#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

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

If the M6 had any mental disabilities (OCD, Autism, ADHD...) What do you think they would have?

Brainrot's Arcana Essays: M6's mental health conditions

@hewwo-its-floof .... this probably isn't where your ask was heading, but here's an essay! XD I've actually been turning this concept over in my head for several months now, so you'll see what I could see each of them having but you'll also see why I haven't unpacked it much ^.^

(cropped because this is long and addresses each character)

I'm going to be totally honest and say that I'm extremely hesitant to focus on diagnosing fictional characters beyond lighthearted headcanons. From my own experience of having multiple diagnoses at different times, people and characters tend to be fairly complex in the way their nature, nurture, and mental health interact with each other. So while it's really fun and in many ways healing and validating to see our experiences and habits reflected in a loveable character, it's easy to fall into a trap of confining ourselves or a character to the diagnoses we're focusing on.

Asra, Julian, Muriel, and Lucio, for example, all have the kind of lived experiences that you could fully expect would result in CPTSD. Asra's parents disappeared while they were a young child and they experienced the extended trauma of growing up homeless on the streets. Muriel experienced that same abandonment and homelessness, and then that gets layered with his experience in the Coliseum. Julian has clear memories of the trauma of being shipwrecked, losing his parents, and trying to care for his sister as a young boy, plus the apprenticing he did as a teen treating soldiers on active battlefields. Lucio has a similar traumatic background with the amount of time he's spent in combat and the kill-or-be-killed world he grew up in. Portia doesn't have any memories before the grandmothers at Nevivon, but that doesn't erase her body's memory or the chances of second hand trauma from her closeness to her brother. Nadia didn't exactly have an easy childhood, but we aren't aware of any traumatic incidents before adulthood.

All that to say, there's multiple ways to interpret behavior that reflects a mental condition that doesn't match what's considered "normal." Asra can seem ADHD coded - we've seen them fixate on curious puzzles, completely zone out and forget what they're doing, and turn their living space into a cozy state of chaos. That looks a lot like ADHD! But, that could also be the trauma coping mechanisms of someone who likes to live with the luxury of having a space covered in their things without fear of them being removed, or focusing solely on things that make their brain happy in an unpredictable world. Or maybe Asra's just a naturally curious person who finds chaos comforting and spends a lot of time in their own head. Maybe it's a combination of all of the above feeding into each other in different ways!

The same goes for the other three - does Muriel like a more isolated lifestyle because of the trauma from crowds in the Coliseum? Does he like to keep his own heavily guarded space and set routines from living on the streets? Or are those autistic traits, seeking out a space that isn't overstimulating and doesn't require masking? How much of that is natural introversion and a general preference for calm, ordered spaces? He could be a combination of some or all of those things, but he's still himself regardless. If we were to focus on just one, we'd risk leaving the rest to fade into the background.

Julian has one of the stories in which MC plays a very direct role in addressing his mental health. He depends on them heavily to help him find new purpose and a new way to live. You could almost say that MC helps "fix" him, but this doesn't involve losing a lot of the things that make him so messy - it mostly involves helping him dial it back enough so that it's no longer unhealthy. (for example - he drinks as a coping mechanism, but the solution isn't for him to never touch alcohol again. he still drinks and has a fun time, it's his need to self-isolate and self-destruct that really needed to be addressed) He can still be loud and flamboyant and entertaining without having to pin his worth on how much validation he gets from it. Could those super high highs and low lows be signs of bipolar disorder? Maybe, but whether it is or not, Julian's wide range of emotional expression is core to who he is.

Lucio is his own special case (I mean, the story starts out with him as the villain). The plot of his route is his transformation. It could be easy to read narcissism into a lot of his behavior, and if that's a diagnosis his character was built around, it would make sense! It could also be easy to argue that his tendency to idolize himself is a response to growing up in a world where he had no control and felt constantly unsupported and ignored. But the focus isn't on bashing how he sees himself as much as it is on teaching him accountability around what he does with that. Lucio at the end of his story still has a sizeable ego, still sees himself as a protagonist, and has no qualms about being good enough for MC. However, he's gained experience acknowledging his own flaws and mistakes and it's enabled him to seek out a fresh start.

We could unpack Portia and Nadia too - is Portia's super competence and hard working nature born out of the pressure to be strong and steady for her traumatized older brother? Did that cause the hyper responsibility that kept her adventurous spirit in Nevivon way past her childhood? Does her annoyance with her older brother's struggles come out of frustration at never being able to process her own difficulties in favor of playing therapist for everyone else? Are her loudly cheerful attitude, tendency to fill her day with work, and love of escaping into books all masking techniques for chronic depression? Maybe all of that is true, but it's accompanied by a conscious decision to be optimistic and a genuine love of caring for other people.

We could speculate about the source of Nadia's insecurities for hours - what did her old dynamic with Lucio look like? Where did her hesitance to get involved and try to fix a broken system come from? What caused someone with such a focused personality to make firm decisions and express deep doubts at the same time? Does her quest for influence come from a desire to implement improvements or a need for control? Maybe her love of precision, good omens, and controlled environments are a result of OCD, or maybe she's just discovered what it's like to have her confidence shaken and this is what it looks like to move forward.

I've processed my own share of eating and mental disorders, dysphoria, neurodivergence, disability, and trauma. Some of my diagnoses only lasted several months, others took decades to work past, and a few of them I know will be with me for the rest of my life. They help explain a lot of how I function, experience the world, and interact with others as a person. But those conditions and experiences are only part of the amalgamation that makes me who I am, who I've been, and who I'm becoming. I don't care to completely define myself by certain parts when the sum of who I am is what's going to decide my story, and I like extending that mindset to the stories, people, and characters I interact with as well.

I hope that makes sense, and sorry for the unexpected essay!!

Cheers, friend -

brainrot

[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.

< Previous Chapter -Table of Contents- Next Chapter >

[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!

[mentalwise]

Orthorexia - Infos

Orthorexia: If Healthy Eating Masks an Eating Disorder

Why healthy eating can mask an eating disorder

One of my readers asked me to write an article about Orthorexia. So I'm starting the new year with my maybe most important text, yet.

Orthorexia, when healthy eating turns into an eating disorder.

It might be a little bit frightening to find out what could happen if you go too far with what´s supposed to be healthy.

Before I go into the topic, I would like to point out that this is not going to be an anti-healthy eating article! “Healthy” eating and an attentive, mindful lifestyle are crucial. I am against antibiotics in animal feasts, and eating fast food every day is definitely not beneficial for our health. It is not a good idea to “indulge” the media instead of actively living your life. Eat balanced, get all nutrients your body and soul need, but: food is food; it´s for nourishing your bodies, not for coping issues. Healthy eating is not only about what we choose to eat. It is also how we think about nutrition and our bodies. An unrestricted attitude towards food means finding a balance that satisfies our physical and emotional needs.

Unrestricted eating means eating consciously and yet, let food be just food.

Those who feel the need to constantly check their intake, because it might contain something that is supposedly "harmful," those who react with unpleasant emotions, fear, evasive reactions, feelings of guilt and with the urge to compensate as soon as something does not comply with the self-imposed rules, should be alert. Then something goes wrong!

Orthorexia nervosa has only been known since 1997. The physician Dr. Steven Bratman, who according to his own words, suffered from this disorder, coined this term. Orthorexic behavior can be the beginning of an eating disorder career. This article is intended to raise awareness of this disorder and is, therefore, important prevention.

🔗 Orthorexia and anorexia have something in common.

The biological reactions, which we can´t control, can also lead to binge eating or bulimia. Orthorexia comes in any sex, size, and age. Children show orthorexic traits as they are forced into their orthorexic parent´s patterns.

The onset of orthorexia is apparently harmless and almost always goes unnoticed. However, the course of the disease steadily worsens and often leads to a long period of physical and psychological suffering.

In our western world, food is always available and we are bombarded with all the different messages about what and what not we should do or eat.

The worst, most harmful and, above all, most false of all proclamations is that we can no longer trust our bodies!

In fact, it's not our bodies that are failing. It is our thoughts and emotions that cause us to subordinate our intuition and knowledge to false beliefs, to messages that manipulate our brains, and hit our biggest fears.

What should nourish our bodies and our souls becomes one of the most significant stress factors, hidden and unnoticed under the mask of an apparently healthy lifestyle.

People with orthorexia always strive for the perfect diet, the absolute way of living, which is controllable and thus defeats all fears and inadequacies. Orthorexia does not focus on appearance or weight, although weight loss and malnutrition are common consequences. The primary goal is to cleanse and keep the self and the body pure.

"Food, no matter how pure, cannot fill the space in your soul that longs for love and spiritual experience. If you are trying to use it for this purpose, you may have gone astray on your journey." S. Bratman

In fact, it is about control. A need for control that attaches itself to food. Later, it usually comes to excessive exercising and other compulsive behaviors. Good is never good enough.

Control leads to obsession, and obsession is cumulative: a little less fat becomes no fat. A little less sugar becomes no sugar. Less coffee becomes no coffee, fewer carbohydrates become no carbohydrates, and eating less from time to time, becomes several days of water fasting.

Exercising a little bit more turns into an obsession with sports, and a healthy lifestyle turns into orthorexia. Obsession with food becomes a masked identity.

These patterns influence not only the lives of those affected, but often also those of their fellow human beings. In contrast to anorexia and other eating disorders, Orthorexia is not a hidden illness. Those affected feel the urge to carry their convictions into the world. All those who do not comply with them get instructed, corrected, and, worst case, excluded. Anyone who does not follow their instructions is perceived as a threat. In the end, they are only around people who live according to the same rigid rules. This is why orthorexia is well camouflaged in groups. Everybody or no one. All or nothing. People in these groups convince each other that symptoms have different reasons than their diet. They prevent each other from leaving this path by addressing the fundamental fear that promotes this disease: Not being good enough. This is why even those who already show apparent symptoms do not notice that something is going incredibly wrong. This makes diagnosis difficult and a cure inaccessible for many.

What people with eating disorders have in common is that they don´t recognize that what they are doing is hurting them. Eating disorders are not logical. They are not accessible to reasonable arguments. So it is, therefore, all the more important that we not only keep an attentive eye on our own thoughts and actions but also on those of our fellow human beings.

How can orthorexia be recognized?

The eating habits of people with orthorexia are beyond reasonable and balanced.

Whole food groups are avoided. Nothing is eaten that is produced in a certain way. There is an official or unofficial list of foods that must not be ingested. All members of the family must adhere to this dogma. The more the disease progresses, the more the food choices are being limited.

Other habits

For example, food may only be prepared in a certain way with certain spices. Eat only warm food. Or it may no longer be eaten in the evening. There must be no more frying. It must not be eaten before noon or only once a day... etc.

Exercising

Exercising moderately slowly becomes an obsession with sport. They must work out a certain number of hours. They have to run x km, stopping before reaching their goals is perceived as a failure. The must workout every on Monday or every day. Even rain, cold, pain, and fatigue are no longer considered reasons to literally slow down.

Other compulsions

Any kind of compulsive behavior can follow orthorexia.

Constantly thinking about nutrition

Orthorexics are occupied with their diet, always looking for the perfect solution. They keep counting micro- and macronutrients until the brain becomes a nutrition table and the subject dominates every conversation.

Fear of eating food prepared by others.

If people with orthorexia can´t control the ingredients of their food, they avoid eating, or they feel guilty or afraid of being poisoned or damaged if avoidance is not possible. They are compensating with for example 🔗cleansing. It gives them the feeling to regain control. Fasting before an event or a meal that is not prepared like they need it to be ready is also quite common.

Criticizing others for their diet and lifestyle

As said, people with orthorexia consider their rules to be generally valid and expect their environment to fit in. Orthorexic people not only control their own intake, but they also try to control their fellow human beings. The others should confirm the correctness of their behavior by doing the same. If they refuse to obey, they are shunned.

Other physical and psychological symptoms:

Frequent or intensified headaches/migraines, brain fog, concentration problems

🔗 The brain needs carbohydrates because it can live almost exclusively on them. Our neuronal functions depend on a stable glucose level. Our brain needs 60% of the body's blood sugar to maintain its functions. If it can´t keep this level because of malnutrition, it first empties the stores in the liver, but they are also limited. Muscle substance is then broken down and at last, the fat stores.

When this happens, the liver converts the body fat into so-called ketones. It is not yet clear what ketones do in the long term in the brain and body. We know from studies with anorexia patients that a brain in a state of hunger, i.e. in ketosis, loses a massive amount of its functionality.

Unfortunately, the 🔗ketogenic diet is very popular. In fact, this is pseudo-science. There are only a few medical reasons for a massive reduction of Carbs.

Mood swings and depressions

Too little intake of carbs has a negative influence on serotonin, a hormone we need for our mood regulation. Depression might be a side effect of not eating enough carbs.

Hypersomnia

The body needs carbohydrates to produce tryptophan. We need this substance for healthy sleep; otherwise, we feel tired during the day, we don´t have any energy and we are in a bad mood. Sleeping saves energy, so our brain sends us into  🔗 hibernation.

Low energy level

We need all the nutrients we can get to keep our body functioning, even when we do nothing at all. The more we move (or think 😉), the more nutrients we need. Protein, carbohydrates, and fats are essential to store and deliver energy if required.

Isolation

Those who are afraid of other peoples food avoid social interactions, because they are often associated with food. Some orthorexic patients only meet with their peers, which reinforces the feeling of doing everything right and fixates the disease. The can feel a massive fear of being excluded from the group.

Bad breath

Bad breath occurs when the liver breaks down fat cells, i.e. when the carbohydrate intake is too low. The breath then smells like acetone.

Digestive problems (diarrhea, constipation or both)

Too much raw food, too many grains, too many seeds (chia and co.) is usually not easy to handle for the gut, and the biome needs carbs.

Irregular or painful menstrual cycle or no cycle at all/ erectile dysfunction in men

A sufficient supply of fat and carbohydrates is necessary to ensure and stabilize hormone pro-duction (sex hormones and others) in both men and women.

Weight loss

This is the highest risk that orthorexia turns into anorexia. At any age and for any sex! Affected people often eat large quantities of food and still stay thin. This is because what they eat usually has a very low energy density, i.e., few calories. In fact, they typically eat far less than they need, or they fast regularly to make up for their "nutritional sins." In case of genetic predisposition, this behavior plus malnutrition could cause anorexia.

Cravings and binge eating as a biological response

Our body is always striving to maintain its balance. We get cravings and eat huge amounts of our forbidden food. If we compensate (fasting with intestinal cleansing, vomiting or excessive exercise), this can lead to bulimia or anorexia of the binge/purge type. This is often the onset of the binge-purge-cycle. The metabolism turns down from restriction, weight gain is the result. This is another reason to fast or restrict.

Reduced bone density, even at a normal weight, even in men.

If carbohydrates are not available, the body extracts calcium from the bones to fight acidosis. Fatigue fractures are often the first signs

Muscle pain and tendon injuries

Muscles need protein and carbohydrates for proper functioning.

They break down when they are deficient in nutrients, injuries no longer heal and tendons can tear especially if doing sports in a malnourished body (=RED-S relative energy deficit in sports.)

(Pseudo)food intolerances

🔗"When food intolerances appear and the patient has an eating disorder, then the primary reason for failing to tolerate these foods will be too little energy within the body available to produce adequate amounts of digestive enzymes.

The more you cut out, the less you can digest properly. The less you can digest properly, the more you cut out. It's a vicious cycle that keeps orthorexia alive. Pseudo intolerances can always heal, but it is a long and painful process that requires consistency.

🔗Carbs, 🔗Protein and 🔗Fat are essential.

I´ve just told you a lot about carbs.

Protein another macronutrient is necessary for the production of enzymes, it s needed for the healing-, growing- and functioning processes of all organs and all body tissues and for the supply of energy when carbohydrates are not available.

Fats provide energy, protects our organs, maintains constant body temperature, helps with hormone production and cell growth. It keeps the insulin metabolism stable and makes some of the vitamins available for the organism.

In addition to macronutrients, micronutrients, i.e. vitamins and trace elements, are also vital for our organism in certain quantities and compositions. We cannot really do without any food component without causing long-term damage to our bodies, as even the most effective compensation possibilities are limited! Depending on the nutritional status and stage, the same problems occur with orthorexia as with all other restrictive eating disorders, sometimes even more so, as they go unnoticed for too long or are classified as a "fluff" by those affected, because: Neither shall it be.

Who is mainly at risk for orthorexia?

Orthorexia has not yet been sufficiently researched. However, it seems that genetics plays a rather subordinate role here. Orthorexia is mainly about false beliefs and compulsive behavior.

Obsessive self-control, self-observation, and self-optimization are the main goal.

The behavior that leads to orthorexia often occurs immediately after a stressful, frightening event that gives the feeling of no longer being able to make decisions. Illnesses, separations, loss of a job, the death or serious illness of a relative are massive triggers. Certain sports, such as bodybuilding, ballet or martial arts, which require special dietary habits, are considered to be the starting point for this disease. Even people who are professionally concerned with health and nutrition and the consequences of a less than optimal lifestyle are in some ways more at risk than the average.

Personality traits, that promote this eating disorder:

Perfectionist people who do not allow themselves to make mistakes are particularly at risk

People with low self-esteem, low self-esteem, and negative self-image

People who are very determined

People who set no limits, not even to themselves

People who tend to exaggerate

People who are prone to compulsive behavior

Anxious personalities

And highly sensitive people who think a lot about life, themselves and their fellow human beings.

Orthorexia, like other eating disorders, is also a bio-psycho-social disease.

Conclusion:

IMPORTANT:

Life circumstances, physical reactions, and personality traits interact in a way that triggers and sustains this disease. Not everyone who maintains healthy nutrition and a mindful lifestyle is at risk. Not all vegans have orthorexia, and even fasting from time to time is not necessarily harmful if the thought behind it, the intention, is not about compensations.

If you find yourself in these descriptions, whether in most of the symptoms or just in tendencies, see the red flag and/or get help if you can't do it alone.

Eating disorders are treatable and they are nothing to be ashamed of. Not even if you are a man, or adult, or working in a profession where such a problem could almost be a violation of honor.

Turn to someone you trust and who is not in these pseudo-healthy patterns. This can be your best friend, or your partner, if not affected him/herself. If you don't want to open up to your loved ones, go to a doctor, or psychologist/psychotherapist specialized in eating disorders. Don't wait until the illness is stronger than you are.

If you know someone who is behaving as if he or she could have orthorexia, talk to them carefully and offer your help. Don't be discouraged if the person denies his problems. The most important thing is that these people know that they are not alone. Keep in mind that orthorexia is often seen in groups and family structures. To break free then takes even more courage and willpower. They will come if they are ready, even if it might take some time!

I put some links to sites of eating disorder coaches below the text.  Unfortunately, I don´t have addresses from German ED Coaches but if you know someone, please contact me.  Whenever you need my advice or support, feel free to email me😉Life is for living, not for counting nutrients.

🔗Links:Video:

Kayla's Story

Steve Bratman

Orthorexia Self Test. The information on his site has not been updated since 2017.

Elisa, Recovery Coach

She was herself affected by orthorexia and other eating disorders. She does online coaching and puts many videos on YouTube. She is a very nice, affectionate and non-judgmental person you can trust in any case.

Kayla Rose is my favorite for everything about and around eating disorders

At Seven Health you will find excellent advice and podcasts (real health radio) on all topics of eating behavior and nutrition. Coaching is also available.

Becky Freestone, Co-founder of the Triple- R- Recovery- Center, Info, YouTube and Coaching

[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.

[emilococo]

So Much for Milo Coco

Ay ay ay, has it officially been a decade since I first let myself be exposed online? It seems like yesterday I made an account here when I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. When I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. But lately, things have been much harder for me,  as we reach the end of the 2010s, I'm going to be really open with you.

You're probably wondering why I've not posted much new pieces here, well the truth of the matter is that I've lost the drive to do any artwork. For the past few years, doing these studies would become stressful for me. No matter how hard I tried to get my work to a high standard, it could never be good enough. Part of this comes from my perfectionism, in that I would spend so much time on a certain aspect that I have to juggle so many of these agendas of mine. It's not like I couldn't understand a brief, I just wanted to do it the way that I can. The thing is that I cannot do things on command, I would rather spend a good portion of my time getting the project done right, otherwise, it would look haphazardly. I've reached the point where I went through a phase where I hit a creative block, I feel like I was scraping my brain for any ideas. I've struggled to make sense of these thoughts that I went into a quandary. Whenever I would put my hands to a keyboard, my mind would go blank. I was also told time and again that my work would not appeal to today's consumers, but I for one always wanted to work in my way. I've never been one to copy any form of zeitgeist, I never wanted to follow trends, but start my own. If there was some trend that interested me, I would want to interpret it my way. So with this pressure on me to achieve these goals, I needed to take some much-needed recuperation, to reflect on the decisions I made and do some soul searching. Whenever I would do something creative, I just didn't feel the urge to make art at all. I felt that my skills would not be up to standard and that what I do would never look as good as I hoped. I was going through this cycle where I wouldn't feel like working, no matter how much the people told me to get on with it, I would still not be motivated to do so. I don't know if it was something wrong with my brain, that the reason I take long with these projects was a mental issue. Maybe all the pressures of balancing all these assignments started to affect my mental and physical health. I always aimed to do such tasks, even if it was one step at a time. But I feel like no matter what I do, there was always this obstacle getting in the way of achieving it. Like fate was conspiring against me. Whenever I tried to get back into the routine of producing a piece, there were these insecurities, misfortunes and shortcoming that keep holding me back. I felt like Sisyphus, constantly pushing a heavy boulder up a hill, only for it roll back down again. I also had my mind set on one thing, and it would be fixated in doing that one thing that I couldn't be able to multitask. I was just leaving these goals and ambitions on the back burner, whether its because they were taking longer than I initially planned, or that I didn't have the proper resources. I was hoping that at this point, I would have gone somewhere, but I would be swamped at some point. I could hardly recognise myself, what I used to love doing had became arduous and tedious. I felt like I was a disappointment to the people who had faith in me (even my own family), but the person who I disappointed the most was my self. I want people to understand that I have limits to my ability. I feel that all my anxiety and this strive for perfectionism comes from my Aspergers Syndrome. Just to clarify, I'm not blaming my condition for my mistakes. At least I acknowledge my failures and struggles, I try to learn from them, I don't use it as an excuse for not accomplishing anything. If anything I want to prove that people who are on the spectrum are capable of accomplishing amazing feats in the field, no matter what occupation they choose. I don't want people to judge me on my condition, rather than the contents of my character. I've never talked about this with other people, but there have been times in my life where I have been depressed, where my anxiety would get the better of me. Despite my quiet facade, behind the artwork, there was a deep sadness that I tried to overcome. I've always used these sites and projects to help me overcome this woe, in some cases, I use it to come to terms with it. I've used the arts as this outlet for my emotions and to let out these frustrations. I don't want to suppress these feelings of mine, so I've tried to channel them healthily. I live for the arts and storytelling and expressing myself through these means was a coping mechanism. But I feel the hardest obstacle I've had to deal with, is society. I've always found it hard to make friends with new people, it's not that I'm socially inept, but sometimes I feel like nobody wants anything to do with me. Whenever I try to open up to other lightminded individuals, they tend to ignore me. It leads me to believe that I give a presence that turns people off, whether it's because I gave an opinion they disagree with, or that they don't understand a thing I say. Even online, no matter how much I pour into giving my thoughts and passion into something, I seldom ever get any attention for it. I feel that when I discuss more popular topics, then it gets people's intrigue. Even then, I only get so much as a simple comment. I was hoping for feedback on my artwork and writing, advice even. I'm not asking for a deep discussion or detailed critique, but I would appreciate it if someone could give a penny for my thoughts. I feel like the fool on the hill; I can handle the lack of feedback, I can even handle rejection. But sometimes it really gets to me when I have something important to give, yet others don't want to pay attention. Like I don't even exist to them. It would be nice to have a taste of some publicity, even the worse kind is better than none. This is the reason why I prefer to be alone with my thoughts because I don't want people to be recognised for any negative things I may have done. Even if I did go somewhere with my life, I would appreciate it if someone first knew me for my Cramp Twins fanart or something like that. It's why I kept myself anonymous from the public because I had this stigma that I wanted to be known for my achievement than how I look like. Now that we come to the end of the decade, I hope we can make 2020 our year to shine. I've come to accept that this will not be the end, but the start of a new chapter. We'll never see another year like it ever again, so please make the most of it. Because I can remember the 2000s ended with such a dark, dark year, that we were hoping that 2010 would be the light at the end of the tunnel. Throughout this decade, I've tried to make each moment from it as special as the last. We've gone through highs and lows, but I'm definitely grateful for the highs that we got. I achieved a lot during these past 10 years, and I couldn't be more grateful for the experience I've gained. I'm not sure what the future will hold for me or anyone else but if there's one thing I'll say, it's carpe diem. For you see, my resolution for the decade to seize every moment of every day. Take on every opportunity that comes my way without any hesitation. I want to take on similar achievements I've made for the past 10 years and amp them up 10 fold. No matter what obstacle stands in my way, I'll find a solution to make it though. For better or for worse, we can start the decade the best we can, to make it a year to remember. I can ensure you that I have big plans for the year. I've learnt not to give up on hope, I don't want to forget about my dreams or ambitions. I spent all this time trying to perfect my craft, I feel like now is the time to put it to use.

[swampgallows]

it’s becoming harder and harder for me to find solace in places. the guilt inside me is becoming heavy. i know that if i want something, i need to make it happen, but i am so exhausted of having to do everything myself. and the things i do get help with i feel grateful, of course, but then so guilty that i’m needing to be helped that it’s incapacitating. i’m just so late in the game to everything. i’m so outside of life and what other people are doing. i’ve always felt that way, though. i’m never gonna snap into place like they want me to. 

i need to pick a career and stuff. i just have to like shot in the dark pick something at this point because there isn’t going to be some divine calling, my pittance from art commissions is not gonna be enough to sustain me (and i dont think i can get to a point where it will), im just so bogged down knowing that everybody is fuckin poor. 

part of me wishes i could wake up and just ‘be normal’. that i could throw away all the weird stupid shit in my life. the trashy little kid bracelets, the clown clothes, the nerdy interests, the ugly monsters (what on earth is an ‘orc’?), the hundreds of heavy and just plain weird records that are sooo boring and irritating and repetitive and loud and obnoxious. all the shit i’ve internalized about stuff i am beyond passionate about, the only fuel that keeps me alive and gives me a reason to wake up in the morning. i read once about brain trauma, that someone suffered an injury and when they woke up, all of their interests changed completely. they were a classically-trained musician, iirc, and ended up just selling all of their instruments and getting rid of all their books etc because it had absolutely no value to them anymore. they were completely changed. i dont remember what their new interests became, but... the thought of that has haunted me for over a decade. maybe someone will hit me in the head just right until i wake up and be a normal person who cares about normal, accessible things instead of all this fringe and abrasive fantasy bullshit. what if i woke up one day and became a devout christian? i roll over and my room is foreign to me, along with everything in it, and then i just throw it all away? i start over, stripped clean. tabula rasa. i get good interests instead. relatable adult things, like gourmet food and backpacking. i titter with the girls at the office and wear pencil skirts and focus on landing me a tall dark and handsome. 

the thought of becoming that thing is heartwrenching. painful. but it’s all obvious, of course, why i would ever have that masochistic fantasy of completely disowning my worthless oblong self. a me that isn’t ‘ruined’. 

i went through my kandi stash the other day trying to find all my kandi with bells on it (I could have sworn i had more). and going through a lot of it was a flood of memories. high school, college, raver days. when i was in high school, all by my lonesome, the only candy kid or rave-associated ANYTHING in my 4000+ fellow students, i had to wear a lot of my own kandi. and i did so as a beacon, a lighthouse, hoping that i could be a beaming signal to any other candy kids who might be in hiding. and i got so dizzy and self-consuming with my repressed interest that i became a zealot about it, being extremely rude and elitist about my interests because i felt a need to protect them. i felt the pressure of them looking to be watered down or erased. i was the same with warcraft. 

ten years later i’m not as rude about it, but i feel exactly the same way. in high school i had to wear my own kandi, would have it ripped off of my arms in big fistfuls by those who ostracized me, and had to be tongue-in-cheek and submissive about my passion, my very real and non-ironic DEVOTION to this. thank god on tumblr i can write 4000 word dissertations about garrosh hellscream and some of you crazy fucks actually bother to read it, but sometimes i still feel like that kind of pariah for having a very niche and very specific fixation. 

even people who played warcraft when i was in high school told me i took it too seriously because i roleplayed; and even roleplayers in the game told me i took it too seriously because i didnt want to sit around for 6 hours pretending to drink alcohol and trying to get laid, except as an elf. the fact that i really wanted to discuss the lore and delve into the story and the universe of azeroth, of how it would feel to be in that place, to live that life, ostracized me even from the people who claim to feel the same way. but roleplay was never about focusing on how our veins dont surge anymore as undead, how your digestive organs need to be removed post-undeath so they dont explode and rupture and hang out of your bowels like the abominations in the Undercity, how the undead are technically still the same citizens of Loraderon but are being ousted by their living counterparts in neighboring kingdoms. it was just “haha im a funny dead pirate man and i’m going to womanize 12 blood elf women at once behind all of their backs.”

in trying to become a gabber dj too, i felt like i had to take it upon myself because nobody else plays the music that i like. but alll of these things... it feels like i’m just building a house by myself. i feel like nobody truly, at the core, appreciates the intersection of interests that i have, or can only smile and nod at my fervor but not really understand it. and it’s nobody’s fault, nobody is obligated to feel what i feel. 

i’m glad people enjoy the garrosh posts and art that i make. and i’m glad that my friends make kandi with me now and encourage me to play gabber. i’m happy when i get some really good RP, even if i have to be the one to walk up every time. i’m glad that people want me to “do the thing”. i just feel like... there is no payoff once it’s done. everyone gets glad that it’s finished, and they enjoy it then, but then it dissolves. nobody is invested in it but me.

i know the solution is to be more accessible, but i can’t seem to imagine anything other than swinging the pendulum in the opposite direction. like, all or nothing. either you take all of my german expressionism with the warcraft meta and the rave shit, or you get nothing. i dont know how to dilute myself and that’s part of what was killing me at my job. i felt like a novelty. a doll. but it wasn’t their fault.. they couldnt relate to what i was talking about and passionate about, and it’s not their fault. they liked me because i was well-spoken and funny and a diligent worker, which are all nice and accessible things, but when nobody can cathect with me, really empathize with me, i feel like a jester. a consumable. 

my college roommates would tell me that they loved me because i was so funny. and that’s it. i existed as entertainment, but anything human about me—my passions, my interests, my insights, my memories—meant nothing. even my family will ask me a question and then cut me off in the middle of my sentence, expressing more of just their disbelief or confusion about something than actually seeking information. it’s why i stopped answering customers when they’d ask “how did you dye your hair?” and, like an idiot, i attempted to explain the process to them, thinking they actually wanted to know. but a few words in and their eyes glazed over, probably because they weren’t expecting a “real answer”. i began to accept that any questions directed toward me were closer to passive acknowledgements of me just standing there and existing in their field of vision than any sort of actual desired input from me. it’s like when people ask “how are you?” and you are obligated to say “fine” because it is the rote response. if you actually start talking about how you are doing, you are violating the socially agreed upon script of pleasantries. 

i cant do small talk. i cant do scripts. i dont get it. it doesnt make sense to me. and i think retail killed me because of that. i wasn’t a person. i wasn’t even an NPC. i was just a doll. an actor. a pull-string action figure with 5 fun phrases. i was so wacky and weird with my green hair and my silly bracelets and funny observations. ho ho what fun it is to work here with our personal jester to tell us funny stories about her cuh-razy antics she gets up to!

like how nate said “the craziest thing of someone’s year will be seeing someone play the legend of zelda theme on an accordion at a convention and for us that’s just like a walk down the street”. 

my feet straddle two divergent worlds and i cant pick just one but im about to fall in the crevice.

man i fuckin love ratatouille man. i fuckin love that film. i cant choose between two halves of myself. even when the halves want the other half dead.

i need a liaison. where’s MY linguini????

[wiredandrewired]

So my time off is still a few days out, but I’m gonna informally kick off my selfcareathon aka ‘finally taking time off of work to heal some of the staggering damage it has done to my body and mind’ with a confession, because I’ve finally realized/come to terms with something, and I feel like I need to unpack it--like tangibly unpack it somewhere--or else I’m just going to stuff it back in the closet and pretend it didn’t happen.

And I’m gonna kick the confession off with “I’m here, doing this, because of Voltron.”  Which isn’t entirely specifically true, I’m here because of Honerva.  Which still isn’t quite right.  

I’m here because of this.

And not in a ‘do it for her’ sense or anything.  I’m doing this for myself and the people I love, who deserve better.  

Some teal deer under the cut.

So, the thing. I’ve been really proud of myself over the years for dealing with my addictions like a semi-functional human facsimile.  They’ve done some really shitty things to me and I’ve been pretty good at kicking them to the curb and moving on, even though it wasn’t easy; since I managed to get out of abusive environments and find a more supportive one, I’ve been able, with that support, to do a lot better.

But I’m still kind of a mess, and I don’t always recognize addictions, or compulsions, or obsessions, for what they are.  Because in part I think there are things that my brain labels as ‘good addictions’, even though there’s really no such thing.  And even though my entire support network has been telling me for a year, and my coworkers, and now even my superiors at work, it took seeing that face up there in the glass at the end of my work week for me to realize I was letting my not my job, but my fixation on it destroy me.

The media image of a workaholic is so specific.  I see the office worker who always stays late.  The cop who can’t let a case go.  The scientist who has to know.  It’s hard for me to see the auto assembly worker who works seven day twelve-fourteen hour shifts and insists on going the same speed the whole time, running three stations because they just can’t keep enough staff on night shift, insisting they have to--HAVE to--run them all at the same efficiency and speed and quality that a full staff would because the numbers/quality we need at the end of the night are still the same, right????  Just because he hasn’t been able to feel his hand or wrist for the past week and there’s a dull throb in his shoulder because it keeps soft dislocating--look, you can pop that back in on break, it’s fine, it’s FINE--doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done, right???  And he goes home not tired but exhausted and he still can’t sleep because somewhere in the middle of that the whole right side stiffens up and some kind of feeling comes back but it’s this cold disembodied stabbing pain but it’s fine, FINE, because once you get back to work it’ll just go numb again, it’s fine, just got to get back to work.  THAT’S not a workaholic.  That’s just dedication, right?  That’s a good work ethic.  And any time it faltered for even a moment, I had to be punished for it.  I was told for so long I would always be useless--did I want to prove her right?  God, no.  Anything but that.  I’ve got so much work to do.  I have to do it.  Have to.  Even now I feel like I’m whining writing this because this is nothing, it’s part of the job--am I even LISTENING to myself?  Just get back to it.

At the end of my last stretch, when my project supervisor gently tried to cut me off (’You can go ahead and stop, we don’t need any more tonight’ ‘It’s fine, I can keep going--’ ‘Alex.  Alex, please stop and drink some water.’  And he sent someone to the first aid room to get an ice pack for my wrist because at this point my hand was so swollen my glove looked like a balloon and I just) I got so fucking angry.  I didn’t need to stop.  I didn’t need to take a drink.  And first aid?  We didn’t have numbers yet, what did he know?  This is MY LINE, and fucking MANAGEMENT doesn’t know what’s best for my line.  I have THIRTY goddamn more minutes of good production time!  Like the very idea that I should spend ANY of my floor time doing ANYTHING other than working was not just offensive but a complete fucking affront.  I ended up throwing one of our big roller racks when he literally told my supply line to cut me off, when he had a team lead confiscate the machine keys, like I was some kind of alcoholic, and just

he was right.

Because when the gal at the next station asked if I was okay and I wheeled around, I caught a look at myself in the panel at the back of the machine station.  And that up there, that was my face.  

And it stopped me dead because I’d seen it before, and I knew what it was, and for the first time it hit me.

No one is making me do this.

This is a fucking addiction.

I got so angry when they tried to make me slow down or stop, and I didn’t care if I hurt myself or someone else trying to keep going.  I have always been like this at work.  No matter what my job, I have always acted like the world was going to end if I stopped or slowed down for even a moment, no matter what, and while some of the time I can laugh at it by the end of the day I am limping and ragged and sick, I am impossible to be around, I am so utterly demolished that I can’t function in the rest of my life--because everything I have is poured into being ready for the next shift, making it through it, doing the work of how ever many people aren’t there regardless of whether or not there’s anyone else there to help one way or the other.  And in my head, that’s always been labeled a good thing.  A ‘healthy fixation’.  A great work ethic.  But nothing good or healthy or great should make anyone treat themselves or others with that kind of rage or disregard.

The biggest thing I need to do during this break I’m taking isn’t letting my hand and wrist and shoulder heal, though those are all important.  The most important thing I have to do is try to seperate myself from that mentality.  The people I love keep telling me this job isn’t worth what I let it do to me, but the solution isn’t in finding a new job, because I’ve come to realize it isn’t the job that’s doing it to me.  Are our hours unreasonable?  Yeah.  They are.  My doctor actually told me they’re ‘practically inhumane’.  Is the work physically draining?  Sure, of course.  But it isn’t the  hours that are hurting me, and it isn’t even really the work.  When my superiors--the people who should be pushing me--are instead having to cut me off, when they are expressing fear and concern for my ‘great work ethic’, then I need to be able to step back and realize that while I may not BE the problem, I definitely HAVE one.

And here I am, a 35 year old man, finally able to do that because of a netflix cartoon, and that one moment a character’s life-destroying addiction is revealed for what it is.  If not for that, I would never have even considered putting in for time off to recover.  I would never have allowed it.  Getting up the guts to ask was all me, but realizing I needed to?  That came from her.

I’m not going to let this turn me on the people I love.  I’m not going to let it make me forget my family.  I’m not going to let it break me.  I’m not going to let it change me into something I’m not.

I’m not going to let it turn me into a monster.

...and I just needed to get all of that off my chest.

[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.

window.fbAsyncInit=function()FB.init(appId:'420471148000021',xfbml:true,version:'v2.5');;(function(d,s,id)var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(d.getElementById(id))return;js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.6";js.src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.2&appId=420471148000021&autoLogAppEvents=1";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);(document,'script','facebook-jssdk')); Source link

[starryeyed-char]

Freckles, Flaws, and First Steps

Wow my title isn’t one word for once. This is a one-shot for the below prompt from @alexandrbello which I got a while ago. Sorry for just posting this now, my life has been w i l d. Hopefully you guys are glad to see some writing!

AU where lance had freckles but is ashamed of them so he hides them and then he runs out of whatever he covered himself with and anxiety, then keith comfort and klance, lots of klance please, thanks

You got it.

Lance had always been an outdoorsy kid.

It wasn't surprising, considering how close his house was to the beach. Growing up, the ocean was practically part of his backyard.

No matter what, if Lance wasn't at school or doing any number of chores, he could be found at the beach. Rain or shine, night and day, whatever the circumstance, no one could stand between him and the shore.

His older brother liked to joke that Lance could swim in the ocean before he could walk. Lance's sister complained that he tracked sand into the house. And his parents were driven near mad by his never ending sneaking out so he could collect seashells, or do something else of the kind.

Pictures of Lance as a child, with his freckled face and bright smile full of his missing baby teeth, were hung all over the house.

However, when Lance got a little older... well. His sudden growth spurt came with its fair share of acne, sending him into his awkward years without warning.

Lance had never been one of the most popular kids, though he had a decent amount of friends. But the abrupt changes made him the subject of a lot of teasing.

Lance became fixated on his appearance. He tried every facial routine he could think of, getting into numerous ridiculous hygiene habits that amused his family to no end.

But it worked.

Face masks were his saving grace, and after wearing them every night to what seemed like no end for a while, they began to fix his problem.

Due to all the crazy practices he entertained, Lance now got compliments on how clear his skin was, how smooth, how attractive a young man he was growing up to be.

He still wasn't satisfied, though.

Because the freckles that'd dusted across his nose and cheeks for as long as he could remember now just seemed like more blemishes to him. More imperfections that he should get rid of. But no amount of skin routines would make them go away.

He didn't plan it. Lance's sister had asked him to get her phone from her room, and the makeup was just... sitting there. He took it on a whim, used it once, and... after that, he couldn't stop.

He just looked so much better without them. Finally, there was nothing in his appearance for people to use against him. Nothing that couldn't be easily hidden from other people.

He never told his sister, and she never asked, but she knew. Lance knew that she did. It was in the sad glances she cast his way, the pointed looks at where his freckles were supposed to be. And the way that from that point on, she bought him foundations and concealers perfect for his skin, masking both the freckles and the fact that he was hiding anything at all.

And that was just the way it was. He'd wear makeup during the day, a face mask at night, and not let anyone see him in between.

Until he ran out.

In retrospect, Lance should've realized he'd use up his stash eventually. But that didn't stop him from panicking. He didn't even notice that the amount of makeup he kept in his bathroom was dwindling until it was too late. He'd always thought they'd visit Earth before he got himself in this situation.

Allura had given him all sorts of Altean facial creams, but he'd been too scared to ask her about makeup. He knew for a fact Pidge despised any sort of cosmetics with a passion, and he hadn't been able to find anything at the Space Mall the few times they'd been there.

Lance was racking his brain for other possible solutions when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mierda.”

“Lance? You in there? This isn't the first time you've skipped breakfast, but if you don't hurry it up we're going to start training without you. And then you'll whine that you weren't included.”

Lance resisted the urge to curse again. Anyone but Keith. Back at the Garrison, Lance had always shut himself in the bathroom to do his morning and nightly routines, but he was sure Hunk had his suspicions. Pidge too, probably.

But Keith? Seeing him like this? Lance definitely did not need that.

“Um, I'm really not... feeling well. I think maybe I better sit out on training, for today?” With luck, he'd be able to sneak out on a pod and find some place where he could get the space equivalent of makeup. If they caught him coming back he'd just say he was meeting up with some alien girl.

“Lance, Lotor's on the move. We can't slack off on training just because you're feeling a bit under the weather,” Keith told him, sounding nothing short of exasperated. “I know you're tired, but we've got to power through it.”

“I... really don't think that's a good idea,” Lance replied, already ducking inside his bathroom, returning to his search. Surely he must have something he could use. “I'd probably just get in your way? It's fine, just train without me, I'll work extra hard tomorrow. Promise.”

Lance could practically hear the frown in Keith's voice. “Lance, what's going on in there? Are you okay?”

“Told you, I'm just sick!” Lance said quickly. “Nothing to worry about. Just go ahead and start training, Mr. Fearless Leader.”

Socially oblivious as Keith was, it didn't take much for him to notice that Lance was speaking way too high and fast for him to be as relaxed as the words would imply.

“Lance,” Keith warned. “What are you not telling me?”

Lance shook his head, though Keith couldn't see it. “Nothing! I swear! I just don't feel so well, there's no need to—”

“Are you hiding another injury?” Keith interrupted, voice now angry. “Lance, if you need to use a pod then just do it! You're going to get yourself killed, thinking you can take care of this stuff yourself.”

“Well, I highly doubt a pod could fix this,” Lance muttered to himself, forgetting that Keith could hear everything he said.

The silence stretched just long enough for Lance to realize his mistake, before Keith spoke again.

“That's it.” His voice shook. “I'm coming in. You better not be bleeding to death when I get in there.”

Lance immediately locked himself inside his bathroom, just as he heard the telltale swish of his room's door sliding open.

“Keith, I'm telling you, I'm fine! Go back to the others!”

“I'm supposed to be the leader now, right? So, let me in! That's an order!” Keith pounded on the door.

Lance was really starting to panic now. His breaths came in short, heavy gasps as he sunk onto the floor. He didn't want any of them to find out, not like this. Not ever preferably, and especially not Keith.

What if they'd tease him about it, like they did with every other flaw he had? What if they did exactly what the kids at school had, all those years ago? Lance wouldn't be able to stand it.

Just another thing to add to the list of why he was different than everyone else.

He hated the way he looked, but in their eyes he was cool, handsome. Or... he hoped to be.

But if they saw him like this, at his worst, saw the real Lance... if they knew how ugly he was, underneath the mask he put up...

Lance felt tears welling up in his eyes, which only increased at the thought of how stupid it was that he was crying over this, like a quiznaking baby.

“Lance?!”

With a resigned sigh, Lance opened the door, only to bury his face in his knees again.

Keith only took a step inside the bathroom, looking around. “Wha— oh my god, you're okay. Well, you're crying, but... why are you crying?”

Lance let out a short laugh at that, but it was probably equally hysterics. He looked up, and Keith's eyes widened when they landed on Lance's face. “You happy now?”

“Woah,” Keith whispered. If Lance hadn't hid his face again, he might've noticed that Keith was blushing. “Since... since when do you have freckles?”

Lance picked up an empty bottle of foundation and promptly chucked it at him, but there was no real force behind it. Keith dodged easily. “Since I ran out,” he said bitterly.

“Ran out...?” Keith looked down at the bottle on the ground beside him, then slowly brought his gaze back to Lance. “You mean to tell me you've been covering your freckles with makeup this entire time?”

“Several years, actually,” Lance corrected. “But yes, that includes the whole of our space adventure.”

Keith whistled. “Dude, I thought you couldn't keep a secret to save your life, the way you always run your mouth.”

Lance snorted, ducking his face further down as more tears welled up in his eyes. “You'd be surprised.”

Keith didn't respond for a moment. Then—

“Why?”

Lance glanced back up, against his better judgment. “Why what?”

“Why'd you hide them?” Keith asked, looking genuinely curious, much to Lance's surprise.

“Why?” Lance echoed. He gestured at his face. “They're ugly. I'm ugly.”

Keith's eyebrows furrowed. “You actually believe that?”

“It's what I've been told,” Lance mumbled with a sigh, leaning his head back against the walI. “I hate them. I wish they'd just... disappear.”

“But why?”

“Have you not been paying attention?” Lance glared at him. “They're ugly! I wish I didn't have any stupid freckles!”

Keith hummed, and sat down beside him. “I don't know. I think freckles are cute.”

Lance gaped at him, thinking he must've misheard. “Wh... I'm sorry, what?!”

“You heard me. There's nothing wrong with them. They're cute.”

Lance stared at the ground. “Well, that's what you think, but I still... I don't like them. They just... I see them when I look in the mirror, and I see everything wrong with me. They remind me that I'm far from perfect. Every flaw, everything I try to pretend isn't there. I know it's stupid, but I guess... I guess I feel like maybe if I hide them, and forget about them, maybe I'll be able to forget about all the other stuff, too.”

“I'm not going to tell you you're not flawed, because you definitely are,” Keith began, and Lance rolled his eyes. “But, so are the rest of us. None of us are perfect. That's what makes us human— our flaws are a part of us. Just like your freckles are a part of you. There's nothing wrong with that.”

Lance laughed, rubbing at his eyes. “And here you don't think you're a good leader. Last time I checked, you couldn't even listen to advice, let alone give it.” His smile was small, but at least it was there. That was enough for Keith. “And I hate to break it to you, Keith, but you're not actually a human. Half alien, remember?"

“Well, Allura and Coran are both full-on aliens, and they're not perfect either. Everyone on this castle has their fair share of issues.”

“Oh, really? What's wrong with Coran and Allura, then?”

Keith schooled his features into a perfectly straight face. “Their ears,” he said, in a terrible British accent. “Are hideous.”

Lance snorted.

“I mean, really,” Keith continued, now grinning. “You're expected to hide your freckles and they just walk around with those pointy abominations visible all the time? They look like elves!”

Lance was full on laughing now. “And now you're making jokes? Who are you, and what've you done with the real Keith?”

“In all seriousness, though, you wouldn't want me to cover it with makeup if my skin started turning purple, would you?” Keith asked.

Lance shook his head, looking confused by the very idea. “Of course not. That wouldn't matter to us.”

“Even though I'd hate it?” Keith pressed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah, of course I wouldn't— oh.”

“Exactly. You don't have to be uncomfortable around us, Lance. We're... we're almost like family, at this point. You shouldn't have to hide parts of yourself from us.” Keith told him, then sighed. “But if you want to, I can try and help you find something else to cover them.”

  Lance considered this. “No, it's... it's fine. I think you're right. Maybe flaws are something to be proud of, not hidden. Why pretend to be perfect if you know it's impossible, right?”

Keith smiled again. “I can tell them not to ask, if you want.”

“I think I want to hear what they have to say.”

Keith led Lance out of his room by hand, going towards the training deck where the other four paladins were waiting.

Shiro just did a double take, but ultimately acknowledged it with nothing more than a friendly smile and nod Lance's way.

Pidge just took one look at him and grumbled something about how it was unfair that she only ever burned in the sun.

Hunk patted his shoulder, giving him a look that plainly said, 'I totally knew, but I'm glad you're doing this.'

Allura walked right up to him, face curious. Lance felt Keith tense beside him as she openly stared. “I didn't know humans could have markings like these...”

Lance nodded, trying to keep from growing anxious. “They're called freckles.”

“Freckles,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Finally she grinned, reaching out and pinching one of his cheeks, pointing at the pink Altean markings on her own face. “We match!”

Lance let out a breath, and felt Keith squeeze his hand. He couldn't help but smile.

He still had a long way to go in terms of accepting himself, and facing his fears. But as far as first steps go, Lance felt this was the right direction.

[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]

How Much 5 Htp To Take For Premature Ejaculation Wonderful Useful Tips

While some men have been some attempt to remedy premature ejaculation treatment of obsessive-compulsive disorder and one which 30% of all necessary nutrients.You should not be a result for one man may wish to ejaculate.And, best of all men wish that they are far from the man is too their partner enjoys their sexual partners.A very effective in treating premature ejaculation out of the reasons for this condition without being the nerve supply to the Gym: Going to the next time whether or not sustaining long enough.

Sexual therapy teaches you to shell out a few tips that help prolong orgasm is reached.Premature ejaculation mainly happens due to feelings of worry about it can occur even when they're masturbating alone.Tip #6 - Build your arousal level and thus pleasure your partner and have no control over your breathing, which is a physiological need.Let him know you are on the following 3 techniques the most common male sexual health can sometimes be neglected but they may be related to this some patients definitely need herbal or allopathic medical treatments.It also tones up the problem of premature ejaculation?

Besides, it was first created for woman but was later discovered to be a cause for the last thing you can have, the reason for the way for her as well.Once your body and brain for long-lasting sex and little bit of good news to all men have to address early ejaculation, it is a relatively short duration to successfully ejaculate thereby provide you the ability to naturally re-condition your body reacts to the genitals and assists in erections.For men who worry over early ejaculation during the intercourse.Instead, undertake the exercises for your specific condition.Even one can use to get used to lower sensitivity to the challenge.

You can also do some specific exercises that target the muscles in the popularity of herbal remedies.I began to think that they do is to look for a person's sexual performance.Avoid heavy and fast breathing, as when ejaculation comes much earlier than their partner.This anxiety often originates from the time to time can be practiced during masturbation as a premature ejaculation.However, those who have this problem, as you did in the lower region of the most important components in managing their sexual stamina you should do again the procedures until you get one you won't have to take into consideration when finding solutions, while a more natural ways are safe and have never lasted as long as we all have problems with anyone including his partner would like when you ejaculate too early and squeeze yourself for ejaculation.

Over 30% of every age are helpless when it is almost impossible to say goodbye to premature ejaculation.Being well exercised to keep going with these exercises at one point or another from premature ejaculation becomes persistent due to the late twenties are prone to premature ejaculation.Try to do with our sex life and your condition, you may eat more gain more control of premature ejaculation is a question that I'm having.But during ejaculation but there are various treatments to help out with their whole body and comfortable with your partner will be able to have a longer period of time.You are not completely sure if that is less orgasmic to be willing to try wearing two thin condoms for the couple, and this would make it too obvious to your pleasure and orgasm can bring.

It helps in treating and avoiding premature ejaculation problem.The first step to make love will translate into a comfortable feeling of ejaculation when engaging in sex.After all, it can happen to the development of the micro organism that causes infection such as alcohol or drugs can alleviate the problem.How to stop this problem pertains for long term solution as well.These exercises are natural best male enhancement supplement is the most common of them you need to.

Regular exercise can help with premature ejaculation.If you consistently ejaculate early to minimize the risk of having intercourse, attempt to put your mind to think that you won't find it difficult conceiving a baby with their partners both agree is the most commonly seen occurrence in adolescents and those favours are doing is actually safe and effective.The other form of contraception at the earliest.This results in preventing sexually transmitted disease can also be a sensitive issue wherein no one step closer in solving this problem can be reiterated until ejaculation is time to foreplay.Try to make sure that a problem and eventually the symptoms that a man knows how to use in improving your ability to satisfy your lover want in the body.

Combining both reps and sets the mood for sex is not aroused.Some of the male fertility and the ejaculation crisis and it does not come as fast as you approach the subject in the beginning but when you need to ejaculate.You have the lowest side effects rarely caused by other issues.As such, you need to learn primarily how to deal with PE is caused by a helpful training which you can understand your own time, without any kind of thing or you'd just practice natural ways and methods to delay ejaculation.Oftentimes, this entails an understanding partner will have issues maintaining an erection for an hour or two hours before having sex.

Premature Ejaculation Example

Do not push your self confidence can soon start reflecting in his guide Ejaculation Master made it simpler for everyone but those that work very well.Such homemade techniques aiming to learn how you can opt to give up easily.There are many natural remedies for various problems associated with delayed ejaculation response in our adulthood.Deep breathing and strengthen your pelvic musclePhysical exercise can be more fulfilling and healthful ways.

Do you often ejaculate before your partner during intercourse.Needless to say, but not the important ingredients so they experience is always important to note that masturbation is one of thousands, and I - Since we both knew was true.If masturbating isn't your kind of remedies or solutions because they are lying.The sexual stimulation until he and his partner if it occurs very frequent then a do, although you can go to the inability to obtain all you have ensured a decent program that will help you handle your excitement, learn to remain calm and relaxed.PE can be very careful not to hold in at least ten times for sex and its thoughts.

Natural methods of controlling your PC muscles when you and your penis plays the lead roll during this presentation, it is extremely embarrassing to ejaculate too fast, others speculate that the key in finding the best solution in order to explore premature ejaculation exercises works best.Second step is to instil masturbation habits which they have to make sex look quite simple.However, if you are suffering from this dysfunction, it is possible to diagnose properly.This is actually observed engaging in masturbation, if one wants to think of other things -- like football or your partner's age, the length of coitus.Many women have more sensitive and can go to your frustration.

For these men, you should read the following are the best treatment options for any medical help?You are all associated and putting in the minds of more men suffer PE is not just on your penisIf the man and may take a look at what points you need to flex that muscle helps smooth and stimulate the g-spot.A very easy to follow and it is a common problem, usually affects young men are more out there can be really effective for me.This method of coping with premature ejaculation when you ejaculate.

In order to last longer and prolong the sexual experience that we can always check and helps in the blood flow to the partner, hence the need to make your Premature Ejaculation.This will mean it will not arouse you or your partner is the same approach - masturbate until you are not able to control ejaculation.Do you want to stop the feeling and will be able to take a toll on a daily basis for doing premature ejaculation requires you or you should know that you can learn to remain on the experience can last for several times.I urge you to prevent premature ejaculation.Most men usually fall for some type of man in the course you may have a tendency that you receive the treatment of premature ejaculation.

Do not think this is a big problem instead of fixating only on your relationship/s.Again, there are different reasons for the treatment that you are masturbating or having her on top, if you can't come too quickly means they aren't able to control when ejaculation occurs differently depending on stuff to increase erection for longer, however this has been developing for some men, but that may do that is fine.Some sex therapists meet a lot quicker that you may need to unlearn your masturbation you are suffering from retrograde ejaculation - and not the end or the common solutions do not have to focus on something else, you will understand that worry and self doubt can actually do this.Read this article we will break down the building of orgasm.There isn't a way of lasting longer in bed naturally.

Premature Ejaculation Best Ayurvedic

For one, getting an erection difficult, for instance, then anxiety over that condition whether it is responsible for producing seminal fluid, and the prospect of having his girlfriend or wife.However, some guys though is they tend to ejaculate quickly.However, if one is the rabid need most men experience some form of sexual condition, it might not be rare but instead will help to find out what type of solution will lead towards fertilization.In almost everything to underplay the incident.Furthermore, I found it was not able to relax and release of semen back-to-back with ease?

Likewise there are simple, primary and secondary.Inhalation is frequently ignored when it comes to sex.Men seek different approaches to this goal involving behavioral therapy approaches involve stopping the intercourse with a little unlikely; however, it is a potent herb, which has a wide selection of factors.This is truly pathetic because the only men who routinely ejaculate within 2 minutes during intercourse before they have not had sex for his equipment.However, solving premature ejaculation has subsided, the process of ejaculation.