#i can feel my brain rewiring itself now that my family is back home and 1000km removed from me

[thorntopieces]

okay goodnight

[normal-internet-user]

Hi! First of all, I wanted to say that I love your blog 💕 reading your posts always cheer me up :D

So, I had an angsty thought about the big sis!reader ask, remember that part where shredder uses karai as hostage and accidentaly mutates her? How do you think things would go if reader was the one who got mutaded instead? It could be a snake or something else if you wish!

English is not my first language, but I think I made this understandable enough kdksjdk

Anyway, Have a lovely day/night 💕💕

I've actually had a few ideas about this before, just a little context, Reader is mutated into a humanoid spider.

2012 BOYS WHEN THEIR BIG SISTER GETS MUTATED

A recon mission gone wrong.

That's how you ended up dangled over a giant vat of mutagen.

The rope was tight, and you heart was pumping.

One wrong move, and your whole life would be changed.

Hell, who knew what would happen if you came in contact with that much mutagen.

You just hoped the boys would get here in time,

And then you could all go home and laugh about this over some pizza gyoza.

When your brothers ran in, you let out a silent cheer, then you started trying to gain momentum to swing yourself to one of the catwalks.

To bad you were unaware of Shredders eyes on you.

The rope was cut before you knew what was happening, and then the fear set in.

You cried out as you came in contact with the slime like substance, and one thing you never expected was the pain.

You struggled for a moment, then pulled yourself out of the vat, a searing pain coursing through your entire body while you groaned.

"(NAME)!" The collective shout of your siblings barely reached your ears as the pain flared, you felt your body reshaping itself, and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

You collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain as your skin changed to a light shade of purple,

As your jaw reshaped itself along with your teeth,

As brain rewired itself to account for the new spider like appendages sprouted from your back.

It felt like your veins were made of fire, and you didn't seem to notice when your vision changed.

You didn't feel it when one of your brothers picked you off the ground.

You continued to stew in your own agony as your entire being shifted.

You didn't feel the softness of your own bed, or the gentle hand of your father resting on your forehead.

Then as soon as it started, the pain stopped.

Your body was sore, and even attempting to open your eyes hurt.

The low, painful whines went unnoticed by you, but not your father,

"Rest, my daughter. You need rest." He whispered, stroking your hair.

Rest...

That sounded nice.

Rest...

You drifted off, unaware of the turmoil amongst your family...

Donnie sighed as he examined your new appendages, you had grown something akin to spider legs along your back, and you were now sporting two new arms along your torso.

"She'll be fine..." he said, turning to his family, "It may take a while for her to get used to this though, she had a completely new set of eyes and arms to learn how to use. Hopefully I can finish that retromutagen soon.."

You woke around 2 hours later, you blinked open your eyes, and panicked.

What happened?

Everything looked so red.

Red.

Redredred.

You tried to stand, but you felt off balance, and you fell catching yourself before you hit the ground.

The sight of two extra hands greeted you.

Your heart began to pump louder,

So loud you could hear it beating.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump-

"GUYS! KYOUDAI? OTOU-SAMA? DOKO NI IRU NO?"

You heard six pairs of feet rush to your side, but you struggled to see.

Everything was blurry and red.

"I can't see. I can't see. Otou-sama, Dōshite mienai no? D-dōshite mienai no?" your voice cracked, and Splinter pulled you into a hug.

The soft voice of April sounded through your own heavy breathing, but you didn't register, "What does that mean?"

Leo replied in a shaky tone, "She's asking why she can't see..."

"It's so loud." you whispered, "It's all so loud."

Splinter held you close, replying softly, "Hush, my dear. koko desu."

"Where are the boys?" you asked, quietly, "Are they ok? Please tell me they're ok."

Mikey whispered softly, "We're ok, Ane-chan. We're ok, I promise."

You pulled away from Splinter and shakily pulled them into your arms, and you felt tears fall onto your skin, "Naka naide kudasai. Please don't cry, kyoudai. Please..."

It took you accouple days to get used to your new body.

Your vision was your biggest problem.

You found yourself bumping and stubbling into things, and you took to just moving around as little as possible.

You cut your lip on your own teeth more than you should have, and couldn't wear any of your old clothes due to your new appendages.

April bought you some new ones with holes cut into them.

You were terrified to hug your family.

The last time you did was when you woke up, and one of your new spider arms cut Mikey's cheek,

After that, you stopped trusting yourself to touch them.

Donnie was working overtime on developing retro-mutagen, he hated seeing you so scared and lost.

All of them did.

You always knew what to do,

But not this time.

Splinter knew what you were going through,

The exact same thing happened to him,

He did his best, but you were so scared of yourself, he didn't know how to comfort you.

Mikey was the most noticably affected.

He tried so hard to help you get out of your horrible state of mind,

But you always pushed him away, scared you might accidentaly hurt him again.

Life was different,

Life was stressful, and the tone of the Lair was definitly alot less cheery.

Everyone was worried about you.

And you were so, so scared.

....................................

I know I said I was taking a break, but I swear I'm just finishing some drafts-

translations:

Kyoudai: Little brothers

Otou-sama: Father

Ane-chan: Big sister

Doko ni iru no: Where are you?

Koko desu: I'm here

Dōshite mienai no: Why can't I see?

Naka naide kudasai: Please don't cry

[weebsinstash]

So I was listening to one of my werewolf audio books and I may actually have to drop it because it's actually repeatedly making me really angry, and it's kind of almost turning into a horror story in places? But also it just makes me think of dark yandere content tbh but also I am just kind of ranting about this story and spoiling a ton of it so idk don't read the whole post if you want to listen to the audiobook?

The story was The Defiant Mate and like, a lot of guys in these stories can be pretty toxic, but there was a combination of different stuff that was just giving me bad vibes, but it was one event in particular. And yeah this is a long post bc I kind of summarize the plot and events and stuff so, readmore time

So like, the plot is, Jay-la and Nathan are childhood friends and fwb and also both werewolves because of course, until he gets his fated mate assigned by the moon and it's another girl and there's this whole mate bond thing where it practically rewires your brain chemistry in ways that can be kind of creepy, like in Prince Reagan (which I know is a different story but they're on the same platform and many of these are basically the same story or all share the exact same concepts and terminology) there's a plot line of female werewolves being trafficked because if you mate them and create a bond by force you kind of have an exotic more willing slave. So his new mate is of course a spoiled bitch type who basically attacks Jay-la because she walked in on... JL gently holding his arm asking to speak with him for just a few minutes (before she leaves the pack because seeing him with another woman is too painful)

So in some of these stories the werewolf is a literal wolf spirit and like a separate person so when Nathan's new mate walks up and swings on her for no reason, JL's wolf Kora took control and slapped her back, and Nathan basically flips the fuck out ("oh bc of the mate bond not because he's a shitty person we promise") and banishes Jay-la, tells her to leave the pack and never come back, and of course she's secretly pregnant

So she runs away, starts a new life, has his triplets, and neither him nor even her own FAMILY contacts her until SIX YEARS LATER, by Nathan's own admission he's barely even thought about her until she appears on TV bc she's a high profile divorce attorney and, oh joy, he left his previous mate and he feels a new bond seeing her on TV, so Nathan decides, "I miss her, im gonna summon her back to the pack" and because he is the pack leader and alpha because of course he is, he basically sends her an official letter ORDERING her to return home, and when she ignores multiple letters, he sends another to HER JOB and threatens to have her "retrieved" which he does, has her kidnapped where the men wind up basically beating the shit out of her, and the kidnapping itself involves POISONING because she's a werewolf, and since they don't know about her kids she's just extremely freaked out the entire time bc they're separated and the FBI gets involved because the kidnapping was on camera and it's a huge mess

So, you already have vague mind control vibes going on with the mate bond which can get really kind of creepy, but then you have like the horror potentials of "the Wolfen society" having all these secret strings and rich organizations and legal teams and even their own goon squads and shit and how it's almost kind of like one big cult? That's one thing I keep thinking listening to these stories: the cultures of these packs are a lot like cults because of the way they're supposed to unquestionably worship a caste system. Like this story even says outright that being mated and marked by force is nothing new and you still feel the mate bond and it still can influence you, like it can literally force you to feel certain emotions and the taking away of agency is very creepy to me

But anyways. So. Jay-la has every right to be upset because now after kicking her out of her home and banishing her after one relatively small mistake after she was his friend and lover for years, Nathan has now had her kidnapped, and the few minutes they were in the same room together before she escaped he was being a rude angry dick and she was injured and he was basically too mad over her condition to speak to her, but also he was a little pissy baby and didn't like that she was too afraid to look at him and yells at her. And all the while by the way there are certain other packmembers some of whom she grew up with and like, they disagree with having her kidnapped but they also just kind of shrug it off by saying "you needed to come home" even though she was perfectly fine and happy and successful?

But then this whole, people being extremely dismissive of her feelings and manipulating her and literally trying to force her to feel things she doesn't want to manifests in just this one really upsetting incident. So Nathan had bren talking to Jackson who is JL's close friend and even had her number after she ran away when not even her own parents had tried to speak to her, and piece of shit Nathan suggests doing something with JL's mom to manipulate her into coming home. Literally a couple chapters later, while Jay-la is officially trying to join another pack and is a short time away from taking her kids for an interview and is going to stay if it goes well, suddenly she gets a call from her brother that her mom is seriously hurt and maybe even dying, but he doesn't sound convincing. Later on? Jackson is texting and calling and suddenly texts her a photo of her mom, INJURED AND BLOODY IN THE HOSPITAL, and she had such a massive fucking panic attack she collapses on the floor because she thinks her mom is so injured she's going to die before Jay-la can even say goodbye, and she's also projecting some sort of empathy powers and extremely upsetting her triplets

In swoops Jackson to "rescue" the literally so fucking devastated she's incapacitated Jay-la, literally taking advantage of her condition to pick her up and carry her off and even taking her kids. And she literally passes out from being so freaked out, and as if her being kidnapped back to the pack isn't horrible enough, it gets worse. So she wakes up, is separated from her kids "oh because your powers were affecting them and upsetting them blah blah blah", and she goes to see her mom, who turns out is in bad shape but will survive, and she smells something in her wounds

The story was that her mom had been almost fatally poisoned with wolfsbane when attacked by rogues, and it turns out to be Nathan's sister. She overheard his suggestion to mess with her mom and was the one to attack her

BUT IT GETS WORSE BECAUSE HER MOM WAS IN ON IT AND HER FATHER WAS THE ONE TO POISON HER. So not only was Jay-la manipulated into coming back BY BEING TOLD HER MOM WAS DYING, TRAUMATIZING HER, it was BY HER FUCKING MOM who BY the way SHE HASNT EVEN SPOKEN TO SINCE SHE LEFT. She wasn't even hiding by the way her family probably could have contacted her at literally any time like literally any time and they never bothered like the story explicitly says they hadn't seen or heard from each other since she left

So. Jay-la has just attacked Nathan's sister and is extremely upset and finds out her family lied to her, and obviously you could not have a more valid fucking reason to be emotional. Here's part two of why this entire scenario is a horror story: there's this creepy motherfucker named Steven who is a Gamma and he has this weird ability to use his aura to basically brainwash you into being calm and what happens is, for not even the first time, he basically comes up to her and talks all sweet and nice while she's being physically held down by the way and he basically hypnotizes her into being nearly unconscious

Oh and. On top of this :) her stupid fucking wolf who is supposed to be like a sister to her? Can take control over her body. So while Jay-la is trying to escape and find her kids and RUN AWAY? Oh, Nathan's wolf howls, and oh, Kora is so lonely, she wants to belong again, Nathan's wolf is her alpha and she wants his approval 🥺 and the stupid bitch howls back, reveals their location, gets them caught, and while in wolf form where JL can do nothing to stop it, and after realizing "oh they're our mates" Kora goes ahead and fucks Nathan's wolf and from this moment on it's "oh Jayla honey he isn't going to hurt us, he's our mate, trust him" as if she's supposed to completely forget about everything that's happened up until this point, and guess what, now stupid ass Jayla is all "well I can't separate Kora from her mate 🥺 and I do so ever respect and worship the power and sacred bond of a destined moon given mate" so she just. Forgives and forgets and wow I can't finish this story

But yeah now I've just been consumed by thoughts of a story of like, a human reader and a yandere werewolf and, obviously there are different ideas but, imagine getting dragged into this closed community and maybe you're beginning to entertain the idea of this new guy being your soul mate and being kind of fascinated by this new supernatural world you didnt even know existed but then you witness some stupid mind control cult "oh do whatever the alpha says" creepy bullshit and you immediately turn to the guy and say "sorry this isn't going to work out".

I just love defiant FL vs yandere ML stories ok 😩❤️ and also we've been talking bout rude obsessive possessive men round these parts recently and this is totally giving me those vibes with the whole "I am the Alpha, I command you, you must do as I say, it is your place, I have all this power, obey me, you are MINE" dealio

[fritopaws]

Stroke Jokes

What do you think about stroke jokes? Would you find it peculiar that I could joke about a serious medical emergency? Would it bother you that I would compare it to a Prius, because they are both “silent killers”? 

Strokes are most definitely not funny. They are actually quite horrifying. A part of your brain either bleeds or has compromised blood flow because of a clot. The brain: the “settings” part of your body, where you keep your passwords and credit card information. Where you keep your speakers, microphone, and music library. I mean, it’s pretty important. It’s where you set your username and choose notifications. And when it’s compromised, you can lose all of your data, some of your data, or need to reset the whole damn thing. 

My settings were fucked up not once but twice. Two strokes. One from a neck manipulation by a massage person who had no business manipulating a neck and one 1 ½ years later related to a neck overextension/trauma (and perhaps related to episode 1). And, yes I did settle a lawsuit, and bought a car with good safety features and thought about getting a personalized license plate that said: Stroke Mobile. (Or would it have to be StrkMobl?)

Part of what is funny/not funny is that nobody really truly knew what the hell happened to me the second time. Reoccurance rate is about 1%, so… like, what the actual fuck, right? Well, if I learned one thing during this lifetime, it’s that sometimes weird, scary shit happens. And, while you’ll want medical experts to tell you EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED, they won’t be able to. They may even say fucked up shit like, if I were you, I would just sit on a couch until it’s figured out. Ha hahahah! Funny joke! Just sit on a couch. Until someone figures it out. Spoiler alert: nobody really truly figured it out. One doc said, “retire your active lifestyle.” What the fuck does that even mean? Closest I had to something to grab onto was when this one neuro doc said, “Well, we looked at your angiogram. Everything seems normal now. So, carry on. Go forth. Live your life. Good bye!!!!��� He was actually my favorite doctor from the whole goddamn affair because he let me pick the music I wanted when I had the angiogram and then complimented me on my good taste. Oh, and by the way, whatever drugs they put you on when you get an angiogram…. They are good. 

Oh, and did you know they put a thing in your GROIN to see what’s happening in your brain when you get an angiogram? I felt nauseous when I heard that was going to happen. I guess that’s where the good drugs come in. Because then you are like, oh, I feel a thing in my groin. Is that thing going into my artery? Wait. who the fuck cares. Not me! Oooh, I like this song.  

When I was hospitalized the first time, in San Francisco (I had a stroke while at work. My poor coworkers.), I had to be transported to the neuro ward in Redwood City, soon to be deemed Redwood Shitty. When I arrived, it was very much like that horrible scene in Jacob’s Ladder. I was wheeled into a large room where people were obviously in varying states of distress. I was in my own state, as my brain hadn’t quite caught up to what was really going on. I think I had been drugged for the 2 (?) hour ambulance ride. I don’t remember one second of that ride. Anyway, here I was, in an open room (and I thought this was it, and that this was my new room), not super with it, not fully being able to answer questions, being asked a lot of questions, looking around in horror, waiting for my wife, and feeling like I had just landed in the worst place in the world. It ended up that this was not my room, this was just the intake area. Thank god. Anyway, soon my brain was kinda comprehending what was happening, my wife had joined me, I was assigned a room, and we sat in awe and we both were like, WHERE ARE WE, WHAT JUST HAPPENED, HOW AM I NOT DEAD, WHO IS GOING TO FEED OUR DOGS? It wasn’t funny, but at the same time, it wasn’t horrible. I wasn’t in actual pain. Believe it or not, we laughed quite a bit for the days I was there, never turned on the TV, talked a lot, and looked forward to visits from my hot neuro doc. We’d hear her heels coming down the hall and we’d get all giggly. I was experiencing what it was like for my body and brain to start healing from a horrible trauma, and it was… interesting. I swore I could feel my brain starting to rewire itself. Whether or not that is what I was experiencing, I could feel… something. It felt like electricity in my brain. I could feel the little synapses trying to talk to each other. They were like, hey, over here, let’s connect… some of our friends died, but we’re still here. Wanna hold hands?

Oh, and by the way, that bed was the most comfortable bed ever. I remember laying there, thinking, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so comfortable in my life, which is weird because I had a stroke and am now in a hospital, but wow, I like how this bed feels. Good thing, because I was in it for 5 days straight. 

My mom and sister flew in from New Mexico, and I feel like they were just staring at me a lot, kinda confused about what had happened to me. Perhaps waiting for me to explain it to them but I was like, dunno.  At this point, I was bedridden, so we just sat around and chatted. Family bonding but in a hospital room in a city we didn’t live in, and my hair was fucked up the entire time. My sister and wife spend an afternoon looking for a suitable hotel for my mom and sister to stay at for a few days near the hospital. Apparently they saw some doozies. Mirrors on ceilings. Lights that didn’t work. They came back laughing and creeped out. Redwood Shitty for sure. 

Eventually I made it out of there. One day they were like, hey get up. Let’s walk you down the hall. Can you walk? And I was like, I’m not sure if I remember this. But I gave it a shot and hobbled down the hall, and so was deemed worthy of taking my stroke brain home. 

So, I don’t know if I’m ready to do a stroke stand-up set, but it has crossed my mind. I never have done stand-up, but what better to try to make funny (funnyish?) than that time when I had a stroke. And the other time I had a stroke? 

Before I end, I just wanted to share an actual stroke joke that I stole from the internet. There are actually tons of stroke jokes out there -what!. (Maybe not tell them unless you’ve had one, though.) Just watched a documentary about stroke survivors Very one sided

[dandystones]

Yes means no.

***There are two parts to this long ass post because I didn't realise I had so much to say oops***

Setting boundaries, I recently learnt I've been terrible at that for most of my life.

I hate when people tell me what to do, to the point I'd do the exact opposite, but I always wanted validation. I sought it from everyone and their mothers because I never got it from myself.

The internet seems to talk a big game about how the universe will keep on sending you lessons in all it's glorious forms if we don't pick up on it; like how we always encounter the same toxic people and relationships, one after another.

It's funny when I recall them now.

***PART 1***

I like to think I've been very blessed when it came to friendship. All through my life, I've always felt that I made friends easily and had plenty of platonic support. However at different stages of my life, I've also noticed that despite all the good friends I surrounded myself with, I've always had that one person in my life who was just a little too self absorbed, borderline narcisstic and treaded way too close for comfort.

For reference, I'm going to list some people but not their whole names: my mum >> X >> O >> H >> C

The most coincidental thing I've come to realise is 1) that each person had a specific time in my life where they rose to prominence, or in other words, where they suffocated me the most 2) the end of each 'stage of prominence' was the start of the next. For example, when I thought I'd finally stepped out of my mum's narcissistic shadow, X stepped and morphed into that narcisstic figure until I'd decided it was time to cut ties. Around the same time, I met O and she slowly morphed into that person.

Continously, I realise I've always had that one presence in my life and each person would stay for many years until a breaking point, after which I would draw the line and keep my distance. As a rough estimate, I took about 25 years to understand that this exhausting cycle of going through toxic loved one after another is simply a lesson of setting boundaries.

I came to this realization in the past 6-12 months because I was having a particular hard time adjusting at work and it was really tough to master the art of stakeholder management. I won't say I'm an expert now, but I've gotten much better at putting my foot down and helping people to understand how their basic (read: brainless) actions are making my job unnecessarily difficult and defying my work ethics. I started to understand the importance of setting my own boundaries because we can never assume anyone would know them if we don't speak it.

Around the same time, I noticed the last person in this cycle, C had started to transition out of her role as the narcisstic shadow in my life entirely on her own. I've never had that happen to me without having to ruthlessly cut ties before. It's like something just clicked. On hindsight, the lesson just made sense and perhaps because I understand what it is now, there was no longer a need for the lesson to remain.

I always thought I was good at saying no to people, because I didn't care what they think which is true for the most part, I don't care what strangers think. What I came to realise about myself was that I needed help saying no to non strangers, people I care about, the people I need in my life.

***PART 2***

The word 'no' carried too much grief and associated history with abuse and neglect. My parents never made it easy for me growing up; affection was a competition between myself and both my younger sisters. My father could never find balance at work, so he overcompensated by trying to take control of everything at home. Nothing I said nor did could ever please him, he was always angry about the tiniest thing.

Everything was someone else's fault; between denying me any help with school work because I didn't go to a school of his choice and completely beating my self esteem down because I dare ask him for any help to a seemingly insignificant act like him accidentally stepping on my toes at the supermarket, he would twist and mold all my words until they made him looked like a hero in his own fantasy, that I was beneath him, and that everything bad that happened in his life was my fault and no one else's.

You couldn't fight him with reason even if you tried to, because he wasn't fighting for anything, he just wanted to win and he would say anything to wear you down. Every night would end in the same way, a disgustingly heated verbal mess between him, myself and my mom; abuse of any kind is simply the cheap power you get when you destroy people for the sake of your ego.

My mum was completely helpless in that regard, she stayed the hell out of his way whenever he had an outburst, even if it meant leaving me to fend for myself. I refused to back down from the injustice and his words dug its claws deeper in my gut, every quarrel we had made me sick with anger because no matter how hard I tried to defend myself, every takeaway was how each of his mistakes were the result of my failures even if it had nothing to do with it.

This went on for years. I knew I couldn't run away because I was underage, financially unstable and still needed a roof above my head. I felt absolutely helpless and remember crying myself to sleep all the time, praying to God to take me away - away from here, away from being the family's punching bag, away to another universe where parents actually protected their children, built them up and supported them.

Growing up in an environment where your survival thrived from avoiding all the stressors that could result in rage meant that I became extremely cautious in expressing my needs and opinions out of a fear of of displeasing my parents. Every subsequent outburst was a slap in the face, a painful reminder of how abandoned and unsupported I was in this family.

This led to a series of bad behaviors where I was desperate to please and longed for a life devoid of rejection. For the parts of myself who had endured so much neglect, I just couldn't bare the same devastation over again. Putting myself second and others first was easy as long as they were happy. I had this belief that if I accidently let myself be honest, people wouldn't accept me and I couldn't risk letting my guard down again.

Over time, I started saying yes to everything I wanted to say no to. Yes means no, no came with a '... but I'll do this for you instead' to overcompensate my fear. Slowly but surely, I became exhausted from pleasing people all the time. I said yes to social events I didn't care to be at, I patiently listened to every word of every person who needed me even if they didn't care to be there for me, I helped every toxic person who saw an opportunity to exploit my time and kindness. Without realizing, I was unnecessarily deriving a form of validation from being a yes-girl, I didn't know how to say no. Beyond that I'd lost my sense of self because I didn't know if anyone would care about me if I stopped doing all these things.

This obviously manifested in many unhealthy coping mechanisms and constantly wanting to be alone because I felt that everyone around me wanted something from me I couldn't give. It became a toxic cycle of self harm, feeling absolutely hopeless and finding sick joy in dreaming about the many different ways to end my life. At age 17, I've never felt more alone.

Ive had to see a counsellor for prolonged periods of my life and thisemotional abuse was one of the key moments that contributed to it.

Recovery was one hella of a slippery slope and had relapsed so many times I've lost count. I was convinced my abuse had rewired my body's ability to understand what love was, all I felt was the fire of resentment, burning my insides with the anxiety of having to live out the rest of my life in a bubble of 'my mistakes'.

Through my counsellor, we had to un-learnt the act of being too harsh of myself, as a result of the years I spent projecting my dad's expectations on myself. Rewiring your brain to calm itself down when you're triggered is difficult but not impossible. There were many scenarios where I became aware of the fact that the voice in my head mimicked my dad's in giving all but bone crushing criticism, guilt tripping my every move and spiralling myself into depression again.

Re-learning the notion of 'giving myself to others' whilst being 'unapologetically myself' was interesting and refreshing. Mostly, my subconscious got better at unlearning the act of constantly censoring myself for the sake of others; how to live freely & become a more honest version of myself regardless of the people around me. Not in any manner that might be of harm to others though, just in a way that allows me to stop relying on other people’s validation to keep my spirits lifted.

Every relapse back then sunk me into my depression, harder. Looking back now, I'm glad I didn't give up even though the chance was present and tempting every step of the way. Everyday still feels like a challenge, but I get it now when people say it gets easier

[wannaonerella]

Pt.2

https://goo.gl/GXEYSn Pt.1 here if you haven’t read it yet. 

Thank you, everyone, for reading so far. I have to confess I am terrible at being consistent with stories. I had scheduled this part actually for last Friday but somehow life was holding me back. Sorry for that. 

I want to extend a big thank you to @wanna-one-scenarios  and @wannatales for giving me feedback (hopefully fewer grammar mistakes this time lol). Go and check out their blogs. They have super good stories (that are short and more single read style than my more continues story board - if you prefer that) also about other Wanna One members.  

P.S: If you were wondering of the usage of Korean words, I am sorry if it’s confusing but I feel like as the writer of this story I like to make things as authentic as possible so sometimes things from Korea might pop up. And also I am Korean so oh well... lol. 

I love hearing feedback, so leave me a heart, a reblog or a message if you feel like it. And still, a title missing so please suggestions always welcome!

xoxo  ______________________________________________________________

After you left the room hastily you rush to the bathroom to catch your breath and check yourself out in the mirror. You stare into the mirror and do a pep talk. "You are fine. You are good. You are capable. Today is going to be a good day. Nothing can distract you." You take three deep breaths but then your phone buzzes and a message pops on your screen. 

"Hey (x/y)-ah! It's me, Daniel. Just wanted to leave you a message that you also have my number and I wish you a wonderful day. I will come back to you around the evening with some more gathered thoughts. Hwaiting! " 

"Aghhhhhhhhhhh, this guy?! I just calmed myself down and it comes all up again. What kind of magic spell is this that he put on me?" you ask yourself and sort of grumpy type back a short thank you and you too message. 

It was definitely a rough day to work through your schedule due to lack of sleep and lack of concentration. Somehow your mind kept flashing back to the meeting in the morning, trying to remember if there were any important points you had missed for the project. However, every time you tried to think about the project and work, your brain rewired itself to Daniel, Daniel, and more Daniel. It made you furious since you have a strict work ethic and do not like to get into any form of distraction. Professionalism was always your thing and that was what brought yourself through the industry so far – personal feelings and emotions had to take the backseat and you were quite good at it. 

Late night back home you try to wind down from the day and grab a nicely chilled beer from the fridge. This day somehow earned some mid-week alcohol even though you were a cautious drinker. Alcohol had become a staple at one point as soon as you had started living in Korea. That green magic and evil bottle called Soju was everywhere and never to be left out of any business dinners. Korean beer, however, was terrible, not your taste at all. I was always a hunt for good beer in Seoul and you were picky as hell. Being half way through the beer, your phone rings. You do not care to look who calls but just swipe the screen and pick up. 

"Hello?" "Hey! It's me again, Daniel. I hope I am not catching you during something important. How are you?" You choke on your beer that you were taking a sip of and think HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS HAPPENING? DOES THIS DAY NOT END? "*cough*Ehm, oh… *cough* Hey! *cough* Just a sec, please…" "(x/y)-ah? Are you ok? What happened?" said Daniel in a very worried tone. You recover as fast as possible from choking and try to gather yourself by taking a deep breath, not realizing that you did it straight into the microphone of the phone. 

"Yeah that's good I think. Take some deep breaths." OH GOD… THIS IS GETTING WORSE. I AM MAKING A COMPLETE FOOL OUT OF MYSELF. P-R-O-F-E-S-S-I-O-N-A-L! C'MON YOU CAN DO IT! "Oh dear sorry, Daniel. I didn't expect you to call and thought that it's my friend or someone from my family and was simultaneously taking a sip from my beer. Lesson learned, try not to do several actions at the same time." "Drinking beer on a Tuesday evening? Nothing against it but is everything okay? Did anything bad happen today?" You can feel Daniel’s smirk through the phone. "No, no by all means. Just trying to wind down from a long day that's all. Anyways, look at my manners. I am good thank you, how about you?" "All good from my side, I am more interested in what you did today." 

You absolutely do not like how the conversation is going so far neither how it started from the beginning. This feels like I am having a call with a boyfriend and not a person I am trying to work with on a project. I have to turn the conversation around to him as fast and swiftly as possible, else I really will get out of ideas how to hold on to this phone call. 

"There was nothing interesting, was just a lot of desktop work today. But thank you for asking, very kind. I am assuming you are calling because you have gathered up your ideas for the shoot? I am all ears." You hear a short silence and wonder what he's going to say next. "Uhm, yeah about that… Actually, I figured there is so much that I don't think I can tell you all through a phone call also I would be taking too much of your evening right now. I want you to rest. You must have had a long day." "Okay, then what is the purpose of this call then?" you cut him sharply off right there. "Oh… ehm… you know… I just wanted us to…" Silence. "I am sorry if that came over wrong. I just wanted you to get to the main point as fast as possible. I like working efficiently. I hope you understand, this goes for the whole project." "No no, don't worry. Ehm… well, then I just wanted to tell you that we should discuss things over a dinner? Can you do anytime this week?" "Just a sec, I'll check my calendar. (shuffling through your bag, you grab your booklet and start flipping through) I am pretty packed this week honestly." "Oh… Uhm… then…" Daniel mumbles in a distinctive disappointed tone. "Wait, I could squish you in last minute on Thursday. If a late dinner meeting at 8.30pm isn't a problem for you." "No problem at all. I am looking forward." His tone brightens up again. "Good. Then I will reserve a good discrete enough place for Thursday and send you a message with the location details." "Awesome! I am looking forward. Then I don't want to stop you anymore. Have a good night and sleep well (x/y)-ah. Maybe we meet in each other dreams? At least I hope to." "Thank you, you too." You hang up fast. 

WHAT? "Meet each other dreams?" I must be deaf or somethings. And me saying ‘Thank you, you too' and hanging up? What kind of a crappy response was that? And wait… dinner meeting?? Who the fuck books a dinner meeting? What just happened? You try to gather together what just happened in this short 5-minute call. This was by far a very weird phone call. Somehow these happenings today are too much to handle for you. Have I become so rusty at realizing what's going on? This is flirting no? I mean he is trying, right? You can't believe what is happening and just shake your hands through your hair wildly. Your heart seems to be sort of going wild right now too.                       Is this going to end well? 

Thursday approaches.

[tb5-heavenward]

artwork by the fantastically talented @birdologist and animation by the lodestar of my heart, the inimitable @awkwardarbor

There’ve been some endorsements for Virgil to punch his father in the face. Lotta people want that to happen.

also as of this chapter, part 8 is 30k long! whoo hoo!

a_moment_of_dawn

You can find Heavenward on Tumblr // Ao3 // ff.net

a_moment_of_dawn - part 16

His brother's dead, and their father killed him.

That isn't true.

But Virgil keeps hearing it in his head, singsong, like a nursery rhyme. John's dying, John's dead. Dad came back and killed him. He's been hearing it for nearly a week now, ever since Scott had first called, to relay what he'd had from Alan. Dad's alive, John's dying.

He'd been fully expecting John to die. Flying alone over the Pacific, he'd told himself that someone had to brace for that impact, because Scott was too caught up in the giddy impossibility of their father being alive, Alan couldn't be denied the possibility that he might manage to save his big brother's life, and no one even knew where the hell Gordon and Kayo were. Someone needed to be ready.

So Virgil got ready. John was dying, John would die, and then John would be dead.

That hadn't happened.

Instead, he'd spent four days in a GDF hospital, bereft of his partner and more or less incoherent with grief, and the truth about what he'd done and what had happened to him had started to come together.

John's story has been told around him, because he's been in no state to tell it on his own behalf. The people in his life put it together in bits and pieces, gathered their information from context, from the way he fit into the events that surrounded his disappearance. It was a story told secondhand, or from other perspectives, with parts still missing and questions still unanswered. Scott's had it from their father. Virgil's had it from Alan. Gordon's cobbled together a version of his own from both sides, plus whatever he's had from Penelope.

There's a version of the story that hasn't happened. There's a version of the story without their father in it, where John had retrieved EOS from the GDF's custody by whatever means were necessary, and done whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it took him out of the world entirely. There's a version where he disappeared, and died, and no one ever knew any better. There's a story in which their father returned to find his second son gone, in just the same manner as he'd left himself; and the punishment is almost adequate to the crime.

But in this version of the story, John's home. And their father isn't.

And, though he hasn't said it to Jeff's face, Virgil's deeply glad of the latter, for the sake of the former. As far as Virgil's concerned, his father's not welcome.

But he doesn't want to think about his father right now. His father's not here. And there's plenty to deal with in the wake of the damage he's done.

Virgil gets out of bed at eight every morning, to wake his brother up for a dose of the antibiotics he needs dripped directly into his bloodstream, to clear up the infection in his heart. That's working. He's getting better, and it shows. Virgil's the one making sure John eats, stays hydrated, showers. Occasionally he keeps John company, though if he's honest, lately Virgil has to admit that he prefers to stick to the basics. Care and maintenance, nudging and prodding his brother through all the things he's too numb and depersonalized to deal with himself. Practical goals. Observable results.

But nothing Virgil does actually touches the pain his brother's in, because his brother's grieving. And grief in John is something deeper and darker and scarier than Virgil's ever understood. It's the sort of thing that makes him stop talking, stop eating, stop wanting to be alive. What's happening now is a window into their childhood, back when losing their mother had nearly killed John, too.

Suffice it to say, it's been a lot to handle.

It's the end of a long day at the end of a long week, and Virgil's given himself permission to take a break. Not the first break, because there are plenty of people to spell him off—Grandma and Alan and Gordon and even Brains, in his way, have all been doing just the same as Virgil has, looking after John—but the first break where he's allowing himself some emotional distance, and deliberately not thinking about his brother. He's retreated to the safest, quietest place he knows. There's always some part of Thunderbird 2 that could do with some attention, even if it ends up just being busywork.

And all he wants is to work on his 'bird for a while. Something private, quiet, meditative. Clear his head after the week his family's had, get back some little piece of normalcy, when every part of his day-to-day has been pulled inside out, turned into something else. He wants something to think of that isn't his brother or his father; a problem that's his and his alone, a problem he can actually fix.

He gets about twenty minutes, alone with his own problems, before he hears the sound of someone moving around the cargo hold. Another five, and he hears his brother climbing up the ladder into the cockpit.

At this rate, he's not even going to get to fix this one stupid, simple problem.

Because Gordon clears his throat and kicks him lightly in the knee, and honestly, he's lucky Virgil doesn't kick him right back.

Flat on his back beneath the console in the cockpit of TB2, Virgil doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. What he’s doing is something he’s been putting off ever since it first became a problem—careful, fiddly rewiring of the underside of his control panel, trying to ferret out a wire that lights up his “check engine light” any time the starboard aileron adjusts beyond thirty-degrees out of neutral. It's the second time he's had a chance to try and fix it, and he doesn't want to be interrupted.

Gordon's apparently dead set on interrupting him anyway, and he clears his throat, pointedly, and nudges Virgil's shin this time, with the toe of a bare foot. This is the very height of stupidity and is therefore what actually gets Virgil to break off in the middle of what he's working on, rather than the fact that his little brother is actively trying to get his attention.

So Virgil carefully reattaches the wires he’d undone, slides out from beneath the console, and sits up. Generally Gordon’s the one who starts these conversations, but Virgil cuts him off before he can say anything, and his tone flat, irritated, as he snarls, "What?" A beat. "You know you shouldn't be down here without shoes on, you're gonna step on something sharp or drop something heavy or some other idiot thing like that. And that'll be the last damn thing I need."

Gordon probably doesn't deserve this kind of hostility, but Virgil doesn't especially care. And anyway his brother doesn't rise to it, remains annoyingly placid and calm as he answers, "Oh, right, the last damn thing you need. Wouldn't be an issue for me at all. Nah, c'mon. I'm being careful, V, chill out." At this, Gordon gestures with his left hand, as though demonstrating his point. "I'm acutely aware that I'm still delicate and fragile."

In spite of his irritation, Virgil feels the faintest twinge of guilt. It's John everyone's been focused on, but Gordon's picked up some damage of his own, though he still has far less to suffer than their older brother does. Gordon's always been astonishingly resistant to trauma, and apparently having one of his fingers lopped off by a maniac in Bangkok hasn't done any appreciable damage to his psyche. His left hand is still bandaged, but less than it had been, a sleeker downgrade from the bulky mess of bandages he'd been wearing when Brains had first patched him up. Tape and gauze and a hastily 3D-printed splint keep his finger still while it heals back into place, skin and nerves and bone knitting back together, the whole thing reattaching itself. Beyond this, there's the fading evidence of the places where he'd been hit in the face, bruised about the throat. Less obviously, invisibly, a few of his ribs are cracked, and he's only a week out from a moderate concussion. John's sick, but Gordon's injured, and it's easy to forget that.

Virgil's still a little short with him, as he prompts again, "Fine. What, Gordon? What do you want?"

Reticence isn't typical of Gordon, and so the few moments it takes him to shuffle his feet and clear his throat are particularly telling, indicative of something that might even be doubt, in the brother who tends most often to speak without thinking, and to say things he doesn't mean. Something about the set of his jaw and the way he straightens his posture should be the warning, but somehow Virgil misses the significance. Finally he clears his throat and gets right to the point.

"I want to go to London."

Dead air. Silence falls in TB2's cockpit. It's late in the afternoon, but none of the South Pacific sunshine makes it into the hangar, the lights glaring through TB2's forward ports are bright, sterile halogens. Virgil hasn't bothered starting up much more than the bare minimum of his 'bird's internal systems, just enough to power the forward console, enough power to light up the underside, so he can work. So it seems darker than it should be, seems like there's a shadow cast between them, in the one place where they've always worked together, regardless of whatever disasters are going on outside.

And abruptly Virgil doesn't want to be sitting on the ground for this discussion, doesn't want to be at any kind of disadvantage. So he gets to his feet, folds his arms across his chest, squares his shoulders. Answers the set of Gordon's jaw with a challenging lift of his chin. In short, does all the things he always does to remind Gordon that he's younger, smaller, and not nearly as stubborn, and if they get in an argument, it's not one Gordon will win. Virgil responds, appropriately scathing, "And just why would you wanna do a dumbass thing like that?"

This is where the exasperation belongs, this is where Gordon's supposed to spark up into defiance, defense against the shot Virgil's just taken. He doesn't. He's steady, even and calm as he answers, "Well, because I was the last one to find out when all this shit went down, and then I had to wait four damn days before John got to come home, and now it's been a whole fucking week, and I still haven't gotten to see my dad in the flesh. Kinda getting a bit done with that whole state of affairs, if I'm honest. Dad's in London. So I wanna go to London."

Language aside, there's no heat in it. None of the temper Virgil might've been hoping for, none of Gordon's usual fire. He seems to have taken a page from Virgil's own playbook, and remains insistently even-keeled.

So Virgil supplies the temper instead, shakes his head and sighs as though it's the stupidest idea he's ever heard, and radiates disdain, contempt for the idiot who'd think it up. "No. No way. The Hood's still out there. You've already been fucked all to hell by tangling with him, you're in no kinda shape to travel."

His brother rubs at the back of his neck, a little awkwardly with his right hand. "I'm not exactly gonna be straining myself on a commercial flight to London. First class the whole way, I'll pop a couple codeine, it'll be fine."

"You're staying here; you're supposed to stay here. Those are Kayo's orders, not mine."

"Yeah, well, I cleared it with Kayo already."

"Bullshit."

Gordon shrugs. "Man, call and ask her, I don't care if you don't believe me. If she thought it was dangerous, I wouldn't do it, but she doesn't, so I'm gonna. It's not like I need your permission, Virg—what I do need is a lift to the mainland, I'm still not clear to fly myself anywhere. But it's starting to get pretty obvious that I'm not gonna get one from you, so forget it. That's fine. Just...consider this a heads up, I guess. When Alan gets outta bed, I'll work it out with him."

"Gordon, you're not going anywhere."

This was never going to work, the result of the statement was never going to be Gordon going "oh, okay then, clearly I was mistaken" and dropping the matter. But that's not actually Virgil's objective, facing off against his little brother. It's a very, very rare occasion when Virgil wants to start a fight, and there's really no one else available to start it with.

It's still not working. All he gets in response is a knowing, unimpressed sort of look—the sort that doesn't belong on Gordon of all people—and he changes tactics and asks, "Why don't you want me to go?"

"We need you here."

"What for?"

"John needs—"

Gordon interrupts, "John barely even knows where he is right now. There's four other people here, all fully capable—individually or as a unit—of looking after John. We're all tripping over each other and crowding him, as it is. If John cared one way or the other about whether or not I stay, then that'd be different, but honestly, I don't think he'd even notice." There's a pause, reproachful. "And you shouldn't be using him as an excuse, when we both know that's not what your actual problem is."

"My actual problem," Virgil echoes, and he can sense the edge of the encounter, the upcoming brink in the conversation, the one there's still time to back away from. He doesn't. "You think what Dad did to our brother somehow isn't my actual problem?"

Gordon shakes his head. "I think blaming Dad for everything that happened to John is a cop-out, and you aren't helping John or anybody else by making Dad into a villain. It's not that simple, Virg, and I know you know that. You want to be angry and I get that, I really do. But, like, I'm just saying—maybe you wanna be kinda careful, being angry about this."

It's funny, because Virgil's aware of the way their roles have reversed. He can hear himself in what Gordon's saying, knows that he's half the reason Gordon knows to say these kinds of things, because they're the sorts of things that usually get said to Gordon.

But it's hypocritical bullshit, that Gordon would try to frame this whole situation as though Virgil's pitching a tantrum, when the reason's Virgil's got to be angry are just better than any of the reasons Gordon ever has. Gordon gets angry about things that are small and petty and stupid; random, pointless injustices, or complicated things he hasn't tried to actually understand. When Gordon gets angry, he's loud and obnoxious and obvious about it, he doesn't have the decency or the good sense to keep it to himself, to work his way through it like a rational adult. Invariably, when Gordon's angry, he decides to make it Virgil's problem.

Well. Fine.

"What the fuck do you think you're talking about, Gordon?" His hands clench into fists and he can feel the dam starting to burst, all the fury he's kept so carefully pent up is starting to come unbound. "What the hell could you possibly know, when it comes to what I've got to be angry about? If you knew even half of what I've been told about this whole fucked up situation, then you'd be just as pissed as I am. More, probably."

"I know plenty." Gordon hasn't backed down, but he still hasn't been baited up into anger of his own. He shifts his weight and looks away for a moment, but his tone is still firm when he answers, "Virg, if I wanted to be mad about all this shit, you know I would be."

"You don't—"

"I know you don't get to dictate how I should feel about Dad. Maybe I get where Scott's, coming from, maybe I want to understand the reasons for what Dad's done, before I decide that it was a hundred percent selfish and evil and that we should all hate him now. That's not gonna happen for me unless I get to sit down and actually talk to him. So, London. Because you told Scott that you didn't think Dad should come home for a while. You told him it was for John's sake. And I think that might make you kind of a liar, Virg. I know it's really fucking unfair."

Virgil hadn't actually expected anybody to find out about that, a sort of quiet conversation he'd pulled Scott aside for, just before he'd taken Thunderbird 1 to follow their father to New York. It seems like a violation to find out that Gordon's done the exact same thing. "You've been talking to Scott—"

This finally gets a flare of anger out of Gordon, and he interrupts again, vehemence building in his tone now, "Yeah, I've been talking to Scott. And Dad, too, when he has time. Because despite the way you're behaving, it's not actually a horrible transgression to want to talk to the rest of our family about what we're all going through. And they both deserve to know how John's doing."

Virgil scowls at that, folds his arms across his chest, and glares at his little brother. "Dad doesn't deserve to be anywhere near John, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve to know how he's doing, when what's happened to John is his goddamn fault. And Scott—if Scott wants to know how John is, he can fucking well come home. He should've come home. He knows what Dad's done and he's given him a pass. As far as I'm concerned, Scott's chosen his side."

Something in his tone or his choice of words makes Gordon flinch visibly, and for a moment the heat leaves his voice, and there's a little bit of pain, a little bit of pleading when he says, "Virg, there aren't sides, for chrissakes. Don't talk like that, please, it's not gonna help. I know nothing's okay right now. I know John's been wrecked, and that's awful. It's hard to see him like this, I get that. I know Dad's done some shit and I know a lot of it was bad, and I know we've all been hurt by it. But this is the kinda thing that could tear our whole damn family apart. Virgil, you don't wanna make that worse."

"Try me."

It's starting to get claustrophobic in here. Gordon's probably not blocking the hatch down to the cargo bay on purpose, and Virgil probably doesn't need to shoulder past him as he decides it's time to leave. He remembers a fraction of a second too late about his brother's fractured ribs, and general state of recent injury. He's not sure if it's guilt or denial that has him ignoring the choked, protesting little grunt of pain he gets in response. It's Gordon's own fault for looking for a fight and if he has any damn sense, he'll take the over-wing exit and vacate the hangar entirely.

Of course, Gordon's never been burdened with an abundance of any kind of sense, and despite busying himself with a panel on the side of Pod A, Virgil still hears Gordon's muttered cursing as he makes his way gingerly down the ladder into the hold. He's being an idiot, with his severed finger and his fractured ribs and his recent concussion and his stupid bare feet. As a backup plan, Virgil's got the module door wide open, a big glaring invitation for his brother to leave, but he doesn't take it. Instead he approaches, pauses just outside of Virgil's reach and Virgil can hear it in the long silence that Gordon's trying to figure out what to say.

Virgil doesn't give him the chance, and rounds on him before he can start up, "The hell are you on about, anyway, trying to pull the whole rational adult routine all of a sudden, Gordon? You think I'm not entitled to be a little bit pissed off about the state of things right now? Because I think that'd make you a fucking hypocrite. Pretty sure you spent the duration of this entire goddamn ordeal pitching a bitch fit about one fucking thing or the other. Pretty fucking sure that was you. Pretty sure you threw a tantrum in the middle of a mission while John was halfway dead of malaria. Pretty sure it was your melodramatic ass came and told me you hoped he'd been fucking kidnapped. Pretty sure you bit Kayo's head off after what fucking—"

And Virgil stammers to a halt.

And there's the sort of silence in which one might hear a penny drop.

Virgil and Gordon have a relationship that consists mostly of what goes unspoken. He couldn’t point to the moment when they’d first clicked together, when they’d become the pair who could work on a basis of wordless nods and action and reaction. Gordon just always seems to do what Virgil expects him to do, and vice versa.

So it's possible that Gordon knows what he's about to say, possible that he's watched Virgil making the connection, like a circuit completing itself. It's possible that Virgil notices the sudden tension in his brother, the way his spine straightens, the rigidity in his shoulders as he draws himself up, just slightly.

"London."

There's a minute tic of Gordon's jaw. Even if Virgil weren't staring at him, something between them changes, and his voice is unmistakable in its warning. "Yeah, London."

"Dad's not the only person in London."

"Yeah, well. Pretty sure there's about ten million people in London, Virgil."

So what what goes unsaid is that Virgil should back off. That this is new territory, unbroken ground. That they haven't talked about this, the way they've talked about so many other things; the way they always have.

Gordon’s got a tendency to say things he doesn’t actually mean. Mostly it’s the fact that he’ll stretch a truth or gild a lily for dramatic effect. That perfect opening line to any given conversation is one of Gordon’s biggest vices. So he’ll say things he doesn’t mean. Virgil’s got a knack for knowing what was meant.

Equally, he's got a knack for knowing what'll get to Gordon; what'll actually hurt him. The things he could say and doesn't, all the places where he knows his little brother's vulnerable. It’s Virgil who everyone credits with understanding how best to deal with Gordon, and rightly so. Every thought Gordon has plays across his features in the instant he has it, his emotions tell immediately in his body language, and Virgil's long since learned to read him like a book.

Everything about his little brother right now radiates the warning; Don't.

And he really should know better, but he's angry. He's so rarely angry, he doesn't know what to do with it. It's awful, muddled-up, directionless anger; anger about pain and injustice and at the ending of a story that had barely even started. Anger for his big brother, anger at his father, anger that hasn't had anywhere to go, until his little brother had so conveniently presented a target.

"Pretty sure you only wanna fuck one of them."

It's absolutely unsurprising when Gordon hits him. And Gordon's hit him before, but it's been years. Lately, Gordon mostly hits Kayo, and that's only if Kayo actually lets him, and only because Gordon and Kayo know it about one another; that sometimes throwing a punch is the only way to work through things. All blows struck between Kayo and Gordon are hundred percent consensual and expected.

What is surprising is that it's a blow from the right—Gordon's left—and so it drops the both of them. Virgil, flat on his back with his head ringing, and Gordon to his knees, cradling his hand to his chest and swearing in the sort of way that would probably shave a few hours off their grandmother's lifespan, before she turned right around and cussed him out in language equal to or worse than his own.

It's a credit to both his left hook and his general durability that Gordon's back on his feet first, though out the corner of the eye that isn't already swelling shut, Virgil can see that there's already red staining the bandages on his hand, and that he staggers, gasps a little sharply when he stands. There's a moment between them, but only a moment, and Virgil's still a little too dazed to know what exactly it meant. He blinks, or thinks he does, but when his eyes open again, Gordon's gone. And there are tears, trailing from the corner of his eye and into his hair.

wow! that was really kind of awful! hey you read a solid 4k! good job! here is a deleted scene for you!

[lisamhayes]

4 Ways to Rewire Your Brain from Anxiety to Zen

I've said it before. I have a tendency to be a bit of an adrenaline addict. I'm not the sexy kind of adrenaline addict. I am certainly not a living GoPro commercial. I don't jump out of planes or climbing big mountains. I tend to indulge in the adrenal drug in much less glamorous ways. I do it with busyness. I'm a pro at taking too much on or at least acting as I have.

For a full year, I doubled timed my already busy schedule by running a state-wide campaign. That campaign job was a job that three people should have been doing. So, basically, I gave myself four full-time jobs out of which only one paid me anything.

Now to be clear, as much as I'd like to think I am, I am not Super Woman. Things in my life didn't just slip or suffer because I was too busy. A lot of stuff fell through the cracks, and other things fell completely apart. I put a serious strain on my coaching practice and my family. I stressed my body beyond what any body should have to manage.

And then one day out of a sense of frustration and anxiety I quit. There was a folk in the road with the project, and I decided to take the road that led me in another direction. And I thought my life would magically feel different when I woke up the next morning.

It did not.

Although my life slowed down to a reasonable pace and the stimulus was gone, I still felt jacked up and anxious all the time.

I thought I'd instantly shift into zen mode and naturally devote a lot of time to being healthy and engaged in self-care. I didn't. I continued all the less than self-loving habits I'd developed when I was under the gun.

When I simplified my life, I imagined my house and my life would magically clean themselves up and I'd be living in a magazine-worthy space just because I wasn't running in twenty different directions at once. That didn't happen either. Everything was still a hot mess and felt wildly out of control the day after I quit, and the day after that, and the day after that.

Much like depression - there are two different kinds of anxiety: Situational and chronic.

Some people have brain chemistry that makes it nearly impossible for them to ditch that feeling of anxiety or anxiousness. These people feel anxious no matter what's happening around them, even when everything is fine, and there is no cause for alarm. It's chemical. It's a malfunction of brain chemistry. This would be chronic chemical anxiety.

Sometimes people feel anxious because a situation warrants it. You're doing or experiencing something that's stressful, and that feeling of anxiety makes perfect sense. It's a response to environmental stimulus. This is situational anxiety.

If you're not careful, situational anxiety will turn on you and can become hard wired in. Neuroplasticity in your brain starts to form around the situational anxiety. Neurons rewire under stress, and you develop receptors in your brain specifically designed for the neurochemicals of stress and worry.

That is when situational anxiety becomes chronic.

When I left the campaign and returned to my "real life" it didn't feel like anything had changed. My real life didn't feel any different. I was still jacked up and anxious.

There isn't really any mystery here. I wanted my external circumstances to change my internal state. I hoped I could shortcut the process of having to deal with my inside issues by manhandling my outside issues. However, when it didn't work, I can't say I was surprised. I know better.

Now, to be clear, I know I made the right decision. Maybe I could have shifted my internal issues without walking away, but I don't think so. I think giving myself my life back was a wise choice. However, I still had to deal with my thoughts and my brain chemistry if I want to feel anything other than insane.

Here are four strategies I'm still working to make sure my brain is healing from the anxiety and I stay pointed in the direction of how I want to feel.

1. Meditation.

I've been preaching it a lot lately for a reason. I know the power of meditation first hand with powerful recent experience. However, you don't have to take my word for it. Meditation has been studied and scientifically proven to reduce anxiety and depression.

Long term stress rewires the brain to a chronically anxious state. How long that takes is different in every person and every situation.

Meditation rewires the brain to a controlled state of peace. I knew I needed to work on my anxious thoughts. However, before I could do that, I needed to learn to control them again. Meditation builds those muscles and puts you back in the owner/operator's seat of your brain.

Simply put, meditation helps you run your thoughts instead of them running you by learning you can control how you think them.

2. Capitalize on the power of environment.

Clutter is distracting, and disorganization stimulates stress. Everyone's idea of what is cluttered and disorganized is different. However, if you're over the line, it really helps to get yourself back to a state of ease with your personal space.

The brain makes a lot of literal associations that might not be accurate. When you're in a fight or flight state, you tend to let "unimportant" things in your environment slip. Making the bed, doing the dishes, or sorting the mail doesn't seem important. You don't have the bandwidth to tend to those kinds of details consistently.

So, even if things are peachy, when you look at your environment, and things are askew, your brain will think there's a problem and start whipping the anxiety back up.

Look at your home, your office, and your car. First get things clean and neatly organized. Then find ways to make those spaces more beautiful and peaceful. Sometimes just moving things around a little will help your frantic brain find a new place to settle in.

You might also focus on all your senses in the environmental upgrade. Think about scents and music. Make sure you have fabrics in your spaces that feel comfortable and soft. Design an environment that calms and nurtures you. Your brain will respond instantly.

3. Re-evaluate your perfect day.

I think one of the reasons I struggled with getting back to my "real life" is because I am a different person now than I was before. Getting back to my real life was actually an attempt to get back to my old life, and I didn't fit there as well as I once had.

The changes in my life changed me. Some things that were important to me before weren't necessary or even enjoyable anymore. Some of my desires had expanded or changed completely.

Figuring out would a perfect day might look like through fresh eyes is helpful anytime you've gone through a significant transition, no matter what kind of transition it is. It is probably something you should revisit every few months just for good measure.

Sit down and make a list of what your perfect day would look like from the time you wake up until the time you go to bed again. Your perfect day might seem a bit like a fantasy, but there are probably a lot of aspects of it that you can start to incorporate on the spot.

Trying to fit yourself into your old box is anxiety inducing in and of itself. Getting clarity on where the new you wants to be is a relief.

4. Make spa grade self-care your new distraction.

So, after I took a few days to settle into my new reality without a campaign, you know what I decided to do?

Start a new campaign. Old habits die hard. Now to be clear, my better judgment did take hold. However, when you've been too busy and all of the sudden you've got more downtime than you're used to, habit wants to fill that void. It's easy to start repeating old mistakes, or similar mistakes.

Spa level self-care is a better distraction. Spa level self-care is infused with pleasure, and pleasure re-wires the brain very efficiently. Creating a life that replicates the spa experience as much as possible requires a lot of attention to detail, but it's worth aiming for.

Spa self-care would involve a higher level of attention to detail than every-day-normal self-care. If you were spending time at a spa, you'd have spa food, spa exercise, spa downtime. You'd have aromatherapy and mineral baths. You'd be sleeping on the good sheets. You'd get lots of fresh air and time to contemplate.

When you've been frantic for too long, downtime can feel awkward, uncomfortable even. Doing your downtime with some purpose keeps you from getting off the ditch or worse yet, turning around and heading back to the chaos. There is no better purpose for your downtime than spa-grade self-care.

Do your self-care with the intensity you'd been doing the thing that got you jacked up. Spa grade self-care works for me every time. When I'm in overachiever mode, spa grade self-care gives me a productive place to channel that energy. It usually settles my jets down pretty quickly. It will probably work for you too.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Sharing is sexy. If you liked this article, share, comment, or pass it on.

Lisa Hayes, The Love Whisperer, is an LOA Relationship Coach. She helps clients leverage Law of Attraction to get the relationships they dream about and build the lives they want. Lisa is the author of the newly released hit book, Score Your Soulmate and How to Escape from Relationship Hell and The Passion Plan.

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

How Stress Damages Your Health, plus Ways to Build Up Your Resilience

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/how-stress-damages-your-health-plus-ways-to-build-up-your-resilience/

How Stress Damages Your Health, plus Ways to Build Up Your Resilience

You’re reading How Stress Damages Your Health, plus Ways to Build Up Your Resilience, originally posted on Pick the Brain | Motivation and Self Improvement. If you’re enjoying this, please visit our site for more inspirational articles.

“The human capacity for burden is like bamboo – far more flexible than you’d ever believe at first glance.” – Jodi Picoult

The life I live often results in hearing things like “I could never do [that]” or “I don’t know how you [do it].” My response is typically a laugh followed by something like, “I don’t know how I do it either.”

As my focus for my blog and business have become clearer, I’ve been thinking a lot about relaying to my readers how I actually did it. How do I cope with being a stay-at-home mom even though I have a college education? How do I manage moving frequently and the burden it places on my family? How do I prioritize my life to avoid neglecting one area? How am I able to find time for myself when there are always a million things to do?

How, how, how.

Firstly, I’m human just like you and I do what I think many people do: try one thing and if that fails, try something else. There isn’t a handbook for navigating through life’s inevitable stresses (like how there isn’t a master bible on how to parent). We sort of just have to stumble our way through it, figuring out what works and what doesn’t along the journey.

Secondly, I’ve developed a tough skin – a resilience – to much of those reoccurring stresses that I face. Basically, I’ve faced those challenges so many times that I don’t even really see them much as challenges anymore. I feel like much of life is like that.

Today, I want to give you a few tips to help you build up your own resilience to some of life’s stresses. But before we dig into that, I want to back up and explain why it is important for you to develop a tough skin.

How Your Body Responds to Stress

Between television, radio, phones, and internet, you have access to stimuli that our ancestors never imagined. The only thing a caveman had to worry about was what was happening right there where they stood (and maybe his family back in the cave if he was out gathering). That was it! He used his own six senses (taste, smell, sight, sound, touch, and intuition) to determine if he was in danger.

Fast forward to today where we have numerous flashy, noisy gadgets that buzz, chime, and ring numerous times per hour (and always within arms reach). We no longer appreciate silence. Back then, silence was a great thing since it meant you were alone, not being chased by an omnivore.

Our biological makeup is designed to protect us, help us survive. When under stressful situations such as being chased by a predator, watching the evening news, or even hearing your phone’s notifications sound off (your brain can’t tell the difference), the message the brain gets is one of urgency so it alerts the rest of the body.

Brain: We are under attack! We are not going to make it unless we act quickly! I am sending a signal to the adrenals to commence cortisol production.

And the body responds….

Body: You heard the man! Blood, redistribute flow to the muscles! Abort all cellular rejuvenation processes! We don’t have time for healing right now. We’ve got to high tail it out of here!

Now, imagine how your brain and body are acting on a regular basis. Are they receiving messages of peace and tranquility or are they getting hammered by stimulation 24/7 (yes, while you sleep next to your phone that’ll continue to sound off notifications all night long)?

And technology is not our only stressor. There are the kids, your boss, the neighbors, the other drivers on the freeway, the barista who messed up your order, your bank account, politics, hurricanes, Kim Jong-un, your to-do list, polar bears…

Our minds have the capability of keeping us in a constant state of stress when we are surrounded by this many things to stress about.

So then, you ask, what happens when you are stressed 24/7 and your body doesn’t come down from that tense state?

You fall apart. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.

This isn’t a theory. This is fact. Scientific fact.

Our bodies are capable of self-rejuvenation and healing, but not while we are in a state of fight or flight.

But you’re probably thinking, “Hey, Lauren. Our body has developed processes for handling stress. It’s all good. Our body knows what to do.”

While you are correct in your understanding that our body is smart enough to handle the stressful times, the catch is it isn’t designed to sustain itself in defense mode long-term. Short-term is its sweet spot. Keep it in gear for too long without rest and you risk burn out. Literally.

Your adrenal gland can only pump out so much cortisol before it gets tired of pumping. When this pumping action slows down, your body’s number one defense against stress stops working. That’s what happened to me.

Ways to Build Your Resilience to Daily Stress

In my e-book “Life Spark: How to Overcome Stress, Anxiety & Feelings of Low Worth” (available free to my monthly subscribers), I go deeper into ways to revive your life after extreme periods of stress. For this post, here are some ways that you can begin to build up your resilience to the stresses of your daily life:

1. Improve Your Nutrition and Brain Health

When I started my journey of healing from my own stress and anxiety, I began by looking into health and nutrition as a possible cause for my symptoms. As I mentioned earlier, under long-term stress, your adrenals could suffer. In addition to that, other hormonal imbalances in the brain can occur and, according to New York Times bestselling author and psychotherapist, Dr. Mike Dow, you must address those or else nothing else you do will work.

Because I started with my health, I truly believe that one of the keys to building resilience against stress is to ensure you have adequate nutrient levels. If my brain doesn’t get the food it needs, it can’t function. If my brain can’t function properly, I tend to react with more hostility when challenged by daily stresses. As long as I eat right and get enough sleep, I know that I’m setting myself up for a better chance of overcoming stressful moments.

2. Exercise

The thing about exercise as it relates to building a resilience to stress is the power exercise has to create dopamine in the brain. Dopamine is a hormone that helps you feel good. You definitely want more dopamine flooding your brain to help counter all the cortisol. And the exercise need not be strenuous. Just get moving.

How should you incorporate exercise into your busy day? Just go for a short brisk walk after lunch. Start with just 5 minutes.

3. Nature (aka sunshine)

Double boost that feel-goodness by taking your walk outside, in the sunshine. Most of us are deficient in vitamin D, so getting a few minutes of sunshine daily will help boost those levels naturally.

Taking a little bit of time to spend outdoors can help you collect your thoughts and recharge. My dad would do this after work, taking time to do things around the yard to help him unwind from a stressful day at work. This sort of acted as an energy dump for him so that he didn’t bring that stress into the home. If you can fit a little bit of nature into your every day, you might feel the same effect.

4. Meditation or Yoga

Science-wise, meditation and yoga practices help to reduce anxiety and stress. This is because of the hormones that are triggered when we practice these. Over time, practicing these has helped me to carry on that calm state into my daily life so that I don’t react aggressively as much. Granted, I have three kids (going on four) and my buttons will be pushed. However, I’ve discovered that meditation and yoga help me to recharge and release negative energy so that I’m not piling it up. When I regularly practice, I react more rationally to things. Therefore, it appears as though I can tolerate more.

In reality, meditation and yoga help me by acting as a place for me to go to refocus. I enjoy guided meditations with affirmations or ones that take me on a visual journey of healing. I also believe in balancing chakras, so I will seek specific meditations depending on which area of my life I need clarity in. I rely on meditation more for stress reduction and yoga for stretching my tight muscles as a form of pain management. However, there are some great yoga practices I’ve done that included lots of quiet time that doubled as a form of meditation.

5. Understand Your Triggers

Why do certain things flip your switch? What can you do to think about the situation differently so that you have less of a negative response? Know your triggers and avoid them whenever possible (quit hanging out with that coworker at lunch who drives you nuts). Who’s life are you living anyway? You are fully in charge of what and who you invite into it.

The mental aspect of rewiring your thoughts and negative patterns of thinking will stick better once you’ve done the rest of the work (the diet, exercise, sleep). I realize that everywhere you turn you hear people talk about changing your thoughts, but it’s hard to do if you’re depressed, stressed and exhausted due to a hormonal imbalance (I should know).

When I ask you to think about what’s triggering you, I mean to take a holistic approach to what’s happening in your life right now. Is there something that is especially tipping the scales for you?

Working towards improving those circumstances and seeking outside guidance from professionals when necessary will help you to round out your goal of building resilience to stress in your life.

You’ve read How Stress Damages Your Health, plus Ways to Build Up Your Resilience, originally posted on Pick the Brain | Motivation and Self Improvement. If you’ve enjoyed this, please visit our site for more inspirational articles.

[babystuffs]

How to Teach Baby to Sleep Through the Night

The scene wasn't pretty. It was 4 A.M. and my 11-month-old son and I had been awake for hours. I'd tried everything to get him settled: rocking, singing, feeding, and even bringing him into our bed, where he excitedly climbed over his dad as if we were having an impromptu family cuddle puddle. When he began crying for what seemed like the tenth time in a few hours, I broke down too. Harper had been sleeping through the night for months. How could this be happening? Was it possible that my proudest parenting achievement had completely come undone?

Here's what I didn't know at the time: It's 100 percent normal for babies who have been snoozing blissfully for eight to 12 hours each night to suddenly go through some bad patches. "Once your child is sleeping through the night, never expect that it will last forever," warns Parents advisor Jodi Mindell, Ph.D., author of Sleeping Through the Night.

Related topic : http://www.newmomstuff.com/missing-the-graco-sweetpeace-swing-try-one-of-these-instead

With that in mind, we've identified the most common reasons that star sleepers tend to wake up -- and asked experts to offer solutions for each dilemma.

   Win a prize a day, enter now!

Wake-Up Call: Developmental Milestones

Sara Moe, mom of 8-month-old Finn and 3-year-old Dashiell, from Los Angeles, remembers that both her children woke up in the middle of the night during the weeks when they were learning to crawl. "I would go in and find them on their knees, still half asleep, utterly confused about how they got that way," she says.

That's not uncommon. One of the biggest disruptions to slumber time is that your little one is working hard on mastering a new skill -- seemingly all night long. A baby learning to roll onto her tummy may have trouble finding her way back to her original position. When she begins to sit up later, you might find her crying because she hasn't figured out how to lie back down. Another biggie is walking: Research shows that a kid can get so excited about this milestone that she literally can't sleep, says Dr. Mindell.

Sleep-better solution: Spend time practicing the new skill with your kid during the day. "Let your baby move around a lot, and try to avoid excessive stroller or car-seat time," says sleep consultant Jennifer Waldburger, coauthor of The Sleepeasy Solution: The Exhausted Parent's Guide to Getting Your Child to Sleep. When your little one wakes up because she's stuck in a new position, help her lie down again but don't linger -- you don't want this to become a game.

Also check how to find best baby carrier for short moms

Wake-Up Call: Separation Anxiety

Children under the age of 1 don't understand object permanence -- the idea that you may go away but you will always come back. As a result, your baby can feel panicked when he wakes during the night and doesn't see you -- especially if you were there when he drifted off. If he rouses with a startled cry and then seems playful after you pick him up, he might have just missed you. The worst thing to do is follow his lead and start socializing. "Don't turn the middle of the night into fun time," says Waldburger.

Sleep-better solution: Teach your baby that you'll never disappear by playing games like peekaboo or hide-and-seek with his stuffed animals in the daytime. If he's crying in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, pat him or pick him up for a minute or two to reassure him that you're there and then give him a kiss good night -- and goodbye. Trying to sneak out can backfire. "If your child is experiencing separation anxiety it will just make him more panicked and hyper-vigilant," says Waldburger.

Wake-Up Call: Naps, Naturally

As your baby gets older, she's going to begin needing fewer naps. These fluctuations can affect her overnight schedule as well. "If her rest periods are too close to bedtime she may not be sleepy, and if they're too short she may be overtired -- either scenario can make her more likely to wake at night," says Marc Weissbluth, M.D., professor of clinical pediatrics at the Feinberg School of Medicine at Northwestern University and author of Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child.

Sleep-better solution: If your baby's routine has changed recently, consider keeping a sleep journal for a week to see whether you need to adjust her bedtime or tweak her naptimes. One way to gauge if your baby is getting enough quality sleep is to watch her between 4 and 5 P.M. "Many parents write this time off as the 'witching hour' -- but it's really the time when poor sleep catches up with a baby," says Dr. Weissbluth. If your little one seems playful and happy, then her schedule is probably okay; if she's clingy and short-fused, she may have given up her nap too soon or needs to go to sleep earlier.

Wake-Up Call: Routine Disruption

When Harper was 6 months, we took him for a week at the beach. When we got home, I resumed his bedtime ritual of bath, bottle, and book. But what used to soothe him had stopped working. He began crying as soon as I left his room.

No surprise we were back at square one -- vacations, teething, or illness can all disrupt your baby's shut-eye schedule. And it's a vicious cycle: Sleep deprivation, even one hour less each night, can add up and make your baby even more likely to wake at night.

Sleep-better solution: Set aside a few days to get back on track. If your baby continues to wake after three nights post-vacation or illness, do a sleep-training refresher. It's also helpful to keep as much of a routine in place as you can when you're away from home -- if it's always bath and book before bed, keep that ritual intact as much as circumstances will allow.

Wake-Up Call: It's A Mystery To You

You might have a bad night's sleep now and then, and so will your baby. Maybe she has a tummy ache, or she's too hot -- or cold. Perhaps she's getting smarter. "When the brain is rewiring itself for a cognitive leap, it can affect sleep," says Waldburger. Most often, the rough patch will pass or the answer will reveal itself over the course of a few days -- a new tooth, a first word, a growth spurt -- or all of the above!

Sleep-better solution: If you don't know why your child is waking, comfort her by patting, holding, or rocking her. Soothe yourself by remembering that you won't create a bad habit in one night and that you and your baby are passing through a stage. "Learning to sleep is like riding a bike. She may fall off sometimes but she won't forget," says Waldburger. Feel free to use that as your late-night mantra.

[theotnewsletter]

The silent tragedy affecting today’s children

Victoria Prooday, Occupational Therapist

There is a silent tragedy developing right now, in our homes, and it concerns our most precious jewels - our children. Through my work with hundreds of children and families as an occupational therapist, I have witnessed this tragedy unfolding right in front of my eyes. Our children are in a devastating emotional state! Talk to teachers and professionals who have been working in the field for the last 15 years. You will hear concerns similar to mine. Moreover, in the past 15 years, researchers have been releasing alarming statistics on a sharp and steady increase in kids’ mental illness, which is now reaching epidemic proportions:

1 in 5 children has mental health problems

43% increase in ADHD

37% increase in teen depression

200% increase in suicide rate in kids 10-14 years old

How much more evidence do we need before we wake up?

No, “increased diagnostics alone” is not the answer!

No, “they all are just born like this” is not the answer!

No, “it is all the school system’s fault” is not the answer!

Yes, as painful as it can be to admit, in many cases, WE, parents, are the answer to many of our kids’ struggles!

It is scientifically proven that the brain has the capacity to rewire itself through the environment. Unfortunately, with the environment and parenting styles that we are providing to our children, we are rewiring their brains in a wrong direction and contributing to their challenges in everyday life.

Yes, there are and always have been children who are born with disabilities and despite their parents’ best efforts to provide them with a well-balanced environment and parenting, their children continue to struggle. These are NOT the children I am talking about here.

I am talking about many others whose challenges are greatly shaped by the environmental factors that parents, with their greatest intentions, provide to their children. As I have seen in my practice, the moment parents change their perspective on parenting, these children change.  

What is wrong?

Today’s children are being deprived of the fundamentals of a healthy childhood, such as:

Emotionally available parents

Clearly defined limits and guidance

Responsibilities

Balanced nutrition and adequate sleep

Movement and outdoors

Creative play, social interaction, opportunities for unstructured times and boredom

Instead, children are being served with:

Digitally distracted parents

Indulgent parents who let kids “Rule the world”

Sense of entitlement rather than responsibility

Inadequate sleep and unbalanced nutrition

Sedentary indoor lifestyle

Endless stimulation, technological babysitters, instant gratification, and absence of dull moments

Could anyone imagine that it is possible to raise a healthy generation in such an unhealthy environment? Of course not! There are no shortcuts to parenting, and we can’t trick human nature. As we see, the outcomes are devastating. Our children pay for the loss of well-balanced childhood with their emotional well-being.

How to fix it?

If we want our children to grow into happy and healthy individuals, we have to wake up and go back to the basics. It is still possible! I know this because hundreds of my clients see positive changes in their kids’ emotional state within weeks (and in some cases, even days) of implementing these recommendations:

Set limits and remember that you are your child’s PARENT, not a friend

Offer kids well-balanced lifestyle filled with what kids NEED, not just what they WANT. Don’t be afraid to say “No!” to your kids if what they want is not what they need.

Provide nutritious food and limits snacks.

Spend one hour a day in green space: biking, hiking, fishing, watching birds/insects

Have a daily technology-free family dinner.

Play one board game a day. (List of family games)

Involve your child in one chore a day (folding laundry, tidying up toys, hanging clothes, unpacking groceries, setting the table etc)

Implement consistent sleep routine to ensure that your child gets lots of sleep in a technology-free bedroom

Teach responsibility and independence. Don’t over-protect them from small failures. It trains them the skills needed to overcome greater life’s challenges:

Don’t pack your child’s backpack, don’t carry her backpack, don’t bring to school his forgotten lunch box/agenda, and don’t peel a banana for a 5-year-old child. Teach them the skills rather than do it for them.

Teach delayed gratification and provide opportunities for “boredom” as boredom is the time when creativity awakens:

Don’t feel responsible for being your child’s entertainment crew.

Do not use technology as a cure for boredom.

Avoid using technology during meals, in cars, restaurants, malls. Use these moments as opportunities to train their brains to function under “boredom”

Help them create a “boredom first aid kit” with activity ideas for “I am bored” times.

Be emotionally available to connect with kids and teach them self-regulation and social skills:

Turn off your phones until kids are in bed to avoid digital distraction.

Become your child’s emotional coach. Teach them to recognize and deal with frustration and anger.

Teach greeting, turn taking, sharing, empathy, table manners, conversation skills,

Connect emotionally - Smile, hug, kiss, tickle, read, dance, jump, or crawl with your child.

We must make changes in our kids’ lives before this entire generation of children will be medicated! It is not too late yet, but soon it will be…

[criticalotterstudies]

Many doctors like to compare an antidepressant regimen to a diabetic regulating their blood sugar levels. “You wouldn’t just stop taking your insulin because you feel better,” they say. “Why would you stop taking pills that help your mood?” But it’s not so simple. Diabetes and other physical ailments are largely quantifiable. Consciousness, on the other hand, is a labyrinth of mysteries and malleable feelings. We can only ever consciously acknowledge a tiny sample of the deep complexities baked into our brains. You can’t measure an antidepressant’s effectiveness with a ruler or scale. Instead, you rely on various cocktails of pharmaceuticals and dietary supplements and exercise routines, tracking incremental changes with the same imprecise mind that got you feeling depressed in the first place. Using the depressed mind as a tool to rewire itself can feel like an impossible feat. ... One of our most important rules for students in the jungle is to “toughen the fuck up.” You can learn how to power your way through a monsoon-like rainstorm, or homesickness, or digging a trench in the mud, or discovering that a family of fire ants had made a comfortable home inside your half-eaten jar of peanut butter. So I felt the opposite of tough when I realized my depression had ballooned into something I could no longer handle myself. That it was controlling me instead of me controlling it. With the support of my boyfriend and coworkers, I decided to return to the United States shortly after the inaugural semester of my program ended to find some real, professional help. I felt like a failure for leaving my community behind. For returning to the safe and loving four walls of my dad’s house, once more, just as I had in college. I’ve been back in the U.S. for about a month now, and I’ve come to discover that asking for help when I needed it actually was my version of “toughening the fuck up.”

[ricardosousalemos]

Weezer: Weezer (Blue Album)

Weezer mastermind Rivers Cuomo was such a somber kid that his second-grade teacher trained the other students to tell him, in unison, “Let me see the smile.” Childhood in Yogaville, the ashram and Integral Yoga HQ led by “Woodstock guru” Swami Satchidananda in eastern Connecticut, was isolating, devoid of much pop culture and adventure—until Cuomo heard Kiss. When a family friend brought their fifth album, 1976’s Rock and Roll Over, to the Cuomo house, it sent Rivers and younger brother Leaves launching off furniture in a way only formative music can. “I’ve pretty much based my life around that record,” he has said. With their comic-book personas and distorted riffs, Kiss cracked Cuomo’s young brain wide open and rewired it for good. He had little idea what debauchery they were singing of, but from that point on, Cuomo began having intense dreams about becoming a rock star, and he began obsessively studying the work of his songwriting heroes.

For Rivers, music offered both a coat of armor and an identity. As a pre-teen enrolled in public school for the first time, Cuomo went by a different first name and his stepfather’s last name (Kitts); his chosen moniker—Peter Kitts—was awfully close to that of Kiss drummer Peter Criss. And while Cuomo was still picked on as he made his way through puberty, he eventually found his people: the metalheads. In 1989, Cuomo moved from Connecticut with his high school band to Los Angeles, ground zero for the AquaNetted and Spandexed. There, he found himself in the midst of shifting tastes, both culturally and personally. He started working at the Sunset Boulevard Tower Records, where he was schooled on quintessentially “cool” music like the Velvet Underground, Pixies, and Sonic Youth.

Also in the mix at this time was a new band called Nirvana. When Cuomo first heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on the radio in late 1991 while washing dishes in an Italian restaurant, he was sorta pissed he didn’t write it himself. “Rivers says, ‘I should have written that,’” remembered early Weezer guitarist Jason Cropper in John D. Luerssen’s band biography, River’s Edge. “And I’m like, ‘Yeah. That’s totally true.’ Because the music he was writing was improving in quality every day.” Cuomo’s interest in Nirvana became an obsession. He’d taken notes from Brian Wilson, the Beatles, Scorpions, Yngwie Malmsteen, and, of course, Kiss. But for all his knowledge of rock history, he still cared deeply about writing anthems that spoke to his generation, even if he had trouble looking his peers in the eyes.

Weezer anthems were destined to be different. In 1994, the acts dominating the modern rock charts were pushing against something, from the British aesthetes (Depeche Mode, New Order, Morrissey) to the singular weirdos (Beck, Tori Amos, Red Hot Chili Peppers) to the disenfranchised youth (Nirvana, Green Day, Pearl Jam). With rebellion came a facade of cool, and that was something Weezer could never manage, at least not in the traditional way. Cuomo always tried a little too hard. He would become the fidgety anti-frontman with a thousand “revenge of the nerds” taglines and a Harvard degree to prove it. That dichotomy—the big-time rockstar in khakis and Buddy Holly glasses, who never seems totally comfortable in his own skin—is what launched his cult and anchored his unlikely sex appeal. And his band—drummer Patrick Wilson, bassist Matt Sharp, and guitarist Brian Bell—played along, accentuating their innate geekiness to make Weezer feel like a unified front. 

By the summer of 1993, Cuomo had written a number of songs strong enough to convince the alt-rock major DGC to sign Weezer (this despite a lack of buzz around the L.A. scene) and have the Cars’ frontman Ric Ocasek produce their first album. When the group’s self-titled debut—typically known as The Blue Album—arrived in May 1994, Cobain had been dead for a month. A feeling of dread hung over the alternative rock world whose prominence was ushered in by the Seattle sound. With their wired energy, effortless power-pop-punk hooks, and Beach Boys harmonies, Weezer took the alt-rock explosion in a new direction. You couldn’t quite tell if Cuomo was mocking his song’s regressive narrators or sympathizing with them. But once you got past his defense mechanisms and sorting through the humor and cultural references, you found a portrait of a young man’s psyche, riddled with angst and insecurity. And it arrived on the wings of massive riffs and gnarled guitar solos that sounded like they were emanating from a Flying V—on every single song. 

The Blue Album’s exploration of the fragile male ego is in full swing by the record’s second track, “No One Else.” Taken at face value, this is likely the most misogynistic song Weezer has ever released. “I want a girl who will laugh for no one else,” Cuomo sings while the band rushes through the fuzzy pop-punk changes, evoking the hyperbole of masculinity. But there’s more beneath the surface. “‘No One Else’ is about the jealous-obsessive asshole in me freaking out on my girlfriend," Cuomo has said. The song acquires even more resonance in the context of its sequencing on the record. Cuomo described the following song, “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here,” as “the same asshole wondering why she's gone.” In actuality, he spends most of “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here” muttering to his ex’s wallet photograph and masturbating to her memory, getting in a joke along the way, saying she enjoyed the sex “more than ever.” It’s an absurd scene, but imagine the sentiment coming from the wrong person and it’s suddenly not so funny. Weezer were masterful at walking this line between knowing jokiness and legitimately creepy dysfunction.

This base kind of arrested development shifts back and forth between the narrator’s relationship with girls and his views on himself. If “No One Else” and “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here” are mirror twins, so are “Surf Wax America” and “In the Garage.” Given that Weezer were named after a common term for asthma sufferers, no one expected them to be out on a board riding the waves. That tension animates “Surf Wax America,” a well-crafted jumble of harmonic puzzles and barreling punk guitars where the hedonistic surfer lifestyle is both celebrated and chided for its simplistic worldview. Even while the song sneers, the ferocity of Cuomo screaming “Let’s go!” juxtaposed with the solemnness of the band’s Wilsonian harmonies make you believe, once again, in Weezer’s sincerity. Meanwhile, “In the Garage” is an homage to that happy place where no one judges you for your comic books, D&D figurines, and Kiss posters. It seems like over-the-top self-parody, but the garage was indeed a real place where early Weezer practiced and recorded when Cuomo, Sharp, and original guitarist Justin Fisher lived together in the “Amherst House” near Santa Monica. The hopeless ambition of “In the Garage” would make it the defining song of nerd-rock.

In between “Surf Wax America,” a fantasy about someone completely different, and “In the Garage,” a hyper-detailed song about himself, lies a song about his father. There are two more nakedly emotional songs on Blue, which are set off further by Cuomo’s rare embrace of laid-back guitars. Atop a bluesy jangle, “Say It Ain’t So” details the moment when Cuomo’s deepest worries are realized: He sees a beer in the fridge and, remembering how his father drank before he walked out, he senses his stepfather is doing the same. He fears now that he, too, is destined for this fate. Pinkerton, Weezer’s sophomore album, is often described as the tortured confessional to end all tortured confessionals, essentially a diary of Cuomo’s notorious Asian fetish. But “Say It Ain’t So” is just as raw, and arguably has more that its listeners can use, throwing its arms wide open to anyone who’s known the trauma of dad issues. The music is constructed perfectly, building and building until what's left of Cuomo's vulnerability comes out as a bitterly frayed "yeah-yeah," all capped by a guitar solo worthy of the Scorpions.

The desire to write a perfect song can drive some songwriters mad, as their belief in music as a vehicle for emotional expression reconciles itself with the belief that pop is a puzzle that can be solved. On Blue, Cuomo found the ideal balance, as he rarely has since. He understood the rules so well that he also knew when to break them, from Sharp’s super silly new-wave keyboard in “Buddy Holly” to the mumbled dialogue that runs through “Undone” (the band and their friends chatting were a backup plan after DGC refused to clear dialog from an old sci-fi film, “Peanuts,” and more).

The fact that “Only In Dreams” is eight glorious minutes long is Blue’s greatest example of self-indulgence gone right. It confronts the two most perilous teen-boy anxieties—talking to a girl you really like and dancing in public. It’s fiery, gorgeous, well-played, and devastatingly sad. Sharp’s trudging bassline guides the way forward for the narrator, whose fear of stepping on his crush’s toenails is temporarily silenced by the band’s total calamity. Rock’n’roll teaches us that extreme volume can quiet the voices of doubt inside our heads and numb the pain of living inside our awkward bodies. In this sense, the climaxes on “Only in Dreams,” starting around the song’s midpoint, are rock’n’roll lessons of a lifetime. But it’s the big build at the 6:45 mark that plays like a beta male transfiguration. Having re-recorded Cropper’s guitar parts in one take after essentially firing him following Blue’s 1993 recording at Electric Lady, Cuomo ends up axe-battling himself until he’s soloing like the metal gods he grew up worshipping. Wilson’s drumming—an underrated and idiosyncratic force throughout Weezer’s discography—drives home the catharsis. His cymbals crash from every angle and his tricky rolls play like percussive triple axels. By the end of the song, you’re back to reality, exhausted but ready for a fight—even if it’s just against your own doubting voices.

For all the talk about Rivers Cuomo’s anemic masculinity, The Blue Album has a unifying thread of identity that supersedes gender. An essay on the Smiths pointed out that, “Asking people about their interest in the Smiths is another way of asking this question: ‘How did you survive your teenage years?’” The same could be said of Weezer’s debut. Blue quivers with isolation if you look past the pastiche, the deflective humor, and the guitar lines that make you sit up tall. The emotion Weezer tapped into is echoed in music sometimes considered distinctly millennial due to its high levels of anxiety, from Death Cab for Cutie and Carseat Headrest to Mitski’s Puberty 2 and even Drake at his most neurotic.

For as classic as the album is considered now, Blue didn’t make the 1994 Pazz & Jop year-end critics’ poll. Back then, Weezer were considered alt opportunists or even Pavement ripoffs—a comparison that seems silly now, looking at the distinct rock strains since indebted to Cuomo. But MTV and radio airplay for “Buddy Holly” and “Undone — The Sweater Song” made Weezer huge, and The Blue Album went double-platinum within 15 months of its release. Over the next three years, as Weezer 1.0 slowly imploded (bye-bye Matt Sharp, hello rotating door of bassists), the record would sell a million more and be well on its way to canonization. By 2003, Pitchfork named it one of the best records of the 1990s; two years later, Rolling Stone heralded it as the 299th greatest album ever. And so Blue now sits in a sweet spot of commercial accessibility and critical adoration, a combination that guarantees the album will make its way into the hands of a certain kind of bespectacled teenager for decades to come—the ones who really need it. Cuomo never wrote a song as indelible as “Seems Like Teen Spirit,” but he did reach generations of rock kids, proving that coolness is optional if you study hard enough.

[throwbacknotup]

//UnWired//

Esme wasn't always the girl who seemed a little unwired. She was a girl with darkness resting upon her pale shoulders with satire etched upon her skin. Her eyes electrocuted another with a fear of fear itself, but the girl wasn't dangerous. The girl was just scared. Light was what she craved. Yet, bad blood wired itself around her heart. A heart that was still beating.

                                                     Present

           His nails were gnawed down to stubs. His mat of hair obscured his bloodshot eyes from his mother's harsh stare. This was his fault.

          "Noah...," his mother desperately tried to wake him, "Noah! Get UP! Get out of bed! You need to start to get ready for today." She screamed at his desolate frame of meat and bones. Her frustration was turning to anger, and that anger was turning into her son's self-loathing. This wasn't his fault.

                                                   Rewind One Week

             Noah Thomas never really discovered what it was like to be risky. He never understood the point of his friends going out on the weekend to drink, when those drinks could potentially make them sick or even kill them. He never understood the need for speed, as he read about disgusting car crashes involving adrenaline junkies befriending the accelerator. He never understood what he was missing beyond his five foot eleven walls of caution.  But one day, those walls had a chance of being shattered.

           Friday. Early Autumn. The New York air was brisk. A torn piece of copybook paper was shoved between his lunch and his Psychology textbook in his locker with a message reading, “Meet me in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk." Start living or keep surviving? Hours of intense pacing later, he stood in the middle of Brooklyn Bridge at approximately 7 o’clock waiting for his nameless host. Rumors and stories about this notorious bridge flooded his memory. Fear wrapped her icy fingers around his wrists trying to pull him from the grasp of another girl.

                                                    Present    

           Noah stepped into the steaming shower. The water hit the back of his neck and crawled down his spine. No amount of soap was going to wash away what happened, but nevertheless, he lathered, rinsed and repeated. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

          "Wait, wait. Wait. Repeat, please? Sorry, I'm having a hard time focusing today... A lot on my mind," Noah's mom, Steph Thomas, said to her own mother, Margaret Thomas.

         "I said, 'You should think about gettin’ Noah checked out.' Like, by a psychiatrist or someone, Stephanie. Honey, listen. Listen, you can't try to straighten him out all by yaself. Ya need help. He needs help." Ms. Thomas sighed and said goodbye to her mother. She didn't want to admit her son's brain might've gone unwired into a catatonic state. She had too much pride to give up. She had raised him by herself all these years, and she wasn't going to let anyone barge in now.

                                                     Rewind

          “Huh, so you showed up,” her voice was cool and slightly surprised.

          Noah fidgeted away from the voice that came out of the dead air. He caught sight of dark flowing hair, gaunt features, and ashen skin coming out of the shadows. It was that girl, Esme. He never spoke to her in the past four years of high school. There were only whispers he knew about her. Her eyes daunted him. All he could see through the dark were two gray rings that had a look of hysterical panic and desperation. It was like she was trying to convince him of something, even though she hadn't said anything yet.

          She ignored the lack of conversation, “I invited you out to this splendid e-ve-ning to tell you My life story. The crazy tale about a screwed up girl. Almost was a spin-off series from those books about unfortunate events... and the old guy or whatever.”

         “I...um.. Uh, I don't understand,” he replied slowly as he scratched the back of his neck. He didn't want to admit it, but she was scaring him. “Why me?”

          “You don't know me. I need an audience. That audience needs to watch and listen without knowing who I am...or who they think I am. It just ruins any plot twists. Standard protocol,” she paused, “What do you think when you think about this bridge?"

           Was this a trick question? He felt uneasy, but answered anyway, "I think of cars. Like, transportation across a body of water. Heights? I dunno.. It's a bridge."

        “See. There it is. The first difference between you and me. You are black and white. Conventional. You see this bridge used for only it's initial purposes. To me? This bridge? This bridge is an adrenaline goldmine,” she smirked. No drumroll, she hoisted herself up onto the diagonal bars using the steel suspension crosspieces. Trying to keep her balance, she motioned for Noah to repeat her actions. He got a firm grip on the frigid bars and used his limited upper body strength to pull himself up onto the ultimate balancing beam. He gaped up at Esme seven bars up from the ground. His breath split once his brain caught up to his body, but he felt it. The rush. Was this what it felt like to be alive?

                                                       Present

       He felt dead. He slowly buttoned up the freshly pressed, starched white shirt, and tied and untied his tie seven times. Noah couldn't focus. He kept fumbling around trying to dress. A look in the mirror made him cringe back. Noah pitied him. When did this coward start looking back at him through the looking glass?

             Ms. Thomas was in the other room deliberating what to do about her current predicament. Should she take her mother's advice, or should she not give up on herself and Noah? How could she admit to herself that her pride and joy has a problem?

                                                        Rewind

           “I have a problem,” she stated. Finally, the adrenaline was running its last laps through his body. Esme continued, “I hunger for these unseen 180°s in life...Ya know what it's like..like when your life gives you like a little dose of turmoil to remind what it’s like to be alive. I’ve been waiting for a disaster to strike me so I could feel something, anything again.” She waited for his answer, but he didn’t have one, so she went on. “I am tired of not feeling.."

          “ Uh, um," he interrupted, “Can I ask… what happened to you?" She sat up abruptly turning away facing the dim lamps. The golden-toned light silhouetted her body revealing there was something tense about how she held herself.

            “It was September. Perfect weather. Still warm outside, but a lil bit of chill, ya know? I was four… Still had to sleep with my blankie at that time.. My parents already had left for work that day. Mom was the secretary for dad’s office… Family business, ya know. But, that day had a very important meeting scheduled on it, so they, like, had left me in the care of my neighbor to get me to school..."She exhaled and laughed. "I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on my neighbor’s face, when she picked me up early that day,” she took a deep breath and continued, “If you’ve ever seen any footage or documentary of 9/11, you’d know of the people, who jumped while holding hands. I don’t know whether my parents were those people, but I like to dream they were.”

              Noah could hear silence. It cut into his ears. She looked up to the sky, "I haven't had a family for over 14 years of my life. My foster homes took out more of my soul than my parents leaving initially did. I've learned to just not feel. You sort of get used to the numbness. It's like a drug."

               He was confused. What was he going to do with this information? Noah sighed and shook his head, "I….I don’t know what to say. I want to say sorry, but a thousand sorries could never replace your parents. But, well...  I just don't understand why I’m here, Esme. You need an audience. I get that. But I just don't get what I’m supposed to do as an audience member."

               Esme snickered, "You're trying to skip to the ending when what you seek was really in the beginning."

             "What? You don't know me I get it but-"

           "Not there. I didn't bring you here to help myself. I brought you here because there is a lesson you can learn from me too. Bridges have another meaning, as well." She grabbed his hand, "you'll understand sooner than you expect. Goodbye, Noah." And with that, she disappeared into the shadows. He wondered if Esme, herself, was a shadow.

                                                        Present

              There was a slight chill in the air as strangers processed from the burial site at St. Paul's Cemetery. Noah stood staring blank-faced at the roses scattered on top of the casket. Words, words, words. Unspoken words. He should've known this was going to happen. This was not the ending that he expected. A hand softly pulled back his shoulder, and a voice asked, "Are you, Noah? Hello, hi. I was.. I am. Esme's foster-mom, sorry... Sorry, She left this for you on her bedside table, here." The woman handed him a letter that read:

Noah,

        Don’t hold this little thing like death over your head. Please. It's something that needed to happen, and it's happening had nothing to do with you. I’m assuming you’re probably still confused on why you were even there that night. I need my story to be told. I trust a stranger more than someone I know. Knew… I’m not really sure what tense to write this in to be honest. That aside, Noah, you were affected (whether you like to admit it or not) by not having a father. (Yes, I did research on the stranger I was going to tell my story.) You aren't able to trust, to risk, to do anything at all... I want you to tell my story, because it's the right thing to do, but live your life, because you have to. You have seen first hand what not feeling does to a person. It caused me to do life-threatening risky things. It caused me to do one final risk to risk to try to help you. You went to the bridge that night. You climbed the bars. You listened to an insane girl. You have it in you to live a life worth living. Stop surviving. Stop going from day to day. Unwire yourself, because I know you have it in you to rewire. Create your 180°...for me.

                                                                                                                -Esme

        "Noah. Noah, I need to talk to you," Ms. Thomas shook her son for his attention, "I've thought a lot about it. Everything. I think it's best to get you some help. You need to work out some issues about what has happened, and I hate to admit it, but I just don't think I'm enough."

          He ignored her comment, "I need a pen and a piece of paper."

          Esme wasn't always the girl who seemed a little unwired. Loose ends must’ve given her the rush that she craved, but she wasn’t heartless. She wanted the loose ends to be tied up for those she cared about. She just couldn’t do it herself. Life had wired her to have a completely normal life, but life made an 180° turn. She had been cutting her wires ever since trying to create that next disaster to put her back on track. The last wire she had to cut was telling someone her story before she ended it.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Author: Noah Thomas