#i've had a raging headache all day and no energy so i wanted to make smth simple that didn't require detailed linework

[quirkle2]

he likes being dramatic

[midnightkens]

TW: Sudden death of a partner, self-blame

--

The house is far too quiet.

Ken's gaze flit about the living room. A gentle breeze trickles in from the open window, and if he pays close enough attention, he hears crickets chirping from somewhere in the distance. The world keeps spinning. Bottles clink in the next yard over, and Ken scowls at the roar of laughter that follows.

How can anyone laugh right now? His world came to a screeching halt six weeks ago. He shudders and wraps his blanket tighter around himself. The blanket still smells like Ryan, but it's a cold comfort. Traces of his partner are scattered all about the room, from his running shoes by the door, a half-finished painting on its canvas, the book he was reading on the coffee table.

It's Ken's very own time capsule.

"You can move some of it," Barbie suggests gently. "He - "

"No," Ken snaps. Barbie flinches, and he squirms with guilt. He'll apologize later, when he has the energy. "I can't."

Ken closes his eyes, willing the onslaught of memories to leave him alone, but he knows it's wishful thinking. Ryan haunts his dreams, face contorted with rage, it's your fault I'm dead, why didn't you stay home, I thought you loved me?

Barbie, Gloria, and Sasha are kind enough to lie to him, but Ken wishes they would tell him the truth. It's all his fault; he already knows it, so what difference would it make? They probably talk about him, how worthless he is, how badly he fucked up. After all, they have plenty of time. They're holed up in the same house, and Ken's been cast aside, lost, adrift, and alone.

Ken buries his head in his hands. He's not being fair. They've been reaching out, trying to get him to talk, inviting him over and begging him to spend time with them. He can't make his hands reach for his phone. It's too much energy.

He doesn't matter that much anyway

"Maybe I should stay home." Ken puts his bag down and leans against the doorframe. Nervous energy buzzes through him, white-hot and angry. Ryan needs him. Why? Ken doesn't know. He only knows that he does.

Ryan swivels around in his seat and raises an eyebrow. "Ken, I'm fine. I've been looking at the screen for too long. I'm going to take some medicine, go to bed, and I'll be fine. It's a headache. Stop fretting."

Ken had gone off to work, trying to shake the uneasy feeling off. But Ryan didn't answer two, four, five and a half hours later. Six hours into his twelve hour shift, he races home, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The house was eerily silent, and Ken remembers the stairs creaking as he climbed them, getting tunnel vision as he walked down the hall and into the bedroom he shared with his husband.

A massive brain aneurysm, the doctors told him. He hadn't felt a thing.

Ken hasn't slept in his bed in weeks. Hasn't even entered the room. How is he ever supposed to go in that room again, surrounded by his clothes, his cologne, his side of the bed, empty and cold? The couch is fine. It's not the comfiest to sleep on, but that's fine.

Ken doesn't deserve comfort. He's a paramedic. He has pretty damn good instincts, instincts that were screaming at him to stay home that day, instincts that he ignored.

Ryan's dead, because he failed him. His husband's trust lay cradled in the palm of his hand, and Ken broke it. Destroyed it. He's existed for over seventy-five years. Ryan didn't even get fifty.

They didn't even get ten years together. Seven years isn't enough time for anything. They had so many plans! And it slipped through his fingers, because even years after becoming human, he's an idiot who makes the same mistakes over and over.

He never deserved Ryan anyway. It should've been him.

But it wasn't, and he just knows that his family thinks the same.

It's fine. He doesn't need them.

They can't give him what he wants, so why bother?

[avaantares]

Word Finder Tag Game

I was tagged by @lauravanarendonkbaugh for this word finder!

My assigned words: none, unbelievable, blister, sweet

These excerpts are from my Guardian/Zhen Hun WIP Picture Imperfect, which I promise I really am working on! It's pushing 100K (and will end up well over, because apparently I can't keep a plot simple to save my life).

None

Xiao Guo fidgeted. “Do you think there’s any chance of finding our things before we leave?”

“Things?” Zhao Yunlan glanced down at himself and swore aloud—his jacket was missing, along with his wallet and phone. And his shoulder holster.

Which meant their captors now had the dark energy gun.

“They took my bag, too.” Xiao Guo looked less optimistic than he had before. “It had my journal in it.”

Zhao Yunlan couldn’t have cared less if Guo Changcheng’s journal were eaten by pygmy goats, but there was no question of leaving his revolver behind; it was irreplaceable, not to mention extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. “We’ll have to get our stuff back, then. Do you know where they might have taken it? How deep is this cave system? How many steps did you count when we were brought in?”

“Um. None?”

Only Zhao Yunlan’s raging headache kept him from slapping his forehead with both palms. “Xiao Guo. How could you not pay attention to anything? Were your eyes even open?!”

Xiao Guo flinched. “Well, once we got close to the mountain, they put us to sleep. When I woke up, we were already in here.”

“Oh, I see. Then—” Zhao Yunlan froze. “Wait. Put us to sleep? Were you drugged?”

Xiao Guo shook his head. “I think it was a dark energy power. One of them just touched my face, and I was out.”

“A dark energy power?” Zhao Yunlan hissed. “You mean the people who captured us were from Dixing? And you didn’t think this was important to mention sooner?”

“Well, I don’t think all of them are from Dixing. I thought I saw some Yashou, too—there were some people wearing feathers, and some with leaves on their clothes. And maybe some humans? Though it’s hard to know for certain, if they aren’t using powers. I didn’t think it would be very polite to ask, so I didn’t say anything.”

Zhao Yunlan wondered—not for the first time—if Haixing Inspectorate would actually punish him for strangling an employee.

Unbelievable / Blister

[These words just happened to appear in the same scene, and there really wasn't a good place to break it into two sections, so I've left it as one chunk.]

Xiao Guo was doing an excellent job addressing his physical needs just now, but Zhao Yunlan possessed enough self-awareness to recognize that his feeing of dissatisfaction wasn’t about the pain. What Zhao Yunlan truly wanted wasn’t to stop hurting—it was to have Shen Wei look him in the face and tell him that everything was going to be all right. That they would be able to get back to the right time somehow, and they would stop whatever evil schemes Ye Zun was cooking up, and that he wouldn’t make a bad call and get Xiao Guo killed a million years before he was born. That Zhao Yunlan could do this without betraying the trust that his team and the entire realm of Haixing had placed in him.

For all the poorly-conceived, unbelievable lies Shen Wei had told to try to cover his tracks in the early days of their acquaintance, Zhao Yunlan knew that he was never dishonest about the really important things. If Shen Wei told him that it would be fine, he would believe him.

But Zhao Yunlan hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Shen Wei since he’d raced off to battle, even though the fighting was over now, according to the officers their young soldier escort had hunted up to explain the situation to while Zhao Yunlan had been un- and then semi-conscious. And even if Shen Wei were here, he wouldn’t look at Zhao Yunlan with the trust and confidence he needed to see. This Shen Wei thought him to be a spy and a crook, and would probably just as soon dig a hot knife into those blisters on the back of Zhao Yunlan’s hand as soothe them the way Guo Changcheng was attempting to.

Sweet

“Wait. Last I remember, I was sitting outside. How did I get here?”

“I carried you.”

Zhao Yunlan was suddenly grateful for the obscuring darkness as heat flooded his cheeks. He’d already discovered that Shen Wei could lift him easily, but it was a hell of a lot less sexy to be scooped up and carried around asleep, like a napping toddler.

Shen Wei must have sensed the awkwardness. “You… did seem exhausted,” he ventured. “You all but collapsed the moment you stopped moving.”

That, too, was a bit embarrassing, even though Zhao Yunlan knew his fatigue was more than justified. His body was not conditioned to endure the kind of strain and privation an ancient military leader like the real Kunlun evidently would have been prepared for. “I guess I’m not used to marching on an empty stomach.”

Shen Wei pushed the light into the air, where it hovered just above their heads, and fished a small cloth sack out of their baggage. “Here, eat some fruit. The sweetness will restore your energy.”

.

Tagging @omaenanimonoda, @lhaewiel, and @gmariam321 with the words return, continent, paper, and miserable.

[sorcerymuses]

One (1) person asked me this and I'm going to provide for Broppy Day. Rewind, Rewrite, Restart is turning into a major slice of life fic, and of course I've got several chapters ready and waiting to post. But this is where our lovely couple is currently without spoiling the fic...

After the party, Poppy and the family helped get Branch's gifts to the Bunker and when she was the last one in the Bunker with Branch, he caught her hand.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"The party was Trickee's idea," she laughed. Branch shook his head and Poppy tilted her head.

"That's not…," he sighed. "Just…for everything."

"Branch…," she giggled and kissed him lightly. "I love you. And you know me…'I love you' means you are never getting rid of me."

"I would never want to get rid of you," he laughed. She felt his hair twine with hers and Poppy grinned at him. He kissed her and suddenly swung her out in a spin.

Poppy laughed and looked at him when she came to a stop. He reached for her hand and pulled her into a slow sway, humming a little.

If I never knew you

If I never felt this love

I would have no inkling of

How precious life can be

He started singing and she teared up. He hadn't really sung much since they were on the way to Bergentown, and she wasn't going to fault him. Twenty years of silence made it hard to just…jump back into singing at random. In the dream, he'd sang two songs practically back-to-back, but she could attribute that to the energy of what was going on.

If I never held you

I would never have a clue

How at last I find in you

The missing part of me

He continued and the swaying became a proper waltz around his living room. She vaguely knew that their hair was still tangled together. Poppy couldn't help but hum along, catching his melody like it was second nature.

In this world so full of fear

Full of rage and lies

I can see the truth so clear

In your eyes, so dry your eyes

He wiped her cheek as he sang and she realized a few tears had slipped. She smiled at him, trying to convey that they were happy tears. He smiled right back, spinning her out again.

And I'm so grateful to you

I'd have lived my whole life through

Lost forever

If I never knew you

He pulled her back and she settled in his arms, back to his chest and his arms hugging around her. That perfect fit that she never felt with anyone.

I thought our love would be so beautiful

Somehow, we'd make the whole world bright

I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong

All they'd leave us were these whispers in the night

But still my heart is saying we were right

For-

Poppy started singing, content to just sway in the living room like that, nestled in his arms.

If I never knew you (There's no moment I regret)

If I never knew this love (Since the moment that we met)

I would have no inkling of (If our time has gone to past)

How precious life can be (I've lived at last)

She continued and he responded eagerly as she turned in his arms and kissed him lightly.

And I'm so grateful to you

I'd have lived my whole life through

Empty as the sky

He sang softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

Never knowing why

Poppy whispered as she pressed another kiss to his lips.

Lost forever

If I never knew you

They harmonized and he pulled her into a deeper kiss. Mouths open, tongues dancing around each other.

"I should get home…," she whispered when they broke for air.

"Do you have to?" he mumbled. Poppy thought about it. She felt more at home down here in the bunker than in her pod, actually. And why shouldn't she? She'd practically moved in towards the end of the dream…and that pod was practically foreign to her now. A constant reminder of the changes that never got to be made…of how she used to be.

"Hm…," she hummed. "I am home," she decided. Branch smiled at her and they went to the bedroom, cuddling as they fell asleep. Yeah. This was home. Or rather…Branch was her home.

~~~

Branch woke early with a massive headache. He was tangled with Poppy, as he was getting used to. He lifted his head to look at the clock. Midnight. Way too damn early. He tried to settle back into the bed and go back to sleep, but the throbbing in his head wouldn't be ignored. So, he carefully untangled from Poppy and went to the bathroom, reaching for his medicine cabinet and his painkillers. He paused before opening the cabinet, catching his reflection. And something odd in his hair. There was a sprig of red hair in his deep indigo hair. Branch frowned and reached for it. It was a completely different texture than his own hair, and as he searched for the root of it, his hand connected with something hard.

He gasped and parted his hair to reveal an egg nestled against his scalp. No wonder his head hurt.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

he apologized

I dressed like a princess when I went to the bus stop

on purpose like I was dressing for war

I was gonna come to the fight looking soft

he waited until my kid got off the bus

gave me time to know he was there

I knew there was a reason I was guided to meditate

I told my kid to keep walking to the house

he likely didn't need to be part of the theatrics

god i fucking hate controntation

but when you're living your past consciously

as a 36 year old woman talking to her estranged dad

in another form so that you can finally

conquer whatever demon is still inside you

to prove to yourself you actually won't take any shit

embody all this poetic fervor of an energy

wow emotions get really metaphysical

the natural biology of grief and fire of spirit

I've had to hit up the angels a couple times today

I let him see the naked rage of my expression

and I'm proud because I didn't cry

and I was shaking but I managed to hide it well

my lip likely quivered which made part of me furious

and he tried every gentle man's way to deflect

all the pain the threat of his actions inspired in me

catching me off guard like that

using his car as an audible weapon

thinking it was okay to be angry

and scare the shit out of me out of nowhere

likely thought he was teaching me a lesson

I told him my story and I taught him mine

he thought his apology and humble approach

was all it took and it wasn't

the only reason my children weren't scared

is because they knew if anything was really dangerous

I'd become more dangerous

that faith is really something when they've

never actually seen me angry to the point

of being possessed by the god of justice

but I think all my singing in the shower

in times of raging stress gave them a clue

I finally told him it was not okay

and of his behavior just because he was angry

about something he felt was important

and no one, especially not just another old man

with a mean fat ugly wife who controlled him

with her own twisted cruelty she never healed in herelf

was going to talk to me like that

I was my own daddy

and my daddy didn't like how he treated me

so I was there to let him know

it wouldn't happen again

it wasn't my best monologue

but this is my first time really playing

on this stage of life as myself fully

and I'm still becoming

because nothing makes any fucking logical sense

and my emotions are still new friends I'm learning

how to trust and listen to without

wanting to completely leave my body

especially when I could just accept that apology

and stifle every part of my truth

still burning inside of me

I am glad I've venting all the previous versions

of what I wanted to tell him on here

because things really could have gotten ugly

thank you tumblr for your generous void

time to live the rest of the day

i have such a fucking headache

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

That last threat was almost a welcome temptation in comparison to the pounding headache Cyno could feel with each word the Wanderer spat; and he had a lot to dish out, by the looks of it. A beating of noises that struck straight inside his skull like thunderous kicks, making the matra grimace and squint, lips pressing together in a frown.

But what hurt even more than that was to feel like he was being pitied by him; it; this product of sin for which his Archon had betrayed him and everything his duty stood for. The compassion and salvation from his own misery that Cyno so desperately sought from above were being granted by this walking admonishment against greed and arrogance. It was so painfully ironic it made him want to laugh, if that itself weren't so painful right now.

"I guess this is my punishment..." He muttered to himself on the crest of that thought, not bothering to share context with his unwitting executioner.

Instead, he forced in another labored deep breath through the nose, blinking his eyes a couple times, forcibly, to dispel the dark spots that dotted the edges of his vision. He had no idea where they were; he didn't even know where he'd been stumbling about in his final moments on the surface. It would have been much easier if that storm had entombed him and put him out of his misery.

These ruins could be one of many he knew, or one he'd never seen. The Red Sands swallowed and regurgitated the rotting carcasses of civilization like undigestible bones every day.

All he could perceive was the smell of old; stale air and the lingering odor of oil. He heard the distant sound of howling winds from somewhere far above, and cloth flapping in disturbance somewhere in the hall. Maybe they were in some kind of ceremonial hall.

"Drag me out and take me where... exactly?" He rattled back in irritation, the bite in his voice only vaguely softened by fatigue. "The storm is right upon us. We have nowhere to go but right into its mouth. It's the desert who will be calling the shots here... not me, or you."

And even were that not the case, well...

If there really was someone out there who'd be disappointed in him...

Tighnari?

Collei?

Lord Kusanali?

He'd let them down a long time ago. Today was just the day Cyno could truly see how.

"... This is a fit place to be for what's been forsaken and discarded, and I've been... grasping at straws long enough for a purpose I no longer serve." He lamented, and thought, now that his energy had become too low for blind rage to feast on adrenaline-induced fuel, that maybe part of that anger had been misplaced.

His resentment came and went in waves, bouncing around trying to find an ultimate culprit without settling on anyone, from Ren, to Nahida, to the Gods as a whole, and those responsible of his own past suffering, and then to somewhere else, someplace, something forgotten in the fog of his memory that he could give no name or face to.

Either way, that did not change anything.

"The one she needs now... is you, not me." Cyno concluded somberly, casting a rueful look in direction of the vaguely glowing form, then around. Right, Ren at least should get out, once the storm had passed.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could see the traces of elemental particles. There was a draft going from the distant ceiling to somewhere across the room. Not enough to create a strong current, but the sign that there was air flow. The place had an exit somewhere.

"Rooms like this typically have a console somewhere that controls the lighting and doorways... see if you can find it." He grunted, and it sounded a bit like an order, despite what the puppet had just declared earlier. Force of habit.

sour  attitude  aside,  ren  likes  to  imagine  he  has  a  decent  amount  of  patience.  he  can  endure  inconvenience  after  inconvenience,  setback  after  setback  —  not  without  a  bit  of  (  justified  )  COMPLAINING,  but  never  losing  sight  of  his  priorities.  it's  that  particular  brand  of  diligence  that  allows  him  to  be  such  an  efficient  tool.  even  now,  though  this  little  excursion  has  been  nothing  but  a  miserable  succession  of  increasing  inconveniences,  he's  still  ultimately  maintained  his  focus.  he  needs  to  get  out  of  here.  he  needs  to  get  them  both  out  of  here.  the  human  is  hurt  and  irrational,  but  he  isn't  his  ENEMY.  dissecting  the  finer  intricacies  of  their  circumstances  is  a  waste  of  time  that  could  be  better  spent  dragging  them  somewhere  less  miserable.  he  doesn't  know  what  switch  has  flipped  in  the  general  mahamatra's  head  to  suddenly  inspire  such  hatred  and  he  doesn't  care.

...  but  then  those  three  miserable  words  spill  from  the  human's  lips  (  i  told  you  )  and  ren  feels  the  last  threads  of  his  patience  SNAP.  he  can  deal  with  being  disliked  —  it's  what  he's  accustomed  to.  yet  the  self  destructive  foolishness  swiftly  grinds  through  his  last  nerve  at  a  pace  like  no  other.

so  perhaps  it's  a  waste  of  time.  perhaps  he's  being  a  bit  foolish,  too  —  but  ren  can't  stop  himself  from  spinning  on  his  heel  and  hissing,  ❝  i  don't  CARE.  ❞   all  snarling  teeth  and  glowing  sigils.  ❝  i  don't  know  what  your  problem  is,  but  i'm  not  going  to  leave  you  to  die  just  because  you  were  STUPID  ENOUGH  to  think  a  sandstorm  is  the  perfect  place  to  hold  your  pity  party.  ❞  the  wanderer  stalks  closer,  kicking  up  waves of sand  with  the  ferocity  of  his  stride.   ❝  apparently you  think  your  life  is  some  worthless  piece  of  TRASH  you  can  just  throw  away,  but  i'm  sure  there's  someone  out  there  who  would  disagree  —  and  since  they  aren't  here  to  knock  some  much  needed  SENSE  into  that  empty  head  of  yours,  i  guess  that  means  i  have  to  be  the  one  to  do  it.  ❞

ren  stops  in  front  of  him  —  though  he  seems  almost  at  a  loss  for  how  to  proceed.  fingers  curl  and  uncurl,  as  if  in  anticipation  of  clashing  against  an  ENEMY  he  can't  see.  ❝  shut  up.  ❞   the wanderer  growls.   ❝  you  must  be  truly  delusional  if  you  believe  you're  in  any  position  to  order  ME  around.  i  do  what  i  want  and  i'm  dragging  you  out  of  here.  ❞  with  a  condescending  sneer,  he  adds,   ❝  whether  you're  conscious  for  that  depends  entirely  on  you.  ❞

[katherinegenet]

Not Your Average Ambition

When I was young - around 11 or 12, my ambition in life was to be an exorcist. I read the one lonely but graphic book my local library had on the subject (no Internet in those days, folks) and was even more convinced. Being an exorcist was what I wanted to do. I could be a priest too; that would be fine if it was necessary, and I brought up in a spiritual but secular household, thought from my reading that it probably was.

I was quite devastated when my mother explained gently to me that you could only be a priest if you were a man, and since we weren't Catholic, the whole thing looked a little tough to break into.

I considered being a nun, next, as seemed logical, although since they didn't get to do exorcisms, I wasn't sure of the total benefits. I was drawn, despite my lack of practice, or anything resembling knowledge, to a life of dedication to the spiritual, but I really did want to serve in more adventurous ways.

My raging desire to be an exorcist persisted for quite a while, despite the technical difficulties I was encountering. In fact, it continued unabated until I was home alone one evening, with unfettered access to the Sunday Night Horror movie on TV. I watched The Exorcist wide-eyed, horrified and appalled. Apparently reading about it didn't do it enough justice, and I decided that maybe being an exorcist was a bit beyond me. I didn't want to encounter things that damned scary.

So, it's almost amusing to sit here today, and realise all of a sudden, that I am actually fulfilling that vision 12 year old me had.

Fortunately, not being either male or Catholic has made any difference in the end, and like most shamanic healers, I call this aspect of service depossession, rather than exorcism. Moving on spirits who have latched on where they don't belong is an important part of things.

I think it was on reading about Daskalos that I first came across one of the most important points about possession. This was long before I began working as a healer, but it has never left my mind.

'Possession, Daskalos said, could be of three types: by ill-disposed himan spirits, by demons and by elementals. However possession can only take place if the vibration of the victim is identical with its own.' (Colin Wilson, Beyond the Occult)

Interestingly, Daskalos goes on to explain that elementals are 'throughts and desires of human beings which have come to have a life of their own. This may be either subconsciously of consciously. When human beings brood on any strong desire, 'psychic (or noetic) matter' is created, and this is the basic stuff of the universe. The 'elemental' is an inner mental picture. If the thought-desire is a negative emotion, like envy or hatred, it takes on a life of its own and moves towards the person at whom it is directed: but sooner or later it returns to its creator.' (Colin Wilson, https://amzn.to/2xdKaJ3 Beyond the Occult).

This brings up all sorts of incredibly interesting things, but for right now, we'll just concentrate on the one. Most of the depossessions I do in the course of healing, are detaching and moving on these elementals. It makes perfect sense to me that they are psychic manifestations of thoughts, because I see them most often on those who are suffering from mental illness, and who have turned their distress, disappointment, and loathing inwards. These feelings, which can be both very profound and very dark, do take form, a life of their own, and they cling to their hosts in a self-perpetuating misery.

I had an unexpected encounter of this sort once, on a visit to help someone with protection in the middle world. She was feeling threatened by her neighbour, who was in a violent state of distress, a frequent occurrence for him, fueled unfortunately, by alcohol.

On my way to help her, I had to walk right past this man's flat (apartment) and I stopped a moment to place my hands on the walls of his place and surround it in the golden light of compassionate energy. Here's how the journey went, from my journal:

I looked in his window and saw him sitting at the table, his head surrounded by a mass of black scribbles.

As Snake and Bear and I went to walk past his flat to our destination, the soul essence of the man bolted out of his door and into my arms. He was young, and blond, and somehow golden. He was also sobbing, falling to his knees. I sank down with him, arms around him, listening to him babble. He was feeling terribly guilty about something, although I couldn't quite make out what. How badly he was doing, I think, and some family matter.

We talked for a while, and his tears died a little. We talked about forgiveness and other things, I think, me still cradling him like a child. He said there was something wrong with his heart, that he couldn't forgive himself for. I laid my hand against his chest, my hand of gold. He marvelled over it. I pulled a tiny piece of coal from his heart and held it in my palm for him to see. Then I squeezed it and held it out again - a diamond.

This provoked quite the reaction, and he was on his feet, attention directed back at the part of himself still inside. Bear went into his flat and slapped a huge paw at the man's head, then came back out again. The man went in and slipped back into his body, and the scribbles writhed and seemed almost to explode. Something, a small dark entity, went flying past us and out into the night. I swear I heart it mutter as I went. When I looked in the window again, he was lying down, tired, with a headache. But I knew he would feel better for a while at least."

As you can see, this poor fella's mental state had produced an elemental attachment, which served only to make things worse. Unfortunately, our healthcare services do little to alleviate both the suffering that can give rise to such attachments, and the elementals and possessions themselves.

That's one type of depossession I do that my 12 year old self would be proud of. Perhaps I'll talk more about the spirit possessions I've seen in another post. In the meantime, realise that your thoughts and mental health are of paramount importance, and that what you think and brood upon, can and does take on a life of its own. Seek help, if you need it, and as all of us need to do no matter who we are, take care of your thoughts - sort them with care, only giving space and energy to those that really serve you to your highest ideals.

Be blessed, everyone.

.

.

Photograph is by Camadian artist Stev'nn Hall

[suchawonderfullife]

Challenges ahead, heavy metal toxicity, thyroid & hormones

Today was a challenging day. I woke up ok, but once I had breakfast and took all my remedies it went downhill. My dosages were obviously too much for my body to bare. This is normal, as initially my body may cope with a dose, but days or weeks on that dose slowly accumulating in my body becomes too much. It really sucked. I became so fatigued I felt as if my whole body was made of cement. I didn't even have the energy to keep my eyes open or speak for a while. It's usually my ammonia remedy that causes this.

My anger was bad too. Imagine a time in your life where you were absolutely fuming and ready to destroy anything that got in your way. You wanted to scream, smash things or hurt those who caused your immense anger. Maybe you even did those things. That's how angry I get simply from treatment leeching stuff out of my body. Some people have seizures, headaches, nausea, fatigue, pain etc. I do get some of those, but I go into severe rage episodes too. I'm not an outwardly angry person though, I harbour it, often becoming passive aggressive and this is why my liver is so bad (liver stores anger). My rage is most likely from working on my thyroid. We discovered my thyroid is a priority due to it being toxic with heavy metals.

Leeching heavy metals from any tissue in the body is dangerous and can make you very sick so it has to be done slowly and in small amounts. I have a remedy to pull the metals only from my thyroid and no where else and my dr said to stop taking it immediately if I notice any odd symptoms. I'm disappointed to have to stop it because of my symptoms today but I'm hoping he can just alter the dose. I also had a wave of feeling like I was sea sick and wanted to vomit. With that symptom added to the mix I quickly got my essential oils and placed some on my feet to try and relieve my symptoms. I then went outside and sat in the grass for half an hour to do some grounding.

These 2 things helped a lot. Grounding has always helped my fatigue and overall symptoms for some reason. Every time I've felt exhausted and crap and have gone and sat on the grass, my symptoms improve to the point where I no longer feel like I'm suffering.

Im feeling sad and lost today too. The person I am closest to, my partner, is back on the other side of the world. The time difference and him working long hours makes it difficult to talk. Because I don't have that main support that I can be open with, get reassurance, love and affection from and I am suffering a lot today, I just feel alone. I have my mum here, which I am of course very grateful for. But it's not the same as your partner. We've also never been a part this long. There's also this feeling of disconnect on bad days, because even though I may have support around me, they're not going through the treatment. There's no way of truly getting how it feels unless you're doing it.

In the last 2 days of treatment we worked on other things in the appointment that didn't require remedies. He did adjustments on my back and hips, aligned my top energy point with my bottom one, my parietal lobe came up as over active and he treated that and we did some colour therapy to work out which emotional states my body struggles with.

Next week we are going to work on emotional clearing, at my request. I feel that's very important to my total healing as I have started to address this through EMDR therapy. I have had significant trauma in my life including car accidents, sexual assaults, deaths, abandonment, bullying and chronic illness in itself becomes a trauma as well. I don't always work through my emotions in healthy ways, most of us don't. I realised I can be very black and white in my thinking.

If I had positive feelings about a person or hobby or experience and at some point things go bad (say they don't treat me fairly, I get kicked out of a group or I hurt myself doing something), I become so turned off it and even hate it. I tend to harbor resentment and bitterness on a deeper level and I don't know why. I remember people from primary school who weren't nice to me and I still have a strong disgust and dislike for them. How stupid is that? I guess it's like when you eat a food that makes you sick, your brain protects you from eating it again as you create a strong dislike for it. My brain has done the same with experiences or people. I hope my dr can help me work out how to change that or at least shift what I'm harbouring already.

I'm on over 20 tinctures & supplements now to get things either flushed out or built back up. I'm so grateful to be here, but it's hard. I'm allowed to be sad or frustrated or communicate that I'm struggling. Some days you feel like your body is slowing dying or out of control and you don't know when it's going to get better. It takes a very strong person to endure treatment of this magnitude that requires this much work and long term commitment. Nothing worth fighting for comes easy and even on hard days I am hopeful for my future, knowing this is building me a better life.