering to help on a project.

“Attorneys I interviewed who said they had at least one colleague whom they could trust reported that these relationships played a significant role in reducing stress.”

When at home, some of her clients have stopped discussing work with their spouses and instead use that time to reconnect or do something fun together.

If you have kids, Sawyer suggested asking them about their day, letting them read to you, and finding ways to laugh together. As she said, “Laughter is great medicine.”

Meet multiple needs with one activity. That is, go to a fun networking event, which includes professional development and social time, Salmons said. You also might take a walk with a friend, or start a monthly book club with family.

In other words, “group things together to get the most out of your time,” Salmons said. To start, think about what you need, particularly during the week, and what single activities check off several of those boxes (e.g., the need for connection, the need for calm, the need to play).

Identify what’s siphoning your time. You might have more time than you think for things that rejuvenate and energize you. Many of Salmons’s clients who are high achievers also procrastinate. “Once we work on their procrastination, they find that they free up a lot of time by being more effective and efficient while at work—and consequently don’t have to work overtime or [bring] their work home.”

Another time suck are mornings if you end up taking a while to get ready. This is when Salmons’s clients have streamlined their wardrobes or lay out their clothes the night before. This saves time, which can be spent doing something that brings joy, such as journaling, meditating, dancing, drawing or cooking breakfast.

Social media also siphons our time. “[M]any people spend hours per day on social media: 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there, it all adds up,” Salmons said. If you reduce your social media use or eliminate it altogether, you can free up hours each day to practice self-care and other meaningful activities, she said.

In other words, take a look at how you structure your days and accomplish tasks. Can you do something to simplify your process, to decrease decision-making—and thereby give yourself more time to do what really matters, to do what you love, to do what makes you smile?

“Recharging during the week is simply about being intentional and also having self-compassion,” Hodge said. “Show yourself your value by making time for the here and now versus reserving happiness for the weekend.”

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/feel-like-you-live-for-the-weekend-small-ways-to-recharge-during-your-week/

[trentteti]

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette, Episode 5

Rachel Lindsay is a practicing attorney who once took the LSAT. And you, dear reader, are an aspiring attorney who will soon take the LSAT. Rachel Lindsay is also an aspiring married person, serving as the Bachelorette on this season of The Bachelorette, the love story these depraved times deserve. And you, dear reader, may also be an aspiring married person? Either way, you definitely have at least a few things in common with Rachel. So every Tuesday (edit: and/or Wednesday), we’re going to be tracking Rachel’s romantic journey on The Bachelorette, and see what we can learn about love, loss, and the LSAT. Welcome back to the Logical Rose-ning Section.

Last time: We got a lot of racially charged bickering between Lee and like every contestant who didn’t share his complexion, making for a particularly uncomfortable two hours of television that overshadowed the, say, blimp-bound one-on-one with Dean where he pretended to be afraid of heights (a claim that we at Most Strongly Supported believe was full of hot air) (sorry). Anyway, the most important part was the “Next time on,” when they told us that we’d be getting two episodes—4 hours (!)—of The Bachelorette. Look, ABC and Warner Bros. Production, I don’t want to tell you how to run your television show (though perhaps someone should). But I’ve written like 10,000 words on this season already and even I think this is too much Bachelorette. Let’s scale back.

So this week, we got an amount of content that would make even Fyodor Dostoyevsky blush, so we’re just gonna do a quick hit on every section of this week’s four hour bonanza of The Bachelorette.

Spelling Bee Group Date

We’re somehow start this episode still on the spelling bee group date from last year, where Kenny and Lee are really getting into it. While those guys are getting into a racially-charged debate, Bryan is offering Rachel bon mots like, “I feel like … If you think I’m too good to be true for you, and if I think you’re too good to be true for me … and I thought about it and you know, I think it’s a very simple solution. We’re the perfect match.” Rachel digs that Bryan uses his time in the house to make equivocal arguments and not fixate on the other cases, and awards Bryan with the group date rose.

Kenny, in ostensibly congratulating Bryan, gives Lee the least sub-by subtweet of all time when he commends Bryan for doing it the “right way” and not “snaking any dudes.” “It’s very important, not being a bitch-ass dude,” Kenny concludes. Even Lee’s lizardy brain can figure out Kenny’s intent and the two cuss a lot. This only gets us like 15 minutes into the episode.

One-on-One Date with Jack Stone

After the drama with Kenny and Lee in the group date, Rachel settles into a one-on-one date with Jack Stone who, as we learn during this date, is the most boring dude in the world. “Jack and I have a lot in common. We’re both attorneys. We’re both around the same age. We both live in Dallas,” Rachel says with all the conviction of a prospect-less 37 year-old psyching herself up for a Tinder date with guy whose profile prominently features a MAGA hat. Rachel, though, is very much not a prospect-less woman. She’s got nothing but prospects right now. Like 15 prospects at this point.

We’ll never know why the producers insisted on calling Jack Stone “Jack Stone,” when they didn’t give anyone else the full name treatment and when there aren’t any other Jacks here. But we will be able to figure out why Jack got the boot on this date. The date could not have gone worse for Jack Stone, who has a manic, crazy-eyed vibe and delusional ideas about how well the date is going.

I don’t know what Jack Stone did to piss off the producers, but their wrath is on display throughout this date. Over the course of this date, the producers keep juxtaposing his confidence in the date against Rachel’s obvious disinterest. Their complete lack of chemistry even bores the camera guy, who seems to get like drunk on the job, winding up with perfect shots like this.

The producers then show Jack Stone awkwardly kissing Rachel. Like really awkwardly. Like enough to make you never want to try to kiss anyone ever again. In his confessional, he admits to “falling for Rachel,” and his look of absolute obliviousness is held for forty beats too long.

But most of this is Jack’s fault, turning this into a 10-minute televisual face palm emoji. Rachel admits to wanting to see his passion. He starts talking about her dad’s sense of humor … dude.

Rachel asks where Jack would take her if they were back in Dallas. Jack’s first thought is to take her back to his apartment, “lock the door,” and lay in bed and talk. That, somehow, did not appeal to Rachel, who finally decides to put Jack and all of us out of our misery by sending Jack home. Jack walks directly into the Harbor River, sinking to the bottom to live with the stingrays and loggerhead turtles of the island.

Rose Ceremony

Rachel displays an absolute ruthlessness in the cutting guys this week, starting with the first of three rose ceremonies this episode. Despite half these guys being palpably thirsty for more time with Rachel, Rachel decides to forgo the cocktail party, and go straight to the ceremonial beheading of the contestants unworthy of her time or affection.

Eric, Peter, Adam, Will (who gets a catchphrase going, saying “I Will [accept this rose]”), Matt (who is a guy that’s been on this show, apparently), Josiah, Anthony, Kenny, and Lee get roses, joining Dean and Bryan, who were already sitting pretty with the date roses.

This means that Iggy and Jonathan are sent packing. Jonathan assaults Rachel one last time by tickling her on his way out. I guess making tickling your brand isn’t the best way to find a wife. Iggy realizes he should have spent less time with guy drama and more time with Rachel. Iggy and Jonathan are then sent to the nearby set of Gullah Gullah Island, where they will be forced to satisfy the sensual proclivities of Binyah Binyah Polliwog for the rest of their days.

After the ceremony, Rachel announces they’re heading to Oslo. Who of these guys could tell us offhand that Oslo is in Norway? I think Will, Anthony, Josiah, and maybe Dean would actually know that without the aid of Wikipedia. Anyway, the guys get excited for Norway, the land of the Lillehammer Olympics (and forgotten Netflix series of the same name), smoked salmon, and the good wood that inspired a Beatles song about a disturbed arsonist who gets so angry at a woman for going to bed early that he sets her house on fire.

Which of these guys are Oslo in Rachel’s estimation, and which of these guys are Norway in danger of going home? Onto the land of cured fish, cross-country skiing, and democratic socialism to find out.

One-on-One Date with Bryan

Upon meeting the guys in Scandanavia, Rachel gives the boys the most adorable Young M.A. “OOOOUUUU” shout out, and then gives Bryan the first one-on-one date card.

Dean, feeling himself way too much despite wearing a ripped pink sweater, declares that he wouldn’t be surprised if Bryan didn’t return.

Bryan and Rachel have the romantic date of repelling down the Holmenkollbakken Olympic ski jump. Rachel, experienced attorney and/or apparent Snoop fan, notes the coincidence that it’s 187 feet high—the California Penal Code statute for murder. Is she saying that that she feels like the producers are trying to murder her? Is she planning on murdering Bryan? The whole affair seemed pretty safe, the closest thing to murder being pretty unflattering angle the producers use to film Rachel and Bryan’s descent.

Rachel opens up to Bryan about insecurities about not feeling pretty growing up next to her sister. Bryan does the same, referencing his awkward high school days. Bryan becomes the first guy to drop the “falling in love with you” bomb. Rachel seems taken aback, but gives him the rose nonetheless.

Handball Group Date

Adam, Dean, Anthony, Piggo, Matt, Will, Alex, Eric, and Josiah get invited to a group date, leaving Kenny and Lee for their inevitable two-on-one.

The dudes play the Olympic-version handball, which is a bit different than the handball game the cool kids in the third grade wouldn’t let me play. Rachel calls handball a combination of football, basketball, and water polo, despite the fact that there’s no contact or water. Handball is basically swaggerless basketball, but it’s kind of cool because it involves jumping and throwing things very hard.

The guys split up in the red team and blue team to play. Rachel joins the red team. Piggo clearly a fouls Rachel when he tries to sneak in a little grab-action during the course of play. The referees, clearly not as familiar Rule 8.2 (b) of the International Handball Federations Rules of the Game as some astute viewers, let this clear foul (and potential display of sexual harassment) slide.

Will is apparently a bona fide handball savage, and gets a not-totally-undeserved comparison to Jordan in the ‘97 Finals from Rachel. The U.S. has never medaled in handball in the Olympics, but this might change once Will joins the national team.

Afterwards, at the polet portion of the date, Will further confides in Rachel about past loves lost, and gets some kysee time with Rachel. Alex macks on Rachel with a handwritten letter and Matt sews lyrics on a purple sheet, which Rachel seems to dig. Josiah, however, gets a little intense, discussing how Rachel’s beauty “emanates from [her] core” and talks about how she is the woman of his dreams. Rachel is taken aback about how disingenuous this all seems. We’re taken aback by extreme Josiah face.

Piggo the Perceptive impresses her by reading her eye contact. He gets some exclusive one-on-one hot tub action with Rachel, despite the aforementioned handball foul.

Will gets the group date rose. He again says “I absolutely Will” accept the offered rose. Cool catchphrase, dude.

Two-on-One Date with Kenny and Lee

The nadir of this four-hour marathon is this two-on-one date with Kenny and Lee. We’re reminded of the rules: Two guys, one rose, loser goes home. Look, Kenny and Lee argue a bunch. Lee appears to lie a whole bunch. He lies about Kenny dragging him out of a van (something the producers never showed us, even though they probably would have spent 17 hours on it if it actually happened), about Kenny admitting to having a “dark side” when he drinks, about Kenny threatening him during the date (which may have happened—most of what Kenny said was censored in his discussions with Lee), about telling Rachel that Kenny threatened him. Lee, look into how cameras work, man.

Kenny “wins” this date and Lee is thankfully sent packing. Who are these two-on-one dates for though? They’re never as “explosive” as the promos promise, so the audience doesn’t win. The Bachelor or Bachelorette never seem to have any fun on it. The winner of the two-on-one never actually wins the whole thing. Kenny at this point is basically the Utah Jazz upsetting the LA Clippers. Moral victory and he lives to see the next day, but he’s still facing an inevitable drubbing by the Golden State Warriors in the next round.

Rose Ceremony

In our second of three rose ceremonies, Rachel gives Dean, Eric, Piggo, Alex, Adam, and Matt roses, who join the aforementioned Will. Anthony (whom I had pegged as a real contender) and Josiah are sent packing home.

Anthony handles it with class, and Josiah … does not. “Something wrong with her brain,” noted neurologist Josiah notes. Josiah proceeds to calls out Alex for being a KGB agent (Alex is Russian) and Adam (who brought a doll named Adam Jr.) for bringing a “Michael Myers” doll (which, to be fair, is the only trait we’ve learned about Adam thus far).

Rachel announces they’re then taking a jaunt south to Copenhagen, Denmark, where the producers decide to let their pun game really fly.

One-on-One Date with Eric

The first date card in Copenhagen read “I’m cOPEN to love.” Eric, whose constant need of attention and affirmation is more or less his defining personality trait, is given this attention and affirmation via this one-on-one date.

Rachel pulls up in a boat on the Nyhavn canal, a body of water large enough to quench the immense thirst Eric feels at all times. They cruise down the canal and recite interesting facts about the waterfront houses like “sailors used to live in the houses here.” They then go to like a hot tub bar where a guy exposes his little Hamlet, and then to an amusement park, which we’re told is the second-most visited amusement park in the world. Honestly, it looks a little basic to my American eyes. Denmark, your citizens may be happier and more educated than ours, you may have one of the best restaurants in the world, but you’re still not on our level, theme park-wise. At dinner, where two enormous burgers sit untouched and uneaten, Eric opens up about not receiving a love from his mother, which affected his ability to accept love in romantic relationships. He gets a rose, which he seems more than willing to accept.

Viking Group Date

Dean, Kenny, Matt, Adam, and Piggo are the contestants on the next group date. “I’ve taken a Viking to you,” the date card reads. The producers are just on fire with the date card puns this episode.

The dudes go to a big field where they act like Vikings. Upon arrival, the Danish Viking reenactor says, “They don’t really look like Vikings,” problematically. They do some Viking stuff to find out who is the best Viking, I guess. They row a big boat and sword fight. Kenny, whose eye gash has been teased for like five weeks now and was suggested to be a product of Lee, gets a cut when battling with Adam in the finals of the Vikings games. Kenny nonetheless wins the match, and become the Viking Champion, an oxymoron to anyone in the greater Minneapolis area.

At the cocktail party, Bryan and Piggo have a handsome-off. Rachel is positively smitten with both. Matt appears to be drinking a spritzer while wearing a shabby brown polo. He spends all the time with Rachel talking about Kenny. How is this guy still on? Speaking of Kenny, the dude deteriorates on this date—he doesn’t think the relationship has grown at the rate the other guys’ have, he is missing his daughter, and he is sporting a Nelly band-aid on his face 15 years after its expiration date. Rachel strongly suggests that he should good home to be with his daughter, and he obliges. Kenny, you may have been embroiled in the dumb Lee stuff for weeks now, but I’ll nonetheless miss you. Shouts to you and doting dads everywhere.

Piggo gets the group date rose. Bryan takes this news really well.

One-on-One with Will

Finally, we have a one-on-one date with Will. “Will you be my Swedey,” the card reads. Double pun! The two take a quick day trip to Helsingborg, Sweden, where Will’s lack of physical intimacy leaves Rachel colder than a winter’s night in Gothenburg. During the date, Will slowly transforms back into Urkel. It’s rough. Rachel drops the “I think you’re so great, so amazing, but …” Will does not get the rose. He absolutely Will not be seeing Rachel anymore.

Rose Ceremony

Finally, after what was four hours of The Bachelorette (but felt like at least fifteen), we get to the third of three rose ceremonies. Rachel has been tossing guys out like uneaten lutefisk this week, but she claims this will be the hardest goodbye she had to say.

Bryan, Matt, Dean, and Adam get the roses, joining Eric. Alex, wearing the inexcusable high-school-sophomore-at-the-homecoming-dance look with a black suit, black shirt and solid pink tie, is sent packing.

Are you exhausted? I’m exhausted. Four hours is a long time. But guess what, that’s how long the LSAT is. If you could make it through this absolute grind of an episode, the LSAT will be no prob for you.

The Logical Rose-ning Section: Your Recap of The Bachelorette, Episode 5 was originally published on LSAT Blog

[lenaglittleus]

How to Stay Motivated to Lose Weight

We often look at unfortunate situations through a pessimistic lens, such as: “I want to lose 20 pounds (or more), but I haven’t been able to do it in the past and keep the weight off. Should I even bother?”

But what does this negative perspective really do for us? Instead of fixating on “coulda, woulda, shoulda,” maybe it’s more beneficial to set your mind on moving forward. A good way to do this is by focusing on possible solutions for the future rather than the problems of the past.

“When people are obsessed over a problem, they may be discouraged by the lack of progress and by the fact that they have repeatedly failed to achieve their goals,” says Hengchen Dai, assistant professor of Organizational Behavior at Olin Business School.

Dai explains that this can lead to what researchers call the “what-the-hell” effect. Think about a situation, such as slipping up on your diet by eating a slice of cake. Since you’ve already failed, you continue to indulge and binge on even more junk food, because “what the hell,” why not? But all of this drives you further and further away from your original objectives. Instead, forget about that one little slip up and shift your focus toward fixing it for the future. Then you can more quickly get back on track.

Of course, all of this is easier said than done, but there are some tricks that can make it easier. Here’s how the experts say you can stay motivated to stick to your goals throughout all of the ups and downs of a weight-loss journey.

5 Tricks to Find Motivation to Lose Weight

Time it right

The timing of when you set your goal can be very influential on overall success. Dai explains that people are more motivated to create and initiate goal pursuits at moments that feel like a fresh start, such as the beginning of the week, a new season, or right after the holidays.

“Around those moments, people may not only be more receptive to messages that encourage them to find solutions, but also more willing to put aside their past failures and try out new solutions,” she says.

Matt Walrath, the owner of nutrition coaching company Beyond Macros, says his most motivated clients are those with a major event — say, a wedding, finishing a 5K, or a triathlon — on the horizon. “You can channel more motivation by focusing on an event you can work toward, where having excess weight will cause your performance to suffer,” he says.

Picture a fitter you

Stuck in a weight-loss rut? Take a few minutes to flip through old photos of yourself on your phone as a visual reminder of how far you’ve come.

“It can get extremely discouraging when you hit a plateau, but when this happens, it can be motivating to look at old photos of yourself from when you first started your weight-loss journey,” says Samantha Smitchko, a certified personal trainer and IFBB Figure Pro. “Appreciate how far you’ve come, and remember, you’ve made it this far… you can make it even farther.”

And keep snapping those selfies, suggests Janis Isaman, a STOTT PILATES certified trainer and owner of My Body Couture. “Sometimes, you need a reminder about what you love about your body, and even the most casual shot of you in the bathroom mirror can do the trick,” she says. “Usually there are some changes that we have forgotten about. A few quick photos can help us consider something we value about our bodies.”

See yourself slim

If top athletes use visualization to help them get in a positive, motivated mindset before a big game, can this work to keep you fired up to lose weight, too? It certainly can’t hurt.

You can practice visualization for just 10 minutes a day simply by closing your eyes and picturing yourself getting healthier and slimmer, keying in on how you look and feel, and imagining a more confident, energized, and proud version of yourself.

Need something more tangible? Create a vision board compiled of photos of yourself at a healthy weight. The act of imagining yourself fit can boost your confidence and motivation, reduce stress, and actually train your brain to respond to temptations in a way that can help you achieve your goals faster.

Find a weight-loss support crew

Your squad, your crew, your people. Whatever you call them, those closest to you can make all the difference when it comes to keeping you accountable.

“Enlist someone who can become your gym buddy and accountability partner,” says Walrath. “This way, you’ll have someone to share your challenges with. When you’re tempted to cheat on your diet or skip a couple of days at the gym, you’ll have someone to help get you back on track.”

Seeking a weight-loss mentor or a role model can help, too, but just be sure the person you pick has a lifestyle comparable to yours — or, at the least, is transparent about his or her own struggles.

“If you’re following someone on social media, look for people who offer advice and who are always very open and honest with their followers,” suggests Smitchko. Because when you’re having a not-so-great day, nothing can sap your motivation quicker than a social-media feed filled with flawless (and perhaps Photoshopped) snaps of skinny people telling you how awesome their lives are and how you need to change yours.

Go social with your weight-loss goals

At the same rate, don’t hesitate to post your own process on social media or in a public forum. Whether it’s posting pictures of your progress and interacting with your followers (and those you follow), or joining a Beachbody group on Facebook, a singularly-focused online community can be incredibly beneficial to your weight-loss journey.

In fact, a recent study by Northwestern University shows you can “friend your way thin,” citing that those who immersed themselves in an online weight-loss community lost more body weight after six months than their less-connected peers.

“Investing in a social group that encourages you to spend time with other people is essential because you will be creating a social contract and new social bonds to ensure you achieve your goals,” says Isaman. “Even though it’s online-only, that support can be very powerful.”

Is Your Weight-Loss Plan Failing You?

Finally, it’s uber-important to identify the signs that the weight-loss plan you picked just isn’t working for you.

“A weight-loss plan should enhance your life,” says Isaman. “You should feel capable, accomplished, and energized by your food and fitness plans. There might be hard choices to make, but they should not feel like a punishment.”

So, how do you know if you haven’t picked the right weight-loss plan? Isaman outlined the following red flags to watch for:

You are hopelessly tired.

You are insanely grumpy.

You are sneaking into the pantry at night and binging.

You’ve adopted an all-or-nothing mentality.

You stop socializing or isolate yourself.

You are dreaming about foods that you can’t eat.

You are obsessed with tracking devices of any kind.

You are frustrated to the point of anger, despair, or tears.

And, of course, there’s the classic marker: The amount of weight and inches you’re actually losing.

“Men can expect a healthy rate of weight loss to be 0.75 to 1.25 pounds per week, and women from 0.5 to 1 pound per week. You should also see a fat-loss trend around the hips, waist, and thighs,” says Walrath.

If you see zero progress after a few weeks, then it’s likely time to reconsider your plan. Which, experts stress, is not a mark of complete failure. Says Isaman: “Ask yourself, truly, what changes and modifications would make a plan or program [perhaps even your current ‘non-working’ one] more sustainable [and effective] for you?”

from News About Health https://www.beachbody.com/beachbodyblog/weight-loss/how-to-stay-motivated-to-lose-weight

[the-angelsong]

Sex, Drugs and University

Hi All, Chapter 5 is up! Read it on AO3 if you like!

Here are the the other chapters: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4

I’m really enjoying this series and have started writing the Molly companion series too. if you like what I’m doing let me know!

Dear god how do people take this? Thought Sherlock as he sat through another Chem lecture.

It wasn't really that bad, the subject matter was actually quite interesting. But he was sober, and in class. The combination of events was intolerable. But Mycroft would be visiting this afternoon for his regular check in, and he would rather not face another tedious lecture from his dear brother. He distractedly tapped the rhythm for Mozart's concerto number 21 as he tried to take his mind off the craving for a cigarette. It was the one habit he had refused to kick in rehab. Since the visit, he had been very careful not to overdo his drug use, keeping his solution at a measly 5% that was as close to clean as he wanted to get.

"Hi there." Said a lilting Irish voice from his elbow.

Sherlock tilted his head in surprise, most people around here had learned not to talk to him ages ago unless absolutely necessary, and even then, they didn't exchange pleasantries. "What?"

The speaker was a short thin girl with ivory skin, flaming red hair and, as he thought, an unfortunate smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. "Can I borrow a pen? Mines just gone." She replied, scribbling her ink less pen on a sheet of paper as proof.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and handed her his pen. "Keep it."

"Thank you, that's kind." She replied shyly.

"It's not kind, I can see by your other pen you have an oral fixation and I'd rather not collect germs from your unconscious chewing." He explained flatly.

Much to Sherlock's surprise she laughed. "Good call, I can't guarantee that I haven't already chewed your pen."

Curious he turned to study her. Jeans; old, washed at least a hundred times, worn high on the hips. Not in fashion at all. Top; long sleeved, t shirt style neck band, red and clashing with her hair. Face; freckles, no makeup. Hair; brushed and pinned from her face. Books; plain with no decorations or drawings.

She was a loner, didn't fit in with the crowd, but obviously smart. This university was expensive, based on her clothes she didn't have much money so must be a scholarship.

He must have been staring for too long because she felt the need to speak. "I'm Caroline." She said holding out her hand.

"Sherlock." He replied, taking note of the pressure she used shaking his hand. Not enough to scream cocky, but definitely confidant.

"So.... Lambert's classes are dead boring aren't they." She tried.

Oh, dear god! Small talk, he thought with an internal grimace. "Yes, I suppose so." He replied.

"Was that Mozart's 21st concerto you were playing before?" She tried again.

Who are you? "Yes, good ear." He replied.

"Thanks, I can't take all the credit though, that happens to be my da's favorite. He's a music professor."  Sherlock nodded in understanding. "Listen, I don't want this to sound forward or anything but... well, you seem to know your way around a microscope and I can't seem to retain anything Lambert says... do you think we can get some coffee after class so I can pick your brain? I can pay you."

"Why would I help you?" There was nothing malicious in his tone, he genuinely didn't understand what this girl was trying to achieve here. "There are plenty of tutors you could employ; Lambert's TA does tutoring sessions."

"Yeah, but I like you." She said batting her eyes.

"Why?"

She sighed. "Because I do, will you help me?"

He mulled it over, it might help him stay sober till Mycroft's arrival. And she seemed harmless, if only a little bit of a curiosity. "Fine." He said and turned back to the lecture.

****

They found a quiet little coffee shop on campus and had settled into a booth. Caroline chose to sit next to him rather than opposite, and her proximity was making him uncomfortable.

"So," said Sherlock pointing to a diagram in his Chem book "In the presence of sunlight, alkanes react with bromine. What type of reaction is this?"

Caroline blinked at him. "Um."

Sherlock sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "It's really not that hard, think."

She smiled up at him, "I was hoping you could teach me more about dopamine and adrenaline."

He was confused for a moment, bio Chem wasn't scheduled until next term, but then she covered his hand with her own. Oh, well, this is new.... what is this about then? No one had ever shown him the slightest interest in romance and he had certainly never pursued it before. But it is interesting. I'm certainly lacking in knowledge on a practical level he reasoned. He understood the physicality of relationships, and she was a bit of an enigma. He had been puzzling her out for the past half hour. To many conflicts, perhaps this would clear it up. "Oh."

She smiled coyly and leaned in towards him. "I know we just met, but, well, you're only in uni once and you might as well try new things."

He felt his heart rate increase as his breathing became shallow, interesting, he thought. It was a similar experience to the euphoria of cocaine coursing through the bloodstream. He leaned into her. "True." He said softly.

She reached up and took his face in her hands. Leaning in till their lips were mere centimeters apart she let out a soft laugh. "As if!" She said pushing him away.

His brow furrowed in confusion and he was suddenly aware of laughter coming from all around him. He glanced around and saw the coffee shop had filled with his peers, one of whom was holding a camcorder pointed at the pair. "What?" He spluttered.

"So, what do you reckon Seb? Do you think we proved our hypothesis?" Asked Caroline, standing up and moving over to the man with the camera.

"Definitely, I'd say." The man laughed.

He was the butt of some kind of joke, Sherlock realized, a white-hot rage coursing through him. "And what hypothesis should that be Sebastian?" He asked coldly.

"All your little deductions and judgments about us, who's sleeping with who. You're jealous." He concluded.

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "Jealous, of what? You?"

Sebastian smiled cruelly. Then it was his turn to be surprised as Sherlock started to laugh. "What's so funny."

"Do I really piss you off so much? You dress up your girlfriend in what? Probably her sister's old clothes and try to pimp her out to me to prove a point. That's rich, coming from you." He turned to Caroline. "Really I'm sorry you were caught up in all this but you really mustn't be so trusting. After all, a man capable of organizing such a deception on me must surely pull the wool over your ignorant eyes regularly." He turned back to Sebastian. "Should I tell her? I think so don't you.” He said with a waggle of his eyebrow. “Sebastian was with another woman's last night."

"No, he wasn't!" Caroline argued.

The man turned to his girlfriend putting his arm around her waist. "Don't listen to him, he's just trying to distract us."

"Nope." Said Sherlock popping the p on the word. "His clothes are rumpled from spending the night on the floor, we all know that he gets his shirts pressed regularly thanks to mummy and daddy's money, and he'd never usually go out in such unruly attire. Unless he got up late and didn't have time to change, and then there's his hair. Forget to pack your gel, did you? Oh well never mind at least you were lucky enough to have a collared shirt on to conceal the hickey on the left side of your neck. Bad form Sebastian, you should really tell your girlfriends not to mark you. It gives the game away too quickly. So yes, sorry, another woman."

"How did you know it wasn't me?" Said Caroline pulling away from her partner to look at the hickey.

"Proximity." Explained Sherlock. "You've been sitting close to me for the last half hour, I couldn't avoid your perfume if I tried."  

"So?"

"So, its recognizable, in fact its recognizably different to the one dear Sebastian here is wearing. Chanel no 5, isn't it? Caroline prefers Ralph Lauren, sorry you lose." He said faking a pout. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for lunch." With that he got up from the table and strode away without looking back.

Well, that clears up that. Drugs are unequivocally better than sex. Won't be trying that again. He thought to himself.

****

"What's upsetting you brother dear." Said Mycroft sitting down to lunch.

Sherlock scowled it didn't matter how hard he tried, his brother could always see right through him. "It's nothing, just classmates being dicks."

Mycroft murmured in understanding. "You must be better than them Sherlock, rise above it."

Sherlock scoffed. "That is sometimes easier said than done."

"Are you deducing them?"

"Of course."

"And are those deductions based on pertinent fact or are they designed to hurt?" Asked Mycroft.

Sherlock shot him a look in response.

The older Holmes let out a deep sigh. "As I suspected, your emotions do you a disservice brother mine. They cloud things and make you weak, susceptible to pain. It's time to put away childish things and grow up."

"What like you?" He replied sarcastically.

"Yes, of course. If I gave into bullies who hurt my... feelings." The word came out in a mocking tone. "I would never be able to do my job."

"And what is your job nowadays Mycroft? Are you running the British government yet?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. I have gotten very good at finding useful information that can turn things in my favor." Said Mycroft.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at his brother's unusual candor. "So, you've branched out into blackmail."

"No, I simply apply appropriate pressure when needed. Which I wouldn't be able to do if I had to contend with my emotions." He explained.

The subject matter was getting uncomfortable, Sherlock really didn't need a lecture on how to control his feelings right now, so he changed tact. "Have you put on weight?"

Mycroft's smile turned sour. "No, thank you, I've actually lost some."

"Are you sure? Oh well, must be middle age then, you're getting jowls."

"I see your listening skills have not improved any. How is school going? Are your classes going well?" He inquired.

"Other than the fact that I know more about the subject matter than most of the professors yes, I'd say it's going swimmingly." Said Sherlock confidently.

"Good, mother will be happy to know you are doing well." Said Mycroft. "Any new lists?"

It was the same question every week, without fail. Sherlock knew his brother was paying some of his classmates and teachers to keep an eye on him so he had, by necessity, learned how to keep his habits hidden. But to actually attend one of his brother's meetings high was pushing the boundaries a bit too far right now, so he continued to suffer through them in sobriety. "No, I'm clean."

Mycroft's smug smile returned. "good."

All Sherlock could think about the entire lunch was getting the meeting over with so he could go back to his room. He had been playing with some new chemical compounds and he was itching to see what effect they would have on him.