#everyone i know who's been in counseling that's felt productive has had that experience in the first year or so of going

[mikeysewells]

this is me

To mark Mental Health Awareness Week 2023 I’d like to share my story and talk about the positives that have helped me through my issues.

It may surprise some of you that I have a problem with mental health but I guess that’s the point. 

Everything on the outside may seem absolutely fine as we tend to mask our true feelings. This is why it’s so important to ask the question “How are you?”

We are all different and our issues vary massively but this is what it is like for me…..

Events like this have been happening for years:

I got lost trying to drive home after covering a game of rugby in Leeds. Pre sat nav I ended up driving round in circles periodically banging my hands on the steering wheel and shouting at myself. 

Whilst photographing a Leicester City match I missed a crucial goal and kicked out at the advertising boards where I was sitting.

Playing golf I would hit a couple of bad shots and start bashing my clubs on the ground. 

At this point I’d like to apologise to everyone I’ve played golf with over the years who have witnessed me reacting like this and then me generally being in a bad mood for the rest of the round. I am truly sorry but at the time I had absolutely no control over those feelings.

In more recent years even small things going wrong would trigger an out of proportion reaction. 

Not being able to find something in the garage or breaking an egg in the frying pan would result in me sobbing uncontrollably. 

As a perfectionist - everything for me has to be just so (you can see it in my photographs with their clean lines and clear backgrounds) - so when things didn’t go to plan I got upset and I did not know how to deal with those emotions.

Those events would produce massive mood swings and in a defining moment during the first Covid lockdown our daughter, who would have been around seven at the time, told my wife “When he comes home I don’t know whether he’s going to be happy dad or sad dad”. 

Hearing that broke my heart.

It was then that I realised I needed some help. Around that time I was due for a health check at my doctors’ surgery. I talked through my physical health with the nurse but then mentioned I’d been struggling mentally. This was the first time I had said that out loud - and just admitting it felt like a huge step forward.

The nurse made an appointment for my to see my GP and this was another productive meeting.

She was understanding and explained all the options open to me which included counselling. My doctor was also very honest and said that although she could refer me to the NHS mental health team it could take a while to get an appointment and suggested I look at contacting a therapist privately. 

For more information on how to access therapy and counselling services here is a link to a page on the website of the mental health charity, Mind: https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/drugs-and-treatments/talking-therapy-and-counselling/how-to-find-a-therapist/

The organisation which helped me find my therapist was the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) https://www.bacp.co.uk/about-therapy/using-our-therapist-directory/ They have a database of registered therapists from all over the country. Each has their own profile which are searchable under a number of different criteria including location and the subjects which you would like to talk about. 

During my research I read a number of profiles and spent time looking for someone I was drawn to and someone with whom I felt I could connect. 

And that amazingly lady, is Gillian Goodship.

As our sessions began during a Covid lockdown our meetings were all on Zoom. I didn’t know what to expect from a therapy session and that combined with meeting a complete stranger on a computer screen made for quite an nerve-racking experience. I needn’t have worried though as I felt comfortable being in my own home though and, honestly, I liked the idea of talking through my issues with someone I’d never met before. 

While researching for this blog I met up with Gill for the first time in person (which was lovely by the way) and she had this to say on the subject “Therapy is your space to talk about whatever you want. You don’t need to hold back on anything for fear of rejection or judgement or well meaning advice which doesn’t suit your particular situation. Although friends and family may well have good intentions they may try and steer you or help you in a way that may not work for you”.

I remember Gill telling me at the start that no subjects were off limits and that nothing I could say would shock her. I found that enormously freeing as quite often I worry about what people think of me. During our sessions I could be honest, open and discuss anything at all and that felt great.

Before we met I used to think that therapy was something that was done to you like being hypnotised on a psychologists’s couch. But actually it is a very collaborative process which Gill likens to a jigsaw puzzle “When we meet in a first session, metaphorically, we start putting the edge pieces in of the jigsaw of whoever is sitting opposite and then begin filling in the central pieces. Before, when you have been trying to work things out you might have tried to put a piece in the wrong place and it doesn’t sit quite right and it’s irritating, it’s frustrating and if you’ve been trying for long enough the jigsaw puzzle gets thrown on the floor because it’s so annoying, frustrating or emotional. But together we think, right, what about we get this piece and move it slightly around - and it fits or it’s manageable and you can start looking at it in a different way”.

Two big things came out of our conversations. One was the realisation that I care way too much about what other people think of me. As an example I refused help from a fellow caravaner on holiday once because I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t fix something myself. Similarly on a weekend away we took the dog to the beach and he ran into the sea so I was worried what the hotel manager would say when we checked in. The correct answers to those two scenarios  - I know nothing about caravan electrics and why would I ? and it was a dog friendly hotel so the manager gave him a bowl of water and some biscuits. 

On this, Gill explains “Sometimes we put out versions of ourselves into the world and working to maintain that version of yourself is hard work. How freeing is it to say ‘this is me’ and I can see that you are accepting me - it’s freeing beyond belief. You don’t need to be a version of yourself - you can just be”.  I’m much more ‘this is me’ these days. 

The other finding was that, the instant something went wrong I’d press the panic button and it would be the worst situation I’d been in. Ever.

Getting lost in the car, missing a moment in a football game, hitting a golf ball out of bounds, losing a screw driver and not having a runny yolk were all absolute world ending disasters. Each time I would get this tightening in my chest and anger would fill my head. “You idiot, what did you do that for, can’t you even….. “ was my internal monologue. I was catastrophising and beating myself up because it was all my fault. 

I have learned since to just take a moment and assess the situation. If it’s out of my control, accept the fact and respond accordingly. If there is something I can do, make a plan and carry it out. 

In times of stress I also turn to some words of wisdom. I was attending an event at a Catholic Church and the priest was talking about anxiety. The phrase he repeated over and over again was ‘Be Calm, Be Still” and it was like he said that just for me as it was exactly what I needed to hear at that exact moment in my life. So I thank you, Father Simon. 

It was therapy though that really changed my life. There were stories I told Gill which I couldn’t barely utter, they were such painful memories. Just the act of talking about them though has helped an enormous amount. The more I talk about those times, the less power the emotions have over me. I can now recount those tales to friends down the pub and not feel at all ashamed or embarrassed. This is me.  

Other than just talking about those life events I can’t really explain how therapy actually worked. 

Thankfully though Gill loves a metaphor so I’ll let her sum it up “Therapy is like unknotting a ball of string. It’s all jumbled up and knotted and it feels like you’ll never feel free and yet the dynamic between counsellor and client is that we work together to unknot that string enough so it’s tolerable and then you carry on with your life hopefully with more self learning, loosening it more until you’re happy with what you’ve got. That is the ultimate ideal”.

That makes a lot of sense to me. When things go a bit wrong now I still have those physical feelings rumbling in my body but I’m more aware of them and I have coping strategies in place for when they do raise their ugly heads.

Recently I was driving to a manufacturing company to photograph the visit of a VIP. I’d got all of the kit I needed for the job and left in plenty of time to get to the factory. Then, all of a sudden, the traffic in front of me stopped. I waited a few minutes before realising that we were clearly stuck. I called my client to let her know I’d been delayed but there was no real concern as we had plenty of time before the VIP was due to arrive. A few more minutes of being stationary and this was looking a bit more concerning. I called my client again and contacted a few photographers to see if they could help. Then, as suddenly as the traffic had stopped, it start moving again and I was on my way. My client had saved me a parking spot next to the factory and I got my camera gear ready just as the VIP arrived. The visit went really well and it was the best shoot I’ve done this year.

Imagine how that would have played out a couple of years ago. How times have changed. 

Our sessions lasted for a few months and since then I have been so much happier and calmer. My anxiety is getting under control and I’m very proud to say that I have not had another panic attack or emotional breakdown. 

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you Gill.

I would also just like to thank of few other people who have helped me massively through my mental health journey. My beautiful wife, Julie, who has been incredibly loving and supportive. It’s not easy explaining to an eight year old (as she was then) why daddy is crying but Darcey is an amazing young lady and she just got it. Our fluffy Goldendoodle, Sergio, with his calm nature and floppy ears just makes the whole world a better place. 

And to Simon, my best buddy, who I’ve talked at for hours and has listened very patiently. 

Friends of everyone, everywhere — you don’t need to have the answers or words of advice. You just need to listen.

Thank you so very much for spending some time reading this blog. I really do appreciate it.

Before I finish though I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Ian Stringer, who would like to share his story. 

Ian is someone who I used to see a lot when I worked as a photographer for the Leicester Mercury newspaper. Our paths would often cross at Leicester City’s King Power Stadium as Ian was working as a football commentator for BBC Radio Leicester. We’d chat about all sorts of stuff. 

We lost touch though when I left the paper but we’d still message each other on social media. I remember reading a series of his Tweets and I could sense that all was not well. 

A “how are you, mate” message led to us meeting for lunch and have a really good catch up and talking about all sorts including, crucially, our mental health.

It was so nice to talk to someone who had been through similar experiences as myself, to share stories and know that where mental health is concerned - you’re not alone. 

Ian embarked on his mental health journey at the age of 35 when he lost his mum, Christine Chadwick.

“My mum died on the 4th May 2016 but she wasn’t found until the 27th of June that year. I know she died on the 4th of May because when they found her body she had a receipt in her pocket for two bottles of wine. I lost my mum to alcoholism”.

The phone call from his sister telling him of his mother’s death did not come as a surprise to Ian though as she’d been having issues with alcohol for some time. There was guilt, however, as Ian had not seen his mum for a while. As a family they had tried to help mum in a situation Ian likens to a hundred metre dash “me and seven other siblings and grandchildren are on the finish line and mum’s at the start. We’ve said to her ‘you get out of the blocks half a metre and we’ll sprint the other ninety-nine and a half, but you’ve got to do the first step” They really wanted her to want to get help but unfortunately, metaphorically, she stayed in the starting blocks.

The loss Ian began to experience after his mum’s passing was not a new feeling. “My mum and dad split when I was one and at the age of 13 I left my bother and sister to live with my dad because there was domestic violence in the household where I was with my mum. Any bit of loss, anywhere, can trigger me and take it back to other losses my life”. This happened in 2018 when Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha, the owner and chairman of Leicester City Football Club, died in a helicopter crash. Vichai was very supportive of Ian’s marathon running for charity and even invited him out to Bangkok as his guest, so his sudden death was hard to take. 

It took a therapist though to put all these events and feelings together to help Ian understand he had an issue with bereavement “I’m in my mid thirties and didn’t come up with that one” says Ian but sometimes we need the external forces of a counsellor for things to make sense. 

Sessions like these teach us a lot about ourselves and one of those lessons is how to spot our emotional triggers. For me it’s stressful situations and for Ian it’s loss but by preempting those feelings we can meet our demons on a more level playing field. Ian explains “It’s my mum’s birthday in December and the ugly monster is hiding behind the bush. We’ve always put the Christmas tree up on her birthday, the 13th, because that’s what we did when she was alive”.

“It’s a yearly reminder of mum and I’m horrible on that day. So someone suggested - what if we don’t put the tree up on the 13th, that could help. That’s seeing the monster coming and tackling it head on. You can fight the invisible enemy with the tools you’ve got and that’s what therapy did for me”.

Mental health issues come in different shapes and sizes and often appear more than one at a time. Aswell as dealing with loss, Ian has been struggling with anxiety too for the last few years. Describing those feelings, Ian says “Anxiety was something I started suffering from and I don’t attribute to my mum’s passing, but to some other problems I had in my life. I started to get anxious and I’d never experienced that before. Not because I was this big brave, ‘crack on’ kind of bloke I just didn’t know what it was. I began to have panic attacks which got worse and worse and it came to a ground zero day which was October the 5th 2021”.

Whilst rounding a corner in his car one morning Ian saw a lorry coming towards him and for a split second said to himself “I’m doing 42 mph, he’s probably doing the same, that’ll probably do it” 

Thankfully that thought instantly turned to “Mate, what are you doing? You need to speak to someone. You need some help”.

And that help came in many different forms. First was driving to the house of a good friend who persuaded Ian to call his GP. His doctor called the NHS mental health crisis team. A nurse from the team was with Ian the next day. Therapy sessions followed and the Grassroots Suicide Prevention app called ‘Stay Alive’ is a comfort in times of crisis. Ian’s set of tools is completed by talking to more people and running. 

And the idea of exercise brings us nicely to the location of my interview with Ian - Bradgate Park in Leicestershire. Ian loves to walk and run around the acres of beautiful countryside explaining “Activity definitely lifts my mood so when I get my running shoes on and run through here I’m a better person”

“I was here as a kid with my mum, running around and going through the stream and I feel that sense of history when I’m here. It takes me back and I’m good with that - I wouldn’t have been a few years ago. But now, because I’ve got those coping tools, I’m OK” 

“I couldn’t listen to ‘Careless Whisper’ without crying because my mum loved George Michael and that was her favourite song. If it came on in the car I’d change the radio station.

But now my daughter and I scream it out loud.  So we turn it up now, instead of off”

“I sit on these rocks, watch the sun set and think about my mum. I look up at the sky, hold her engagement ring, which I wear on a necklace around my neck, and I imagine she’s on a cloud”.

“That gets me close and I tell her: I’m trying, mum”.

I am very grateful to Ian for sharing his story and for being so open and honest.

The more we talk about our mental health the less of a stigma it has in society. 

We would love to get to a place where talking about our issues and seeing a therapist is as natural as going to the dentist with tooth ache or booking a physio appointment for a sore knee. 

Thanks again and take care.

With my love and best wishes,

Mike

For more information about Mental Health Awareness Week 2023 please have a look at the Mental Health Foundation website: https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/our-work/public-engagement/mental-health-awareness-week

And if you are in the Warwickshire area, Gill also volunteers at the North Warwickshire Counselling Service. They offer reduced fee counselling to those in need from low income households.  It is a small charity which has been active in the area for a number of years http://www.nwcounselling.org.uk.  

[thedreadvampy]

after the cbt post I'm really unsure if I even want to apply for counselling now

the whole point of looking for therapy was to get help but if it makes things worse then maybe I should just carry on trying to do it myself?

I don't fuckin know

that was meant to be my out for feeling like this what the fuck do I do now

Like. First off this is about CBT, not about counseling generally, which has been really useful once I've found the right process. I don't know if you're in the UK or not, but while accessing NHS counseling hasn't always been easy and it took a while to find the right fit, when I did get a counselor and approach that fit my needs it jumped my healing forwards by miles, it really can be a lifesaver (plus tbh if you're really deep in the doldrums, it can help just by giving you some structure and space). Don't stop looking for counseling because it absolutely can make a huge positive difference, I don't know where I'd be without the counseling I got from the rape crisis center and the NHS. There's a lot of types of therapy/counselling out there and what works for you isn't something I can predict - for me what I've reacted to best is freeform talk therapy, but other people find that really hard to engage with and prefer more structured or theoretical therapies, and the NHS offer a lot of different ones (they just tend to jump to CBT first).

So, beyond that; some people do find CBT really helpful. But the way the NHS specifically uses CBT is outside its recommended use, which is treatment for OCD, BPD, anxiety and some PTSD symptoms (although not PTSD itself). The NHS basically uses it as a first stop for pretty much all mental health patients as far as I can tell (because, as I say, it's cheap and easy to apply) so, much like most people with MH problems I know have been on Citalopram (which is their first stop SSRI), most people I know with MH problems have been to CBT sessions. And with that range of problems, most of them won't find what they need in CBT, which, again, despite how it's currently used, is not designed as a general purpose treatment but specifically to help manage repetitive thought and behaviour patterns.

For some people, managing thought and behaviour patterns is what they need, at least temporarily. My partner found it very helpful to keep him out of breakdown territory during a hard time, and so have several friends I know (seems to have positive impacts particularly on friends diagnosed with BPD bc BPD diagnostic criteria, which focus on intense reaction and toxic thought spirals, line up really well with what CBT is designed to help with).

I think the way in which it's harmed me and others isn't the actual treatment, but the fact that it's treated as if it Should Work and that can make you feel way worse if everyone tells you 'CBT and mindfulness is a magic cure that fixes all your brain problems' and then it. doesn't. because your specific problem isn't what is designed to fix. and I think that harm is mitigated by knowing that a) what works for you is highly personal even within diagnoses, b) at the time you get CBT you probably don't have a concrete diagnosis beyond Something Ain't Right and c) CBT, even when it's right for you, isn't meant to be the end point.

CBT is, specifically, a stop-gap. It's meant to help you keep going with your life while you sort stuff out. Again, because of budget reasons the NHS kind of hope that your problems won't be too bad so that CBT will give you a good enough stable starting point to sort your own shit out without further support, which does work for some people, but for most of us CBT should be part of a larger treatment journey if used at all. CBT is a bandage - it doesn't close the wound, but where it works it stops you bleeding out long enough to either get to a hospital or for your body to heal itself.

I'm not going to lie to you - for a lot of us, getting through to the point where we're accessing the right treatment can be a slog. And because of how the NHS works, it can mean going to CBT, finding it doesn't work for you, and gritting your teeth through a six session course so you can go back to your doctor and say 'see, this didn't work for me and the CBT people agree, what else ya got?' My partner's just sat through 14 sessions of group therapy he found extremely stupidly designed specifically because sometimes that's what you gotta do to get referred on for one-on-one talk therapy, which is what he actually needs.

Like I say, the harm comes when you're made to feel like you're failing therapy. You don't fail therapy. Therapy that isn't working just isn't the right setup for you for whatever reason and that's not a flaw in you, there is no universal catchall therapeutic method. It's always going to be trial and error and if you are able to hold in mind that you're not Bad for finding a counseling style or methodology unhelpful, off-putting or alienating, then badly-fitted therapy shouldn't be nearly as harmful as trying to struggle on manfully alone.

The hardest but most rewarding part for me was the process of learning that I could just say 'this isn't working for me because XYZ, can we try a different approach' and...nothing bad would happen. I wouldn't lose my access to counseling and nobody shouted at me, and when I said 'this isn't working can we change it'...things got better. I was having an absolutely shit and frustrating time with my NHS counselor, I was finding going to counseling a huge stress, and after stewing for a couple of weeks I blew up and said 'I don't like this, this or this, I feel talked down to when you do this, I don't feel like you're listening to me about this, and this thing you're doing keeps making me feel worse' and he got defensive. but he also. changed his practise immediately. and we ended up having a really fantastic and productive 6 months of counseling and I am in private therapy now but I keep referring back to the work he and I did together because it was so useful for me.

So like the takeaways for me are a) know that the fact that this counseling might suck for you doesn't mean counseling in general won't be helpful, there's always going to be some trial and error to find the right fit, b) if it does suck, don't suffer in silence, tell them! if you're sitting there hating it, they're not getting anything out of that either so just let them know that you're uncomfortable, finding it hard to engage, etc (I know this can be really hard and I know for me I only started being able to push back when I was already a couple of years into my treatment journey but do what you can do to communicate your fears) and c) when it works it works.

Getting counseling that works is a journey. It can be wearing and esoteric and a pain in the ass, and sometimes you just don't click with a therapy and sometimes you just don't click with the counselor, but it is absolutely worth pushing through the bullshit because a) change often happens gradually while you're not looking and b) finding a concept who works for you absolutely can change your life super fast. It took me a couple of tries but when I found a counselor and approach that worked for me I managed within 16 sessions to get out of my house, to get a job I liked for the first time, to go out and meet people for the first time in a city I'd been in for 3 years, and to cut out a lot of the people who were making my life unsafe. It's so worth it but it is a journey that takes time and trial and error, so the sooner you start the sooner you're likely to get somewhere that helps you.

[maebymaedayidk]

Tw/ mental health, adhd, doctors

So 2 days ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD.

I cannot even find the words to accurately communicate how fucking VALIDATING getting that diagnosis was.

For years and years of my life I've been like "Yeah, i probably have adhd" but I felt TERRIBLE identifying with it because I didn't have a formal diagnosis. I was so worried I was just being an ignorant neurotypical, like the people who are like "omg yeah I'm SO OCD like I hate mess"

My parents always said I have ADHD, but because the school system does fuck all to support neurodivergent people they just never bothered to get me diagnosed. And I truly understand where they were coming from. I live in a tiny town, growing up the neurodivergent kids were more scrutinized than they were supported, it actually was safer at the time to go undiagnosed.

But I'm 20 now. At 17 my parents stopped making my appointments for me. For 3 years I was dragging my feet about getting diagnosed because out of EVERYTHING that I had to deal with growing up, all the struggle through highschool, the shittiness of zoomiversity, the thing that terrified me most was going to the doctor and hearing her say

"No, you're normal."

Because that's it, isn't it? The fear going to the doctor and them telling you that nothing is wrong, that its just *you*. That they have no idea what you're talking about. And for me i think that that is a response is rooted in the trauma of being a female presenting person trying to navigate the health care system. The fear of being told "no", then not getting the help you KNOW you need. And having to continue living your life when you KNOW that you could be so much more if you just got HELP.

But thankfully my doctor believed me. She told me:

"yeah, you've got all of the symptoms. Well set you up with counselling and I want to get you started on some medicine. We will find what works for you."

I nearly cried.

It's such a weird feeling, to be told that something you always suspected is correct. It's validating and you can finally allow yourself to be HOPEFUL.

I firmly believe that having ADHD is not a flaw, or the product of a broken brain or what have you. I truly think that humanity would not have gotten as far as it has if everyone's brain were built the exact same way. Having ADHD, being autistic, and just having a brain that works differently is a struggle because of the expectations and the systems of the society we live in. Our brains, fundamentally, weren't designed for capitalism.

We weren't designed to be individualistic, we weren't designed to not support eachother. The notion of "independence", with its modern expectations attached, does not create a thriving society. We have to rely on each other, and support each other. I'm slowly falling into a rant about ableism and although that is connected •♡°○lets stay on track○°♡•

I was so lucky that I was believed, that my doctor was quick to offer support. Not everyone gets that experience and it sucks. But I'm so happy that I finally got that diagnosis.

I'm mae, the possum, and I have ADHD.

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

Re-post from r/MeehanSurvivors Reddit Community. An Enthusiastic Sobriety Counselor Survivor Story.

TW: References to child pornography, conversion therapy, homophobia, masturbation, and sex.

I would love nothing more than to preserve my admiration for the program, if only for the reason that it would be easier to do so, but after years of being deceived, I find it utterly absurd to disregard any contempt on the basis of the misplaced gratitude that it saved my life. While the program undoubtedly contributed to my success in a number of ways, it has nevertheless become clear that I’ve walked away with trauma that, even after all of this time, I fail to wholly understand. What I do know, however, is that my disillusionment with enthusiastic sobriety is heavily rooted in how I was treated, as the people who claimed to love me evidently made it their mission to eradicate who I was and, likewise, transform me into a duller, lesser version of themselves. I will never know who I could’ve been had they honored the parts of myself that needed nurturing, only who I am today and the damage I’ve since been left with.

From the moment I joined the program, I knew exactly what its expectations were. It was made abundantly clear throughout the treatment process, where I was bombarded with endless conversations about what it meant to be a winner - a concept given context far beyond a sober individual working the twelve steps. I was not only told how to behave, but what to believe about every area of my life. It did not matter if those areas were deeply personal, as evidenced by the countless discussions related to sex; in fact, I would not only learn who we could and could not fantasize about while masturbating, but what we could and could not do sexually - as if we could not be trusted to determine for ourselves the actions we take in our own bedrooms. I also found myself on the receiving end of many conversations revolving around whether or not it was acceptable to shave one’s own pubic region, as was a commonly held belief that a shaved pubic region was not only unnecessary, but a product of one’s own vanity that, incidentally, mimics child pornography. Perhaps more disturbing, however, was the ideology surrounding pornography, in general, that we were ordinarily subjected to. We were first told that no self-respecting woman would want to be with a man who’s actively watching porn; then, we were told that it alters a man’s behavior so much that women will be able to recognize whether or not they watch it. The possibility of romance was used as a weapon against us by the counselors, as well as group members, to conform to their principles, rather than allowing us to establish our own and when that didn’t work, personal attacks were their next best option. I remember being asked if I really wanted to be the guy who’s strung out on porn the rest of his life, as if it was some kind of crippling addiction that would keep me from getting anything I ever wanted out of life. Even more importantly, however, it was through these frequent exchanges that I became familiarized with “Pavlov’s Dog Theory,” a scientific study so bastardized by the counselors that it existed solely to explain away the possibility of any non-heterosexual orientation. Being insecure with my own sexuality, it was of course music to my ears to discover that my attraction to the same sex, a perversion as I then recognized it, was the result of watching too much porn and could be easily resolved by the work outlined by the program. For the next few years, I would work endlessly to alter my sexual orientation back to “normal” and apparently did so well enough that I was eventually asked to attend the Meehan Institute of Counselor Training.

When I was in counselor training, most of what we discussed had very little to do with counseling; in fact, the information required to pass the state-mandated test was tossed aside in exchange for the radically inappropriate teachings that came directly from the program itself. Examples of this, of course, include the explanation that non-heterosexual orientations were not only “unnatural” but an expression of one’s perverse desire for instant gratification, usually resulting from either their addiction to porn, as I had already learned in outpatient, or their unresolved childhood trauma. It was also reasoned that an attraction to the same sex was often a natural consequence of being in an abusive relationship with a member of the opposite sex, a belief supported only by the theory that the person, in question, had unlikely resolved their own fear of getting hurt again. Some people were just “pussies” that had decided to seek the “easier, softer way,” an almost comical assumption given that there is nothing “easier” or “softer” about being queer. I would actually be referred to as a “pussy” while sharing to one of the program's many directors that I had sexual thoughts about other men. His solution for me was that since “there is nothing romantic about two men butt fucking each other,” I should spend the time wasted fantasizing about that on where I would like to take a girl on a date. It’s these ways of thinking that we, who’s families spend $5,600 to send us to counselor training, learn for the three months that we’re there. It’s these three months, where we are taught that absurdity is a natural substitute for science, that earn us the right to then counsel others, many of whom are children. I never could've imagined the abuse that would follow, despite the seeds that had been sown throughout the better part of my recovery.

A few weeks after I graduated from counselor training, when I was working the Step One shift, a couple of the program's directors took me away from it to smoke cigars with them. It was there that they talked to me about how I needed to work on developing more masculine qualities, perhaps by engaging in a hobby that was, according to them, “outside of my comfort zone.” Later on, one of my coworkers would lecture me for the way I had reached out to a girl in the group, explaining that she, along with others, might think that I’m gay for agreeing to watch a “chick flick” with her. Another coworker would make fun of me for crying to a song that reminded me of my dead parent, for the reason that it was, according to her, a “gay” thing to do. In one of the monthly purpose meetings, the director made jokes about me being “inside” of another male counselor - something that was received only with laughter. Bob Meehan himself would even tell the training class following my own that while I deserved the upmost respect for taking everyone’s shit, I was probably gay. When I would share how I felt, in reference to these incidents, I was told that my options were either to “change it” or to “own it.” I began to internalize all of this and, due to my own desire to be accepted, I began working even harder to change these qualities that had been deemed unacceptable by those around me. I would later be celebrated in a purpose for denouncing a dramatic television show for the reason that when I watched it, it made me feel like a “faggot;” however, even that wouldn’t satisfy those around me, as my sponsor, who was also my coworker, would suggest that I stop watching Friends, as well, due to the fact that it was the kind of show his wife watched. I would experience similar criticism from yet another coworker who suggested that I only liked “girly shit” for “shock value” and that it was nothing more than my ego attempting to differentiate myself from everyone else. If by now you’re wondering why I even participated in these conversations, all I can say is that it was always in pursuit of becoming a better man and I trusted that the staff had those answers. I couldn't have been more wrong, as I can't help but notice today that what I was subjected to is in direct opposition of the very laws that protect employees from this kind of treatment by their employers; however, in the program, what’s illegal is classified as “spiritual.”

For years, I felt relegated to a subclass of human existence and for what reason? I spent years working on the things that made my life unmanageable primarily because the people around me decided that it was. Furthermore, I was promised that if I stopped watching porn, which I did for years, my brain would rewire itself and I would no longer be attracted to men. As stupid as that sounds now, why wouldn’t I, as an 18 year old, believe what I was hearing from who I only presumed to be trained professionals? I trusted them and really worked hard to take their every suggestion, going as far as becoming a member of Sexaholics Anonymous, despite the fact that I had never even had sex at that point. It was nothing if not incredibly painful to do the same thing over and over again, only to be told to get up and try again by the very people who would describe that as insanity in any other case. I was never once told that what I was doing wasn’t working for me; instead, I was told to try harder. In all of the time I spent in the program, I was never even given the option to try something different until after quitting, when someone told me that my sexual orientation, whatever it may be, was perfectly acceptable and far from a determining factor in my ability to effectively work a program. It took years to hear that, the majority of which were spent somewhere that I definitely should have. That is not only unacceptable but they should be absolutely ashamed of themselves.

Alas, the problem I have with the program is not necessarily that they’ll never apologize to me, but that they lack the self-awareness to even consider it. When I shared my concerns about the program with one of their counselors, he dismissed them with the statement that it’s a perfect program ran by imperfect people and that I should judge them not by their actions, but by their intentions, which coincidentally, contradicts the program’s reliance on a quote from the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous that states exactly the opposite. He also told me that I was angry and resentful, despite the fact that I was neither. When I shared my concerns with another counselor, he dismissed them with the suggestion that perhaps the counseling I received, in regards to my sexual orientation, resulted from how I presented it to the staff. His feedback was not only highly insulting, but a complete bastardization of the facts. Not only was I brutally honest about that area of my life, so much that it's all I spoke of, but I was the client and it was far from my role to ensure that the counselors did their job. I was little more than a child at the time; nevertheless, the implication that my negative experiences were all my fault only served as evidence that any attempt to cooperate with the program, and convince them of the ways in which I was harmed, is futile. Why would I want to, anyway, after years of watching any criticism of the program be rationalized as the delusions of “bailed kids” or “disgruntled ex-staff?” The only answer would be to prevent it from happening again, although to think that outcome is even a possibility appears naïve at best. They’ve made it abundantly clear where they stand, that they’re right, everyone else is wrong, and there’s no reason for them to change anything - lest of course it threatens their credibility, which in that case they only become more insidious in their transgressions.

TLDR: The program not only intrusively dictates the sex lives of their clients, but has proven itself to be particularly unloving toward those who are LGBTQIA+. It is a cultural issue that can not be reduced to a few examples of bad counseling. It is clear that they see no reason whatsoever to change this.

[cowperviolet]

For Gods and Gold - mega excerpt

'No one will disturb us here', Mathilde vander Welde says, shutting the door of the library behind her. Her sister’s distraction tactic worked perfectly.

‘‘I hope so, juvrow vander Welde’, Jochem Meier, who came in with her, comments. ‘Otherwise they’ll accuse you of both forfeiting your virtue here with me and of being heartless enough to discuss business on the day of you father’s funeral’.

As often, it’s impossible to say whether his remark is meant as a joke or a serious warning. Mathilde decides in favor of a warning whose absurdity she may laugh about, but whose crux she better heed.

‘This is most like to be the last moment when we can discuss matters in any privacy to speak of’, she says, the terra cotta panels of red and white bright under her feet. ‘As soon as tomorrow’s sun is up, every minute of my life is going to be devoured by my new well-wishers’.

That, and the walls of her house are going to grow many curious ears. She doesn’t spell it out because he understands it, and understands that she does. This is one of the reasons she values his counsel so: his quiet quickness of mind, otherwise veiled of necessity in the presence of those whose fortunes are bigger and lineages purer.

‘What was it you wished to discuss, juvrow vander Welde?’ Jochem Meier asks patiently. His attire, despite the occasion, reflects the same studious understatement as his tone: the black tunic of a minor merchant, the unadorned fingers, the high collar at his neck.

‘I wished to discuss the project of Shashtre, and its future’.

‘It was my understanding that the project is completed. The Armizi dynasty has gained their throne back, thanks to your esteemed father’s generous loan. The only thing left to do seems to be to wring a reduction in tariffs or a monopoly on pepper from Alessandro Armizi before the festive incense clouds his mind too much’.

‘I propose a different strategy, and I need to know if you are going to support it’.

‘I am a man with a stained family name and three wool workshops, juvrow vander Welde. I cannot imagine my support, humble as it is, would matter to you much’, he says drily.

Mathilde sighs inwardly – so, he has probably guessed what it is she thought up. Still, the only way she has now is to soldier on.

‘Father has already made us kingmakers. To use it for a pepper monopoly would be like using Ilerdian silk to wipe these floors. This a chance of a century. I am not going to pass it up’.

‘A chance to do what?’

‘To gain Alessandro Armizi’s trust enough to become, in essence, his own treasurers, the shapers of his kingdom. His court is young. He needs trusted people around him, even if some of them are going to be foreigners. No one on Ilerdian peninsula would be shocked at the notion of a foreigner in such a role, in truth – some states there even choose men from other principalities on purpose, to have someone free from the local factions’.

‘Men from other principalities on the same peninsula; from the states that are heirs to the same broken empire. Not those they perceive to be Northern barbarians’.

Mathilde kneels unceremoniously by a reading seat and narrows her eyes, making out the letters on the book list; ah, the candlelight here is so much dimmer…

Jochem Meier is looking at her almost suspiciously, as if from the pile of heavy, chained tomes she could spring upon him a curse.

She cannot even blame him. Her father had been a known, well-studied figure to him – to everyone - for decades; she, his heiress, is a yet-untested thing, wild as quicksilver.

‘There is so much more at stake’, she whispers, opening a leather volume, wishing her fingertips could become light feathers, unable to harm the treasure beneath. ‘If I succeed – if we succeed – who is to say what we cannot achieve? We could reach Alessandro’s uncle the Great Mowbed, help him manage his affairs. Bankers to the Holy Throne. It doesn’t sound too bad, does it?’ Mathilde smiles radiantly, the way she knows she is prone to when she gets overexcited.

‘The Great Mowbed, the Priest of Priests, His Truthfulness’, Jochem Meier muses, stepping closer to Mathilde and looking over her shoulder. ‘So many hallowed titles, but such a precarious position in the world. I suppose few would question his spiritual authority, but when it comes to the worldly leadership…’

‘He is the master of the capital of the former empire. That doesn’t seem to be the kind of worldly leadership to complain about’. Mathilde opens a page at random - she doesn’t have to seek out a particular illustration; every miniature is exquisite – two armies fight on the field of pale blue snow. One side is stiff in long, luminous chain-mail, the other’s armour is covered by flowing robes of porphyry.

‘Just look at it’, she whispers. ‘Isn’t it worth its weight in gold? It was a stroke of luck that my grandfather managed to find it. This was a part of the series of manuscripts commissioned for the last emperor in Janab – can you imagine? They were stolen, lost, dispersed throughout the peninsula during the wars afterwards. And this one surfaced in Esfan just when grandfather was there bargaining for a saffron consignment – we didn’t have a permanent company there yet. We’ve got the second and the fifth tome here, too, but they are of a later production’.

‘If you are trying to seduce me into supporting your enterprise by dazzling me with the glories of Ilerdian land, I’m afraid it isn’t working, juvrow vander Welde’.

Ah, but Mathilde can hear his voice growing softer.

I am not stupid, she thinks. I know that Janab is long since hollowed out, a place of magnificent ruins. I know that there had been princes holding Great Mowbeds hostage, and even more young dynasties tumbling down. But I want to take this risk. I cannot stop, cannot slink back to the cozy fireside. It is simply not my nature.

‘Think about the recent assassination attempt’, Meier murmurs just above her ear. ‘Can you imagine if it succeeded? With the Armizi Great Mowbed dead, his nephew in Shashtre won’t reign for a day’.

‘But it didn’t succeed. Besides, I thought your version was that the Great Mowbed simply cooked up this story because he wanted to cull the dastwars from the oldest families’.

'My version was that he merely used the situation to cull the mighty old guard in the Circle of Dastwars. It was too big a great stroke of luck, that all five conspirators belonged to it. I never said the actual knives in the dark weren’t genuine’.

The armies are meeting in battle – a graceful, orderly battle of a miniature. Even as the horseman in bright chain-mail slashes across the thighs of a porphyry-clad enemy, one’s attention is drawn more to the fluid lines than to the flowing blood.

‘I have not just called you here to receive your blessing’, Mathilde says, trying her best to keep the exhaustion and the nerves out of her voice. ‘I called you here because I want to entrust a lion’s share of this enterprise to you’. She turns around to face him and whispers: ‘I want you to go to Shashtre as the ambassador of the Republic of Gronsveld’.

This time, Meier does not reply. Finally, he is listening, looking down at her intently.

‘I want you to go’, Mathilde continues, ‘and to represent our interest and the Armizi court as well as the Republic’s. But, most of all, I want you to look out for any dangers to his rule or his life, and inform us about it’.

‘Or deal with them on site, should the situation allow, I take it’.

‘There is no one else, even among people who were loyal to my father, whom I could have trusted to be capable enough to manage it’.

There is also no one else who could be seduced by such a blatant promise of social climbing. The men and women who gathered in her father’s parlour to drink hippocras and discuss the price of fustian have long since climbed the ladder of power – indeed, their great-grandparents did – and would be likely to view such an offer as a dangerous distraction rather than an honour.

Jochem Meier is a different story.

Mathilde continues to smile. She is supposedly asking it of him as favour, not offering it as a gift - she doesn’t want to be seen as someone who secures people’s acquiescence with bribery, least of all by herself.

‘It’s a dangerous favour to ask’, he murmurs, his eyes keen.

Very well.

‘I promise to cover the costs of your embassy if the Chancery would fail to do so’.

‘Which it inevitably will. There only remains a minor question on whether the Council will vote to grant me the embassy’.

She had secured his help. Mathilde lets out a cautious breath.

‘This year’s Council is full of father’s old allies’.

‘They all have their own interests, Mathilde’.

A flush lights up her cheeks.

‘I wonder’, Mathilde says as levelly and lightly as she can, ‘if you used to call my father Walter’.

‘Forgive me, juvrow vander Welde’. A small, servile smile – the smile he could always put on like a cloak – is back on his lips. ‘Doubtless the mourning has addled my brain. That, and the rapture over the honour you’ve promised me’.

Promised. Not given.

Mathilde silently chastises herself for the outburst. The last thing she needs now is alienating her allies. But his slip of a tongue felt like he clutched her already broken arm. So many people, friends and enemies alike, are circling around her now, pillorying her with their stares, whispering about her uncommon youth – at twenty-one, they have all been dutifully gathering experience in the far-flung branches of their families’ banks and firms, not standing at the helm. One thing they are all sure about – some with pity, some with glee, but sure nonetheless – is that she is an easy prey, a lamb to the slaughter. Something much, much lesser than her father.

Her father. For the first time in the evening, the pain of loss clutching at her throat is threatening to overwhelm her and spill over into tears. Her father could have died a hundred times from a conspirator's blade, a rival's poison. But what toppled him was a simple kidney stone.

The surgery went splendidly; the physician priests were, as ever, proud of their ancient expertise. Their prowess made sure the process was quick; their draught eased the patient's suffering. But they had no power over the fevers that could follow, bringing swelling and delirium and deadly, morbid heat.

In death, he had been garbed as ostentatiously as he had rarely been in life, his shoulders swathed in a cape of cloth of gold embroidered with horses. The same animals were engraved on his brooches; the ends were bent - no living man will unclasp or wear them again. One cannot be too careful when seeking Aetrele's goodwill. In life, he prayed to her to ease the passage of his ships over the stormy waters. In death, her fabled horses should aid his final journey, carry him to the pale shores swiftly and soundly.

Mathilde bites her nails into her palms. She’ll weep later, with her sister for company. Right now, she must be her usual self – bright and hunt-ready.

‘Your father used to complain that men in his employ only bother to use double-entry bookkeeping if he is there to threaten them with a metaphorical stick’, Jochem Meier notes. ‘His allies on the Council are only different insomuch that they wear better cloaks’.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Mathilde can guess what he is getting at, but wants to hear it from his lips nonetheless.

‘There is going to be an out-of-time election for meester vander Welde’s vacated place on this year’s Council. I am suggesting that it would be a good use of your time to make sure you are elected to it’.

‘I am too young. They don’t welcome anyone below the age of twenty-five at least on the Council’.

‘They would have no choice if your name is to be drawn from the leather purses. The rule of the chance is the rule of gods, and the rule of gods is sacred’.

Mathilde is not a pure ewe of spring to be ignorant of the grease that kept the Republic’s wheels running. She knows how his father made sure the Council was stacked with his sympathizers this year, and she knows how much it costs to make the keepers of the purses add a certain name thrice, or even read aloud a different name than that on the piece of paper they’ve drawn. Desperate circumstances needed desperate measures.

Still, there is that, and then there is brazenly violating the law and hoping that whatever aura of sanctity still clung to the proceedings would help.

‘I don’t want to start my leadership like this’, Mathilde says. The cold of the onsetting winter is drawing in from the great library windows, and pricking her skin into goosebumps.

‘It’s better than starting it with a defeat’, Jochem Meier responds pragmatically.

Few candles are burning here, and the friezes running along the walls are shrouded in murk. They are depicting the labours and the joys of every season – a simple, understandable topic, requiring no reading and no fine eye to enjoy. They have been commissioned by her grandfather in the days when this room was a bedchamber, not a library; the figures are stylized as dolls of clay, and their colours are cheap hues of the earth.

Behind Mathilde’s back, the first tome of the Song of Emperors in breathing with gold.

This is what her father wanted when involving himself in these great campaigns down in the Ilerdian south, she knows; more than money, more than lucrative contracts. He wanted to bring back home the beauty and the knowledge of the empire that had been great when his homeland was still slumbering in savagery.

Desperate circumstances, Mathilde decides, sometimes need desperate measures indeed.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

In a Parallel Universe

Could it be... fluff? The happy, uplifting tone of this can entirely be credited to Mustafa as a muse. I truly believe the man should be held up as an example of how to be a good human and how to be masculine without it becoming toxic. (The way he is treated by WWE, much like that other paragon of positive masculinity Sami Zayn, is something I can angrily rant about another time.) 

Pairing: Mustafa Ali x reader (platonic)

Word count: 2,659

Content advisory: Racism/ racist language

“Did you ever have a thing for me?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you look back at Mustafa, your best friend, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly. He’s looking at you with those big, ingenuous eyes, as if he’s just asked you if you’ve decided what you want for dinner. In all the time you’ve known each other you’ve never once brought up the subject of romantic interest or physical attraction and yet here he is, just throwing it out there. 

You’re watching your daughters collaborate on a colouring project that might as well be “Guernica” for how seriously they’re taking it. 

The bell-like laughter of his wife and mother-in-law is drifting in from the back patio where they’re taking some much-needed time alone together. 

You’re waiting on your husband Jake, who’s already sent four apologetic texts about how the Saturday he’s been called into work keeps dragging on, promising that he’ll be there as soon as he can, but that he doesn’t expect you to hold up the barbeque just for him. (Even though he knows you will.)

You laugh a little and squint at him, as if what he’s asked is somehow ridiculous. But it’s not ridiculous. Two heterosexual people who’ve been close friends for so long… it would almost be weird if there hadn’t been any sexual tension. Nevertheless, you think of just rolling your eyes and blowing the subject off. It would be easy enough to do. But his unwavering earnestness has always demanded respect and honesty and it’s possible that he knows the answer already. You certainly do. 

“I guess,” you begin, aware that your voice is wavering a little, “early on. I had a bit of a crush.”

Is that the truth? In as much as feeling can be summed up in so few words, yes. It wasn’t like you’d been pining and crying yourself to sleep at night, but sure, you’d felt it. You’d approached him to ask if you could train with him after the two of you had worked a few of the same local shows where the wrestlers outnumbered the audience members. Yes, you’d been beyond impressed with his skills but you’d also noticed how very, very cute he was.

“I mean, everyone did,” you assure him. “All the girls liked you.”

Not all the girls had your confidence or your desire to really break in to the wrestling world, though. So you’d been the one to steel yourself and walk up to him at the gym one night and ask if he’d help you. It was a calculated risk, you figured: he could refuse, he could give it a shot and get bored or irritated and walk away, he could help you become a better wrestler even if he wasn’t interested in more, he could feel your skills were hopeless but also decide you were attractive enough to pursue, or he could want to be both a training partner and something more. Five possible outcomes, three of which worked in your favour. You’d always been clever with numbers and the numbers clearly gave you a better than even chance of a positive result. 

He laughs shyly and looks down at the idea that “all the girls” had found him attractive. It’s not that he’s ever been insecure about his looks and charm, exactly, but he’s never been the sort of arrogant prick who’s assumed everyone must be in love or lust with him. And that’s always been part of his charm; confident enough not to seem needy but humble enough to appreciate the attention. 

Of course, you’ve always been a little surprised that he doesn’t have more of an ego. The luscious mane of black hair, the smile that could power a small city, the toned body that never crossed into that lumpy, bulgy look that too many of your counterparts developed, and most of all those huge, soulful eyes… The man was infuriatingly flawless and even now it’s not like you are immune to the occasional whisper of desire.  

“Shit. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?”

And then there was the personality. Mustafa had always been too great of a guy to be real. He’d been your rock. Whenever things ground you down, he was the one who could build you up again. When you got angry and depressed at the state of the world, he’d commiserate but he’d also be able to give you hope, if only because a world that produced someone as awesome as he was couldn’t be all bad. 

You could honestly say that without him, you’d never have fought your way out of the indies and into the big leagues. That wasn’t just because training with him made you a stronger, better wrestler. It was because the two of you had been able to lean on each other when things were rough. And damn, things had been rough at times. 

When the two of you had graduated from bar shows for disinterred old men drinking watered-down beer and playing slot machines, you’d been beyond excited. The shows you got invited to took place in gymnasiums and legion halls and church basements with actual audiences who had come specifically to watch the wrestling. You knew it wasn’t the big time; you were excited, not stupid. But it was progress and a lot of people you knew hadn’t even made it that far. You’d grounded yourselves by talking about your meager pay and by calculating how much you’d earned per bruise at each show. 

One of the larger, or at least more successful promotions that had booked you had provided an eye-opening experience. The promoter was a corpulent man with a mouth full of lumps that barely counted as teeth and breath to match. He’d called both two of you aside a few hours before your first show to tell you the gimmick that he had in mind for the two of you. It had come as a bit of a surprise because although you were friends, you’d never teamed up in the ring. You’d reveled in being the foul-mouthed heel, while he had, of course, been a natural baby face. (And if you were honest, so few people knew who you were that your characters hadn’t ever mattered.)

“I wanna do a thing with the two of you,” the promoter began, sweat already dampening his forehead and staining the armpits of his cheap shirt. “You two are gonna be like a pair of terrorists. You can fight all the American guys- and girls- and get them over with the crowd. Get the audience riled up.”

The two of you had stared back at him in horror, jaws slack. 

“I’m thinking something like ‘Osama and Elle Qaeda’ for your names.” His brow furrowed as he processed another idea. “Can you come up with some shit to yell in Arabic?”

You remembered thinking that it must be some kind of joke. Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden were products of the Arabian Peninsula. Mustafa’s parents were Pakistani and Indian. Yours were Kurds from southern Turkey. Not one of your parents even spoke Arabic. But more to the point, the two of you were American. You were both born and bred in Chicago. Neither of you had any hint of an accent. Why couldn’t you just be normal? 

The promoter looked at you impatiently. Mustafa recovered his voice enough to stammer through an explanation of your ethnicity, only to be greeted with a look of supreme indifference and boredom. 

“Look,” he said sharply, “it doesn’t matter. You have the look. Around here you’re all sand ni-“

Remembering that night still hurts. The pain has dulled over time because at the moment he’d said it, it felt like you’d been shot in the chest. For a few moments you’d been afraid that you were actually going to vomit. Growing up in a racially mixed area, your features and your family name had been ambiguous enough that people thought that people usually guessed that you were Greek or Italian before they got to Turkish or even broadly Middle Eastern. You’d been proud to declare that you were descended from the little-known but courageous and resilient Kurds. But out here in the wider world, you were an Arab and therefore a terrorist. The Indian subcontinent, birthplace of so many cultures, arts, religions and philosophies, crossroads of empires, might as well have never existed. Mustafa was an Arab and therefore a terrorist. 

Seeing what he perceived as hesitation, the promoter scowled at both of you. “Give it a shot,” he counseled. “It’s the only way people are gonna take you seriously.”  

You and Mustafa smile at each other, as if you’ve both been recalling the painful judgments you’d faced together, as if you’re amazed you survived let alone flourished. You’d pulled each other through. 

“I’d always kind of wondered if you’d ever liked me,” he says shyly. 

Yes, you think, you had. You were a tall, muscular girl. It had made sense that you work with a male training partner. So he’d been happy to work with you and you were thrilled to be able to learn from him. You felt yourself improving every time you practiced together. But your mind had often drifted to how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you in other circumstances. More than once you’d been tempted to close the scant distance between your lips just to see how he’d react. 

“I liked you,” he adds, eyes snapping up to see your reaction. 

You do your best to mask your shock. “You did?”

“Sure. C’mon, look at you.”

Your mouth feels a little dry. The sounds from the patio have faded and even the children have fallen silent. 

“Maybe not right away because I thought you were kind of scary, to be honest,” he chuckles. “But after we’d been hanging around, I don’t know, about a year or so, I really liked you.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea that you were scary. Maybe you’d thought you could be scary to some of the smaller, less experienced women you’d fought. But to someone on your level both skill-wise and vertically? No. 

“I’m serious. I wasn’t desperate or anything but I remember thinking a lot about what might have happened if I’d made a move.”

You wonder about the math in your head. You hadn’t entertained those thoughts about him for all that long. Sure he was hot, but as you’d risen through the ranks together, he’d quickly come to seem like a brother. The idea of the two of you being a couple had started to seem weird. You’d thought about it less the longer you spent together, so it was strange for you to think that as you’d gotten over your initial crush, he’d begun thinking of you in that way.

Your shared reverie is interrupted as his little girl climbs into his lap, sour-faced and frustrated that she’s running out of brown crayons. The work of art that your girls are creating relies heavily on earth tones for the ground, for the tree trunks and bushes, and, you note happily, for the different faces of the people occupying the epic landscape they’ve made. There are all sorts of shades of people and there just aren’t enough brown crayons to build the different tones. 

Your daughter purses her lips in a look of stubborn determination you’ve come to know all too well. She’s grabbed red crayons, orange crayons, yellow crayons, green crayons, whatever she can get her hands on to colour in her people. She’s as upset as her friend that there aren’t enough browns but she would never let on. As ridiculous as it seems, you’re actually a little intimidated by just how headstrong she is. Now that she’s learned the alphabet, she seems like she’s about ready to move out and start kicking ass. 

She casts a quick glance in your direction and you have to hold back a gasp at her fierce, beautiful eyes. Looking at her face, you’re gob smacked by the idea that something that gorgeous came out of you. It’s like looking at the sun. It’s even stranger to think that she could be the product of the wild, all-encompassing lust that you and your husband had- still have- for each other. How could something that seemed so deliciously sinful produce something so perfect?

You glance back at Mustafa, whose attention is now completely absorbed in his daughter’s lecture on the need for more brown crayons. She’s articulate far beyond her years and you hope beyond hope that years of school won’t convince her to hide her intelligence the way girls of your generation did. 

It’s possible that there was a time when your desire for Mustafa and his for you overlapped, that there was an opening when the two of you could have touched lips and fallen into each other as if nothing else in the world existed. The two of you would probably have been a power couple in the industry. Your dazzling combination of skills would have been irresistible. With the way your families have come to love the both of you, it’s likely they would have moved beyond the cultural differences that absolutely do exist, no matter what some ignorant arsehole might have told you when he insisted you were both Arab terrorists. 

And it is most definitely possible that the two of you would be sitting in a living room just like this, embracing as you observed your children colouring or playing video games, or chasing each other around with rubber swords, or, worst of all, trying to emulate what they saw their parents doing on television. And perhaps as you watched, you’d look at each other and touch lips with all the tenderness in your souls and you would be filled to the point of bursting with happiness. 

But then there would be no…

There would be no Jake, the man who made you realize what true, unadulterated love really was. You would never have had someone make you laugh the way that he can, make you laugh so much that your ribs ache for hours. There would never have been the man who taught you how to curse in Irish or how to snowboard. And you would not have your daughter, so filled with her father’s sarcasm and stubbornness. 

For that matter, you would never have had Mustafa’s wife as your friend. When Jake had been hit by a car while riding his bike to work, you would not have had her comforting arms and her voice to pull you through the agonizing days when doctors cautioned you not to be too hopeful about his prognosis. You would never have had that feeling of someone strong enough to hold you up yet tender enough to nurture you through the pain. 

A few hours later, the gang of you are gathered around the picnic-style table in the back yard. Mustafa, his wife, her parents, you, Jake, his brother who’s been run ragged by his job more than any of you, and, of course, your children. You’re all laughing so hard that it’s a legitimate danger that the neighbours will call the police with a noise complaint. You make a clever joke and Jake, impressed by your wit as he always is, presses a light kiss against your neck. You feel the familiar thrill move through you, suddenly thinking that it’s time to wind things down and head home. Just for a second, your eyes connect with Mustafa’s and there is this perfect, still moment when you can see that there could be an alternate universe where the two of you would be together, something that might have been better or worse or neither. But then the moment is passed, and you’re once again back in this universe with the lives that you love.

[radiantresplendence]

Doctor Takuto Maruki Was Right

Maruki is the Councillor Arcana in Persona 5 Royal and is a fantastic character that the original game was sorely lacking. I’ll be talking some spoilers here. Be warned. 

We can talk about how Demiurge/Yaldabaoth/Yagor/Jägermeister (or whatever you want to call him) is straight trash and shouldn’t be the overarching antagonist of Persona 5 another time, but that’s not what’s important here. 

What’s important here is that Maruki wasn’t in the original game and that does a disservice to everyone who played it. 

For the vast majority of P5R, Maruki is just the high school counselor who was brought in to the school in the aftermath of the Kamoshida incident as a means of damage control. He’s kind, emphatic and insightful and genuinely wants to help anyone seeking his services. 

The Phantom Thieves, due to their involvement in the Kamoshida incident are mandated by the school to talk to him; as the game progresses, most of the team members form some sort of connection to him, save for Akechi and Futaba (I believe) as Akechi is only a Phantom Thief when his goals align with the team and Futaba isn’t a student. 

Even Yoshizawa and Yusuke interact with Maruki, as Yusuke goes out of his way to do so after hearing about him from the other thieves and he was Yoshizawa’s counselor after the death of her sister. 

Over the course of his confidant, Joker gives Maruki his perspective on some of Maruki’s research, which is later revealed to be Cognitive Psience. At the end of his confidant arc, Maruki reveals that he’s known that Joker’s group were the Phantom Thieves since he saw them exit the Cognitive world during the first heist. He says he supports the thieves and their justice but he has to go a separate way. He then exits the story until after the defeat of the God of Control.

If you finish Maruki’s Confidant Arc by the time that he leaves the school, Maruki completes a belated Cognitive Psience paper that he was working on with funding from a college in Toyko and winds up applying his theory when Mementos merges with the real world. 

In short, Maruki fully awakens to his persona with the special ability to rewrite cognition. When the cognitive world and the real world are merged, however this power becomes absurdly potent, and Maruki begins to warp reality in order to make a world where no one suffers. 

Maruki’s machinations affect all of the Phantom Thieves positively: Joker doesn’t go to prison because... Akechi is alive and confesses to his crimes in Joker’s stead. Akechi is let off the hook for his crimes. Morgana is a human. Ryuji was never injured and is still the star of the track team. Ann’s friend Shiho never attempted suicide. Yusuke was never exploited by Madarame, who instead acts as a passable father figure to him. Makoto and Sae’s dad was never assassinated. Futaba’s mother is alive and is presumably in some sort of relationship with Sojiro. Finally, Haru’s father wasn’t executed after his bossfight and he was never an exploitative egoist. 

There’s a lone exception to this: the girl who the game refused to let join the Phantom Thieves; a girl who had been receiving therapy from Dr. Maruki since before the start of the game due to her trauma from the death of her sister, Sumire Yoshizawa.

In a way, “Kasumi” was Maruki’s prototype for the world he wanted to create. She couldn’t process the guilt she felt for surviving the crash that killed her allegedly more talented sister and consequently wished that she was her late sibling. 

Now the world that Maruki creates is essentially a utopia, where no one suffers and crippling psychological harm is unable to befall anyone. Now we can consider the value of free will that Maruki is removing by becoming a new “God of Control”, but as a card carrying deterministic nihilist, I see it as more or less as trading the whims of an uncaring chaotic universe for those of a benevolent eccentric. The game frames this as a stagnation of humanity, something I don’t entirely agree with. Maruki understands that physical wounds (aka hardship) are inescapable (and can provide adversity to fuel growth) and his big theory revolves around altering cognition to inoculate against mental illness. Any issue with Maruki’s world revolves more around his personal flaws and lack of moderation than it does with his theoretical framework. Regardless, Maruki’s world is more ethical than what it replaces. 

In the third semester, if we ignore some of the alterations like reviving the dead as they’re more of a condition of the world than an effect of it, many people who would otherwise be sick or destitute are not, and the natural conclusion of Maruki gaining full control (as evidenced in the bad ending where you side with the doctor) is a world where no one is. Essentially, the Phantom Thieves in the third semester who fight against Maruki are condemning these people to poverty, despair and a miserable death. Ethically, for the sake of their own morality, the Phantom Thieves are the bad guys. 

Maruki’s motivations need to be examined closer. He is someone who has been largely unable to move past his own trauma (as evidenced by the entire third semester and foreshadowed in the scene where he runs into a college friend) so he has come to the conclusion that he should dedicate himself to moving others past theirs. I mean, mind-wiping your fiance of most of her life with you to cure her of her PTSD and having your life’s work stolen by Shido as you try to pick up the pieces would probably leave a guy feeling pretty empty. Essentially Maruki has resigned himself to his own sorrow after repeatedly being dealt a bad hand, so to speak. 

I think we can safely say that at the very least, Maruki has been emotionally displaced (if not worse) since the incident with Rumi and having his life's work defunded has led him to a place where his only real desire is the pursuit of a singular goal: obliterating sadness. Not his mind you, but everyone else's. 

Basically, Maruki is not well, emotionally or mentally, despite him being able to function as a productive member of society. Completing his contract with a cosmic entity and taking the throne of the god of control, enables him to pursue his goal far beyond what he was capable as a mere doctor with a special power. He infests the human subconscious to further his goal and relentlessly tightens his grip on the world. Despite having augmented physiology in the fused metaverse as a persona user, I feel that he's a mentally ill man who's burning the candle at both ends, so to speak. I think, if anything, fully awakening to Azathoth’s power exacerbated his preexisting mental state. 

To evidence my claim of Maruki’s declining illness, allow me to cite: putting a friend and confidant into a vegetative state because he couldn’t solve a moral dilemma in a month’s time, tentacling a teenage girl and brainwashing her because her dissent is a rejection of your life’s work, picking a fistfight with a high schooler while screaming about stuff unrelated to him, choosing to martyr yourself in resignation to your own suffering when you have the power to avert it. 

Imagine a world where Maruki became the new ruler of the Cognitive World, but acted in a more limited capacity that is more in line with his original research, than the extreme conclusion of it. Consider him acting more like the collective subconscious's guardian angel than the god of control, possibly with the blessing of the Phantom Thieves. I think that’s more what a sane Maruki would settle on, feeling responsible to use the powers he was granted by his contract with an outer god. 

With that out of the way, let’s discuss the way that Maruki implements his agenda.

While working at Shujin, Maruki isn't anything particularly special as a counselor, as it's neither something that he's particularly skilled at, nor is it something that he's passionate for. It's more or less a case of his job being something that he is qualified to do. 

We know that his real passion was cognitive psience research. In essence, he's a scientist over a health professional, even though the funding for his area of expertise was slashed to bits forcing him to take an alternate career path. Especially early on, the way he’d approach his job would certainly be influenced by his passion. To that end, I think you need to analyze his session with Yoshizawa from a research perspective. He rewrote her cognition to be that of her sister’s because he thought it would help her move on. His actions here were absolutely unethical, as he was experimenting on a minor without guardian consent or full disclosure of information, but initial results of his cognition rewrite were positive (especially in the short-term, despite Yoshizawa struggling more in the long term than she otherwise may have). 

"Kasumi" in a lot of ways is a proof of concept for the world he creates in the third semester, even if she isn't necessarily an optimally-functioning prototype. Now, I think Maruki was definitely acting as a bad counselor, and a "mad psientist", if you'll allow my pun, in the flashback. In the third semester however, there's no validity in examining him as a counselor, as he's not actively doing counseling. You can't even really examine him under the lens of ethical science, as he's essentially beyond morality. The man has the power to massively warp reality, raise the dead and alter memories. Essentially, his powers are such that only the end result of any action he takes really matters. If Maruki were to harm or kill someone, regardless of intent, he could make it never happen. So, only the ends of his actions can really be taken into account. 

The ends of his actions are, of course, to obliterate human misery, and he proved effective at this. The exceptions being Sumire Yoshizawa (albeit before the full implementation of his agenda) and himself (his palace is the Laboratory of Sorrow after all.) I guess what I'm getting at here is that, Maruki has to be judged as a god for all of his actions in the third semester, as that’s really the only lens applicable to his role there. 

With that in mind, the questionable actions that he takes in the third semester are basically just holding Akechi’s life hostage and forcing Yoshizawa to be Kasumi. He avoids physical altercation with the Phantom Thieves until they literally approach him with a mutual agreement of force. The Akechi situation is one that Maruki claims to be unintentional, and I do believe him. I think the awkwardness of that reveal is more due to Maruki’s social ineptitude and difficulty revealing that sensitive piece of information than it is anything nefarious. As for the Kasumi situation, Maruki has every ability to revive the real Kasumi and adjust Sumire’s life to become one more satisfying to her. In the end I think that that unfortunate situation has more to do with an ill man with unlimited power unable to distance Yoshizawa’s rejection of his initial gift as a personal sleight to everything he’s spent his life working towards. With his work being pretty much the only thing he’s currently attributed meaning to in his life his swift rejection of dissent makes a little more sense. 

This leads to something I consider mandatory, Yoshizawa needs to rebel against the fate Maruki assigned to her, or every member of the Phantom Thieves would be working against their and all of humanity’s best interests. 

I think no one would disagree with me when I say that his role in the third semester is that of a god antithetical to the themes of Persona 5, and thus narratively has to be deposed for a satisfying conclusion. Looking objectively at his grand plan however, even with his hiccups, I can’t really say he’s wrong, even if his implementation isn’t as clean as I (or even himself in a better frame of mind) would like.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #17 - Obeisant

moar Haurchefant/WoL. this is my other otp if i’m honest, and haurchefant’s obvious love for the warrior absolutely does go straight into a worshipful territory.

"Another storm, yes. I shall return anon, but his lordship is concerned for the safety of all and would have me set out once the wind is past."

Aurelia let out a contented sigh, set the linkpearl aside on the nearby side table, and turned her attention back to the warm weight on her bare chest. 

One of the most obvious advantages of having established good relations between the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and the knights of the Coerthas central highlands was the relative leeway she was given to visit Haurchefant at his cold and remote outpost. Of course, it was done mostly at her leisure when she wasn't on some errand or other. But given the Ishgardians' extremely obvious regard for the Warrior of Light and the way she had stepped in to aid them with Shiva without even a moment's hesitation, and given their reputation for prickly inhospitality to nigh everyone else, not even Alphinaud was inclined to stop her from her frequent jaunts into the snowy foothills.

Alphinaud, she knew, even preferred it. If the Scions could establish more inroads to bring Ishgard back into the fold of the Alliance, so much the better, whether it be done through official diplomatic channels with Ser Aymeric or through rather more informal ones with Lord Haurchefant.

But advantages there were aplenty besides, such as the privacy her reputation afforded the two of them.

In some ways, Coerthas reminded her of home -- the few good parts of it she could remember, anyroad. Blizzards didn't bother her, and she enjoyed the cold even when the wind outside didn't howl and rattle at the expensive glass and whistle around the stones of the keep.

But at the minute, there *was* a storm, and she was disinclined to leave before it had abated. Currently that sharp wind was accompanied by ice, and she could hear the gritty slap of sleet with each gust that bit at the fortress' outer walls.

She ran her fingers through Haurchefant's hair: a light bluish silver, thick, and fine as silk beneath her fingers. Her shirt was on but unbuttoned, and she felt him press a slightly damp kiss to the edge of her sternum, directly between her breasts.

Days like these didn't just make venturing out into the Coerthan wilderness undesirable, but actively dangerous. Which to her mind was so much the better, really, because it allowed them quiet afternoons like these to themselves: enjoying each other's company while the rest of the barracks lay in slumber, occupants piled together for comfort. Haurchefant would always see to his paperwork first -- like herself, the lord of Camp Dragonhead was nothing if not dutiful -- but once his work was done, he'd join her, for conversation, for hot chocolate, or... well.

Whatever sport they wished to make, to while away the cold hours.

"Commander Leveilleur knows you're here?" the Elezen murmured.

"Mm. I told him the storm's too bad to risk leaving."

"...I confess I'm surprised he didn't point out that you could simply use the aetheryte to return."

She laughed.

"He knows I hate using them. Travel by aetheryte doesn't bother me now half as much as it used to, I suppose because my aether control has improved so, but it still gives me awful headaches on occasion. You're right, I suppose I could. But I don't," she said bluntly, "and I don't feel like explaining to him or the others why."

In truth, she didn't feel like explaining much of anything to the Scions these days.

Nero's decidedly acidic observations that day before they'd entered Syrcus Tower for the first time had truly angered her, but he hadn't been wrong, and she knew that was part of the reason it had struck home. The Scions, especially Alphinaud as of late, *did* seem to take her strength and her sense of responsibility for granted. The tribunus had been entirely correct about that much, had -- much to her own bewilderment -- seemed genuinely frustrated beneath his mockery.

And she couldn't deny the bitter pall of resentment she felt at the realization that out of all of the people who seemed able to see her instead of the hero's pedestal, it was someone who shouldn't have given a damn one way or another, rather than the people who were supposed to be her friends. Oh, he wasn't the only one, to be sure. Cid Garlond had ever seen her for who she was, had offered her his own space as a shelter from the constant deluge of requests.

The man whose bed she now lay in was another.

Sensing some of her distress, Haurchefant propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward to peer curiously down into her eyes. One hand was left to wander where he willed it (or insofar as she would give it permission), and his crystal-blue eyes were dark with concern.

"My friend, is aught amiss? They are your close associates, and yet I can hear your discontent. Has there been a falling out between you? Should I reconsider our association with Revenant's Toll?" A shadow crept into his expression. "...They've not mistreated you in some fashion, have they?"

Aurelia sighed and shut her eyes.

"No, it's... I... I'm not really being fair, Haurchefant. I know I'm not. Minfilia is under considerable strain, herself, and Alphinaud I worry is attempting to singlehandedly solve a problem years too old for him, and there's more I'd rather not get into. But-"

"But?" he pressed, when she didn't say anything for a moment.

"....Sometimes I want to recapture the freedom I had when I chose to become an adventurer. When the only thing that was important was the next new horizon and the sights beyond." One of her hands fretted at the coverlet beneath her fingers. "I went to Ul'dah intending to expand my medical knowledge for certain, but also because I had never seen Thanalan, and I thought that if I could never return to my home then I might as well see the southern lands with my own eyes. But then... things happened."

"Ifrit happened."

"Yes. And almost before I knew it people were calling me a hero. I feel like a fraud on a good day, Haurchefant, and on a bad day I just want them all to bugger off and leave me be. Some people are still immensely kind and grateful, but others just see me as a wall between them and the beastmen."

Haurchefant had kept his counsel, seeming content to run his hand over her belly and thighs as she spoke. There was a warmth there, simmering just under the surface like coals that had not yet gone to embers, and on a different day she might at that point have decided to kiss him rather than continue her litany of complaints. It would, she thought, certainly have been more productive.

You did all this to yourself and no one cares to hear your whinging, a part of her sneered.

But the floodgates were open and she could not stop.

"Sometimes I wish I had never agreed to join the Scions," she confessed softly. "I know, it's an awful thought, but-"

"Not awful," he said. "Human."

"Perhaps."

"All of us have had those thoughts from time to time. 'Tis the hardest thing in the world, to stay when you are saddled with a duty you do not want. I know from long experience. And yours..."

When he had trailed off for a handful of seconds, Aurelia opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He offered a smile that was just a little bit rueful.

"Yours, dear lady," he continued, "is a great burden indeed. I would worry about you did you not weary of its weight from time to time, and I know even heroes need a refuge, which is why I offer mine own modest lodgings freely. But this too will pass. You say you wish you could run away, but you would not do so if pressed."

Biting her lower lip, Aurelia rolled her head to one side and stared at the grey light in the window, listened to the ice slap against glass. "How do you know?"

"Because adventurer or not," he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips just above her third eye, "you are brave and responsible. I have never known you to run from aught you consider a job that is yours to be done."

"I wish I could."

"But you won't."

"No," Aurelia said, "I won't. Because as much as I mislike it, there is no one else."

There was no response to that save the obvious, so she hadn't expected him to answer:

"If ever you do weary of your toils, you can make Ishgard your home."

"Ishgard would not have me."

"I would make it so. Did they see in you what I saw, you would be welcomed with open arms."

"Oh? Would I be able to remain at Camp Dragonhead for all time, then?" She laughed, her dark blue eyes twinkling with mirth as she flopped back onto the pillows and grinned at him. "Should I be the lady Lucia to your Aymeric, then? Your resolute and ever loyal second?"

Haurchefant did not laugh in return. His hand had shifted to her hip, stroking along the outer curve of one of her thighs, ghosting over her skin in a way that caused gooseflesh to prickle up her limbs. Her nipples were taut and aching, and now she wasn't entirely sure if it was due to the lingering chill of the room after all.

"No," he said. "I already have a second. To you, my dearest lady-" His hair tickled at her neck and his teeth grazed her collarbone, a hot and pleasant sting. Aurelia made a tiny pleading noise in the back of her throat, squirming at the contact, already seeing the mark that would bloom beneath her robes. "-I would be your vassal."

"You cannot, you lovely fool," she whispered, kissing the soft silver crown of his head. "You are pledged to your nation and to your house, not a defector with no nation left to call her own."

Haurchefant's hand on her legs moved inward, gently coaxing them open, and she felt the tips of his fingers on the sensitive inner all the way down to her toes. 

"I would pledge myself to you anyway. I would serve you as I serve the Fury Herself."

She took a shaking breath; he was but ilms away from where she actually wanted him, but even that urge was secondary to her hunger for his soft words.

"I am not of your people, Haurchefant. Perhaps once I was a lady, but I no longer even have a house."

"You need no house, though I would gladly give you mine if you wished it," he murmured, his lips moving just below her navel now, "and you are wrong. The truth of what you are, the things that made you what you are, cannot be taken from you."

G'raha Tia had said something similar, she thought.

"And neither can those things which were *not* given to you by your birth. You are kind, and you are just, and you are compassionate. You are not only a hero, but the greatest lady I have ever chanced to know," he said. "The fairest roses of all the High Houses pale before you."

She wished keenly she could see herself through his eyes, or G'raha's. If any gods existed in this world, the Garlean felt as though she could spend the rest of her life trying to atone for her people's cruelty and still never shift the scales. Her eyelids stung with tears she tried with effort to swallow back.

A rough palm, gentle, framed her face. 

"I promise upon the Fury herself, and upon my faith in you, that my sword and shield will always be yours -- whenever you have need of them."

He had returned to hover above her prone form, his wandering hands stilled for the moment. His eyes were soft and reverent.

“After all, dear lady,” he whispered, “a knight lives to serve.”

[daazurebanana]

“It is so hard to be a normal person when one is not a normal person.”

Helping Mental Disorders

When I was a senior in high school, I went on a field trip with my English class to Salt Lake City to see a Sundance film. The movie, “Notes on Blindness”, was a true story about a man named John Hull who had a disease that took his sight when he was in his 30s. I remember being totally in awe of the way the film showed blindness, something I never expected to see or feel. Mental disorders are, in a unique way, a kind of blindness. Living with a mental illness is like living in a different world -- one that cannot be understood or lived in by the meager average human like me. Now, I don’t say that to offend, though offense is bound to be taken by someone on this planet, I will verbally stand my ground from where I sit on my couch. You, try as you might, can never truly empathize with me, and I likewise, cannot completely empathize with you no matter how similar we may be. Thus, really, we are all blind in a way. If this is true of two “normal” people, the divide is especially wide between a normal person and one with mental illness. Nevertheless, I don’t mean to imply by this that mental disorders should be eliminated or dismissed. I don’t think mental disorders should be erased. This is a research argument is it not? I merely wish to draw your attention to the goods and evils of mental disorders, whether someone else’s or your own; focusing on clinical depression, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and anxiety as they are found in my family.

Partial Personality Disorder

  A long-time loyal social worker for a foster care facility, one probably wouldn’t immediately assume my step-aunt Sarah suffered from Borderline personality disorder (BPD). BPD, also known as an emotionally unstable personality disorder (EUPD). BPD is a mental disorder similar to bipolar in its propensity to mood swings as a result of abandonment and instability issues in their relationships, make being alone extremely difficult, causing extreme behaviors that tend to drive other people away. It includes symptoms like “self-image issues, difficulty managing emotions and behavior, and a pattern of unstable relationships. The effect BPD has on one’s perception of self and others creates many difficulties in daily life” (Mayo Clinic).

Her development of BPD was in response to the divorce of her parents. Her father and older siblings, while she remained with her mother . As she approached the teenage years, she showed increased symptoms of abandonment issues as is common.  She struggled with cutting, became very volatile, suicidal and promiscuous. The symptoms worsened as she got older until eventually, her mother admitted her to the hospital for treatment. As she became an adult, she was able to gain more control of her moods with the help of education in social work and the natural passage of time. Though Sarah does not mention her diagnosis in the memoir, as she describes the everyday niceties of life and the trials, there is a trace of something off-balanced about the way she describes people and memories which could easily be put down to the cancer she was struggling with, or simply exaggeration (Southey, Sarah).

Although Sarah is not a blood-relative, her disorder intrigues me. According to the Mayo clinic’s page about treating BPD, psychotherapy is the best option. With patience and willingness to make changes, patients could eventually learn to live in a self-reliant manner. Perhaps the most valuable lesson from my step-aunt’s memoir is that no matter when or how it happens, success is often possible. This doesn’t mean it is easy. In a rather hard-to-understand article I perused, the authors said that ‘it cannot be denied that people with mental disorders cannot recover completely and (the illness) will even hamper their productivity” (Agustina Barimbing, Maryati). Certainly, in my aunt’s case, for example, success was delayed by her disorder, but it was not stopped. Sure, not everyone can be an astronaut, but satisfaction with self and achievements is possible. This is possible for anyone by finding knowing personal limits and asking for help when needed. This is true of both people both with and without disabilities.

Bipolar

Memories are stretchy and blurry things, pliable to new information and experiences so I can’t give the exact order of the events of the year I turned six, but I do remember moving to Utah, my mom giving birth to twins, and my dad being admitted to the hospital. My aunt and uncle offered to watch my older sister and me, so we packed some clothes and drove for hours before arriving to be baked alive in the suffocating Las Vegas heat for two weeks (the equivalent of 2 months in kid-years). Being six, I couldn’t understand why I was with these people instead of my own family. Every night I’d sit on my bed with my 16-year-old cousin and sob fat tears as I made her show me how many days were left before I could go home. 

What I couldn’t comprehend at the time was that my father was admitted to the hospital due to a mental breakdown. It was the beginning of a recession and he had just lost his job, been injured in a car accident, become the father of (now) 6 children, and signed a new mortgage. He was thrown into a situation that would have been too much pressure even for someone without his struggles with a mental disorder. That episode was the first of many I can remember--the latest being last week, when he had a severe anxiety attack and was admitted for a week and a half to a mental institution that confiscated every possible danger, right down to his shoelaces.

My father has severe anxiety and bipolar II, meaning instead of having extreme highs and extreme lows, he experiences what is called ‘hypomania’: an emotional spectrum that has less extreme manic episodes and spends more time in the depression, resembling clinical depression. For a very long time I personally--and I am sure I am not alone--have had the tendency to interpret his reaction to stress as weakness. Reflecting on my six-year-old mindset, the belief that when presented with a trial, it is one’s own responsibility to remain strong and to protect those one loves--not to weigh them down, was incorrect. One of the main roadblocks to helping those with and without mental disorders is a difficulty “with self-care and...informing others of their needs” (Arredondo, Emanuel), and being sensitive to the needs for special support without bias is important. Such prejudices is society can be poisonous because issues that arise can’t be solved because the sufferer does not feel they can openly share their feelings.

 In society, vulnerability and sensitivity seem like signs of human weakness; something to be smothered, swallowed and overcome. But that is simply not true. It is true that mental disorders cause problems--to put it mildly. But here is a thought that a friend of mine put to me one day as I was moping around about something: “if it is inevitable, why not be happy about it?” That is not to say that anyone is wrong for being unhappy, but if it is inevitable, why beat ourselves up about it? Depending on the disorder, the reactions in our body that produce the disorder are different. One’s proclivity to having a disorder is not as simple as having one or not having one. In the article “Psychiatric genetics: back to the future," by Carson M. Owen and M. O’Donovan, it is explained that, although there are exceptions, disorders are a result of genes interacting with other genes or genes reacting to the environment. Gene-gene interaction implies that a person has the disorder no matter how the environment interacts with them, whereas gene-environment interaction refers to one developing a disorder as a result of a negative environment. But here’s the thing: both have the potential of disorder either way. Both often become apparent in teenage years to young adulthood when people are faced with a lot of stressful situations and decisions like college, moving away from home, dating, marriage, and starting a career. If stress is the catalyst, how can one a genetic predisposition to avoid a disorder? Although a perfect life is ideal, it is also impossible, as I have shown in the experience of my Aunt Sarah.

So much money and effort is spent on preventing and treating mental disorders, that the concept that mental disorders destroy is drilled into our craniums. But what do they inspire? There is a natural tendency to consider mental illness as something that is a burden. We have a tendency in our lives to see problems and try to fix all of them at once, but what we really need to do is take a breath and figure out what we can and cannot control, and from there press forward. Accepting our weaknesses is not the same thing as being satisfied with them. 

Dr. Jamison is a well-renowned psychiatrist who specialized in academic medicine and manic-depressive illness (bipolar). In her autobiography: “An Unquiet Mind”, she shares her research related to bipolar as well as her experience as she undergoes the same intense mood swings as her patients. Kay Jamison helps the blind to see, in a way (or, to continue my earlier comparison, she helps the seeing to be blind.) "An Unquiet Mind" (more than anything else I have ever read) helps a person on the outside looking in  to understand  the chaotic nature of disorders--meaning chaotic in the sense of "uncontrollable", not necessarily "manic".

 She relates having a disorder to the lifestyle of a blind teenager she used to counsel. Having met with him for many months, she felt she understood what it was like to be blind; however, one day she came to see him in class and was shocked to see that the room was totally dark, while he and the rest of the class were sitting quietly listening to a recording. This experience made her realize that she really did not know what is meant to be blind. We cannot fully understand what it is like to live with another's disorder, but Dr. Jamison says that we can love them and just be with them. The diversity of every single human ‘bean’s’ perspective adds spice to the whole of the culture. Our culture is profoundly influenced by the positives of mental illness. Bipolar disorder and depression are linked to creativity and productivity--many poets, writers, actors, singers, and other artists have made significant contributions to society. Take Dostoyevsky and Van Gogh (and my own father who has written 9 novels, a chemistry, and a computer textbook, makes cheese, is a blacksmith, a lapidarist...you get the picture).

As I have said, I don’t think the mental disorder is completely bad, but it does include some inherent and devastating problems. Some of the downsides of bipolar and depression include suicide, psychosis, abuse of others, loss of productivity and meaning, among others. In order to treat, or even better, prevent the negative effects of mental disorders, there are many resources available for both those who struggle with it personally and those who are affected, such as family and friends. Mental disorders make a person turn emotionally inward and become isolated although what they really need is a source to provide energy and emotional support, or in other words, provide energy and hope that life really is worth living. “To supply this demand”, it is “essential in these contexts to build social networks and the provision of social support”(Batistela Vicente, Jéssica).

Mental health issues are best handled by having some sort of structure in place. This structure can be found in multiple places: non-profit support groups for mental illness such as Conflict Prevention and Resolution--Brazil (CPR), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), or Omotenashi--Family Experiences Learning Program (FELP), organized religion, or extended family and friends. More often than not, a combination of a few is the most successful in creating a constant safety net. Having these resources when “facing difficulties such as time investment; economic dependency, deprivation of the needs of other family members, lack of social activities and reduction of relations with the outside world,” give much-needed stability and prevent feelings of isolation.

Some form of organization especially helps children, as they are often too young to recognize their own need for support. Research has found time and time again that a church community --unpresuming but always available-- is the optimal choice, with mental and emotional disorders, having much lower rates among young adults who were raised in homogeneous religion-based home. Religion is what saved my father’s life despite numerous trials with his anxiety throughout the years. In the study done by CPR in Brazil, one mother of a child with a mental disorder said: “I would listen, would ask for support, I have always asked assistance from God”. Having a personal relationship with a higher being provides comfort when family and friends are unavailable. As with any child, having a “scaffolding on which to hang one’s life” offers direction in the long run, whereas a child who doesn’t go to church, for example, bases their morals off their parents but does not have the benefit of a social support system. In the case of non-religious people, participating in NAMI or school groups are ideal (Batistela Vicente, Jéssica).

 It is important to note that in the case of serious mental disorders, often social support is insufficient and requires the aid of medication. Modern medicine, though often abused, as I am well aware of from my time spent training as a pharmacy technician, is necessary for those who struggle seriously with mental illness. The importance of medicine and the fact that there is no shame in it is also the knowledge that I think should be more widespread—with caution. I took medicine for ADHD when I was about 10, and the results were great, but I only used it for a while in order to establish good habits. This may be the case for minor diagnoses like mine, medicine was not necessary but was helpful for my schooling. Serious mental disorders like bipolar, severe anxiety, and clinical depression, however, may require more than a short term prescription for establishing habits. One point Dr. Jamison emphasizes is that if she was given the option to go back and live a life without manic-depressive illness, she would not; granted the medicine was still available.  

I have come eventually to realize that just because something appears wrong doesn’t mean I have to fix it. Mental health can be treated and cared for, but in chronic and genetic situations, though it might be subdued many people don’t realize that it cannot be cured. And this is okay. As the quote says, the mental disorder will “hamper [the individual’s and their friends and family’s] productivity” (Agustina Barimbing, Maryati). I believe this is true not only but specifically when the individual’s relations try to fix them. This puts a strain on everyone and only leads to everyone involved blaming each other and themselves. 

“Oh mother, how is it for you?”

(Hull, John)

At an emotional scene from the movie “Notes on Blindness,” John Hull’s wife reflected on her husband’s wrestle with his loss of sight and with it so many other things and mused: “Shall I scratch my eyes out, shall I follow you into this world?” Those with mental disorders are not the only ones affected by it. Family and friends struggle to help their loved ones but can easily become discouraged by the task of relieving the load. Caring for a loved one with mental illness is often a“lonely battle”(Kageyama, Masako). Families are required to learn to live with the disease, facing the difficulties and adapting to the new situation in order to maintain a difficult balance within the family. It can be very isolating and caregivers sometimes sacrifice their own physical and mental well being and that of other loved ones to help the person with a mental disorder. Aid from the same support programs offer comfort and understanding by “address(ing) members’ need for knowledge about mental illness, reduc(ing) their feelings of guilt and self‐blame, decreas(ing) caregivers’ burdens, help(ing) families cope, and improv(ing) parent-child relationships” (Kageyama, Masako). With a community that understands the family members as well as the individual with the mental disorder, feelings of isolation and pressure subside, relationships are healthier.

In the book by Jane Clayson Johnson, "Silent Souls Weeping: Depression, Sharing Stories Finding Hope", Johnson interviews the husband of a woman with clinical depression who shares how his view of and reactions to his wife’s episodes evolved over the years. At first, he did not feel like family, but someone that was obligated to serve hand and foot. He got caught in a vicious cycle of blaming her for not controlling herself and blaming himself for not being able to fix it. Eventually, he realized casting blaming only dug the pit of depression deeper. 

So he did what is unarguably easier said than done, and decided to stop blaming people and start “blaming the illness”. Of the experience he said:"(life with) a person with a mental illness is not doomed to be miserable", it is the responsibility and blame that we stubbornly hold on to that make us miserable. Instead of holding on to virulent bitterness and letting the illness be a barrier, he decided to love his wife. The overarching theme of "An Unquiet Mind" and "Silent Souls Weeping" is the saving grace of simply loving those struggling with some disorder: not because it miraculously relieves them of the symptoms,  but because it makes life “worth living”. 

The simplest, and yet two of the most beneficial treatment are both education and acceptance. Mental disorders are not a project that can be “fixed”(Clayson Johnson, Johnson) by the experiencer or their loved ones, but one can offer love and can educate themselves. Though undoubtedly necessary for some individuals on a case by case scenario, it would do the most good for both sides to familiarize themselves with the other person’s situation. This creates a kinship of sorts, humanizes others. Just like when you meet the person who will be your best friend the first time you see them, we should not make assumptions but instead, make an effort to understand. The teaching that losing oneself to find oneself is absolutely correct. Love is a treatment in itself.

Works Cited

Agustina Barimbing, Maryati, et al .“Family Atmosphere Make Family Resilience Which Have Adolescent with Mental Disorder (According to “Resilience” Theory of Haase & Peterson)”. International Journal of Nursing Education. July 2019. 1.

Arredondo, Emanuel, et al. “The Global Impact of Intellectual Disability and Other Mental Disorders in Children”. International Journal of Childbirth Education. 2019, Vol. 34 Issue 2, p14-17.

Batistela Vicente, Jéssica, et al. “Mental disorder in childhood: family structure and their social relations”. Escola Anna Nery Revista de Enfermagem. vol. 19, 2015, pp 107-114.

Burland, Joyce. “NAMI: Family to Family Education Program”. NAMI. 2001.

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/borderline-personality-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20370237

Johnson, Jane Clayson. "Silent Souls Weeping: Depression, Sharing Stories Finding Hope". Desert Book. 2018. 

Kugelmass, Heather. “Mental disorder among nonreligious adolescents”. Mental Health, Religion & Culture (MENT HEALTH RELIGION CULT). 2015, vol. 18, issue 5.

Kageyama, Masako, et al. “Changes in Families' Caregiving Experiences through Involvement as Participants then Facilitators in a Family Peer-Education Program for Mental Disorders in Japan”. Family Process. 2017, vol. 56 Issue 2, p408.

Lucille Southey, Sarah. “Sarah Lucille Southey: A Memoir”. Dollison Road Books. 2016.

Middleton, Peter, et al. “Notes on Blindness”. 2016

Owen, M., Cardno, A. & O'Donovan, M. "Psychiatric genetics: back to the future". Mol Psychiatry, vol 5, 2000, pp 22–31.

[csong-blog]

hello, i’m mina and i’m too excited to roleplay with you all ! i’ve only recently started getting back into groups and this one really caught my eye. the roleplay is just amazing and all of your muses are absolutely wonderful. from what i can see, everyone is a great writer, intimidating, but that makes it more exciting for me. my face claim is my absolute queen soyou -  feel free to add my discord - queen soyou#1226 for plotting purposes.

( kang jihyun, twenty eight, cisfemale ) by chance have you met CLAUDIA SONG yet? i hear SHE has lived in COLUMBIA CITY for TWO MONTHS and works as a HIGH SCHOOL GUIDANCE COUNSELOR. i’m surprised you haven’t met them yet but for when you do, i hear they can be quite EMOTIONAL but also COMPASSIONATE. for whatever reason they remind me of DENIM OVERSIZED JACKETS, LACED BODY SUITS and DISORGANISED NOTES. ( mina, 20, she/her, gmt )

under the cut will be a little about claudia ; please proceed with caution as there is mention of codependency tw, domestic abuse tw, emotional manipulation tw under the cut.

one would say that claudia had a little too much personality in her early life. she had always been full of energy and passion, a girl wanting to show off her creations and talents to all, especially her parents that had moved from south korea shortly before she came along. they did enjoy her company; a vibrant, polite young lady? there was nothing to dislike. she was the type to help with the washing of the dishes but then accidentally break one - her intentions were there, they just weren’t executed correctly.

ever since she could remember, claudia loved to sing and dance. she was a theatre kid growing up and her parents greatly encouraged her to take part in productions even though it took time away from her school work. she found herself taking a natural lead and even helping some of the other students with learning lines on top of home work. she always liked to lend a helping hand and that was never going to change.

as she grew older, she did take a more nurturing role with her friends. she was always the one that they came to for advice and that became her responsibility. the girl didn’t feel like she could have any negative feelings of her own so tried to make sure that she appeared happy and supportive at all times - she wanted the best for those around her, she didn’t see anything wrong with it.

however, she was sensitive and their struggles quickly became her’s. a natural empath, she found herself struggling to deal with the horrible things they were going through. her home life was stable, she had a family that loved her, teased her for her broken hangul, but they loved her and would always protect her in the way that they knew how - she was mature enough to understand that not everyone had that privilege.

it was only natural that she fell into the realm of pyschology. claudia wanted to help people, she really did, even stuck at college despite hating the whole set up of it. she was somewhat a loner, someone who kept to herself and talked to strangers who she would never see again. she missed her friends from high school but realised that the dynamic had changed and they weren’t together anymore. it hurt her, a lot, more than it probably should have done. no one seemed to need her here... she didn’t realise, but she was incredibly codependent and that’s when the pattern started.

matthew williams wasn’t the first male to give her attention in her second year but he was certainly one to make her feel safe. he was in her psychology class, a mature student that was taking it to enrich his resumé and she was taken by him. he listened to her, asked for help, gave her life advice - it seemed like the perfect match.

while he continued down the path of business after completing his bachelor course, claudia decided to stay on and get her master’s in school counseling. she didn’t want to be at a practice, she wanted to be where it really mattered and also where she had experience. if only there had been a counselor at my school i may not have felt so much pressure. however, the woman didn’t realise that she needed it.

she moved in with matthew as she believed it was the best thing for her in that moment. it was true; he was kind, loving, supportive, everything she could have hoped for and she was hardly going to throw that away. she married him when she was twenty four and he had just turned thirty one. she was convinced it was love but it turned out he was manipulating her the entire time. claudia doesn’t like to think that her entire marriage was a lie, that hurts her too much and she would rather hold on to the fond memories she has of that time in her life, even if they were few and far between...

the manipulation wasn’t noticeable to her at first, it was more about controlling where she was and what she was doing. claudia had a few friends at the school she got a job at and she enjoyed spending time with them. they had made her feel so welcome when she had first started and their personalities seemed to mesh together. after school they would go to a bar, occasionally catch a student with a fake id and have a fun time with it and would also go for meals out. it all made matthew feel invisible. he made it his mission to know where she was, what she was doing and her next plans so that he could clash with them. claudia was loyal, she would choose him over them any time.

at first, she didn’t feel like anything was wrong. they had both made sacrifices and a marriage was supposed to be work - she wasn’t about to have a disagreement with him over things so petty. however, as time went on, he became more and more angered, aggressive with her. the woman was small but she also had too much respect for him to try and fight back. at times, she felt like she had said the wrong thing and deserved it.

as it got really bad, claudia became more and more tearful at work - they even put her on a warning for walking out on a student because she was in tears. she would get up at 4 every morning to make sure the house was spotless, so he would have nothing to hate her for and she would spend the rest of her day worrying about the most mundane of things. he could always find fault with her and it would always end badly for her...

she used the school production as a great way to get away for a while, to help the drama department put on a show and that’s what kept her going. the kids did need some encouragement but she was there to give it every time and even help them with their technique. it reminded her how much she loved it to begin with and realised that she should have kept doing it. 

claudia felt it difficult to ask for help as she had always being the one giving it. how could she help the students if she couldn’t even help herself? broken ribs and a collapsed lung, he was actually the one to call 911 for her. the doctors and police knew what was happening, especialy when she claimed that she slipped... the ‘split’ wasn’t easy for her. the woman felt useless wihtout him, moreso than she had done with him.

AFTER:

one of her friends at the school took her in to recover and she actually ended up moving with her to seattle before she got her own place. the other woman was kind and let her take as much time as she needed off. claudia used this time to get involved with community stage productions and it definitely lifted her spirits. being cared for while slowly becoming used to freedom did wonders for her.

she has recently got a job at a local high school and plans to move out of her friend’s house after she has had a few paycheques. she does love living with her friend and her family but now she feels ready to get her own space to truly start building herself up once again. 

claudia is a very nurturing individual but also quite sensitive. if she’s uncomfortable about something, she is one to cry. 

she sings in public while she has her earphones because it brings her joy.

although she finds her job challenging at times, she’s glad to be in an environment where she doesn’t feel threatened. 

she wears glasses but hates wearing them.

she’s very big on oversized jackets and lace body suits. if she’s feeling adventurous, she’ll add a heel into the mix. steve jobs is also her style icon as she has so many bodysuits and sweaters that have a turtle neck - she jokes about this daily.

she’s actually taking part in the community production and she’s loving every minute of it.

claudia drops her phone at least once a week but it still doesn’t have a crack in it... she’s well and truly mastered the art.

she tends to use humour as a way to cope with her emotions. she can be the joker but when it comes to someone else, she will make sure to listen and advise.

claudia still puts others before herself so catch her trying to sort out other people’s problems and not even touching her own...

her friend knows her for taking in people in need and she has got told off for this as there are children living there and she doesn’t even know them that well - she just wants to help but doesn’t think about repercussions of her actions.

she’s really enjoying living in seattle with so many things to see and do - she’s just fallen in love with it and she’s so glad shegot away from her old life and was able to start some place new!

generally, her room is an absolute tip. she has little passion for organisation but can find things with ease if people don’t tamper with her system.

she’s a fan of a regular latte, nothing more adventurous than a salted caramel latte at christmas for her !

she calls her parents three times every week to check in with them to make sure that they’re not worrying about her. she loves them dearly and is so grateful that they’re more present in her life now !

[academiceve]

Grad Profile #1: Interview with a Health Psychology Masters Student

I thought that it would be fun to introduce interview style blog posts on my blog! I have friends in amazing places, doing amazing things, some of which are attending graduate programs! I would also like to talk more about Psychology and what it is like to continue your studies in one of the subfields, so I hope I can hunt down more people but also include those in different disciplines too!

This first interview is with my dear friend, whom I know from undergrad, as we both studied Psychology. She is currently in her 2nd year of a Health Psychology masters program. 

The Interview

1. Why did you decide to study Psychology for undergrad and what was your experience like?

Psychology was not actually the initial undergrad choice. I got interested in the subject sometime after taking an elective Psychology class in high school. It grew on me. Then after some researching and career testing, I decided to stick to the field. It was one of the best decisions I could have made. I thoroughly enjoyed my undergrad studies.

2. Name 3 favourite/least favourite Psychology subjects that you had to take during your undergraduate studies.

The favourite courses that I had in undergrad were definitely Abnormal Psychology, Marriage and Family, and Family and Addictions. The subjects were interesting on their own, what with dealing with different psychological disorders, subtleties of family life, and a broader understanding of addiction disorders. In addition, they were taught by the most amazing professors, who were really passionate about their subjects and knew a great deal, both from an academic standpoint and from personal working experience.

Meanwhile the subjects I liked the least were Evolutionary Psychology, Organisational Psychology and, as useful and necessary as it is in the field, Statistics. The first two subjects were simply not as appealing to me (and were perhaps taught by the wrong people). Meanwhile, statistics was never, and is still not my thing. I think that it’s alright because not everyone is destined for research and not everyone has to like the same things. The important thing is to try.

3. How did you know that you would like to further your studies by obtaining a masters degree?

For me, getting a masters degree was never a question of wanting it. It is just something that has to be done in order to actually work in the field. The question I had to face was figuring out which masters to get.

4. How and why did you choose to study Health Psychology for your masters degree? Talk a little about your program, how long it is, what kind of classes you take, etc.

Choosing Health Psychology for my masters was not an easy choice. It involved a lot of research and a lot of talking. There were talks with professors, family and friends. The first offered their professional insights. Family, meanwhile, helped to figure out the financial/scholarship matters. Lastly, friends were there to listen and to offer their own insights. Honestly, sometimes, it felt less like talking and more like rambling about the same thing over and over again. But it helped. All the options were considered. It makes me all the more glad that I had someone to talk to.  

As for the program itself, the Health Psychology program takes two years to complete and consists of 120 credits. Each semester consists of classes worth 30 credits. It amounts to about 5 subjects each semester, except for the last, which has only 2 that are worth more credits: second practicum and thesis writing and defense. There are several mandatory classes, such as counselling and psychological evaluation, statistics (yay, but sarcastically), rehabilitation, etc. Then there are 3 elective classes that can be taken. For the thesis, it takes 3 semesters to write. The first semester is dedicated to literature review and introduction, the second to methods and the last one to discussion and results. 

5. What do you like/dislike about studying Health Psychology? Is it what you expected it to be? Is it different from what you expected? If so, how?

In regards to my personal liking of the program, I can say that I am rather enjoying it. Some of the subjects are particularly interesting and valuable. For instance, I do not know what I would have done without the psychological evaluations class or the mock counselling sessions in various other classes. They were the basis I used during the first practicum, where real people came with real problems and real psychological evaluation needs. My masters was my standing rock, helping me bit by bit become better at what I want to do in my life.  

Other subjects are naturally, not as interesting or valuable. Then again, it has to do with personal interests and qualifications of people teaching them. You might be surprised to hear that sometimes a person with three degrees and teaching a masters course might have no idea what they are talking about.

On an ending note, here is something I wish someone would have told me.  It might sound out of blue but I hope it helps. Health Psychology, while part of the medical psychology branch, deals a whole lot more with somatic diseases and their psychological treatment, e.g. diabetes or heart attacks, and less so with psychological disorders, e.g. depression or schizophrenia. Clinical, meanwhile, does the opposite. That said, if there is anyone out there undecided between health psychology and clinical, really consider that distinction. While I made my choice, no one made it clear enough while I was applying. To me the two fields seemed completely overlapping (I was wrong). 

6. How did you feel before beginning your masters studies? What the transition from undergrad to post grad was like?

Starting something new can be a pretty scary experience. It was for me. Especially because I had to move to another city. It was my biggest leap of independence yet. Though, scary as it was, I was still excited for my studies. As for the transition, I expected it to be more challenging. It wasn’t easy and there were certainly days when I called my family or my friends and told them that I wanted to quit, to come back home, to try again later or maybe never. I was fortunate to have them there at those times. Then, as the academic year went on, I made new friends, I got adjusted to the different system, different language, new professors and a schedule that was absolutely different than the one in undergrad. All in all, life got better.

7. What was your first year experience like of your master’s degree?

I started the year very excited, albeit a little scared. There were ups and downs, subjects I adored, professors who were amazing, then there were classes I skipped (yes, even in grad school) and the professors I dreaded hearing lecture. Then the motivation was gone. I am not entirely sure why. Health Psychology is something that I do like. Perhaps what I missed was a gap year, to take a break from academics. The summer that I took off was not enough.

So here’s another advice: if you feel like you need a break, take it. No one knows you better than you. Maybe you don’t need a break, maybe you can go into grad school right away and nail those several years. If not, rest. Grad school won’t go away.

In my personal experience, I don’t regret the decision of not taking a gap year. I had an enjoyable year. I just don’t know if I would make that decision again given a second chance.  

8. Is the workload different from undergrad? If so, how? Do you do more work now or is it about the same? Do you have days off? Any tips for adjusting to the workload in graduate school?

It’s rather difficult to compare the workload between undergrad and grad school. In undergrad, the classes were spaced out during the week, Monday to Friday, usually every day; there was a lot of homework, a lot of reading. Now, the days I need to physically go into class range from two to maximum three, as a way to benefit students who also work. The readings are still just as plenty but I guess undergrad teaches what to read, what to skim and what to pretend to have read. For homework, well... It’s all about whether you manage your time right. If I did my assignments at the rate I allowed myself in undergrad, I would have failed the year. The expectations are much higher, instructions are fewer, and getting used to writing papers in my native tongue after doing it in English for four years has been difficult. Do not even get me started on the length. Enjoy undergrad while you can.

Key to getting everything done comes down to time management, multitasking and a few other things I would like to briefly expand upon. One, it is crucial to communicate with your professors. Look at your assignment due dates (make a list of those) in advance. If you see that a semester worth of assignments is crammed into a single week, tell them. The professors can and usually adjust the dates to benefit the students. Unless they are told hours before or after the due date. Two, for the love of puppies, take time off. Go see a movie, read a book, invite a friend over for tea, whatever you like, the important part is that you don’t fry your brain trying to do everything in one sitting. Leave that for the midterms and finals. Everyone says they will study ahead but no one does. Cure? None.

9. How do you manage your time? Are there any productivity/time management apps/tools that you use?

As said above, time management is crucial. To better succeed at it, I have all of my due dates for assignments listed. It helps me decide which projects are a priority, how much time I can dedicate to each, by when I should be done.

Another tool is making a list of everything that needs to be done, say, in a day. Write it down on a sticky note, a piece of paper, whichever; it helps to keep focused. It is also very satisfying to cross things out.

Lastly, I would like to promote Zotero or Refworks when it comes to making “References”. It saves a lot of time and frustration. It stashes all the read articles in a single place and makes references for you with a few single clicks. Saved me hours!!!

10. What was the application process like for grad school for you? Did you have to do a lot more/or less in comparison to undergrad? Did you have to have an interview?

Contrary to undergrad application, which has a national-wide online system to help you out, applying to grad school is on you. Every university has different application dates and deadlines and there are always the application fees. Universities also limit to how many of their programs you can apply to. Mine had four (for both paid and government financed studies), meanwhile another university I applied to had twelve. Most require to come for an interview. Applying is rather stressful and much more independent. Though, at that point in life, it’s not something you can’t handle.

11. Since you had to do an interview, please share what kind of questions they asked you and any tips that you have preparing for an interview.

As much as I would love to share my interview experience, I am afraid it’s already mostly lost to me. I was super stressed out on the day because it was my number one choice program. What I do remember was being asked why I wanted to study in their university, why the particular program, would I still come to study there if I did not receive a scholarship (which was an option for me) and if I could read 10 English books in a year (still don’t know the point of that). I think they also asked me to tell them about my professional experience. Not that any undergrad has much. It then helps to speak of conferences, what you’ve attended, if you’ve presented somewhere.

Interviews are scary, but they shouldn’t be. Just remember that the interview is such a small tiny thing. Even if it doesn’t work out the first time, you can try again. A lot depends on our cognitions. If we tell ourselves it is frightening, then we make it so, in turn making ourselves more prone to “stress mistakes”. If we don’t, it’s not. I think I remember telling myself: “whatever happens, happens”, before going inside. That helped. Besides, the outcome depends as much on the interviewers’ moods, personalities and personal bias, as it does on your personal input. 

More specifically, to please the interviewer(s) you should look up your program. Knowing what classes you may be able to take and gushing how excited you would be to take them is really a bonus. Tell them how it aligns with your professional interests, so have at least some idea what your professional interests are.

12. What are the top 3 study tips that you use while studying for your masters degree?

Write down due dates and start completing the assignments at least several days before it has to be turned in.

Do readings on time.

Make detailed ‘to-do’ lists for the assignments at hand. Cross off completed work to feel better.

13. I know that this is the most annoying question, but after your masters studies, do you have an idea of what you would like to do? Talk about your dream career choice. What kind of further schooling you will need to achieve it?

Doing my practicum has helped me realise that I would really like to work as a health psychologist. I found that I rather enjoy doing psychological evaluations and counselling people. I am well aware that I still lack the skill and the practice. It makes me look forward to the second practicum, where I will get a chance to improve and learn more. And after I am done, I hope I can apply my knowledge and continue to improve as I work. I do wish to go into one of the psychology schools and become a psychotherapist. Perhaps, sometime later in life, once I’ve rested from the academics and actually earned the money necessary to further my studies. We’ll see. I’d like to be hopeful and encourage the same in others.

I hope you enjoyed this interview and a massive thank you to my friend for agreeing to answer questions and talk more about her experience in graduate school! If you would like to read more from me, click HERE to see other blog posts! You can also follow my studygram HERE for some inspiration! 

[cryptid-science]

Shadow People

They usually come at night. Maybe you're reading or watching TV or just lying in bed. He's most often a man, and may be wearing a hat or a hood. A lot of times you'll only catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, as he flits across the wall or disappears through a doorway. Sometimes he's just a shadow, a flat projection sliding across the wall or ceiling; but other times, especially in the dark when you least expect it, shadow people appear as a full-bodied black apparition, jet black like a void in the darkness itself, featureless but for their piercing empty eyes.

The foggy Santa Lucia Mountains run along the central coast of California, and for hundreds of years, the Chumash Indians and later residents have told of the Dark Watchers, shadowy hatted, caped figures who appear on ridges at twilight, only to fade away before your very eyes. A visit to the Internet reveals hundreds and hundreds of stories from people who saw shadow people in their homes, on websites such as shadowpeople.org, from-the-shadows.blogspot.com, and ghostweb.com:

I opened my eyes and looked towards the middle of the room. I saw a large shadow in the shape of a person. It had no facial features that I could see and it wasn't moving. It was just standing there looking at me... I blinked and then it was gone.

I felt like someone was watching me so I turned to look toward the hallway and there it was in the doorway... It was a black figure. I could only see from the torso up. I felt it was a male and could feel that it was looking at me... I started to walk towards it and it disappeared back into the room.

There, at the foot of my bed, was a tall dark figure like a shadow. It appeared to be almost 7 feet tall with broad shoulders and was wearing what seemed to be an old fashioned top hat and some sort of cape... I watched as it glided past me and out the door of my room.

Correction: Further research suggests that the Chumash did not necessarily have any legend that reasonably corresponds to the Dark Watchers, and thus this link is probably the invention of 20th century ghost story tellers. - BD

It goes without saying that skeptics have long-standing explanations that, from the comfort of your armchair, adequately rationalize all the stories of shadow people. These explanations run the gamut, all the way from mistaken identification of a real shadow from an actual person or object, to various causes of optical illusions or hallucinations like drugs or hypnogogic sleeping states, even simply lying and making up the story. I think that probably everyone would agree that these have all happened, and therefore they do explain some people's experiences. But here's a fact: Try to offer any of those explanations to someone telling you about a specific sighting, and it will likely be immediately shot down. "I was not asleep." "I know the difference between a regular shadow and what I saw." "What about my friend who saw it with me?"

The truth is that it's probably not possible to explain most sightings. If it was some mysterious supernatural noncorporeal being who flitted through the room, no evidence would remain, and thus there's nothing to test or study. It's so trivial to fake photos or video of something as vague as a shadow person that when these exist, they're interesting but practically worthless as far as empiricism goes. Only in the rare case where an actual physical cause can be found, and you're able to consistently reproduce the effect at the right location and the right time of day and in the right lighting conditions, are you able to provide a convincing explanation. Most of the rest of the time, all you have is conjecture and hypothesis, and the eyewitness is likely to reject these.

When I was a kid we once lived in a house where if you walked up the stairs and one of the upstairs bedroom doors was open a crack, you might see a flash of movement inside the room from the corner of your eye. I saw it a number of times, and other people in my family did too. I thought it looked like someone threw a colored sweatshirt across the room. But: I never saw it whenever I walked carefully up the stairs and kept my eyes on that crack; it only happened if you weren't looking right at it and weren't thinking about it. The more you learn about how the brain fills in data in your peripheral vision and blind spots, the less unexpected and strange this particular experience becomes. I have no useful evidence that anything unusual happened, and I have good information that can adequately explain what was perceived. I personally am not impressed enough to deem it worthy of further investigation, but others might be, and that's a supportable perspective. But unless and until some substantial discovery is made, the determination that it must have been a shadow person or ghost is ridiculous. Nothing supports that conclusion. And yet my story is at least as reliable as 99% of the shadow people stories out there. I was not on drugs, I know the difference between a shadow and what I saw, and other people saw it too.

Enthusiasts of the paranormal offer their own set of additional hypotheses about shadow people. One proposes that shadow people are the embodiments of actual people who are elsewhere but engaged in astral projection. This is not an acceptable hypothesis. Like shadow people themselves, astral projection is an untestable, undetectable, unprovable conjecture. Explaining one unknown with another unknown doesn't explain anything, and the match itself cannot be made, since neither phenomenon has any known properties that you could look at and say "What we know of shadow people is consistent with what we know of astral projection." We know nothing about either, so there's no logical basis for any connection.

The same can be said of another paranormal explanation for shadow people, that they are "interdimensional beings". Let's make an outrageous leap of logic and allow for the possibility that interdimensional beings exist. What characteristics would they have? How would we detect their presence? What level of interaction would they have? How would they affect visible light? Since these questions don't have answers, you can't correlate interdimensional beings to the known properties of shadow people. Neither one has any.

But there are phenomena to which we can correlate these stories. We know the details in the eyewitness accounts, and we know the psychological manifestations of conditions like hypnogogia and sleep paralysis. A hypnogogic hallucination is a vivid, lucid hallucination you experience while you're still falling asleep. You're susceptible again eight hours later when you're waking up, only now it's called hypnopompia. But this seems such a cynical, closed-minded reaction. When you suggest hypnogogia as a possible explanation to a person who has witnessed shadow people, many times their reaction will be understandably negative, if not outright hostile. "You're saying I'm crazy" or "You're saying I imagined it" are common replies. Hypnogogia is neither a mental illness nor imagination, and to dismiss it as either is to underestimate the incredible power of your own healthy brain. Too many people don't give their brains enough credit.

I had a dramatic demonstration of the power of hypnopompia — the waking up version — when I was about 10 years old. Early one morning, the characters from Sesame Street put on a show for me in the tree outside my bedroom window. It had music, theme songs, lighting cues and costume changes: A full elaborate production, and it lasted a good hour. To this day, I have clear memories of some of the acts. I even went and woke my parents to get them to watch, but by then the show had gone away. I knew for a fact that I hadn't been asleep. I'd been sitting up in bed and writing down some of the songs they sang. Those writings were real, on real paper, and even made sense when viewed in the light of day. It had been a completely lucid, physical experience for me. But it only existed inside my own brain in a hypnopompic state. My brain had composed music, performed the music, written lyrics, and sang them in silly voices for some director who must also have come from within me. The skits were good. The actors were rough-sewn muppets, independently moving and climbing about, even swinging through the swashbuckling number, on tree branches representing the lines of a great pirate ship. Yet through it all, I'd been conscious and upright enough to actively transcribe the lyrics. That's the power of a brain.

But many believers reject the idea that their brain has such capabilities, and instead conclude that any such perceptions can only be explained as visitations from supernatural entities. One such believer, Heidi Hollis, has gone on Coast to Coast AM radio a number of times with suggestions to defend yourself from shadow people:

Learn to let go of your fear.Stand your ground and deny them access to your person.Focus on positive thoughts.Use the name of Jesus to repel them.Keep a light on or envision light surrounding you.Bless your room with bottled spring water.

Interestingly enough, such actions may actually work (although it's not the techniques themselves that are responsible — plucking a chicken or beating a drum could work just as well, if you think it will). Sleep disorders in the form of disruptive episodes such as these are called parasomnias, and the primary treatments for parasomnias are relaxation techniques, counseling, proper exercise, and the basic lifestyle changes that contribute to better sleeping habits. True believers who reject any notion suggesting their experience was anything but a genuine visit from a supernatural being, but who apply any such remedies as Hollis suggests, do indeed have a good chance of finding relief, when the process of applying the remedy brings them some peace of mind. Even though these remedies are rarely going to be as effective as professionally guided treatment, the fact that they can sometimes work only reinforces the true believers' notion that the shadow person was in fact an interdimensional demon, and that sprinkling holy water around the room did in fact scare it away.

These experiences are weird, and can be scary. But they're also fascinating, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to experience the true power of your brain. To conclude that it's a supernatural being is to rob yourself of the real wonder of what's probably happening. Fa

[yearsblog]

Olly Alexander used his advance from his Years & Years record deal to do something he never could when he was a jobbing actor; he paid a man to make a small cut behind his left ear and pin it back with the help of a slender piece of metal. He’d had his eye on the procedure for years and only wanted the one ear pinned back because it stuck out more, and that reduced roughly 50 per cent of the cost. The pinnaplasty took 15 minutes and made him feel two things simultaneously.

“I was almost embarrassed by how overwhelmingly confident I was afterwards,” he says, looking up at the sun. “I thought, ‘God, is it really that simple?’”

The other thing he felt was a curious shame. “I had this weird moment… did I not love myself enough to just keep the face I was given?” He strokes the steely inside of his ear absent-mindedly. “Then I thought, ‘Maybe I’ll fix my teeth next.’”

If you’ve seen Olly smile, which he does often, you’ll have noticed he never got that procedure to ‘fix’ his teeth. At some point, the 27-year-old realised that certain things, even if they seem imperfect to you, don’t need fixing. Now he wants the rest of the male population to have the same realisation.

Alexander’s first big break came as an actor – a small role in Skins followed by a part in posh-boy drama The Riot Club in 2014. When he was still in school, he loved practising photoshoots and posing in front of his mirror at home, acting as if he was on America’s Next Top Model:

“I wanted to capture the glamour; it looked so cool.” His early experiences doing actual photoshoots, however, shattered the illusion. “I had such low self-esteem back then,” he says, citing a shoot he did when he was 17 for Teen Vogue’s ‘Young Hollywood’ issue. “The people were lovely but it was sort of traumatising,” he says.

“I was with Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Kaya Scodelario, Matthew Beard. Everyone went on to be massive. Anyway, it was weird. Having your picture taken when the onus is on you looking hot. That’s quite… stressful when you’re someone who doesn’t…”

He trails off and swirls his Aperol Spritz, which has been served in a goblet so thick and round it could happily accommodate a goldfish. Following his ShortList shoot, we’ve walked to a beer garden in southwest London. “It’s taken me almost 10 years to feel like I know the process isn’t about me. I can take myself out of the equation regarding whether I look good or not. It’s never been about that.”

If ‘Young Hollywood’ felt vapid and hollow to Alexander, his fortunes reversed as a pop star; he has thrived in a conventionally conservative pop landscape (Sam Smith, Shawn Mendes) and become a Technicolour, power-clashing, maximalist cannonball in the process.

The campaign to promote Years & Years’ second album, Palo Santo, focuses on a dystopian future ruled by androids, where a human (Alexander) is made to perform for their entertainment. As such, he dyed his hair a striking blood red and has spent this year serving Camden-cybergoth meets Berlin-sex-palace looks. He’s a young gay pop star, treading new ground within his industry – there’s not really a blueprint for what that looks like. That’s a lot of pressure for him to carry on his slight frame.

He thinks for a moment.

“I haven’t even considered that.”

“I get a real thrill for being ‘overtly queer’ in my aesthetic. I used to be scared of people thinking I was gay but now I’d be shocked if they didn’t.”

Years & Years’ arrival was hard to miss. Alexander, with bandmates Mikey Goldsworthy and Emre Türkmen, won the BBC’s Sound of 2015 poll, voted for by industry insiders and critics. Their first album, Communion – filled with throbbing, sinewy bangers about lust and desire, bruised hearts and man-on-man emotional power-plays – debuted at number one.

Two years later, Alexander fronted a documentary for BBC Three, Growing Up Gay, exploring the intersection between his sexuality and his mental health that felt instrumental in getting more men to discuss their own wellbeing. Alexander says he had identified his own concerns with the state of his mental health by the age of 13 and has always been vocal about it. He is an open book, frank and forthcoming. Whether it’s his sexuality, the changing nature of masculinity, or the state of austerity in the UK, Olly Alexander will always have something to say.

I ask him how his seismic rise has impacted his self-esteem. Does being adored on social media help pave over your insecurities, or does it amplify them?

“That all felt terrifying, to be honest,” he says. “It felt entirely possible that my real self would be a huge disappointment to all these people who were putting me on a pedestal. And if I met anyone who knew me online… it would be so horrifying. They think you’re one thing but you feel so far away from that. And then I would have these thoughts about people making judgements on me or my personal life, who my ex-boyfriends were. I had a negative reaction to it.”

Does it still bother you? “I’ve made peace with it. Our recent success… I had been planning it for so long,” he says. “I feel like I’ve gotten away with something. The lyrics, the short film, the costumes… it all felt like it was too weird to happen. Sometimes I think I have to be more ‘extra’ to get this kind of thing through [to people]. You have no idea how many conversations happen where the utterance, ‘Is it too gay, though?’ comes up. Nobody would say it to my face because they know I’d flip out. But it happens.”

He says he’s baffled by the way that queerness and sexuality is associated with being inappropriate for children. At last month’s BBC Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend, where he dressed in a bejewelled green one-piece that shimmered in the sun, he says he was criticised for his performance because it was “too erotic and too saucy”.

He agreed. “But it’s no different to Demi Lovato or Stefflon Don or Liam Payne. They all simulate sex on stage and they say things in their songs that are very erotic, they gyrate and wear revealing outfits. People don’t bat an eyelid, but as soon as I go on stage it’s a case of [he adopts a shrill, Helen Lovejoy tone]: ‘Think of the children!’’’ He pauses for a second. “I am thinking of the children. Young people need to see a queer person being comfortable in their body.”

In a New York Times profile earlier this year, country star KD Lang said that queer people were welcomed by the wider world only until their eroticism posed a threat. Keeping your head down, neutralising your sexuality and blending in is what LGBTQ people need to do to garner acceptance, or so goes the theory.

Alexander says that if his queerness feels more obtuse and radicalised, then it’s just a by-product of growing more comfortable with himself. “It’s less conscious, or direct,” he says. “There was never a moment when I said, ‘This is what I’m going to set out to do.’”

But with age comes a bit of stubbornness – and that’s a good thing.

“I get a real thrill for being ‘overtly queer’ in my aesthetic. I used to be scared of people thinking I was gay but now I’d be shocked if they didn’t. I’d hesitate to say I had a more developed sense of self, though, because how I look doesn’t take into account my mind, or how I develop internally.”

“Sometimes I wonder about the guys I had these sexcapades with, who identified as straight, and I wonder where they are now, in their own journey.”

The first single from Palo Santo was ‘Sanctify’, a seductive paean to male sexuality, with a thumpy, rumbly drum beat that sounds like Britney Spears’ ‘Slave 4 U’ if it was appropriated by robots in the near future. It’s about the fallacy of lust and the fleetingness of human contact; unashamedly sexy and confrontational.

It’s also about straight men, many of whom Alexander has collided with at various points in his twenties.

It was something that always happened to him, he says – guys who identify as straight hooking up with him – and he always writes about what he knows. I tell him I always found it flattering.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re touching on a complicated area for a lot of gay men. And I suppose for everyone else involved. It’s good to interrogate your desires, to unpack why people feel drawn to one another. You’re attracted to who you’re attracted to at the end of the day.”

If he had to guess, he says those straight men found him “alluring”. And he’s interested that some men who don’t identify as gay might be happy to sleep with men who are.

“We’re talking about how men express desire for one another. I find the exchange fascinating – what each person gets out of it, or what it makes each person feel. With ‘Sanctify’, I wanted to write something about the journey of coming out. It’s so drawn out. You come out to your friends, family, then the world, again and again, in hotels and on holiday and to cab drivers. And that can be painful. Sometimes I wonder about the guys I’d had these… sexcapades with, who identified as straight, and I wonder where they are now, in their own journey to understanding their sexuality.”

But he also believes you can identify as straight and still hook up with guys. “At the end of the day, these are just words we use to try to best describe ourselves. They’re not perfect.”

It’s late afternoon, and the sun is casting long shadows across the beer garden. Alexander is reflecting on how lucky he feels to have addressed his mental health at such a young age; it has left him with a toolbox full of ways to cope in all kinds of situations. “I believe we all encounter these problems,” he says. “Some people get to their fifties or sixties and realise there are aspects of their mental health they’ve never addressed.”

His control over his own mental health came in degrees; at school he was in and out of counselling due to an eating disorder, and was bullied by his peers because of his sexuality. Due to his early acting career he had enough disposable income by the age of 20 to fund a private therapist, and he admits he wouldn’t have been able to rely on the support offered by the NHS.

“It’s overbooked and slow, you can wait 12 weeks to see someone on the NHS, and that’s failing people. If you’re at crisis point, you need help urgently.” His own budget allowed for his private therapist for about six months.

“The situation is quite dire,” he says. “Who knows what will change? We have a government that has implemented austerity for the past eight years and has cut services for mental-health provision.” What about public campaigns aiming to de-stigmatise talking about mental health? Everyone from Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson to Prince William has begun conversations about theirs.

“Talking is a great place to start,” he says. “But if there’s nowhere else to go after that, then the development of dealing with your mental health will stall.

“You feel a bit raw and exposed from [talking about] this kind of thing,” Alexander says, shrugging. “But I’ve arrived at a place where I feel pretty on top of my mental health. I get asked about it a lot. I’ve had moments recently where it almost felt like I was on a runaway train, and the train’s left the station and it’s hurtling towards hell, and I can’t get off, I’ve said too much, and I think, ‘Oh God, oh God,’ and I panic.”

He thinks for a minute. Maybe it’s the sun but we both feel exhausted.

“But this is relaxed and I feel in control. Sometimes I wish I’d kept that Pandora’s box shut, but not today.”

Palo Santo is released on 6 July

[ollyarchive]

"I used to be scared of people thinking I was gay": Olly Alexander on men and their feelings

The Years & Years frontman talks to Chris Mandle about sexuality, masculinity and mental health

Olly Alexander used his advance from his Years & Years record deal to do something he never could when he was a jobbing actor; he paid a man to make a small cut behind his left ear and pin it back with the help of a slender piece of metal. He’d had his eye on the procedure for years and only wanted the one ear pinned back because it stuck out more, and that reduced roughly 50 per cent of the cost. The pinnaplasty took 15 minutes and made him feel two things simultaneously.

“I was almost embarrassed by how overwhelmingly confident I was afterwards,” he says, looking up at the sun. “I thought, ‘God, is it really that simple?’”

The other thing he felt was a curious shame. “I had this weird moment… did I not love myself enough to just keep the face I was given?” He strokes the steely inside of his ear absent-mindedly. “Then I thought, ‘Maybe I’ll fix my teeth next.’”

If you’ve seen Olly smile, which he does often, you’ll have noticed he never got that procedure to ‘fix’ his teeth. At some point, the 27-year-old realised that certain things, even if they seem imperfect to you, don’t need fixing. Now he wants the rest of the male population to have the same realisation.

Alexander’s first big break came as an actor – a small role in Skins followed by a part in posh-boy drama The Riot Club in 2014. When he was still in school, he loved practising photoshoots and posing in front of his mirror at home, acting as if he was on America’s Next Top Model:

“I wanted to capture the glamour; it looked so cool.” His early experiences doing actual photoshoots, however, shattered the illusion. “I had such low self-esteem back then,” he says, citing a shoot he did when he was 17 for Teen Vogue’s ‘Young Hollywood’ issue. “The people were lovely but it was sort of traumatising,” he says.

“I was with Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Kaya Scodelario, Matthew Beard. Everyone went on to be massive. Anyway, it was weird. Having your picture taken when the onus is on you looking hot. That’s quite… stressful when you’re someone who doesn’t…”

He trails off and swirls his Aperol Spritz, which has been served in a goblet so thick and round it could happily accommodate a goldfish. Following his ShortList shoot, we’ve walked to a beer garden in southwest London. “It’s taken me almost 10 years to feel like I know the process isn’t about me. I can take myself out of the equation regarding whether I look good or not. It’s never been about that.”

If ‘Young Hollywood’ felt vapid and hollow to Alexander, his fortunes reversed as a pop star; he has thrived in a conventionally conservative pop landscape (Sam Smith, Shawn Mendes) and become a Technicolour, power-clashing, maximalist cannonball in the process.

The campaign to promote Years & Years’ second album, Palo Santo, focuses on a dystopian future ruled by androids, where a human (Alexander) is made to perform for their entertainment. As such, he dyed his hair a striking blood red and has spent this year serving Camden-cybergoth meets Berlin-sex-palace looks. He’s a young gay pop star, treading new ground within his industry – there’s not really a blueprint for what that looks like. That’s a lot of pressure for him to carry on his slight frame.

He thinks for a moment.

“I haven’t even considered that.”

“I get a real thrill for being ‘overtly queer’ in my aesthetic. I used to be scared of people thinking I was gay but now I’d be shocked if they didn’t.”

Years & Years’ arrival was hard to miss. Alexander, with bandmates Mikey Goldsworthy and Emre Türkmen, won the BBC’s Sound of 2015 poll, voted for by industry insiders and critics. Their first album, Communion – filled with throbbing, sinewy bangers about lust and desire, bruised hearts and man-on-man emotional power-plays – debuted at number one.

Two years later, Alexander fronted a documentary for BBC Three, Growing Up Gay, exploring the intersection between his sexuality and his mental health that felt instrumental in getting more men to discuss their own wellbeing. Alexander says he had identified his own concerns with the state of his mental health by the age of 13 and has always been vocal about it. He is an open book, frank and forthcoming. Whether it’s his sexuality, the changing nature of masculinity, or the state of austerity in the UK, Olly Alexander will always have something to say.

I ask him how his seismic rise has impacted his self-esteem. Does being adored on social media help pave over your insecurities, or does it amplify them?

“That all felt terrifying, to be honest,” he says. “It felt entirely possible that my real self would be a huge disappointment to all these people who were putting me on a pedestal. And if I met anyone who knew me online… it would be so horrifying. They think you’re one thing but you feel so far away from that. And then I would have these thoughts about people making judgements on me or my personal life, who my ex-boyfriends were. I had a negative reaction to it.”

Does it still bother you? “I’ve made peace with it. Our recent success… I had been planning it for so long,” he says. “I feel like I’ve gotten away with something. The lyrics, the short film, the costumes… it all felt like it was too weird to happen. Sometimes I think I have to be more ‘extra’ to get this kind of thing through [to people]. You have no idea how many conversations happen where the utterance, ‘Is it too gay, though?’ comes up. Nobody would say it to my face because they know I’d flip out. But it happens.”

He says he’s baffled by the way that queerness and sexuality is associated with being inappropriate for children. At last month’s BBC Radio 1’s Biggest Weekend, where he dressed in a bejewelled green one-piece that shimmered in the sun, he says he was criticised for his performance because it was “too erotic and too saucy”.

He agreed. “But it’s no different to Demi Lovato or Stefflon Don or Liam Payne. They all simulate sex on stage and they say things in their songs that are very erotic, they gyrate and wear revealing outfits. People don’t bat an eyelid, but as soon as I go on stage it’s a case of [he adopts a shrill, Helen Lovejoy tone]: ‘Think of the children!’’’ He pauses for a second. “I am thinking of the children. Young people need to see a queer person being comfortable in their body.”

In a New York Times profile earlier this year, country star KD Lang said that queer people were welcomed by the wider world only until their eroticism posed a threat. Keeping your head down, neutralising your sexuality and blending in is what LGBTQ people need to do to garner acceptance, or so goes the theory.

Alexander says that if his queerness feels more obtuse and radicalised, then it’s just a by-product of growing more comfortable with himself. “It’s less conscious, or direct,” he says. “There was never a moment when I said, ‘This is what I’m going to set out to do.’”

But with age comes a bit of stubbornness – and that’s a good thing.

“I get a real thrill for being ‘overtly queer’ in my aesthetic. I used to be scared of people thinking I was gay but now I’d be shocked if they didn’t. I’d hesitate to say I had a more developed sense of self, though, because how I look doesn’t take into account my mind, or how I develop internally.”

“Sometimes I wonder about the guys I had these sexcapades with, who identified as straight, and I wonder where they are now, in their own journey.”

The first single from Palo Santo was ‘Sanctify’, a seductive paean to male sexuality, with a thumpy, rumbly drum beat that sounds like Britney Spears’ ‘Slave 4 U’ if it was appropriated by robots in the near future. It’s about the fallacy of lust and the fleetingness of human contact; unashamedly sexy and confrontational.

It’s also about straight men, many of whom Alexander has collided with at various points in his twenties.

It was something that always happened to him, he says – guys who identify as straight hooking up with him – and he always writes about what he knows. I tell him I always found it flattering.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re touching on a complicated area for a lot of gay men. And I suppose for everyone else involved. It’s good to interrogate your desires, to unpack why people feel drawn to one another. You’re attracted to who you’re attracted to at the end of the day.”

If he had to guess, he says those straight men found him “alluring”. And he’s interested that some men who don’t identify as gay might be happy to sleep with men who are.

“We’re talking about how men express desire for one another. I find the exchange fascinating – what each person gets out of it, or what it makes each person feel. With ‘Sanctify’, I wanted to write something about the journey of coming out. It’s so drawn out. You come out to your friends, family, then the world, again and again, in hotels and on holiday and to cab drivers. And that can be painful. Sometimes I wonder about the guys I’d had these… sexcapades with, who identified as straight, and I wonder where they are now, in their own journey to understanding their sexuality.”

But he also believes you can identify as straight and still hook up with guys. “At the end of the day, these are just words we use to try to best describe ourselves. They’re not perfect.”

It’s late afternoon, and the sun is casting long shadows across the beer garden. Alexander is reflecting on how lucky he feels to have addressed his mental health at such a young age; it has left him with a toolbox full of ways to cope in all kinds of situations. “I believe we all encounter these problems,” he says. “Some people get to their fifties or sixties and realise there are aspects of their mental health they’ve never addressed.”

His control over his own mental health came in degrees; at school he was in and out of counselling due to an eating disorder, and was bullied by his peers because of his sexuality. Due to his early acting career he had enough disposable income by the age of 20 to fund a private therapist, and he admits he wouldn’t have been able to rely on the support offered by the NHS.

“It’s overbooked and slow, you can wait 12 weeks to see someone on the NHS, and that’s failing people. If you’re at crisis point, you need help urgently.” His own budget allowed for his private therapist for about six months.

“The situation is quite dire,” he says. “Who knows what will change? We have a government that has implemented austerity for the past eight years and has cut services for mental-health provision.” What about public campaigns aiming to de-stigmatise talking about mental health? Everyone from Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson to Prince William has begun conversations about theirs.

“Talking is a great place to start,” he says. “But if there’s nowhere else to go after that, then the development of dealing with your mental health will stall.

“You feel a bit raw and exposed from [talking about] this kind of thing,” Alexander says, shrugging. “But I’ve arrived at a place where I feel pretty on top of my mental health. I get asked about it a lot. I’ve had moments recently where it almost felt like I was on a runaway train, and the train’s left the station and it’s hurtling towards hell, and I can’t get off, I’ve said too much, and I think, ‘Oh God, oh God,’ and I panic.”

He thinks for a minute. Maybe it’s the sun but we both feel exhausted.

“But this is relaxed and I feel in control. Sometimes I wish I’d kept that Pandora’s box shut, but not today.”

Palo Santo is released on 6 July

[shankmeharder]

So I have a lot of feelings.(Sidenote: this is a big Ol vent. You are not obligated to read or agree I just need to let it out)

I'm finally getting medicated to try to help with all the many things happening in my head.

I've been having a low lately. Waiting for the meds to start really working, trying to make myself be productive.

Yesterday hit me like a fucking train. I drop my spouse off at work and 2 minutes later I hear AB is dead.

I ugly cried in my car and just sat there for twenty minutes in the parking lot. Then they announce it was suicide. And I'm distraught and angry and afraid.

I don't know why he felt the need to take his leave but he will missed.

The more I thought about it the more I began to sink further down. I wanted to know why.

In my darkest days I watched his shows and comforted myself with his manner, his outlook, and the visuals of places I would never be able to go. In my quest to experience bits and pieces of the world before I died, I accidentally found myself wanting to live.

I began to think up this list of role models that I could model after. If they could live so could I. On top of that list were Robin Williams and Anthony Bourdain.

It wasn't their responsibility to see me through. I know this. But I also have to acknowledge, for my own well-being, that AB dying at this juncture in my life has affected me deeply. Not only because I lost a role model but because the world lost one. A man that I wish more people were like is no longer here and that pisses me off.

He could have had all the best counseling and if he spoke out the world would have hung on his every word, and infact it did . But still he is gone.

I'm so mad at that. So frustrated that when I finally look into getting help I get a giant reminder that my fight will never be over. No matter what I may manage to do or who I may manage to influence I'll always be on this edge. I'll lose more people, personally and globally, and I'll still be at risk of losing myself.

I have to search through this for something that tells me that it's worth it.

Here's another list.

My daughter

My spouse

My family

My friends

My writing

All the movies I haven't seen

The people I haven't met

The things I haven't done

Rewatching every episode of no reservations and parts unknown

He did so much while he was hurting and it stays with me even now that he is gone. The things I do are not insignificant, no matter how I die, I will have lived. And I need to live to see these people I love and do these things I do.

I need to keep going least of all for myself, most of all to show everyone that you can. Your mileage may vary, your experience may differ. But goddamn we have to keep going keep doing keep trying.

I needed a reminder that it was all worth it. I look at my daughter and imagine what she may do one day. How she will feel. Who will she lose. Not me if I have anything to say about it.

[perfectirishgifts]

How To Thrive When Chronic Illness Disrupts Your Career

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/how-to-thrive-when-chronic-illness-disrupts-your-career/

How To Thrive When Chronic Illness Disrupts Your Career

Your first job is your health. Speak up for what you need and it’s ok to take time for you.

According to the CDC six in ten adults have a chronic disease, creating a common challenge faced by millions every day: How do you make accommodations in your working life for your health needs? 

Part of my own journey to becoming an entrepreneur came out of developing Lyme disease. Prior to becoming ill, I was in a job which was unsustainable for me to continue. I know I’m not alone in this experience. 

I spoke with two other women with chronic Lyme disease who have adapted to the realities of their medical diagnosis and built thriving careers. These women share experience-backed advice for others who are struggling with a chronic illness which is impacting their ability to perform their job. 

Your dreams and ambitions are just as big as before diagnosis. Your illness doesn’t have to stop you from having a rewarding and fulfilling career. 

Emily Levy is the founder of Mightywell, a medical accessories company, along with friend and cofounder Maria del Mar Gomez. Levy was inspired to start Mightywell out of a desire to create the products missing in the marketplace that she wished she had to make the experience of illness easier. For many facing chronic illness, entrepreneurship may become the path not only because it affords flexibility, but also because illness gives unique insights to where there are unmet needs. This births business ideas and newfound passions. Levy felt the demands of a traditional corporate career path would pose too much of a challenge, but even more so, she felt a “resounding yes” at the idea of Mightywell and it became her “North Star.” 

Hannah Olson, founder of Chronically Capable, has had a similar experience to Levy. Olson found herself with no option but to leave her dream job due to her aggressive treatment schedule. Now, she aims to make sure no one ever has to choose between their health and work ambitions. Chronically Capable connects those with chronic illness and disabilities with flexible job opportunities at progressive companies who have greater willingness to be inclusive and make accommodations. Not everyone wants to start a business or has career ambitions in alignment with entrepreneurship. Olson is working to change the employment landscape to ensure entrepreneurship is not a forced choice. She shares her personal insights of working with chronic illness, but also has guidance for those navigating getting accommodations from an employer.

Whether you are or want to be an entrepreneur, or hope to climb the corporate ladder, here are some key things to consider to help you succeed.

Learn to communicate and speak up for your needs 

In running her company Levy says, “I’ve had to learn to be very transparent in my needs. I’m not afraid to tell people, sorry, today I just can’t do it. I’ve certainly had to cancel meetings. And I found that just by being transparent and upfront that this is where I am with my health, people are a lot more understanding.”

Speak up early if you’re in an interview process, advises Olson. “[At Chronically Capable] we try to work really closely with our applicants to encourage them to disclose and ask for accommodations upfront. It’s a lot easier than waiting six months into the job and having to have this awkwardness.” 

If you’re already in a job you’re going to have to speak up if you want accommodations. Keep in mind that, in the United States, you may have some legal rights for accommodations. Do educate yourself on your situation and seek legal counsel. It’s also encouraging to note that regarding Covid-19, Olson says, “There is going to be a change here, we’re in the middle of it. We’ve learned in the last nine months that an employee doesn’t necessarily need to be in an office in order to be productive and that you can be working on your own hours. So many people were left out of the workplace simply because of the fact that they couldn’t physically be in an office. This is opening up a world of opportunities for those who had been previously left out.” 

Hannah Olson, founder of Chronically Capable. Olson advises to speak up early for your needs if … [] you’re in an interview process.

Find community and mentorship 

“There are millions of people with chronic illnesses, but when you have one you can feel like you’re the only person,” says Olson. By finding those who understand, you can provide support to one another as you face similar challenges.  

One person to have in your support circle is a solid mentor. “Mentors have completely changed my life and I’d encourage others to find a mentor in that career path or direction that you’re aspiring to,” shares Levy. Olson echoes how helpful it is to have a mentor with chronic illness and has found mentorship from Levy invaluable. “She knows exactly what I am going through. Like the stress of talking to investors while you’re also going through treatment, and all these things.”

Do what you can, when you can

Levy has learned to be adaptable to the swings of illness. “I would highly recommend for chronic illness founders to bring their laptop to bed if you need to. Some days my legs don’t want to come with me but my brain works. I’ll send emails or do funding research. And then there are days I can’t look at a screen and will put on a podcast to keep learning.” 

Levy also suggests trying to plan ahead for when you know your symptoms may flare or needs may change. “I think what a lot of people don’t understand about chronic illness is that I can be on for that three hour event, but they don’t see that for three days after, that’s going to put me in bed. I try to plan ahead so if we know I’m speaking at our industry’s top conference of the year in Las Vegas, we need to make sure I’m taking time off afterwards, at least so I can work from bed.” 

Get support from colleagues or build a team 

“Getting support from your colleagues is another really great tactic. Having those people as your allies and advocates is so helpful because sometimes a manager just might not understand,” explains Olson.  

And if you start a company, don’t go it alone, advises Levy. While entrepreneurship has flexibility it’s still demanding, making it necessary to build a team of support. Maria Del Mar Gomez and Yousef Al-Humaidhi are Levy’s cofounders and together they have worked to ensure the company’s mission is still being supported whether Levy is in the office or not. Del Mar Gomez has become an invaluable support for Levy. “Especially when we were going through Morgan Stanley’s accelerator, there were plenty of times where I’d get fully ready, I’d put on the hair, the makeup, the outfit, get out the door and I would get to work and I would be drained. And on those days, I would call Maria. We just have this amazing bond where we kind of speak each other’s language.” 

Maria Del Mar Gomez (left) and Emily Levy (right), cofounders of Mightywell. Levy advises that if … [] you start a company, don’t go it alone.

Your first job is your health 

“My health really is my first job, and Mightywell, for better or worse will always be my second job, because if my health isn’t there, I can’t really function at work,” explains Levy. This is a sentiment shared by Olson who adds, “Managing your chronic illness in itself can be like a part-time or full-time job.” She advises taking time off or slowing down if you can financially afford to. “It’s ok to take time for you. We’re so forced as a society to believe that we have to work all the time, I had to teach myself it’s okay to slow down and for a while I was working a part-time job.” 

Recognize the benefits and strengths you’ve gained 

Chronic illness nudges you to learn important skills and life lessons everyone ill or not would benefit from. It’s really a masterclass in personal development.   

“We talk so much about all that has been taken from us with our illness. And it’s true, so much has been stripped of me, but I’ve also gained so much,” says Olson. “And I think that the media doesn’t represent the strength and opportunities that illness has given us as well. I wouldn’t regret being chronically ill now because I’ve been able to learn and do so much more than I ever would’ve.” 

Olson suggests using your cover letters to address your illness and highlight these strengths. “Talk about what are the unique skills and attributes that you’ve gained through this horrible experience, because that could make you an incredible worker. I’ve gained so much resilience, time management skills, I’m highly adaptable and able to balance a lot of different things. I understand the importance of taking breaks. You gain so much empathy for the people around you and it makes you such a great colleague. You are an asset.” 

Levy agrees and adds that as an entrepreneur illness makes her much more focused. “With limited energy, you have to really be maniacal about what things you’re spending your time on. It forces you to keep an eye on your North Star, and make sure that you’re being true to yourself and why you started this.”

From Careers in Perfectirishgifts