#i have severe anxiety and am relearning how to be a human | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waywardstation · 2 years ago

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Okay I've seen minimal mention of N in the Pingo AU and because he is a blorbo to me I am going to share my thoughts on this

There's 3, 4ish, points in the timeline that would drastically change how N behaves when eeby deebied. Before Ghetisis takes him in, pre BW, post BW & pre BW2, and post BW2

If he's still feral I have zero doubts that he'd survive just fine on his own no matter where he landed sans the Icelands. The most he ever interacts with any humans is to steal clothes and other supplies he couldn't scour himself, or to try to figure out how to get back to Unova. Ingo catches glimpses of him and his gaggle of new pokemon that have adopted him as their own on occasion and is reasonably concerned for this small child's well being. Yet no matter how hard he or anyone else tries, N continously evades any and all human social interaction without fail. At some point his evasion tactics get to sitcom level hijinks.

Pre BW at any point in the timeline? Oh boy. He catches a glimpse of any sort of pokeball on someone's person and immediately DESPISES them. N is begrudgingly willing to actually trade with the clans and guild, but he mostly keeps his distance from people. Regardless of his personal beliefs he is not willing to put in the mental energy to argue with people over liberation on his lonesome. If he ever catches wind of the stigmas surrounding Zoura & Zoroark he'd absolutely lose it. Like charge unprepared into the Icelands to confirm for himself sort of tunnel vision here. Overall I think he'd reluctantly interact with the other kids, and over time he becomes a sort of cryptid brother figure to the group that none of the adults have ever managed to talk to.

Post BW would likely be an anxiety ridden mess regardless of how many memories he retains. He just had his entire worldview burned down and is trying to pick up the scraps and figure out what was true and what was exaggerated, so yknow. Shaken to the core most likely. On top of that he is now torn from his very very small support system!! Having a grand time, Hisui is a highly recommended vacation location, 12/10 stars on Yelp. N would again, very reluctantly, interact with the Pingo train, mostly with the kids at first. Overtime he becomes part of the group, only realizing it after he desperately had to explain to one of the kids that no your cooking isn't bad, Ms Fluff just absolutely hates anything even slightly spicy but she still loves you very much please stop crying--. He's still one of the very much closed off members of the group, but at least there's another semi functional adult around to wrangle in the sack of idiots! Overtime he gets more comfortable and finds himself opening up more. Depending on the severity of his amnesia I could very much see N keeping the fact that he can perfectly understand pokemon to himself and himself only, barely skirting around the fact as he tries to help with any miscommunications. He's doing his best.

Post BW2 N is pretty similar to post BW, just to a lesser degree depending on how long he's had to recover from the whole "my pseudo parental figure got absorbed by a husk of a person against both of their wills" debacle. Plus he's had a lot of time to relearn and adjust his personal beliefs. He'd likely have an easier time interacting and opening up to other humans compared to pre bw him. This iteration of N, based purely on my own headcanons as to what shenanigans he was up to in the timeskip, is absolutely the most likely to physically throw hands with Kamado if he ever hears the man's opinions on pokemon. Most of the other times he'll politely bite his tongue at the "pokemon are terrifying creatures" comments. Volo calling himself a pokemon wielder also rubs him the wrong way, but his team likes him enough that he tries really hard not to snap that pokemon arent weapons or tools. This N also absolutely manages to befriend the Nobles. Half of the time if you can't find him he's having secret gossip time with one of them.

Entertaining thoughts anon, with all of these!

I do feel like N was mentioned a few times, but I don’t remember much of it, so I appreciate your in depth analysis of all the different options we have with this

I really do think the feral choice, and Pre-BW choice would both bring some interesting dynamics to the group of kids that I’m not sure any other characters have.

I liked the aspect of post-BW with him being a middleman between the other kids and their Pokémon, but I suppose feral and Pre-BW could offer that as well? (He would still act different about it though, and would need a lot of time given to warm up to the kids first though obviously…I feel like he’d rather want to be with the wild Pokémon if he was in the feral stage as well)

There really is a lot we could do with N in this AU!

#papa ingo au

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pandorkful · 2 years ago

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I'd been feeling rancid for the past several days and it definitely was because of how late I was getting to bed. Two nights of more acceptable bedtimes and I'm already feeling more human.

How do I internalize this lesson? I keep having to relearn it like every other month. Whether or not I sleep well, I just absolutely cannot let myself stay up till dawn. Tho a new mattress that isn't actively popping coils out the side might help me want to go to bed....

I absolutely cannot afford a new mattress, though. Which sucks cuz I think the one I currently have might actively be hurting my back physically. I had wanted to use my tax return to replace it, but ended up needing to use all that up just to survive.

Yet again, the money anxiety and dire situation wins. Welp. Things to think about, or immediately forget because I am a goldfish.

I don't even know where to even find a decent mattress that can withstand my bodyweight, this one has barely survived 13 years of use and the place in town my folks got it from doesn't exist anymore. Hrmm.

Making some more progress with the rearranging, starting to feel more sustained creative focus returning so that's good. That also might just be from sleeping earlier too tho LMAO 😅

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fairycosmos · 5 years ago

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COVID-19 has finally put NZ in lockdown and I have suddenly learnt that I actually really rely on routine for my mental health. Everything is so uncertain and I can't focus anymore. I feel so overwhelmed but none of my friends really care so I'm telling you. I'm also in the same boat as you with mother's, mine for told if she gets COVID-19 she's in the top 10% at risk of dying. Plus it's making me feel all eating disorderey. Sorry

hey it’s ok love, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for :( i cant tell you how much i relate to this, it’s almost like you read my mind….like whenever i try to focus on building a routine i just end up worrying about the virus. and i’m super low energy because i haven’t been exercising or eating much, either. the thing is i think it’s alright to allow ourselves this period of loss and adjustment. as long as we’re doing what we can to stay safe, we’re doing enough. if that looks like crying in your bed, then so be it. you dont need to have it all figured out. it’s ok to be sad and scared and uncertain, it’s a natural human response to such stressful and uncontrollable circumstances. and it’s not like there’s a rule book on how to handle this sort of thing. we’re all pretty blindsided, and for those of us who are mentally ill, it’s going to take time and effort to relearn how to cope in a smaller, more closed in environment. i know it’s hard to basically start from scratch, but it’s not impossible to simply start building up some semblance of a routine within your home. even if that’s just taking a shower, making a meal, doing some stretches, watching a movie or reading a book (or any other hobby you have.) it doesn’t have to be set in stone, and it can change according to your needs, but the point is getting up and putting your energy towards something so you can stay present and grounded. there’s going to be a lot of added anxiety due to boredom until you’re able to come to terms with the situation, and that’s normal, but i’d implore you to revert back to any positive coping mechanisms you’ve used in the past. breathing exercises, meditation, journaling, creating a food plan, self affirmations - all of these techniques aren’t there to cure you of your mental illness, rather they allow you to take a moment to center yourself so you don’t start spiraling and believing the unhealthy narratives your mind may insist on telling you. and it doesn’t have to work 100% every time, but the point is to try. to do what you can with what you’ve been given. attempt to meet small daily ‘goals’ in terms of feeding yourself and working through unnecessary feelings of shame. you deserve and need nourishment, nothing about this changes that. another important factor to consider is communication. i know you said your friends don’t care, and if that’s how you feel then i dont want to take that away from you, but it could also just be that they dont understand. mental illness sometimes makes us think in extremes right? if there’s anyone you trust, it’s ok to consider the idea of reaching out and explaining the seriousness of where you’re at mentally. but if that’s not an option, there are many mental health hotlines and online communities available if you feel you need some support. your mind may try to write it off, but just because we’re in quarantine doesn’t mean we have to deal with this alone on an emotional level, ok? isolation can often make our perception of the world and of ourselves become distorted because we don’t have anyone else to use as a point of reference and to listen to/be heard by, so if anyone at all comes to mind, know that you can always get in touch with them, even if you have to force yourself to. also, i am so so sorry to hear about your mum. i dont even know what to say because whenever people try to comfort me about it, it doesn’t compare to the crippling dread i feel every time i think about how at risk she is. it is such an awful situation, and it’s no wonder our mental health is out of wack because of it. but know that if your mum is self isolating and following all the health guidelines, then she is severely lessening her risk of being exposed. this lockdown is a good thing in that regard. it’s so much easier said than done, but rationalizing is a very useful skill to practice. as long as you’re both doing all you can to work towards a healthier lifestyle, then you’re okay and you will get through this together. i’m sending so so much love to the both of you and while these next few weeks might be hard, they are not permanent. no matter how much your mind tries to convince you otherwise during a low moment. please let me know if you need a friend or if you want to talk about this at all, i’ll be here. ❤️❤️

#anon

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christopher72-cd · 4 years ago

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There have been pandemics before our time, we have read about them, we have taught about them, we have all the statistics and new measures taken to get rid of them. I remember as a young boy, my grandma used to tell me about a terrible disease called Frazer which killed so many people across the universe. It was not until l was older that l realized she was talking about Influenza. You see, in Africa, some foreign words elude our ability to pronounce them, as a result our tongues reduce them to something more comfortable. My grandma did not go to school so this word would have reached her via word of mouth, something like Chinese whispers (in Africa). It is timely that having just mentioned China, where Covid19 is believed to have started, that l got inspiration to write my blog. I have not blogged before so l took a few moments before writing it. And here goes.

I am a lecturer in learning disabilities nursing. This month, I should have been celebrating my fifth anniversary at work with my colleagues around me. Five years ago, l said goodbye to my colleagues in CAMHS. Before that I had done several jobs which always put me in direct contact with human beings. Over the years, l have learnt to work with people, be surrounded by people, to be supported, sometimes supervised, sometimes supervising, I spent many hours working with children and their families. Basically, I have done people-facing jobs.

Today I find myself #WFH (working from home). Yes I have had one or two days here and there in the last five years having to do this. Usually when l have some marking to do or a time limited piece of work. It works when everyone else is out. When the children are at school, when it is not bin day, when the neighbours are at work too. Yet I remember when I received an email that said from the 23rd March you must stay at home and work from home until further notice. I understood the reasoning behind it because we all know what happened in China, Italy and Spain. What I did not foresee was how, after nine weeks in this new way of working, this would start to affect me.

The first week was fine. I still had a backlog of emails and bits of work to mark. Then slowly but surely, meeting requests online, tutorial requests, questions about placements, students requiring support, phishing emails and everything else that I would not get in my inbox started coming in. For five years I have been relying on my colleagues; fellow lecturers, student records team, assessment team, IT department among others for support. Whenever I am asked a million-dollar- question, they are always my phone-a-friend, depending of course, on the nature of the question. I have them all on speed dial. However, lately this has not been the issue. Believe you me, I have some of the best team around me who would do anything they can to help but they have not been here in the last eight weeks. They have not been here because where they are right now is where l am too. ALONE is the place.

This of course has been a big blow to me and l am sure most lecturers, teachers, academics, faculty are on the same boat. Of course, #WFH has introduced us to alternative ways of working, about the possibilities out there that have always existed parallel to our world of teaching. Not that we have never been aware of it, it was not what we chose to do. We are people-facing. We like to stand with our students, challenge them, see them work together, see them thinking, ease their anxieties face to face, send them away knowing that they are satisfied because we have looked into their eyes and got the conviction that things will be ok.

Today all that has changed. Has Covid19 inspired us to work differently? Will things ever be the same post Covid19? I do not have the answer. All l know is that I miss my colleagues, their kindness, their advice, their inspiration, their knowledge; not to mention the social aspect, the cups of tea/coffee, cakes in the office, the sights and sounds of the school. I miss the ladies in the cafes. I miss the cleaning team who always greet me with a friendly Hello. The IT guys. The LAB Techs. The guys in the assessments’ office. Student records team. The team meetings. The banter. Our school slimming world club (I am 9pounds older). The list goes on. Most of all I miss the students, the very reason I wake up and go to work. Today I wake up and come to my laptop which l must admit is asking itself what on earth hit this man’s head.

So as for my well-being, well it has taken a big hit. I am ok in myself. But the paragraph above should summarise the impact of #WFH. These are the (un)joys I have experienced and if l do not relearn how to function from home, at least l hope the next generation of colleagues may have to incorporate this into their normal routine. As for the next generation in Africa, thanks to social media, education and the simplicity of the foreign word, 'Covid19' will be pronounced much easier than Frazer the Influenza

Thank you

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12-99-30 · 5 years ago

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covid-19: rewriting the narrative

“Coronavirus” was a term I first learned in my Intro to Microbiology class around this same time last year. My only concern with coronaviridae was if I could remember it on my multiple choice exam as the family of viruses associated with the common cold and SARS. Today, it consumes every part of my day; filling up my news feed and timelines, televisions, and conversations as it throws the world into a place of uncertainty and uncharted waters.

“We are in unprecedented times!” - I hear this in every email, newsletter, and post.

This is a pandemic that has instilled fear among nations. The new norm feels like living in a constant state of fear and anxiety. Fear of neighbors, fear of declining health, and fear of change. In Microbiology, you quickly learn how disease is the ultimate equalizer. It does not discriminate against race, age, or socioeconomic class. It’s a weapon that exposes society at its core.

My emotions about the COVID-19 epidemic were admittedly apathetic at first. Aside from the elderly, I did not think it was a huge threat to society. As time revealed its destruction, I was proven terribly wrong about the severity of the situation. Each week seems to bring worse news than the last; more cases, more deaths, more loss. I’m seeing people’s livelihood being put at risk, and my own privilege which seems so undeserving.

A couple of scattered thoughts:

The pandemic did not change our society, but rather revealed the truth of how society was already existing. We’re selfish beings, who in times of crisis, neglect empathy and turn against each other to protect ourselves. I found myself becoming so frustrated at people taking excessive supplies; people taking food from community food distribution sites, despite knowing very well they had enough income to shop at a grocery store. Why are test kits so limited, only given to patients showing severe symptoms, but so easily distributed to a whole NBA team? Why do celebrities' lives seemingly have more “value” than my sister, who was denied a test kit? COVID-19 is peeling the layers of our humanity, and revealing what we value as a society. We hold onto internships, money, that one vacation we’ve been waiting for, and even graduation. Sometimes we hold onto less obvious things. The comfort of routine, working out to look good, and eating out at 5 star Yelp! Restaurants (guilty). I grieve these losses with you. My goal is to not shame the people who worked hard for the things that COVID-19 unfairly took away. For some, graduation would’ve been a monumental moment for first-generation students. People’s careers depend on this internship. Routine helps people with mental illness not feel stuck. I understand these frustrations. I know what it’s like to have something be taken away so unfairly and feel helpless about it. My heart mourns with you. God allows us to lament, and He calls you to draw near to Him to grieve alongside you.

You begin to realize how everything on earth is so temporary (such a granola thought, I know). It’s something we’re told so often in a Christian context, but it’s hardly something we meditate on. COVID-19 reminds me of the temporariness of life - how even our physical bodies can be taken away by death. The privileges I enjoyed everyday, vanished within a week. J-- reminds me of how important it is to understand that our end goal is to not just find a vaccine for COVID-19. To not just move on from this pandemic. To not just find peace in our losses. Our end goal is to be like Jesus - to be sanctified and be made whole. We become so disillusioned that this present world could be a permanent city to satisfy our souls. This is to not romanticize or downplay the loss that families are going through, nor lighten the severity of the issue. I’m still praying for a cure and the health and safety of vulnerable families. I’m doing what I can while I’m here to be an active citizen.

I’m relearning what it means to love your neighbor. It means social distancing, acknowledging your privilege, helping the vulnerable. It’s taking less off the shelf, because you don’t need it, but know somebody else does It’s supporting small and local businesses. It’s extending grace to people that don’t. People are going hungry, losing their jobs, and still being expected to pay rent. Hospital workers are short staffed, and running out of supplies and ventilators. I feel powerless in situations like these. Learning to love is something I’m relearning how to do more and more each day. I don’t want to live through a time where I have to choose the value of an 80 year old’s life with cancer against a 30 year olds life that seemingly has “more potential”.

Despite the fear that seems to be plaguing society, I am carrying out day-to-day actions fearlessly as I trust my all good and all sovereign God. I am taking my civic responsibility and practicing social distancing, washing my hands, and remaining educated during the crisis, but I do it knowing whether or not these measures will keep me safe, my God is the same God through and through. (Hebrews 13:8)

I choose to care about this issue because I care about the people around me. They’re more than statistics, they’re people with souls. I know when it’s all said and done, God cares more about healing souls than cells. What good is it for me to survive this world but lose my soul in the process? The time spent in self-isolation has allowed me to reflect on who I want to be and who I am becoming. I’m slowing down and cultivating the things that matter to me: myself and the relationships surrounding me. I want this time to be remembered as the days I grew closer to God, and loved my brothers and sisters more. I want to remember the lives being touched, and the growing connection of His people despite this dark period of uncertainty. A time of repentance and prayer. When we leave this earth and enter the realm of heaven, what will I leave behind? Even my outward body will waste away, but I will not lose God’s steadfast love. I’m mortal. I’m frail. But I shall still rejoice, for joy is an act of defiance against evil.

Pray, rejoice in the Lord always.

#posts

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itshaejinju · 7 years ago

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Only click read more if you want to know more about me as a person.

I’m not only a nice person, I’m also sarcastic, snide, petty, anxious, romantic - I’m human.

I know you are like, “duh we know that, can’t always be nice.”

But when I express anything else I feel like I’m being shut out. It hurts a lot, hearing just a simple “I’m sorry” is almost as painful as you saying nothing at all.

I understand a lot of people have not gone through what I have and do not know how to deal with that, that is why I don’t talk about it often and let it gather into a filthy ball of fucking hate inside of me until I explode and freak the fuck out on people. I hate to do that I do my best to try and find healthier means of expressing my issues. I write it out. I turn that pain around and put into word, I spit all my emotions onto the screen. So I set myself naked on a pedestal to be seen with what I posted.

I fall often to pick myself up because I find if I ask someone to help me they will let go because they see something prettier to pay attention to.

Ever since I was a tender age of 8 I was told that if ANYONE touches you they want to have sex with you that you shouldn’t touch anyone because sex is bad. Because sex is wrong. Because no one really wants to be friends with you they just want sex. This was from parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, hell even my brother (once he got older) told me this to the point that I totally believed it.

Which spurned a lot of my sexual adventures in my older age as I became out of my shy shell and was rather outgoing so when anything would happen even something simple as a friendly hug I would associate as someone wanting me sexually. Like one would think I could be just like it’s a hug from a coworker because you had a bad day but with what I had been drilled in my mind daily that it was something “bad” that they wanted me only to have sex. It brings a lot of strange notions to the mind.

As now I’m free of that family and that life I am trying to relearn touch. Trying to associate it purely with what it is meant whether is sexual or just friendly. So I tend to now just freeze when someone does hug me or touch me because mentally I’m trying to figure out what it is suppose to mean. I’m trying to reorganize it in my brain. Does not mean I don’t appreciate it just means I have to process.

It is something I have to relearn, I have to do before I could think about being romantically with someone. It’s about the healing process I need to go through. It’s not easy.

I found it’s hard for me after what had happened to me to have my brother nearly kill me twice in my life that being touched by a male makes me rather nervous. Hence my comfort in the fictional men. As there is also apart of me that is rather uncomfortable around females in a small sense more relate to me feeling not good enough as I failed to take care of the most important female in my life my mother.

I suffer with Bipolar Disorder Type 2, I get depressed easy. My emotions on a daily basis is up and down constantly, I can generally keep it all in check but there are times when it just blows the fuck up and there isn’t much I can do about it. It just is how it is I legitimately cannot control it a 100% of the time, boy I would love to. But even with insurance and medicine it is not able to be controlled 100%.

I do my best to reply to all the chats I get to be supportive and helpful to all that come to me for advice, comfort and just general talk. It does hurt to have very little thanks for it, I do stop what I’m doing to respond to the message I interrupt my thought process to read what is going on. I understand that you do now know what I’m doing so you don’t know if you are bothering me. Simple things of saying good morning to me before bombarding me with stuff is polite or just asking how I’m doing.

I do my best to read all that I’m tagged in and leave a reply. It’s common courtesy because as a writer I know that we put a lot of heart and soul into things. That what we do is not easy and it is emotionally and physically draining. To see a like is nice reblog is fantasic to see a comment with that is mind blowing. It feels good to know what someone things about it either it be in the tags or in the comment section. It is nice to know what someone thinks about it to be a confidence booster. I always love to see someone comment on it or bombard my chat with “omg so hot!” “That was evil why did you do that to me, poor so-and-so!” Such things it’s nice makes me feel like writing more.

To see others get their inbox flooded with stuff, a ton of others get reblogs on their things with such crazy replies makes me jealous. Seriously my sin is Envy and Lust. I appreciate what I get don’t get me wrong and I don’t want people to be all flippant to add extra frills to what they reblog of my stuff or say to me. That pity I do not crave it’s just how I feel. There isn’t much I can do beyond get the fuck over it. To stop being a child about it. I am happy that my fellow writers and friends do well, their talent is amazing.

I understand my writing style is rather different than most. I’ve been told that it’s raw and purely emotional. I am taking that as a good thing. You will never see my writing with substitutes for cock or pussy (beyond like dick and vagina) you will not see me skirt around things that will make people sad. You will see errors in grammar, you will see run on sentences I have a grade school education in English, with the rest self taught to myself by myself.

I get severe anxiety each time I post something as I’m exposing myself to everyone to read this. I am getting better with it, I use to just stare at the phone looking for alerts but now I can just do other things as long as the phone is nearby. Desperate I know. I crave approval, I crave that pat on the head that what I just poured out to you was at least half way decent. What I did was good.

I am better at loving my own writing, I can read it over now I use to not be able to do so it was hard I couldn’t even read the slightest parts of it because I hated it so much. I will sometimes read them over before bed to calm down to relax.

Lastly:

I’m slowly starting to appreciate myself. It’s not easy when I was always shun for speaking about things for talking about my emotions. That when I did speak that my “jaded view of the world” was too much to deal with. My family would hate to hear me discredit any holiday because it is too materialistic or a phrase used too much because we just have to say we love everything. That I’m too morbid that I enjoy pain of others too much. I am a woman of actions speak louder than words, me writing things for you is my way of me saying I care for you, that I adore you, that I want you to feel better by reading what I wrote. Anyone can just spout out words but doing something to show it is more valuable and important to me. Cooking a meal or buying your favorite snack is something I find more special just saying the words. A lot of people don’t see those actions as means of caring for one but I do. I’ve been told a lot by my “family” that I was loved then them to turn around and do something abusive to me. So “I love you” still has a lot of rough feelings to me as it is just is words. Even all the times they hurt me I still went out of my way to cook, clean, take care of my sick mother to show I cared despite what they did.

I am trying to love the good things about me. It’s like looking at those items through a very dirty window for me. You guys might see it so easily but I cannot and it is rather hard some days to accept those things about myself and just go with the things that are natural. The things I don’t like about myself and the things that aren’t that good. To me those things are huge and crazy and the good is so small. I don’t want to speak much of that pain I inflict on myself, I have a fic I’m working on that will go over it. I want to appreciate my honesty, my openness, my creativity. It will be slow but I will do so.

Okay I’m done venting and rambling. This is just a bunch of rambling that has been on my mind and things I need to say. I’m not feeling suicidal I’m just emotionally drained.

If you read this know that I do appreciate you fully, I’m hoping you understand my feelings.

Now I’ll go back to producing some actual content.

- Jin

#personal ramblings #venting #about me #don't feel obligated to read #probably will delete later

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hornkerling · 7 years ago

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April 6, 2017. 20:44PM Melbourne. 05:44AM Chicago.

Me: I don't know if by some terrible miracle you're awake, but if you are, please let me know?

In the sort of serious pain that isn't quite bad enough to call an ambulance but is still scary and I'd love to hear your voice, though I'm reluctant to wake you up without you seeing these because involuntary pain noises are not my finest and would probably be alarming

This is the sort of cramping where I feel a bit like I'm giving birth out through my spine and my kidneys by turns and I wish I knew what triggered it so I could stop doing whatever the fuck that is

@lemonsharks: I am awake ❤

@lemonsharks stayed awake and on the line with me while I screamed. For over an hour. I sobbed and threw up and turned into a creature made of hurt and noise.

I did not go to hospital, because the last time I’d done that, for pain only slightly worse, I was sent home with a pat on the head and indigestion tablets.

“Has anything happened to you recently?” the ER doctor asked, looking exhausted.

“Well, the ambos think this might be gall pain, and I’ve lost 30 kilos in 12 weeks—“

“—Good! Keep doing that. “

“Doesn’t weight loss affect your gall bladder? This was pretty quick…”

“Obesity causes more problems,” he said. “And you’re not out of the woods yet. Still. Well done.”

I’m usually good at pain, for a given value of unsurprised and able to talk myself through it. I’ve had my feet rebuilt three times. I’ve broken ribs eight times. I have the sort of endometriosis that used to make me bleed four weeks out of five while I curled around myself and ended up with chronic kidney infections. Sometimes my hands lock in the cold. I’ve had needles shoved directly into my eyeball. I know different textures and weights of pain. I knew the sort I can walk through, the sort where my body is actively trying to tell me something, and the times when too many signals have gone off all at once and I’m left with an aching, all-body hangover.

This pain? It made me babble. It stretched hours into minutes and then minutes into hours, gave me chills, made me throw up and whimper and ask the world to please, please stop hurting me. It was breathtaking. Humiliating. And it happened on and off over a year, ever since I went on a medically supervised fasting diet at the combined request of my GP, my eye surgeon (I was due for a transplant in the middle of 2016) and my mother.

I am, like a lot of sedentary ex-nightshift workers who take very important large amounts of progesterone to keep that endometriosis I mentioned from clawing me up from the inside, a fat woman. I’m mostly okay with this, because if I’m going to pick between ‘debilitating pain and anxiety’ and ‘bouts of self-loathing when I try to buy jeans’, I’m going to pick option 2 every fucking time. But that eye surgeon, with his continued muttering about how the fact that I didn’t have diabetes was a bloody miracle, really pissed me off. Fine, I thought. I will lose some weight and you will shut up and do your job and yeah, maybe it is time to untangle all that stress eating because no, I don’t enjoy it, and…ugh…just stop yelling at me.

So I asked my GP what I could try. I didn’t think just going to the gym would cut it in the early, inertia-prone stages and I didn’t want to deal with the additional self-loathing of having ‘failed’ if I ended up piking. She agreed, and suggested Optifast, a fairly vile but well established meal replacement plan, plus gym. I reflected briefly that it was good I was working two jobs, because this was going to be fucking pricey.

I did it. I spent twelve weeks subsisting on chocolate or coffee flavoured vitamin sludge with instances of steamed broccoli or bok choi as blessed relief. I took swimming lessons to relearn how to breathe while moving. That bit was actually lovely. I started to enjoy lifting almost-heavy objects, mostly because my scarred-up body and CP limp alarmed the local gym bros. Plus, it was a distraction when I had moments fantasizing about tearing off my own arm and eating it, mostly for a change in texture. It didn’t actually feel that bad. The first three days were horrible, for the second week I mostly felt vaguely high, and the for the rest of it I was just bored. The exercise, as discussed, began to feel unnervingly empowering.

The way other people responded to the weight loss, though? That was a complete mind fuck.

“You look so healthy!”

“Congratulations!”

“I bet you feel so good!”

“You look less disabled now! I bet your pain has gone down…” (yes. Really.)

Get published? Eh. That’s the sort of thing Kit does. Nothing special. Lose a socially acceptable amount of weight? Oh my god world peace is just around the corner, you have done this brave and exceptional thing.

At the end of the twelve weeks, otherwise known as ‘the intensive phase’, you reintroduce carbohydrates back into your life. Slowly. That was when the first instance of horrible, stabling, babbling gut pain happened. I assumed that I’d not quite been slow enough with my reintroduction, and so took the ERs non-diagnosis as fact, because it did seem reasonable. Kind of.

I had the surgery, which meant that I gained a lot of the weight back because of the sheer amount steroids they put you on to stop your body from freaking out about having, in the words of Donna Noble, a dead person’s face on your face. I also wasn’t allowed to: swim (I’m still not, because of the stitches, and it’s been almost a year); do cardio; lift even mildly heavy objects or do anything apart from breathe and eat and wince as people gave me tragic looks for several months.

(Stabbing gut instances during this time: 4)

Then I started exercising again and the damn cornea realised it was dead and decided to reject. More steroids! Every hour. Through the night! For an unspecified period of time! My body stored fat like it was the end times, because wouldn’t you?

(staving gut instances: 6 – including the time when @lemonsharks had to deal with her weeping girlfriend at five in the morning)

Why am I talking about this?

Because feeling like you have a large metal spike stuck from your breast bone right out the middle of your back at random but narrowing intervals is fucking alarming, but the only thing my family and GP took note of was my weight. Is it going down? Fantastic! Is it going back up again? Well, to quote the GP who nodded sadly when I told her about the surgeon’s gym ban: “you’ll just have to go back on the Optifast as soon as possible. The stabbing pain? Probably not gall problems! You’re far too young for that.” (Though I was, she’d also pointed out to me, thirty, and so my chances of dying miserable and fat did grow every minute.)

The feeling of having fight or flight response slowly dripping into my bloodstream for months of nightmares and general exhaustion? “Oh, that’ll go away once you lose that weight again.”

I’ve just been off work for two weeks. It was unplanned. I have no leave balance (yaaaay, transplant!)

Tuesday, May 16, 2017 12:32 AM

Me: So...we know what the random gut pain was now, probably. Pancrea-fucking-titis

That stupid opifast diet has a lot to answer for

Me: 4:30am and and finally out of ed/into a damn bed

Still in hospital, if I vanish for a bit

@lemonsharks: D:

On the one hand... Yay knowing what it is BIT ALSO NOT YAY on the hell diet and irritated pancreas

Me: And possibly removed gallbladder, hence the hospital overnight madness

@lemonsharks: Wait wait did you just have emergency surgery to remove your gallbladder or is that upcoming?

It was upcoming, because they had to wait for my pancreas to stop trying to eat itself in protest of my gallbladder deciding that it had one job: to make as many stones as my body could hold. And then some.

The feeling of having fight or flight response slowly dripping into my bloodstream? That was bile. I came home from work, the pain happened, and this time it didn’t go away after an hour of screaming. I cracked and called the ambulance, shaking and dripping sweat, throwing up when I wasn’t sobbing, two hours into it.

“Looks like gall pain,” said the ambos, as I apologised for wasting their time and they stared at me like I was insane and checked some regs to see if they could give me more morphine. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

(Ambulance Victoria is filled with good people and they deserve all the pay rises in the world.)

I don’t remember much of the next few hours. Just that I told them not to take me to the hospital where I’d been sent home with indigestion, and that I’d messaged @lemonsharks and desperately tried to be okay.

That bit where I vanish in the message thread? I was in the ICU.

Why am telling you this?

Because I’m fine. The pancreatitis went away and I feel 700 times less miserable (the first photo in this post terrifies me. It was the day before all this happened. I thought I looked normal. I look fucking wrecked. Sad and exhausted. Contrast with the second, where my skin is dodgy as fuck but I look like a tolerably cute and lively human being. That was taken last week, my first day out of the house after I got home from hospital a few days before.) They took out my gallbladder and I now have a load of new puncture wounds and I need a lot of naps/feel a bit like the world is grey half the time because that’s how I respond to most general anaesthetics. That shall pass. I’m alive. I have amazing friends who’ve visited and given me soup and the best girlfriend in the world and I live in a place that isn’t going to punch me for going to hospital. Yay, socialised healthcare. Things could be a lot worse.

But also, I nearly fucking died. Because of that heady combination of: pressure toward weight loss, culture that reinforces particular types of suffering for the sake of ‘health’, and the tendency to minimise female pain as normal, as expected.

My GP, rueful on the phone as I tried to explain that I was being told I had to have surgery and that I was unprepared and terrified, said: “I’m sorry I didn’t think to take your bloods earlier. It is a shame you can’t do the Optifast route again now, though.”

And that is why I’m posting this. That, along with the small, regretful part of me that agreed with her, because fuck that. Fuck that industry, and the pressure that makes life and safety less valuable than the size you are.

I can’t do much about some of the mess in my own head, but I can post this and say: you do you. Be safe. You’re loved. And if you do go down the meal replacement path, because as much as I want to burn it to the ground I know that there is no single response to anything, get regular blood tests.

(mostly though. fuck that. and thank you, @lemonsharks)

#surgery tw #wound tw #weight mention tw #a lot of rage and a lot of swearing #diet industry #long post #personal #surgery

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lawlight-week · 8 years ago

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Lawlight Week Day 1

Title: You Look Pretty Good Down Here

Created By: @lwts

Kira is taken down early on, and Light is reborn as a young Shinigami who remembers nothing of what he once was. L is the one to gain ownership of his notebook, and together, they relearn what it means to be human.

Characters: L, Light Yagami

Word Count:2961

He’s looking down at his own hands with blurred vision. He doesn’t know how it all came to be; how he came to be. He looks around, and finds that someone is watching him. The someone isn’t a human, however.

It’s a Shinigami, with razor-sharp teeth, and wild eyes.

“Hey, Light,” the Shinigami says to him, and he blinks, looking down at his own hands again.

They’re almost human. Sharp fingernails, and perhaps a bit more lanky and crooked than a human’s fingers, but they’re nothing like the black claws on the Shinigami looming over him.

Light … That name. It seems familiar.

He looks around himself, finding no one else nearby. The Shinigami must have been talking to him.

“How ya feelin’, buddy?” the Shinigami asks him, his mouth pulled into a wide grin.

Light swallows, flexes his jaw once, twice, and opens his mouth to speak. However, the voice that comes out startles him.

“Who are you?” he questions, his voice low and foreign.

It’s not ghoulish like the Shinigami’s voice, but it’s too raspy to be human.

He blinks, looking around the place he was in. Was he once a human? He hasn’t the slightest clue. But he doesn’t know if he can trust the Shinigami to tell him the truth if he should ask.

“Oh man, you forgot me already? Jeez, I’m your pal, Ryuk,” he’s told, and strangely, Light finds comfort in the twinge of familiarity that name gives him.

Perhaps… Ryuk is telling him the truth.

“How did I get here? Where am I ?” Light wonders, running his unknown fingers through the dust he’s somehow settled on.

He peers at Ryuk’s face, but isn’t afraid.

“Your new home, the Shinigami Realm.”

He wants to doubt that, but can’t when they’re surrounded by grey, seated between what appears to be an oversized rib-cage. The land they’re occupying feels somehow alive , but also crawling with death. Light doesn’t question it; it’s the least of his concerns.

“You came from the human world, just like I did, years and years ago. Except you’ve only been here for a little while. You really don’t remember any of it?”

Light feels like he should apologize. Ryuk seems genuinely upset that he doesn’t remember him.

He shakes his head in reply.

“Ah damn. Well. We were best buds back on Earth! I dropped my Death Note, and you happened to be the one to pick it up.”

Ryuk’s not looking at Light anymore. He’s looking off into the grey sky, reminiscent of their time back on Earth.

“You wanted to use it to kill bad guys, but you became a pretty evil guy yourself, Light,” Ryuk says, and Light feels scolded.

He tries to remember ever being human, but nothing surfaces. All he can remember is waking up in the Realm only minutes ago.

Ryuk doesn’t explain what the Death Note is, but he doesn’t need to either. Somehow, Light already knows what it is, and he eyes the one hanging from Ryuk’s waist. He knows what a Shinigami is. Knows what they do. But what he doesn’t know is where or how he learned it, neither the reason he’s in that Realm.

His new home, Ryuk said before. What did he mean by that? Was Light… A Shinigami as well?

“You were pretty smart, but not smart enough!” Ryuk says, punctuating his sentence with a laugh that sends a chill down Light’s spine.

Light shoots him an almost offended look.

“What happened?” he asks, looking down at his hands again.

They’re still pale. Still flushed with human colour.

“A woman caught you!” Ryuk tells him, again laughing.

He must find it hysterical.

But Light stays put, shamed by this failure, even though he can’t really remember it. He wants to know more, but simultaneously wants Ryuk to stop telling him.

He opts for the latter.

“Enough. So I was a human? What… What am I now?” he asks, looking over his body.

Light turns his head to look at his back, as best as one could. No wings. Simply a bony shoulder blade, covered in the white shirt he was wearing. But somehow, without explanation, Light just knows he’s supposed to have wings. Supposed to have special eyes as a tool — to help him kill humans.

Ryuk waves his hand dismissively, sensing the confusion at the other’s lack of supernatural features.

“You’re just a baby Shinigami, no big deal. Your eyes will kick in soon enough. You’ll sprout wings eventually, and you’ll change. It’s gonna be fun!”

Light runs the unfamiliar fingers along his even more unfamiliar body. Along the waistband of his pants, something there feels stiff. He lifts his shirt, and finds a black notebook tucked against his stomach.

Quickly, he pulls it out, testing the weight of it. It has to be his Death Note. He also, already, somehow knows how it works. And that it’s his new responsibility.

Light flips through it quickly, the pages blank.

“...”

He tucks it back into his pants, turning to Ryuk once more.

“I was a human, you said. Did I have a family?”

Ryuk doesn’t answer. Instead, the larger Shinigami lifts into the air, beckoning Light to follow him as he begins to fly away.

Light’s lack of wings weigh in on him as he tries to run after Ryuk. But astonishingly, his new legs allow him to run effortlessly. They’re longer, thinner, and feel like they could never wear out no matter the distance. Not the legs of a human.

Together, they reach what appears to be a portal.

Peering in, Light can see the human world. Crawling with humans, each are living their individual lives. He’s fascinated, but Ryuk changes the view after spinning a black orb next to the portal. As he zeroes in on Japan, Light forces himself to watch patiently, keeping his gaze fixed on the human world. It zooms into a home in the Kanto region of Japan.

Inside the home, Light sees a family watching television together. Their faces make his heart ache a bit. He doesn’t remember their names, or anything about them, but can he assume they were once his family…?

An older woman wipes the kitchen table absentmindedly, while an older man and a young girl sit together on the couch. They’re so normal that Light can hardly believe they’re real.

“That was my family? Do they… remember me?”

He’s unable to look away. Light can imagine himself sitting on the couch there between the girl and the man, and somehow it feels natural.

Ryuk chuckles, and zooms in a bit closer, specifically to a shelf in the livingroom. There, surrounded by white flowers, sits the framed picture of a young man.

A pang of fear rush through Light.

Something isn’t right about what he’s looking at.

Suddenly, everything feels cold as he begins to panic. His vision blurs, and when it clears again, everything is tinted red.

Light Yagami , it reads above the picture.

It’s the only thing there. This was him… as a human. He was looking at his own face, his own name. But both those things… were left behind in the human world when he’d died .

Ryuk laughs as he zooms back out a little, and crouches next to Light, watching the family as well.

Light can see their names now, and a series of numbers beneath.

His eyes .

They were working now. It scares him suddenly. Because can feel himself losing his human bits faster than he’s gaining Shinigami parts.

Sachiko, Sayu, Soichiro… Those names don’t seem unknown, but they have little meaning to him anymore. He can’t continue to watch.

Hurriedly, Light looks over to Ryuk instead.

“I want to know more. I need to know more , Ryuk,” his voice demands.

But Ryuk laughs again, and shakes his head.

“Light, you know I love ya, but I don’t have to tell you anything .”

That makes Light angry. He wants more. Wants more information about who he once was. But... he isn’t about to beg for it.

“Hey, I have a fun idea!” says Ryuk, but Light decides he can’t trust that tone.

“Gimme your notebook, Light.”

Yet, if it’s going to give him what he wants, he doesn’t care. Light retrieves the notebook from underneath his clothes and hands it over to him.

After taking it, the Shinigami spins the orb again. This time, he stops on a hotel, zooming again into the building.

Within, sits a man, oddly perched on an armchair, sipping a cup of tea.

Light looks at the man’s face, reading to himself the name accompanying it.

L Lawliet .

Suddenly, a rush of feelings hit him. He has no idea what they mean.

Anger? Fear? L..Love … possibly?

He can recognise the emotions, but not the reasons. It makes him want to shield his eyes. Who is this L Lawliet? Could this be the man who killed him?

Yet before he can ask Ryuk about it, the larger Shinigami dips a hand into the portal, and tosses Light’s note into it, a grin on his face. He squeezes in a hearty laugh before Light can react.

“Ryuk!” he frantically yells out, fully aware of what this means.

Powerless, Light can only watch the notebook fall onto the plush carpet of the hotel room, while the man occupying it lowers his tea cup at the disturbance. Anxiety fills him as he witnesses the man get up and walk over to pick up the notebook.

Ryuk’s wings flare out, in preparation to take flight.

He’s still in hysterics as he shouts back, “Have fun learning, Light!”

And then he takes off, leaving him all alone.

Light looks to the man in the room, terrified. Now he has to go into the human world and accompany L Lawliet as his Shinigami until he can get his notebook back.

But of course, that’s what he gets for wanting to know more.

L can’t place exactly where the notebook fell down from.

His hotel room has a bookshelf, but the notebook in question hit the floor several feet away from it.

He studies the book more closely, wondering if perhaps someone set it up to fall in his hotel room as a prank of sorts. Then he flips through it, disappointed to find it blank. After spending a minute trying to make sense of it, he sets it down on the desk, unamused.

He doesn’t want to spend any more mental energy trying to figure it out. It’s only a notebook, after all, and doesn’t seem to be a threat. There’s no reason for it to be anything but a stack of paper.

Light makes his way down to earth with the remembered assurance that he doesn’t need wings just yet. That in mind, falling through the atmosphere without control as to how or where he’ll land doesn’t feel as threatening.

Within seconds, his feet hit, colliding hard with the ground of the human world.

Dust kicks up around him, but no pain resonates through his body. No humans are around to witness his landing anyway, but even if there were, it could just be assumed that a gust of wind picked up.

Standing tall, Light looks around. The place he’s in isn’t familiar at all, but then again, he’s not afraid anymore. Nervous, yes, but fearless as he begins a walk up to the hotel.

Humans pass him by, and although he can easily phase through objects, Light decides to steer clear of anything in his path. He chooses the sidewalk, looking around at all of the different names floating in the air.

His view of the human world feels new. He towers now over most humans by over a foot.

Eventually, he reaches the building. Next, getting up to L Lawliet’s room presents a perfect opportunity to test his new abilities as a Shinigami.

With little effort, Light is able to latch onto the side of the building, and scale upwards. His long fingers dig into the hard siding, and within seconds he’s able to reach the 16th floor.

Phasing through the wall there, he crawls over onto the hotel’s floor before standing upright again.

Light finds himself extremely exhilarated by his new discoveries. He grins about being able to manipulate the world around him, delightfully sticking his fingers through the wall again.

All the while, a female human, Sen Hashi, he notes, walks past him.

Light knows he’s hidden to anyone who hasn’t touched his notebook. He reaches out an arm, and it goes straight through the woman, who continues walking by without faltering.

He laughs at that. His laugh bounces throughout the long hall, and the way it rings in his ears is almost recognisable. Almost .

However, Light remembers his objective. He continues down the hall, unable to resist the urge of dragging his fingers along the much-closer ceiling as he does.

When he finally comes across room 338, he phases straight through the door.

He must’ve made an audible noise, because L immediately turns to see him. Round eyes fixate on him, and slowly widen as L realises what he’s looking at. But oddly, no fear reflects in them.

Light spots his notebook on the desk to the right of him, but doesn’t make any move for it. He already knows the rule; that he must accompany the notebook’s new owner, L Lawliet, until his death, and only then could he have it back. There are exceptions to that rule, of course. L could give up ownership of the note, but Light hopes he won’t go that route.

“What - No, who are you?” the man asks him, and Light feels himself shrink a bit under the intense gaze.

L stands up and walks over, peering closely into Light’s face.

It’s sunken in, and noticeably thinner, as the rest of him is. His hair’s longer and messier, but remains the same colour. He can see Light’s bones too, and — he can swear — the veins beneath his skin as well.

Light’s easily 7 feet tall now, yet he still cowers under L’s scrutiny.

L has his thumb is in his mouth as he looks at him from all different angles. He almost doubts that this creature is familiar, but the second he stares into his eyes, he knows who it is.

“Light Yagami,” he says, his words coming out like a sigh of relief.

Light doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know this man. Or rather, he doesn’t know him with his current memories.

“Are you a demon?” L asks, his intense stare replaced with a look of sheer curiosity.

Light shakes his head.

“I’m a Shinigami.”

The human’s eyes widen.

“So, are you here to kill me, then? For having you killed?”

Light freezes.

So L Lawliet was the one who’d killed him? He doesn’t feel anger , though. He can’t place the intense feelings under anger. Not quite.

“No, I’m here because you have my notebook,” he explains, looking over at the Death Note on the desk.

“Oh. Do you want it back?”

“No, actually. But there is something you have that I want — answers.”

L can’t deny that the creature in front of him was once the man he had executed for being Kira, but now he seems different. New. Somewhat... afraid . Does Light not have his memories, is that it?

“L Lawliet,” Light reads, watching the man suck in a nervous breath at his real name. “I want you to tell me about who I once was.”

“I’m going to ask that you call me Ryuzaki,”

Light shakes his head. Why bother with fake names when no one aside from L could hear him, anyway?

“I suppose I cannot force you to. Very well, then,” L replies, voice unwavering, before he drops the subject completely.

Seconds pass before L speaks again.

“So Light doesn’t remember any of his human life?” he inquires, leaving Light feeling at a disadvantage.

L is back in his chair again, chewing on a thumbnail while studying Light’s hands.

As Light is reminded of them, he feels like flexing his new fingers again, but forces them to remain still, arms dangling at his sides. He hates the way L is making him feel. Hates feeling as though he’s in trouble still, even though he must’ve given up life as a human to repent for the crimes supposedly committed.

Reluctantly, Light moves to sit on the couch adjacent to L.

He crosses and uncrosses his legs, unable to find comfort in any position. His body just isn’t meant to sit in those ways anymore, but he forces himself to stay put anyway.

“I don’t. That’s why I was… sent here,” Light explains. “I want to know more. I want to know what my life was like — what I was like as a human.”

“And in exchange, I get your notebook?” L asks, voice flat and accusing.

“It’s my Death Note.”

L’s eyes grow wide at that. His thumb falls from his mouth as he leans forward.

“Your… what?”

There is a cloud of fear over his face suddenly, and Light doesn’t know what it is he did wrong. L stays silent, however. It shows how hard he’s thinking.

“That’s how you did it. It was the notebook.”

“What? Did what ?”

The fear drops from L’s face as it’s replaced with amusement.

“Light is changed. He’s so desperate for information now.”

L runs a finger over his lips.

“Well, how about we strike a deal?” he continues. “You tell me more about this notebook, so I can solve your case completely… And I’ll help quench your greediness.”

Light is almost offended.

“Quench my what ?”

But after L doesn’t repeat himself, he sighs.

“Fine. You have a deal.”

#lawlightweek2k17 #themes #day1 #greed #lwts #fanfic #death note #lawlight #submission

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ringandtherobe-blog · 6 years ago

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You Aren’t Alone.....You are Loved

This past year in July I led a mission team to Belize City to work with the local church doing light construction and spending time with the youth of the church/community. Before we left America we were instructed to prepare to lead the worship services at two churches in Belize. One in Belize City and one in the area we were staying in Burrell Boom. Here is the sermon in which I prepared and preached.

As I read the Bible and reflect upon what God has done a theme that I constantly pick out recently is the relationships in which are formed.

In the new testament Jesus didn’t focus on creating ministry opportunities to solve some problem but sought out a relationship with each person. He calls us into a relationship with Him and in turn calls us to form relationships with those we come in contact with. So as we prepare for 2019 to come I want to focus on creating quality relationships with people this year and I hope each and everyone one of you will join me in that!

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Continue reading the transcript of the audio (above) below!

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As I was preparing for this sermon I was stuck. I had so much I wanted to say but there was no order to what was coming out, but I am thankful and blessed that the Bishop has given us this opportunity to speak on the Scriptures and for the opportunity to worship with you today and to partner with you the Methodist Church of Belize in ministry this week.

Above all I want to thank God for bringing us here safely and for giving me the words to speak to you today.

My sister is a pastor now in the United Methodist Church in Virginia and as I wrestled with these scriptures I sought advice from her. I Hoped she would give me some direction or something from one of her many classes to think about, but to my dismay all she told me was to read the scriptures and meditate on them.

This frustrated me greatly cause I had and I still had no clear idea of what to talk about. As each day came and went and no words were written my stress slowly built up and my frustration grew. My anxiety grew and it was in that moment that I realized the heart wrenching truth of 2 Corinthians 12 and what I needed to talk about.

This morning I am going to talk with you about my personal life and who I am as a Christian. I don’t know if it is the same here in Belize but in America we don’t normally talk about our weaknesses, our failures, or our struggles as Christians in an open forum. Those moments when our struggle is so deep the only person who can help us is God himself.

In fact what I have found is that we try our hardest to hide them from everyone including God. We try to hide our flaws, our imperfections, our struggles for fear that we will be judged by our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

This such isolation of not talking about the issues that we are going through has caused a break within the body of Christ.

We fight the desire to share our hearts and we fight the yearning for support we desperately need because we fear the reaction of our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. We hide our sadness, our frustration, the state of our mental health because if anyone truly knew the struggles we have with ourselves then would they even want to be with us?

Would they even love us or be with us? How could someone love us when sometimes we can’t even stand to be around ourselves?

Just over four years ago I was in a car accident on a back country road, sorta like the road that goes to Altun Ha, back home in Virginia. I was driving my family car when I met a lady on my side of the road on the top of a blind hill.

After the accident my health took a turn and I started having unexplained seizures. During these episodes I could barely speak which has slowly progressed to not being able to speak during them. I am fully aware of what was going around me and it terrifies me.

The Doctors had no explanation for what was happening to me and said that the only thing that could help me stop having these seizures was to go on seizure medication.

After being on the seizure medication for 2 years I had a massive seizure that came and went for 4 days. I was admitted to one of the best hospitals in Virginia and the doctors ran hours of tests and at the end of them all they said that there was nothing wrong with me.

After wrestling with that news i slowly came to accept that my seizures were my bodies response to poorly dealing with stress in my life. The doctors and nurses said that I needed to come off of the medication that they originally said would “fix” my problem.

As I started to come off of my medication the chemical imbalance in my head accompanied by the death of my grandmother put me in a deep depression that to this day I am still recovering from.

Looking at me you wouldn’t know that I suffer from seizures, depression, crippling anxiety, or the extreme and all to real fear of driving.

For the last two years I have fought with the off and on demons saying that I am not good enough that I have to many “negatives” to be worth anything to God.

Some of you might have those very same thoughts and feelings this morning. Let me tell you that there is hope. That there are people who care about you.

When I came off of my medication it was over a year process of adjusting and readjusting to the changes. I was not myself and had to relearn many things about myself.

I had to learn how to cope with my grief of my grandmothers passing, I had to learn how to deal with my frustrations, and anger. I had to learn how to function in a world that does not talk about depression or the demons that people battle.

A couple at my church recognized that something was off with me a few months into my medication weaning and approached me. They asked how I was and as I had grown accustomed to I said, “Oh I’m good how are you guys?”

They stopped me right there and said “we know you aren’t okay, you are not yourself, how can we help you?”

This moment was a defining moment in my life and my Christian journey because it was the first time in months that someone recognized that I wasn’t okay and was forcing me to talk to them about the internal battle that I was fighting.

They didn’t care if it wasn’t pretty if it was dark and what many would classify as “unChristian” they cared about me a Child of God and they were there to make sure I won the battle and that Christ had already won it for me.

As Brothers and Sisters in Christ we are to be there for each other in every trial and every tribulation. We are called to support each other in the race that we each run and pray for the other. How can we be like paul and Boast all the more gladly about our weakness so that Christ’s power may be upon us if we won’t even utter a word of our weaknesses and struggles.

Some of us in this room struggle with depression and the feelings of being unworthy, or even other illnesses that no one knows about. Some of us the weakness of pride, not turning the other cheek when something is done against us, not loving our neighbors, and not tending to the widowed or orphaned.

The Weakness in our very human nature that pulls us to the death that Christ himself delivered us from. In Second Corinthians Paul talks about our weaknesses and how even though we are weak Christ himself makes us strong.

Paul talks about a “Thorn in his side” that he can’t seem to get rid of. Paul has prayed for God to remove it from him and yet he still has this burden to bare. Some people say that Paul suffered from all sorts of things from Malaria, Epilepsy, or some kind of other disability that severely hindered his ministry. The fact is no one really knows what Paul’s “Thorn” was so today we are going to use that to our advantage.

Whatever your thorn may be i want you to think about it now. You don’t have to say it out loud but I want you to think about. Is it depression, anxiety, a health struggle that won’t go away.

Now imagine whatever your Thorn or thorns are is the same thing that Paul had. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12,

“To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.”

Lets stop there for a moment. How many times have you pleaded with the Lord on your knees or laying in your bed for Him to deliver you from the pain and anguish you are suffering? How many times have you felt that he was not answering? We know that Paul pleaded with the Lord 3 times for Him to take away the burden he was carrying but the Almighty did not remove Paul’s thorn instead he said to Paul,

“ My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

You know Paul could have just gave up and said that the Lord had forsaken him and just gave up. Many times on my journey with crippling anxiety and depression I get to the point where I want to give up.

The feelings of being unworthy, unloved, or the heavy presence anxiety making functioning impossible. When everywhere I look there is gray and pain and when stepping outside the smallest breeze in the air makes me burst into tears because I can’t handle the emotional strain it has placed my body I want to give up, but Paul gives us hope.

He gives us hope because in Christ when there is nothing that can help us, when the only strength we can have is from the Lord, when He becomes the rock we must stand on that is when we know the strength that that Paul is speaking about. Paul says,

There I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

Paul says power and I belive it is indeed power that rests upon us when we turn our weaknesses over to God but in the power the Almighty brings us Comfort and love. Paul goes on to say,

That is why for Christ’s sake , I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

In the midst of my own struggles with Anxiety I have come to find this scripture to be true and to bring a level of comfort and calmness. Without the help of God I would not be leading teams out of the country much less out of my hometown.

Without God my life would not mean a thing and my life would not be where it is today. Without the strength that God gives I would not be able to get out of bed every morning.

One of my favorite songs is by a guy named Corey Asbury and it is called Reckless Love. It is based on the scripture Luke 15 which says

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?

And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent’”

I believe this scripture is important for us to talk about in conjunction with 2 Corinthians 12. In order for us to allow our weaknesses to be exposed we as members of the body must feel as though we are loved.

Humans crave to be loved. We crave to be cared for, we crave to know that if when we wander away from the flock that we are wanted back, that people notice.

When our trials, tribulations, thorns in our flesh pull us so hard and we seek refuge outside of the body that someone from the body will look for us. That someone will notice that we are missing and will leave the rest of the flock to come find us.

When we know and accept that kind of love that is when we can start going to the depth where we can allow our weaknesses to be exposed for the glory of God, but until we have accepted that kind of love then we won’t allow ourselves to be exposed.

The chorus of this song goes like this:

“Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ‘til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it, still, you give yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God”

Our God loves you so much that He would come after you because you are that important to him. He doesn’t care what challenges you are going through what things you think you can’t do because you are His and He has claimed you as His sons and daughters. Corey Asbury goes on to say….

“There’s no shadow You won’t light up, Mountain you won’t climb up Coming After me.

There’s No wall you won’t kick down, Lie you won’t tear down, Coming after me”

You are God’s prized possession and there is nothing that you can do to lose His love to make Him not care for you and want you in His family. There is no battle that you are facing that is too mighty or too strong for Him. Psalm 36 talks about God’s faithfulness, justice, and love that is poured out on His people. Part of Psalm 36 says,

“Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies. Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your justice like the great deep. O Lord, you preserve both man and beast. How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light. Continue your love to those who know you, your righteousness to the upright in heart.”

My brothers and sisters in Christ the key to allowing our weaknesses to be exposed is knowing our creator. Knowing His unfailing love for us not just in our minds but in our hearts and souls. Allowing ourselves to become vulnerable to Him that we seek refuge under the shadow of His wings. But it’s not just knowing Him it’s knowing each other and creating a community where we can pour out hearts without fear of judgement from our fellow believers. Its allowing ourselves to be consumed by the spirit that breathes life into the world and taking time to notice when something isn’t right in the body and finding out why. It’s spending time investing in people outside of our immediate families and friends and being the support that we each need.

My story may seem extreme to some, but like Paul I am only able to speak about this pain and these difficulties because of our Lord. If you are struggling with depression, anxiety, illness, or if you just need to know that someone is willing to stand with you in the gap to give you support know that me and my team are here this week to listen and learn. It would be our honor to sit with you and pray for strength, love, comfort, anything that you may need from our Lord.

It’s when we allow ourselves to be open and vulnerable with each other that we can start using our personal testimonies, weaknesses, and struggles as a way to advance the Kingdom of God into the world by sharing His grace, power, love, and truth to those who don’t believe.

#love #Jesus Christ #jesusislord #JesusLovesYou #jesus #power #99to1 #itsaboutrelationships #notalone #depression #anxiety #seizures #relationships #vulnerable

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christopher72-cd · 4 years ago

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The life and times of a lecturer in lockdown

I am a lecturer in learning disabilities nursing. This month (May), I should have been celebrating my fifth anniversary at work with my colleagues around me. Five years ago, l said goodbye to my colleagues in CAMHS. Before that I had done several jobs which always put me in direct contact with human beings. Over the years, l have learnt to work with people, be surrounded by people, to be supported, sometimes supervised, sometimes supervising, I spent many hours working with children and their families. Basically, I have done people-facing jobs.

The first week was fine. I still had a backlog of emails and bits of work to mark. Then slowly but surely, meeting requests online, tutorial requests, questions about placements, students requiring support, phishing emails and everything else that I would not get in my inbox started coming in. For five years I have been relying on my colleagues; fellow lecturers, student records team, assessment team, IT department among others for support. Whenever I am asked a million-dollar- question, they are always my phone-a-friend, depending of course, on the nature of the question. I have them all on speed dial. However, lately this has not been��the issue. Believe you me, I have some of the best team around me who would do anything they can to help but they have not been here in the last nine weeks. They have not been here because where they are right now is where l am too. ALONE is the place.

Thank you

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calorieworkouts · 6 years ago

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CrossFit Ruined My Confidence and Sent Me to the Hospital. Here’s Why I Still Do It

Over the previous One Decade, the fitness market has actually played out a whole lot like a zombie flick. Somewhere in a remote edge of California, a health and fitness craze breaks out, contaminating exercise enthusiasts in a viral spread that starts with an unpleasant impulse but quickly comes to be an indivisible part of the host's life. It's been a years into the epidemic recognized as "CrossFit," and the daring holdouts face loss as the sector breaks down around them in a mess of kettlebells, calf-length socks, as well as bloody pull-up bars.

Of program, CrossFitters might see it differently.

CrossFit is a health and fitness method that methods useful activities-- every little thing from running to gymnastics and also Olympic-style weight-lifting-- carried out at high intensity (frequently indicating "as quickly as possible"). Over the previous years, it's grown from a handful of affiliated gyms in the UNITED STATE to nearly 8,000 throughout the globe.

I've been CrossFitting given that late 2011, and because time, it's constructed me up, busted me down, triggered me to vomit, started much more bodily treatment consultations than I could count on fingers as well as toes, and sent me to the cosmetic surgeon's table for wrist reconstruction. I've seen others tear muscular tissues, knock themselves out on pull-up bars, and also, yes, establish the feared condition rhabdomyolysis (" rhabdo" for brief, a problem in which the body encounters fast muscular tissue malfunction in reaction to anxiety). Despite all that, I still hit the fitness center four or 5 times a week for stomach-wrenching exercises. Here's why.

The Community

When I found CrossFit in late 2011, I was frantically browsing for social electrical outlets. I 'd recently graduated from college and transferred to New York. The city verified both a dream and a headache for a country kid from Kentucky. Though I rejected to confess, I was still reeling from the fatality of my mother's grandpa. In spite of some superb good friends and also coworkers bordering me, I felt lonelier compared to ever before before.

What very first convinced me to join a local "box" (vernacular in the neighborhood for a CrossFit affiliate, or health club) wasn't the guarantee of intense workouts and a fitter body, it was the feeling of area. At an introduction class at a neighboring CrossFit gym, I was a lot more captivated by the sociability, support, as well as kindness than any of the grueling exercises. Members were pushing themselves and also each various other to the verge, then switching contact number as well as making plans to head out on the town after they would certainly recuperated from the day's punishment.

Shared suffering, mutual suck, call it what you will certainly: Pressing yourself to the physical limitation with complete strangers could breed friendships quicker compared to almost anything else I have actually witnessed. CrossFitters get a bum rap for being a zealous, overly affordable team, but that's just partly real. For several in the community, competition starts and finishes with on your own, and every exercise is an opportunity to prove you can press on your own additionally and also much faster than the day previously. (An excellent example imagined above: Me after my very first 500 extra pound deadlift, finished with a lot of good friends viewing.) In CrossFit competitions, it's a typical website to see people finish their workouts and instantly shift from athletes to supporters, yelling support at those they're seemingly contending against-- also when's there's cash on the line.

Joining a CrossFit associate led to several of my toughest connections and also provided me access to good friends with various jobs, interests, and backgrounds. It's been a very useful way to locate common ground with all type of individuals, both inside as well as outside the box.

The Knowledge

I've experienced hurt in CrossFit workouts, including (at the very least) 2 sprained ankles, a drawn back, small hamstring splits, and joint impingements. In late April 2013, the day after a particularly hard and also arm-intensive collection of exercises, I woke up to an inflamed right wrist. When four months of bodily treatment as well as remainder showed futile, I undertook a wrist reconstruction in mid-August. (The picture to the right is of me in the healing space.) I'm only currently obtaining back right into my old workout program, relearning motions that used to appear like second nature.

But to condemn CrossFit for this or other injuries would be a mistake. As with all health and fitness endeavors, it depends on the specific professional athlete as well as his or her instructors to produce a safe setting that minimizes the threat of injury. My fellow CrossFitters had nudged me over and over again to take far better treatment of my joints by using wrist wraps, icing, and also taking more remainder days, guidance I routinely disregarded. I disregarded my body's indicators and also wound up experiencing hurt, something the CrossFit area warns against.

While CrossFitters love pushing the body to its limitations, the area is likewise obsessed with raising knowledge concerning our fantastic human machines. CrossFit's emphasis on flexibility and also recovery strategies has actually brought considerable focus to just what we do around workout, assisting to popularize every little thing from weightlifting shoes to self-myofascial release (aka foam rolling). CrossFit numbers like physiotherapist Kelly Starrett and also activity expert Carl Paoli have functioned to get people across the world more in song with their bodies. CrossFit's methodology highlights a recognition of just how the body functions, as well as the neighborhood has welcomed that pursuit of understanding as an integral component of their experience.

Of training course, CrossFit's emphasis on expanding our understanding of the body has also backfired. By taking wonderful pains to enlighten its coaches as well as athletes on problems like "rhabdo" (it's an essential component of the fundamental CrossFit qualification training course), CrossFit has swiftly as well as wrongly end up being marked as the primary reason for severe overtraining. Yes, I've observed a buddy create rhabdomyolysis while CrossFitting. I additionally understand people who have created it throughout football practices, "regular" strength training in an university health club, and even physical treatment sessions.

CrossFit is still a reasonably brand-new and creating health and fitness methodology, and it will certainly take time before instructors and professional athletes figure out the most safe means to train. Different CrossFit affiliates will certainly likewise vary in the encounter and also skill of their trains, making it a lot more important for individuals to be conscious of how their body replies to training. With their emphasis on expertise and also education and learning, the community is definitely off to a strong start.

The Fitness

I am not, neither will I ever before be, an elite CrossFit professional athlete. In the past, I hit the gym on a daily basis aiming to stay on par with a few of New york city City's elite professional athletes, my failing was a serious experience. I have actually been lucky enough to educate alongside several of CrossFit's leading professional athletes, from sharing reminders with numerous Gamings champions to adding a hill in Iceland with 10 of Europe's fittest males and women (it goes without saying, they beat me to the top). Practically every one of my normal training companions can smoke me on any type of offered WOD, as well as their performances as soon as irritated me when I contrasted it to my own, less-than-impressive results.

These days, however, I'm even more concerned with boosting my very own performance than contrasting it to somebody else's, as well as I'm fortunate to educate along with people who value that objective. CrossFit has actually certainly made me fitter and more powerful than I've ever been, and also the awareness that I'm improving each day is sufficient to solidify the sting of understanding I'll never win the CrossFit Games.

The human body has constraints, organic brakes that differ from someone to the next. Regardless of the intensity of competition, as well as a couple vocal, over-zealous individuals who show up every now and then, I have yet to see a solitary CrossFitter judge or be judged due to their health and fitness level. In my humble point of view, that's the solitary most effective consider getting rid of the stigmas still bordering the fitness industry.

The Takeaway

No two individuals's overviews on fitness are rather the very same, and also the CrossFit neighborhood is no exception. CrossFit damaged me down in means nothing else venture ever before has, yet to me its values has always been among self-discovery as well as enhancement, not failure as well as envy. And that's why I continuously do it.

#best workout #best workout routine #exercise #fitness #fitness center #gym #health #health and fitness #health club #the fitness center #weight #work out #work out routine #workout #workout program

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dyscopian · 7 years ago

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A Year on My Own

I’m terrible about blogging, or journal keeping in general. I’ve tried them all: previous tumblrs (agentslander which is now just a mess of SPN memes and gifs; the other is brendonurie, given to me by a friend years ago that kind of just turned into reblogging fan art because I feel obligated to post something when I have over 75k followers), word presses, bound books, composition notebooks and ugh, I wish that I could keep up with my bullet journal as well as I’d like, because I’m always coming across new spreads for it but I never stick to it.

It’s doubtful that this will be any different, but I’m into my third glass of wine and instead of working on any of my novels like I should be, I’m tinkering around with all the thoughts about my own life.

A blog has to start somewhere, and while I hope to use this more to run around with ideas for novels, character development and short stories, I also want to use it as a place to just work through my own thought processes.

My lease is almost up, which means it’s been almost a year now since I started out on this little venture that feels like true adulthood. I’ve been reflecting on that a lot over the last few weeks and just processing everything that’s happened in a year and what I’ve learned.

It’s funny how I have a ten year old daughter and had been married for several years but this last year has been the first year since 2008 that I’ve been on my own without living with roommates, friends, family or lovers. It’s given me a chance to really explore myself and find my identity in solitude. The last time I lived alone it was about finding my identity outside of my broken marriage, but this time around it’s had a more positive spin even if there’s been trials and tribulations.

I can sage my house without religious judgement, light incense and sit in a lowly lit room with a glass of wine or a bowl of weed and write, listen to music, read, mess around with tarot cards all while listening to music loudly or letting repeat episodes of Doctor Who play, or just enjoy the silence with the faint sound of my cat purring next to me or my chickens clucking around at my feet with their happy little trills.

That’s me, curled up on the couch watching documentaries on things that will kill in the Victorian home or watching Outlander and wishing the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who were real, because how awesome I think it would be to be sent back in time. I get to be weird and I get to be myself.

In the last year, I’ve graduated from college, learned how to take care of chickens of all things, found what I will and won’t tolerate in a job, friends and partner. I’ve met some of the most incredible people who have helped me discover things about myself. I’ve gotten out of a dead end relationship. I’ve learned the struggle of balancing bills on a low income, which has been a greater struggle than when I had been balancing them in a marriage.

I’ve been to a protest and experienced the rage of knowing the way the media twists events in favor of the system, in order to protect what’s broken rather than stand with the truth to fix it. I can stay out if I want to stay out and come home when I want without having to check in with someone.

These all seem like simple things and maybe I’m experiencing them later in life than a lot of other people but I met my ex husband when I was nineteen and from there never got to experience the independence that so many other people I know had before they settled down. And you never really know independence until you’re truly on your own.

I found out I can still break my own heart by falling for the wrong person. That may not seem like a beautiful thing, but it is. It’s been almost eight years since my divorce and nearly a decade since I let myself feel anything even close to relating to passion. People can’t hurt you if you don’t let them in and despite all my desires to let others in and trying my hand at a few relationships, I could never bring down my walls enough to give them any vulnerable part of me.

It threw me into this whole idea that I might be asexual, but I’m not. If anything, over the last year I’ve begun to embrace the fact that I am bisexual more than any other box that I might be shoved in and I’m standing up for that now, speaking louder about it rather than just shrugging it off and trying to figure out what’s so wrong with me that I can’t open up to the men that I thought I should be able to.

I chose relationships with people who I was better off being friends with and because of such the relationships lacked passion and chemistry because I tried to force myself to feel something that wasn’t there for me, like I was trying to fill a role I was supposed to fill; but, I know now that I am fully capable of feeling passion and taking risks in being vulnerable. That, regardless of the circumstances that make it impossible for anything to develop, says I’m not as dead inside after my divorce as I thought I was after nearly a decade of being shut down towards others. Which is incredibly beautiful. It’s the latest lesson I’ve learned and I almost didn’t get that chance.

I tried to commit suicide back in July. I downed an entire prescription of Amitriptyline days before Chester Bennington committed suicide and ended up in the hospital two days after I took the pills. It wasn’t rational or thought out. I was just exhausted. Every paycheck coming short for rent and my other bills. Starving myself for days to make sure my child got fed and utilities stayed on. Unhappy and unheard in my relationship.

I had gotten into a fight with my psychiatrist the day of the overdose because I had gone off a medication that was interfering with the Amitriptyline I had been given for my migraines by the neurologist that she had recommended I see. She took me entirely off my anxiety meds because I wasn’t “compliant”, when those were the pills I needed more than the ones I had been told to go off of by the neurologist. It was just a catalyst after trying for over a year to work with her to get into TALK therapy, only to be thrown on all these medications that were making me sick and making my mental state worse.

Just a few months prior I had lost my circle of supposed friends over childish drama with some girls whose popularity on the internet trumped rational thought and whose mindset hadn’t moved past the he said she said of high school. After my overdose, I lost the last one in that circle because my attempt was inconvenient for her and she put my business on the internet and the circumstances for over 1,500 strangers to see on her Facebook on how people shouldn’t talk about suicide to her because it upset her; almost within the same breath of having told me to always come to her when things get to how they were.

My attempt and Chester’s suicide so soon after was a wake up call. I hadn’t been that low since my ex husband and I had separated before the divorce. Even my miserable experience in Pennsylvania hadn’t gotten my mind that bad. I’m not a suicidal person by nature. I fear death, because there’s too much left in this world to experience and I thrive off learning. Can’t do that if you’re dead. I went off all the medications entirely and I’m myself again, able to cope better with my ups and downs without the chemicals in my head being thrown off by all these artificial replacements.

Not that I’m an advocate for that as it does help some people function better depending on their condition. It’s just I’ve never had a condition that anyone’s ever been able to pinpoint as one thing, so they never could figure out what medications I might actually need. Ask one doctor and they’ll tell you I’m bipolar. Ask another, they’ll tell you I suffer from PTSD from my childhood. Another tried to diagnose me with summer seasonal disorder. My old boss thought I was a mix of OCD, anxiety disorders and cyclothymia. As a teenager, they tried to diagnose me as borderline personality disorder, which has NEVER fit me and came with a stigma I never earned or deserved.

They don’t know anything and they don’t take the time to talk to me to find out anything, they just throw labels of diagnosis around. Psychiatry isn’t an exact science because we still don’t fully understand the brain. Pills don’t fix me, getting me to focus on my proper coping skills fixes me. I can only rely on myself for that. That’s why I art in any form I can, but most importantly, it’s why I write and I couldn’t write while so sick and drugged up.

The cocktail of medications I was on was what was killing me, not the stress, as I’ve been able to manage it better since my system’s been clean of anything but weed, my mini pill birth control (so no estrogen) for my endometriosis and B complex. But it’s another lesson I’ve had to relearn while balancing adulthood on my own and I’m thankful for that too, that I’m even still here. I shouldn’t be. Not after that much Amitriptyline. I’m not a religious person, but clearly I’m not done learning and experiencing. Chalk it up to whatever you believe in. I just think my story isn’t finished.

Being on my own has helped me escape. I grew up an only child, so I need space. I’m an empath by nature. My dad used to tell me I was too sensitive and I had to learn to quit, but I never did. It’s why I hate religion because I see how it hurts others and I feel that. I feel the political situation in this country and all the damage it’s causing to humanity. I’m a sponge for information, but I also take in all those emotions of everything and everyone around me. Animals, peoples, things. I feed off energy. It’s draining. I have a certain allotment of what I can handle socially and then I need my space from all human contact.

The independence I have now gives me that and I get the chance to detox from the world. I haven’t had the ability to do that in a long time, but I’ve had the chance this year to recognize how badly I needed that opportunity and to do so again, without judgement or people jumping to conclusions as to why I might not have any interest in socializing. It’s not a lack of interest, it’s too much interest. Now I know that it’s okay that I do that, that I step back sometimes, and I recognize that when I couldn’t before because I was always surrounded by people. It’s just me, who I am and I get to embrace it and that’s been eye opening. Everything this last year has been.

There’s no rhyme or reason for any of this. Consider these all just wine thoughts and reflection. I like to ramble. If anyone even read all this, kudos to you.

#personal #blog

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heavymetalkitten · 8 years ago

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The Survivor Chronicles Part 1

I never imagined overcoming something would be this hard. Relearning how to walk, dress myself, tie my shoes, and even wash my hair in the shower was one thing and it took many months to achieve. However, lately I have been dealing with a new situation. I am noticing I am no longer the person I used to be and I have no idea whether to be sad or happy about it. My anxiety is at an all time high and not being able to drive at night makes things severely difficult. My judgement and perception of time also causes me to either forget things or be really early for plans. I am beginning to avoid all human contact and intentionally canceling plans. I do this to focus on my schoolwork but I also know I do this because I honestly get extremely exhausted. My mind is so so so tired all the time and I just want to watch x files and sleep. I have officially become an introvert. This is so shocking in all honesty. Three years ago I was going out every night. Doing things I probably shouldn’t have been and was walking on the wild side. In just a matter of minutes my entire world changed. I had an awakening and I now know that there is more to life than just partying and making “friends” that aren’t really your friends. Although, I sometimes fathom how different my life would be had none of this occurred....

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christopher72-cd · 4 years ago

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The first week was fine. I still had a backlog of emails and bits of work to mark. Then slowly but surely, meeting requests online, tutorial requests, questions about placements, students requiring support, phishing emails and everything else that I would not get in my inbox started coming in. For five years I have been relying on my colleagues; fellow lecturers, student records team, assessment team, IT department among others for support. Whenever I am asked a million-dollar- question, they are always my phone-a-friend, depending of course, on the nature of the question. I have them all on speed dial. However, lately this has not been the issue. Believe you me, I have some of the best team around me who would do anything they can to help but they have not been here in the last nine weeks. They have not been here because where they are right now is where l am too. ALONE is the place.

Today all that has changed. Has Covid19 inspired us to work differently? Will things ever be the same post Covid19? I do not have the answer. All l know is that I miss my colleagues, their kindness, their advice, their inspiration, their knowledge; not to mention the social aspect, the cups of tea/coffee, cakes in the office, the sights and sounds of the school. I miss the ladies in the cafes. I miss the cleaning team who always greet me with a friendly Hello. The IT guys. The LAB Techs. The guys in the assessments’ office. Student records team. The team meetings. The banter. Our school slimming world club (I am 9pounds heavier). The list goes on. Most of all I miss the students, the very reason I wake up and go to work. Today I wake up and come to my laptop which l must admit is asking itself what on earth hit this man’s head.

Thank you

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christopher72-cd · 4 years ago

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The first week was fine. I still had a backlog of emails and bits of work to mark. Then slowly but surely, meeting requests online, tutorial requests, questions about placements, students requiring support, phishing emails and everything else that I would not get in my inbox started coming in. For five years I have been relying on my colleagues; fellow lecturers, student records team, assessment team, IT department among others for support. Whenever I am asked a million-dollar- question, they are always my phone-a-friend, depending of course, on the nature of the question. I have them all on speed dial. However, lately this has not been the issue. Believe you me, I have some of the best team around me who would do anything they can to help but they have not been here in the last nine weeks. They have not been here because where they are right now is where l am too. ALONE is the place.

Thank you

0 notes