#it helps absolutely no one and therefore should not hold the name of 'therapy'

[little-green-lies]

Okay I don't like to read season or even episode synopsis for shows. I prefer to go into each new episode completely oblivious to what's about to go down. So this could already be confirmed but I'm pretty sure it isn't. Based on the times, the fact that they're pretty much rehashing season 2 Cheryl, and Penelope fucking Blossom once again being a thorn in all our sides..... I'm very concerned Cheryl's going back to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Except it's the 50s not the 2010s. So breaking in and out of that asylum is not only harder, it's probably downright impossible. Not to mention they wouldn't just have her watch movies and read the bible, they'd for sure try and zap her. At least in S2, at the end of the day, they lived in a fairly open minded town in terms of that. They had their socio economic divides, but the town wasn't turning on people for being gay, just their parents. But now, it's not just a parental issue...it's a societal one. Meaning no one would look at Penelope like she was a horrible mother for sending Cheryl there. They'd get it. And I for one don't trust the writers to not put us through that once again...if the way this season is progressing so far is any indication.

Anyway, I really hope I'm wrong and they drop this nonsense soon but we're only 4 episodes in to a show that still does 20+ episode long seasons.

[platoniclokiimagines]

Loki being a sucker for pet names? He says he's a monster but when you use a pet name for him he just s t o p s

WC: 1654

TW: mention of counseling and anger management

A/N: I couldn’t remember the pronouns of who sent this in, because it’s been like Two Years, hence the “Lady” used in this fic, but for future reference, when I re-open requests, if you could please let me know the pronouns you’d like in the fic, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you!

A/N 2: There were many, many ways I could have gone with this, but naturally I went a little whumpy. Sue me. And enjoy~

The first time you called Loki a pet name, you hadn’t meantanything by it.

It was your night to make dinner, and Loki, still new tobeing around the compound and therefore not as trusted by most everyone else,had been given the task of helping you with whatever you needed. You didn’tmind. Loki was quiet and didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that made them nicecompany. Certainly better that Stark and his not-so-subtle jokes and smartassquips, or Thor Thor with his twenty questions about everything Midgardianwhenever the two of you did something together.

It didn’t even make you nervous that Loki seemed to watchyour every move, like they were waiting for you to say or do something thatmight put them in danger. You just let them study you, hardly even looking upat them as you read over the recipe on your phone.

“Loki, be a doll and pass me the salt, please? It’s thatcontainer just by the stove.”

“I quite beg your pardon?”

Loki’s slightly offended tone gave you pause, and you lookedup at them, brow furrowed. “…salt? It’s a seasoning. That white,crystal-looking-”

“No, I know what salt is, Lady Y/N.”

“You don’t have to call me that. It’s just Y/N.” You smileda bit as you watched them. “…was it the term of endearment? I can stop, if itmakes you uncomfortable.”

“…endearment.” Loki seemed genuinely confused, and you filedthat away to remember it.

“…yes? Nicknames are much faster to say than Loki, God ofMischief, you know.”

“…right.” After a long moment, Loki turned to the stove andfetched the salt, as you had asked, and said nothing else as they handed it toyou.

You weren’t sure what else to say on the matter, either, soyou just smiled and murmured a quiet thank you before turning back to yourcooking.

You supposed it made sense, given everything Thor had toldyou and the rest of the Avengers about everything Loki had been through, thataffection and endearment was something Loki wasn’t accustomed to. You wouldn’tbe surprised if you found out Loki had never been called by anything other thantheir name or the snarky nicknames Tony had for them.

It seemed like a terrible way togrow up, with little affection between you and your family members. All themore reason to show it now, you decided, and it was with that thought in mindthat your mission to test out pet names for Loki came to fruition.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days passed before you comfortably had the chance to slipanother affectionate nickname into conversation with Loki. Even with such ashort time period between the two points in time, Loki had seemed to warm up toyou even more, sometimes going so far as to choose to sit on the same couchwith you as they read, while you either watched tv or fiddled on your phone.

Not wanting to make them uncomfortable, you waited to makesure that you were the only two in the room before you glanced over at them,mostly so you could watch their reaction. “Loki, dear, can you hand me theremote? I’ll turn it down so it’s quieter for you to read.”

Just as before, Loki hesitated, like they weren’t entirelysure how to handle being calledsomething affectionate, and it took them a few moments before they seemed tosnap out of it. “…that’s really not necessary, L… Y/N. I’m used to reading in far louder environments. You think Thor’sloud now, you wouldn’t believe theamount of noise he made as a teenager.”

You laughed a bit. “Yes, I imagine Thor was one of thosekids that was easily excitable and loud in expression.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Loki smiled a little, as well, andyou released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

One way or another, you weregoing to get Loki used to being treated nicely. Even if it took months.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As part of the agreement that ensured Loki could stay on atthe compound, Loki had been placed in an array of different therapy sessions,ranging from anger management to sibling counseling with Thor to just regularone-on-one counseling.

Unfortunately, that meant that sometimes Loki came back fromthem in a storm of a bad mood, wanting nothing more than to separate themselffrom the rest of the group and sulk somewhere where they could beself-deprecating or angry or hurt in peace.

You hadn’t particularlymeant to stumble upon Loki in one of these moods; mostly, you just wanted tomake sure that they were okay, and to see if there was anything you could do orget for them.

Hesitantly, you knocked on the door, not wanting to startlethem and risk upsetting them even more.

“Loki…? It’s Y/N. Can I come in?”

Loki gave no response, but after a pregnant pause, you heardthe door unlock, and you took that as an okay to go ahead into their room.Making sure to lock the door behind you, out of politeness, you turned aroundto see Loki curled up in the smallest ball you imagined they could manage.Unsure if you should try to get closer, you stayed where you were, watchingthem in silence.

“…can I get you anything? Some water, or… tea? We have someof that chamomile that you like. I made sure to get plenty of boxes the lasttime we went to the store, and-”

“Why do you bother?”

You were a bit taken aback by Loki’s words, not because theyheld any bite, but because they seemed so earnest.Like they genuinely couldn’t understand why you wanted to help.

“…I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“I mean why areyou going through all this trouble? Being nice, talking to me when no one elsedoes, checking up on me? Don’t you ever get bored with it?”

“…why would I get bored with it?”

Loki turned to look at you then, scowling, though you weren’tentirely sure it was directed at you. “Because no one likes being thesacrificial lamb, the… the balance between sides.”

“…I suppose I don’t see it like that.”

Loki didn’t scoff or roll their eyes, like you expected theymight, but instead, they just looked at you, almost more earnestly than you’dever seen them look before.

“And how do yousee it?”

“Well… We’re friends.” You smiled a bit. “We’re two newpeople, getting to know each other while also getting used to being around theothers, too.”

“We can’t be friends.” Loki said it almost robotically, likeit was a trained response. “For one thing, you’re a human, and I’m a god and…Y/N, I’ve done things that are terrible. Horrible, horrible things, with verylittle by means of making up for it. Ask any one of the people in the room outthere, and they’ll tell you. I’m nothing but a monster.”

“I think you’re an absolute angel.”

You said it without even thinking about it, and whateverLoki had been in the process of saying or thinking didn’t matter, because theyjust stopped. Didn’t move, didn’tspeak, didn’t even seem to breathe. They just looked at you.

The silence in the room was almost deafening, and part ofyou wanted to think that you might have said the wrong thing, but a greaterpart of you knew that what you’d said was not a lie. You thought the world ofLoki, and you told them as much, once they’d had some time to process.

“Loki, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met inmy life. You’ve been through so much.I’ve heard the stories. And yes, you’ve made mistakes, and perhaps some ofthose mistakes have had a body count, but… you’re trying to be better. You’retrying to do better. I know you are. Thor knows you are. And the others will catch on eventually, too,in time. But for now, I’ll pick up the slack. I’ll remind you that you’re doingbetter. I’ll bring you tea and sweets when you’re having a bad day. And I’ll keepcalling you pet names until you’re so used to them that you don’t freeze up outof confusion anymore. Whatever it takes for you to believe that you’re becominga good person, that’s just as worthy as love and affection and happiness as every other person in thiscompound. Okay?”

You hadn’t meant to say so much, but once you’d started, you’dfound yourself unable to stop, andnow that you’d finished, you just watched Loki, waiting for their response and hoping you hadn’t overstepped any boundaries.

After a long moment, they nodded to themself, seeing to cometo terms with what you’d said. “…I suppose I never considered things in thatmanner.”

You nodded, as well, offering a small smile when they lookedat you. “…it’s gonna be okay, you know? I know it really sucks right now, andeverything is new and strange and different. And counseling really, reallysucks at the beginning when you have to hash out all the things you neverwanted to revisit, but… it does get better. And I’ll be here to help. As longas you’ll have me.”

Loki took a slow, deep breath, like they were deciding whatthey wanted to say, but instead, they seemed to settle for nodding, and so youjust nodded, as well.

“….so tea?”

“I would appreciate it immensely, Y/N.”

You smiled and nodded, heading back to the door. “Sure,thing.” As you turned to leave, you couldn’t resist poking your head back in. “Angel.”

Loki just looked at you, almost as though they were embarrassed,and you just smiled softly.

Yes, you thought you and Loki were going to get on quitenicely, from here on out.

[solarwonux]

36. “I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone from my least favorite book.” “Why not?”

37. “I think you’ve had enough to drink today.”

husband!joshua x f!reader

genre: fluff and a little bit of angst 

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: alcohol, drinking, hints at infertility, mentions of a surrogate, self doubt, hints at depression, mentions of therapy, brief mention of poly!gyuchan,  IVF treatment, suggestive, a cat named dog and a dog named cat, reader isn’t a fan of Shakespeare.

notes: this one’s a heavy one, but I wanted to challenge myself with this one. I did do some brief research as I was writing this one but I still could’ve gotten something wrong, so if I did let me. Either way, I’m grateful for those who read and please please please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Joshua threw his head back downing the shot of soju. His face twisted in displeasure, hissing at the bitter taste. He sets the glass down wiping his plump lips with the back of his hand before pointing a finger at you. 

“What about Elizabeth, like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?” Joshua asks, grabbing the green bottle of soju and pouring himself another shot. 

You cross your arms in front of your body and lean back against the dark navy booth. “Nope, try again.” 

Joshua let’s out a sound of annoyance before downing another shot. He doesn’t let the acrimonious taste settle in on his taste buds before he’s pouring himself another one and downing it. The two of you knew it was going to be a long night. Time was ticking, your surrogates due date was approaching and neither of you had picked out a name for your daughter. 

Truthfully, her name should’ve been chosen months ago. At least that’s what you and Joshua had planned during the first trimester of the pregnancy. But every time the topic came up, the two of you would end up frustrated and running back to the drawing board. You had names picked out, so did he. Neither one felt right. It also didn’t help that throughout the eight and a half months of the pregnancy a sense of guilt would wedge its way into your veins.

According to the many doctor’s you and Joshua consulted throughout the first year of your marriage. Your body wouldn’t be able to carry a child until full term. It had impacted you negatively. Your mental health was never up to par twenty four seven, but during that year - the year that was supposed to be filled with happy memories with your newly wedded husband; your mental health was at its worse. Memories that were supposed to be happy and colorful were black and white. You spent every waking moment dreaming about your child and feeling like a failure all at the same time. 

Joshua would hold you every time you cried out in agony. Each sob that came out of your lips would find its way and break his heart even further. He felt worthless not knowing what to do as he sat and watched the light get sucked out of you. He was hurting too, there wasn’t a doubt left in his head that he somehow shared your pain. But he couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like to be told over and over again that your body will never be able to carry a child. So he held you and prayed for a miracle every night. He loved you more than anything in the world and although he found himself frustrated whenever you treated yourself like you were worthless or nothing. He made a promise to you in front of your family and his that through sickness and in health he will be by your side no matter what. 

The miracle came after four years. On New Year’s Eve of that first miserable year of marriage you told him you wanted to go to therapy, but only if he went too. He gladly agreed, eyes blown up in uncertainty but he didn’t fight you on your decision. Immediately he started researching for the best therapists in town, forgetting about the holiday party at Jun’s house. 

Slowly he saw you come back to yourself. The first time you smiled at him and laughed he cried tears of joy along with you. After almost two years of individual therapy with the newly added weekly couple therapy session, the two of you decided to research alternatives. Joshua was apprehensive, he feared he would lose you again, reassuring you that the two of you didn’t have to have kids in order to be a complete family. 

That just the two of you, your cat Inu and your dog Neko was enough. In which you agreed but one of your dreams was to bring a child into the world, to be a mother and you refused to have that taken away from you. So, he agreed after many weeks of convincing and a glittery powerpoint presentation. 

Mingyu, Chan and their wife didn’t want kids, frankly it wasn’t for them. But she didn’t hesitate to offer herself as a surrogate when she learned that you and Joshua were looking for one. It took another glittery powerpoint presentation from all three of them, this time to convince you to let them help you. So you did. Eight and a half months ago through an IVF treatment, one of your eggs and Joshua’s sperm were inside of her, healthily growing your child. Each doctor’s appointment you went to, the excitement inside of you grew. 

You stayed up with Joshua talking about how grateful you were that your baby girl was so loved and she hadn’t even taken her first breath yet. Mingyu and Chan showered her with gifts endlessly. A competition between the two of them to determine who would end up being her godfather. Not to mention her other ten uncle’s competing to see who would win the title of best uncle in the whole wide world. A contest that was to be held annually. Or so they claimed.

You were happy and so was Joshua but the only problem the two of you faced was that you didn’t have a name yet. And it stressed out Joshua to the point of no return, especially after you told him that it would be better to just wait until she was physically in the world. That her name would come to you, appearing out of thin air the moment you saw her for the first time. 

Joshua on the other hand disagreed. He lived paranoid ninety nine percent of the time and liked to be ready just in case something went wrong. He also didn’t want his daughter to be nameless and bean sprout wasn’t cutting it anymore. “Okay how about Ophelia, like from Hamlet.” He says with a hopeful dewey look in his eyes. 

You grab the bottle of soju and pour yourself a shot, downing it before slamming it down on top of the dark wooden table. “Absolutely not, I refuse. I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone my least favorite book.”

Joshua ran a stressed hand across his face. He wanted this nightmare to end. No both of you wanted this nightmare to end. “It’s not a book, it's a play baby, you out of all people should know that.” He accused, grabbing an unopened bottle of soju and cracking the seal. “Mrs. Literature major.”

“Does it come with a front cover and a back cover and a bunch of pages in between?” You challenge cocking your head to the side, pushing your shot glass towards him. 

Joshua poured you a glass before setting the bottle down and placing his chin in the palm of his hands. A cocky drunk grin evident on his face. “Yes, but it started out as a performance not a book.” He mocks.

“I disagree. Shakespeare had to have written it down first in order to then show the actors. Therefore it’s still considered a book and my statement still stands. I’m not naming our child Ophelia.” You roll your eyes bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a small sip from it. You were finally starting to feel the weight of the alcohol. It was a given the two of you were five soju bottles (almost six) in and still hadn’t made any progress. 

“Why not?” He whines kicking his feet in the process, resembling a little kid who just got told that he couldn’t have cookies ‘n’ creme ice cream for dinner. “I like Ophelia, I think it’s cute.” 

“Because Ophelia drowns in the play, what if by naming our daughter that, we are instilling her an unfortunate faith?” You explain, drawing it out dramatically with your hands. 

“That’s ridiculous. Our daughter is protected not only by her guardian angels but also she has a whole football team on standby ready to beat the shit out of anyone that makes her cry.” Joshua states in a matter of fact tone while closing the half finished bottle of soju. He was finally starting to feel the effects and the two of you still needed to pay the bill and somehow make it home. 

You huff dipping your index finger into the half full shot glass and wetting the rim. “I read about it once.” You whisper. 

“Where?” He stands up holding onto the table and makes his way to your side, sitting down. “On those mommy blogs? The one’s I told you to stop reading because they don’t make you feel good about anything?”  His arm makes it away across your shoulders and pulls you close. 

You nod, leaning your head against his chest. “I’m just scared and I want everything to be perfect. I know that there’s nothing wrong with the decision we made but sometimes I still feel guilty that I wasn’t the one to carry her.” You sigh, lacing your fingers with his. “What if she doesn’t love me?” You cringe at how small your voice sounds. This is something your therapist and you had been working on for the past three weeks. Ever since you realized that the due date was approaching quickly. You’d gotten far but the doubt still lingered no matter how much you tried to push it away. 

Joshua leaves a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. “You’re her mom through and through and she’ll love you no matter what. Your body couldn’t grow her, the risk was too high and I didn’t want anything to happen to you or to her. But that doesn’t mean you were not enough. You have always been enough and you will be the best mom she could ever ask for.” 

Years ago when you had first met Joshua you knew you didn’t deserve him. He was everything you could ever ask for and more. Every time you found yourself drowning he was there with his hand plunged into the water ready to raise you up. He was your pillar whenever you needed someone or something to lean on. He was your voice of reason and your biggest supporter. And it wasn’t fair, because you would never be able to be that person to him. 

“I love you Joshua, thank you for never giving up on me.” You sit up, closing the small gap between the two of you and leaving a soft, delicate, alcohol filled kiss against his perfect lips. 

“I would never in a million think of doing that. Baby I swear I would cut off each of my limbs and feed them to birds if that thought were to ever cross my mind.” He smiles, pecking your lips repeatedly making you giggle. The sound made his heart soar. “I know you won’t believe me but you taught me what it’s like to love someone endlessly and unconditionally and that’s something I will spend my life thanking you for.” He says, thumbs caressing your cheeks before he hugs you close. 

“Stop making it impossible not to love you.” You laugh, circling your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. “I like Ophelia too, I’ll put it on the ‘maybe’ list.” His arms get tighter around, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. He wasn’t voicing his happiness, but you could only imagine the dumb smile he had on his face. 

After all, it was rare for you to admit defeat.

The two of you stayed there for a few more seconds before he brought his face down, stopping just above your ear. “Want to go to the bathroom and fuck,  live out our young adults fantasies once more before we become parents?” 

You pull away an incredulous look decorating your face. “Yup, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s go home.” You stand up, grabbing your purse, pulling on his arm earning a wine from your husband. 

“Come on just once, please baby please.” He pleads and stands up, following you as you make your way to the front of the bar where the cash register usually was. 

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to be arrested for Adultery. We are about to become parents Joshua Hong!” 

He shrugs, circling his arm around your waist watching silently as you wait to pay. “It was worth a shot, what about when we get home?” He whispers into your ear leaving a teasing kiss against your chin. 

“We’ll see. Now behave.” 

“As you wish my lovely wife.”

[paspeurmec]

You ever think about how ever since the incident with merrick and booker’s betrayal (as much as that pumpkin is depressed, we have to acknowledge he did wrong and understand his family deserves to heal as much as he does so they can be a unit once again. he needs help though he needs therapy and this is a discussion for another time really), joe and nicky would probably be more open in expressing their love towards the other. The whole movie they were not so expressive with their touches and that could have been brought on by almost a millenia together, their consideration for andy and booker, or a mixture of both. However, andy’s mortality and the horror they went through has awoken a need to reassure their own selves that: (a) yes, the love of their life is still here definitely, in pain despite the lack of bruises but also definitely alive and breathing (b) they’re not in the laboratory anymore (c) they’re not strapped and tortured beside the other, either waiting for the other to wake up or dying while hoping the other doesn’t wait too long drowning in fear and the feeling of being alone.

Therefore, for a few days or weeks, despite being in the presence of andy and nile, they use the love language of touch for the aches they’re trying to fill, for the fears they’re trying to subdue. Joe holds nicky’s hands while they’re having dinner. Nicky reads a book while lying on joe’s shoulder. While nicky cooks, joe hugs him from behind and kisses his neck and shoulders. Joe fills a thin notebook with drawings of nicky and poems for nicky, most of them when he fails to continue sleeping at night. Nicky starts reciting poetry to joe at the most random moments. He borrows words from poets to express things his straight-laced personality has failed to do so (and where joe has excelled in for almost a millenia). Joe absolutely loves it and could do nothing but call nicky those hc romantic pet names. Joe feeds nicky fruits as nicky lays on his lap. Joe nuzzles nicky’s face with his beard to make him laugh. But they never kiss in front of andy or nile. They sometimes lower their heads and give the other a quick peck on the lips, cheek, hand, forehead, or nose (joe would definitely do this). But they only do these innocent pecks either unconsciously or subtly. Old habits die hard and the thought of booker prevents them from crossing that line. I can imagine them muttering “sono qui” every single time the other spirals or gets too deep inside their head: either with their memories or their fear.

And cut to andy being surprised by such affections. When nile questions her about it, andy realizes that all this time joe and nicky have never done such things in front of her and booker. She probably gets all choked up thinking about how all this time they’ve been so considerate towards them. And yet all booker and her had to think about when with them was their pain and the difference of not having someone to call their other half along this immortal journey. This has been the first time joe and nicky are attached to the hip rather than simply existing within the same space. One afternoon, she sees joe and nicky asleep on the couch. She tries to cover them with a blanket. As soon as she touches their hands, nicky startles awake and clutches joe’s hand even tighter. He looks disgruntled and ungrounded. Only when he sees joe on the couch does he start to relax and when he turns and sees andy, he gets his bearings and mutters an apology for startling her. He offers her a shaky smile and thanks her for the blanket as he proceeds to swathe joe in it. He then lets out a yawn that has andy dispelling the tense atmosphere with a laugh, a rub on nicky’s hair, and a parting “go back to sleep” as she heads towards the bedroom. Andy finds herself in the kitchen one day, while joe’s trying to distract nicky as he prepares their dinner, kissing nicky and joe’s cheeks. They look at her in surprise and she says something dismissive like idk she just found a great baklava and it put her in a good mood. Joe looks at her and it looks like he gets it but he just offers her a smile while nicky tells her they should get some for nile some other time if it was that good.

Nile, on the other hand, doesn’t mind it or find it surprising. After all, she’s only been with them for a short while before merrick. One night, she wakes up to a small noise. Andy sleeps on as her mortality and wounds that are yet to heal take a toll on her every night. Nile sees joe kissing nicky quite hard as two of his fingers press on a spot at the back of nicky’s head. It’s the first time she sees both of them kiss each other so fervently but nothing about it looks sensual as nicky just rubs his left hand on joe’s side while joe kisses nicky with tears flowing beneath his closed lids. In fact, it looks pitiful to the point of being painful and Nile feels like an intruder. So, she turns her back on them and forces herself to go back to sleep. Another time, she wakes up at dawn to joe sitting on the bed while leaning on the headboard. A sleeping nicky has his arms around his waist as joe concentrates drawing/writing on the notebook in front of him. He startles when nile asks him if he can’t sleep. He smiles tiredly and shakes his head. When he proceeds to ask about her, she just says something about needing to go to the bathroom. As nile heads for the door, she sees joe set the notebook and pencil aside and bend down to kiss nicky’s cheeks. She hears a sniffle and nile decidedly heads towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her found family for a change. And as nile puts water in the kettle, she starts thinking about how she slightly understands their reason for pushing the exile.

These open displays of love and affection continue for a while. Until one day, joe sits on the sofa watching tv while nicky sits on a couch meant for only one person as he reads a book. Reminiscent of the night nile meets the two, nicky looks up from his book as joe stops watching the tv and watches nicky instead as if willing him to look at joe. When their eyes interlock, joe winks at nicky and nicky offers him a smile. And that’s it. They get back to what they were doing before and nothing else happens. The only time they touch so openly again is when they go to sleep and nicky positions himself between joe and the world and joe holds nicky in his arms as if joe could infuse nicky into his bones and drag him away from the world that has yet to deserve the love of joe’s every single life.

[divinelydeanna]

The Shadow

Time and time again, we may find ourselves turning down a dark road of emptiness, and self sabatoge.

 All experience /shadow work, suffering, addictions, is to make the unconscious conscious, and guide us to dive deep into new somatic territory, open new neurological pathways, to create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy.. 
 
Awareness and proper framing of what's going on is crucial.
The 'Psychic Winds of Change' blow through our Minds can be crazy fast and volatile , and at any moment may not be showing any signs of slowing down just yet. 

Exploring Unchartered territory , spiritual healing modalities, can open new neurological pathways , create new circuitry of self love and to experience deep intimacy if we are willing to do the work. Otherwise it is spiritual bypassing. 


We all have demons inside us. Every day, we fight against them – sometimes we lose, sometimes we win.

These demons haunting us can be seen either in small glimpses or in full chaos. And because of our guilt and shame, we tend to ignore and bury them.

We think that they should stay hidden because they cannot and should not exist in our conscious self. The society tells us to focus on the good things like love and light, but never the darkness or shadow.

However, when we focus only on the “light”, it doesn’t reach to the depths of our being. It just feels like superficially hanging on a warm and fuzzy thing.

“Positive thinking is simply the philosophy of hypocrisy – to give it the right name. When you are feeling like crying, it teaches you to sing. You can manage if you try, but those repressed tears will come out at some point, in some situation. There is a limitation to repression. And the song that you were singing was absolutely meaningless; you were not feeling it, it was not born out of your heart.” – Osho

Inside every one of us are darker problems that exist. In order to touch the very depths of our being, we must be ready to explore our buried self through shadow work.

Here are the basic things you need to know about shadow work:

Beneath the social mask we wear every day, we have a hidden shadow side: an impulsive, wounded, sad, or isolated part that we generally try to ignore. The Shadow can be a source of emotional richness and vitality, and acknowledging it can be a pathway to healing and an authentic life. – Steve Wolf

First, we must define what is a “shadow”.

In the field of psychology, a shadow is a term used to refer to the parts within us that we may try to hide or deny. The name was originally coined and explored by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung.

It comprises of the aspects of our personality that we tend to deem shameful, unacceptable, ugly. It can be envy, jealousy, rage, lust, desire for power or the wounds incurred in childhood – all of those we keep hidden. Jung believes that when the human Shadow is shunned, it tends to sabotage our lives. Repressing or suppressing one’s shadow can result in addictions, low self-esteem, mental illness, chronic illnesses, and various neuroses.

“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.”– Carl Jung

You can learn to identify and work with your shadow self so that you can reach your goals and live your best life.

For many people, denying their inner self is the path they usually choose, but as you’ll see here, we are big fans of accepting who you really are and working with that, while choosing strategic thoughts and emotions in order to continue to move forward. Transformation, which so many of us are looking for, does not come from a place of denial. It comes from a place of acceptance. While you might not think it is possible to find your way to the “dark side” and come out a better person, we are here to tell you, it is.

“Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health.” – Carl Jung

Here are 8 ways to practice shadow work:

1. Believe you are worthy and that things will get better

The first step in overcoming your shadow self and taking back your life is to acknowledge that you are worthy of good things.

When we are feeling low it is easy to continue to feel that way. Humans have an uncanny ability to feel sorry for themselves, and sometimes that is all we want to do and it serves its purpose.

But sometimes, that self-pity takes hold of us and makes it very difficult for us to get out of the rut and get back to our normal routines, or even better, our best self.

The key is learning to love yourself.

However, in this day and age practicing self love is hard.

Why?

Because society conditions us to find ourselves through our relationships with others. That the true path to happiness and fulfillment is to find love with someone else

I recently came to understand that this is an extremely unhelpful standard.

People living regular lives

What I discovered is that the relationship I have with myself is mirrored in my relationship with others. Therefore, it was very important for me to develop a better relationship with myself.

“If you do not respect your whole, you cannot expect to be respected as well. Don’t let your partner love a lie, an expectation. Trust yourself. Bet on yourself. If you do this, you will be opening yourself to be really loved. It’s the only way to find real, solid love in your life.”

2. Pay attention to the emotions you feel

No emotions are bad.

Our negative emotions are portals into the shadow. They help us determine our wounds and fears.

When you feel an emotion, take a minute to examine it. Ask yourself the following questions:

What am I feeling?

Why am I feeling this?

Wait for answers.

Don’t be frustrated if the answers do not come right away. Sometimes, the answers need time to be found and you’ll know it.

Never force answers and jump into conclusion because they might be the wrong ones. Shadow work is considered soul work and it happens on its own timeline. Just be patient and know that in time, the answers will come.

This steps simply means to accept what comes up for you, when it comes up, and acknowledge that you are an emotional being that may, from time to time, find it difficult to manage your emotions.

If you are working to tame your shadow self, then you’ll be paying attention to these moments so that you can stay with them, rather than try to run from them.

So many people simply want to feel better in the moments where we feel the greatest amount of discomfort, but if we can stay with our emotions, name them and be grateful for them, we can overcome them and move on to better things.

The better life is not created by not experiencing those emotions, but by experiencing all of them with gratitude.

RELATED: I was deeply unhappy…then I discovered this one Buddhist teaching

3. Identify the shadow

Our shadows are located in our subconscious. We buried them there that’s why it’s tricky to identify it.

n order to perform shadow work, we need to identify the shadow. The first step is to become aware of the recurrent feelings that you always feel. Identifying these patterns will help highlight the shadow.

Some common shadow beliefs are:

I am not good enough.

I am unloveable.

I am flawed.

My feelings are not valid.

I must take care of everyone around me.

Why can’t I just be normal just like others?

4. Investigate your feelings objectively and with compassion

t’s hard to do shadow work objectively and with compassion. It’s easier to investigate and blame other people why you end up that way.

On the other hand, understanding why the people who hurt you acted in a particular way is hard to accept. But in order to heal ourselves, we must forgive those who hurt us in order to move on.

Try to navigate that they did the best they could do at that time or were simply acting from their own wounds.

It’s also easy to feel bad about yourself for having these negative feelings. But there’s no reason to feel bad. We all experience negative emotions. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.

It’s important to accept our negative emotions and be okay with them.

According to philosopher Alan Watts, Carl Jung was the kind of man who could feel something negative and not be ashamed about it:

“[Jung] was the sort of man who could feel anxious and afraid and guilty without being ashamed of feeling this way. In other words, he understood that an integrated person is not a person who has simply eliminated the sense of guilt or the sense of anxiety from his life – who is fearless and wooden and kind of sage of stone. He is a person who feels all these things, but has no recriminations against himself for feeling them.” – Alan Watts

5. Focusing on your breathing

How much attention do you pay to the way you breathe?

If you’re like most people, then probably not a lot. We usually just let our body do the job and completely forget about it.

I think this is one of our biggest mistakes.

Because when you breathe, you produce energy for your body and psyche. This has a direct connection to your sleep, digestion, heart, muscles, nervous system, brain and mood.

But the quality of your breathing doesn’t depend only on the quality of the air — it depends much more on how you breathe.

That’s why many spiritual traditions pay so much attention to breath. And focusing on your breathing is a key technique they use to help people explore, and ultimately conquer, their shadow self.

6. Explore the shadow

Psychologists use art therapy as a way to help patients explore their inner selves. It is because art is a great way to allow your Shadow to manifest itself. Here are some ways to express the shadow:

Journaling

When you write, it allows you to feel emotions and empty your head of the thoughts rumbling around. It’s like magic – even when you write thoughts that have no sense. Just write whatever comes to mind because you can’t do it wrong.

Write a letter

Write a letter to yourself or to those who hurt you. You don’t have to actually send the letter, just let all your feelings out.

Tell the person in mind what you feel and why you feel it. Writing a letter will validate yourself and your emotions. You can burn the letter after you write it as a symbolic release.

Meditate

In meditation, we gain insights about why we feel certain ways. It helps us understand and objectively delve deeper about our emotions, then allow ourselves to heal.

One example is forgiveness meditation. You can picture a person who hurt you in your mind and say, “May you be happy, may you be at peace, may you be free of suffering.”

Recommended reading: A spiritual master explains why you can’t meditate properly (and what to do instead)

Feel

You will never heal unless you allow yourself to face the emotion you’re scared of. So explore them, write about them and make art out of them.

To experience yourself as a whole, loved, and lovable, you need to own up to your emotions.

Dreams

Our thoughts and deepest emotions can come out in dreams, according to Jung. When you experience a dream, write down what occurred immediately so you don’t forget.

By understanding your dreams, you might understand more about yourself.

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.” – Carl Jung

However, Jung says that it’s important to understand that one dream by itself might not mean much, but patterns from multiple dreams might:

“An obscure dream, taken by itself, can rarely be interpreted with any certainty, so that I attach little importance to the interpretation of single dreams. With a series of dreams we can have more confidence in our interpretations, for the later dreams correct the mistakes we have made in handling those that went before. We are also better able, in a dream series, to recognize the important contents and basic themes.” – Carl Jung

Remember that the shadow thrives in secret but they are part of who you are. Bring the hidden parts of yourself to light and bathe them in self-love and acceptance.

Sometimes, the process hurts but it will make you a better person. Keep in mind: When it comes down to getting what you want, you have to not only confront your inner darkness but embrace it.

Rather than try to turn it off when you feel the shadow self-rearing its ugly head, allow yourself to feel it and be curious about it.

In some cases, you might find that it serves you, especially when you are trying to protect yourself from things that might otherwise threaten your higher self.

When you tap into your shadow self properly, it can be a powerful alter ego that can help you manage trying situations.

It’s when you let it rule your life, or pretend you don’t have a shadow self that problems persist.

7. Nurture your inner child

Our childhood traumas can be caused by the way we were parented or other people who hurt us. It can result in deep wounds that can create behavioral and emotional patterns that create our personality.

Most of the time, our childhood wounds are the most painful. They haunt us and tell us we’re not worthy of love, or that our feelings are wrong, or that we have to take care of everything because nobody was around to take care of us.

Nurturing your inner child involves traveling back in time to when you were hurt and give yourself love. You can do this by:

Go back to the time in your life when you felt most vulnerable.

It can be a scene where you got hurt or a time in your life when you felt vulnerable. Hold that image of yourself in your mind. Stay aware, taking in any messages that arise during that time.

Give the younger you compassion

While reliving the moment, give love to your younger self. Tell yourself, “I love you and I’m here for you. It will be okay, it’s not your fault and you did nothing to deserve this.” You can also give a hug to your younger self.

One thing is for sure when doing shadow work, it is uncomfortable, to say the least. Who would enjoy owning up to their flaws, weaknesses, selfishness, hate, and all the negative emotions they feel? Nobody.

But while focusing on our positive side is enjoyable and boosts our confidence, shadow work can help us grow and develop into a better version of ourselves.

Jung writes in the book Psychology and Alchemy, “There is no light without shadow and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.”

With shadow work, we become whole to live a more authentic and fulfilling life.

Recommended reading:

7 steps to heal your inner child.

Recommended Therepy : inner child Hypnotherapy, Family Constillations, Sound Healing, Earth magnetism Nature, Fasting, Mirroring, EFT, Resurecction Therepy, Heart Coherence Frequency, Deep tissue manipulation, infrared saunas, fasting, 1stSun. Kundalini Meditation , Mantras, ecstatic dance, Qi gong, vibrational machines, resurrection therepy.

Written by:DeannaCook and is free under the Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 License
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/) you may freely copy, distribute, blog, or post it anywhere, so long as the work is attributed to "deannalcook", and the text is unaltered.

[deliberatelyvague]

Anger Management (obey me x gn!reader)

Started: April 12, 2020 at 9:10pm

Ended: April 12, 2020 at 9:52pm

Word Count: 1,143

Shipping(s): [Lucifer x reader], [Mammon x reader], [Leviathan x reader], [Satan x reader], [Asmodeus x reader], [Beelzebub x reader], [Belphegor x reader], [Diavolo x reader]

Trigger Warning: just some things referencing anger, really but I don’t think anything else

Author’s Note: thank you for another request! And requests are still open!

Prompt/Request: 𝙾𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘. 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚠𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚗. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚜 𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚘

————

Lucifer-

•Okay, so he has obviously dealt with anger issues, between himself and Satan.

•So he knew how to deal with anger, he was just surprised when his small significant other went off on Mammon when he was going through their stuff.

•He walked calmly over to you and separated you from Mammon (which wasn’t hard, at all) and held you until you calmed down

•But if you decided to give him an attitude or get angry at him for no reason?

•Man, you’ve just asked to get punished, haven’t you?

•Overall, he usually tries to calm you down the best and quickest that he can. He doesn’t really like seeing his S/O angry.

Mammon-

•Mammon didn’t really get angry. He has a remarkable sense of keeping calm, so when you got angry, he only really knew of how Satan and Lucifer dealt with anger.

•Those are two very different things, btw.

•Satan usually just went off, but if he caught himself quick enough he separated himself from the situation.

•Lucifer, however, usually just got mad. And he just went off.

•So, Mammon would just try to separate you and calm you down. He would try his hardest to not call you any names which might set you off again.

•But one day he ate some food that you had been saving to eat on a special occasion or when you’ve been having a rough day.

•You even hid it in your room so Beel wouldn’t get to it.

•You got ANGRY. Like you were pretty much a Pomeranian, you were buzzing and practically had steam coming off of you.

•He didn’t really know what to do at this point. If he left in order to try to separate himself, you would get angry.

•So he just sat there and dealt with it, listening to you rant and watching you pace back and forth in front of him.

•After you had calmed down he pulled you to cuddle with him and apologized to you.

Leviathan-

•Levi wasn’t really one to get angry, only slightly when he lost his games, and even then it was very rare and was usually more whiny than angry.

•And he tries to not be around Satan and Lucifer when they are angry, so he didn’t know what to do.

•Thus, when you were angry at losing a game, he probably didn’t react in the best way, making you angry at him too.

•He stared at you, his little S/O, gesturing with your hands and with your brows wrinkled, raising your voice at him and shaking your head.

•Similar to Mammon, after your rant ended he pulled you into his lap, rubbing your back and soothing you.

•He even let you play with his tail, if that helped calm you down.

Satan-

•He loves it when you get angry. Don’t get him wrong, not when you get teary angry, but when it’s mad for a reason, or you’re defending yourself or him, he WILL cheer you on.

•Just imagine it: you’re going off on Mammon and he’s just in the background with pompoms and acting as a little cheerleader for you.

•Of course, if you were consistently getting angry, he wouldn’t be as for it, he didn’t want his Kitten getting angry sickness.

•He would always comfort you after if you needed it.

•But if you were angry at him? Good luck with that one. It’s a war you probably aren’t going to win. No matter how angry you can get.

•It’s literally like a peasant trying to fight the king, it’s not going to work out he’s just THAT good.

•But you can and WILL put up a fight, and probably end up just leaving and going to someone else to rant about Satan to.

•Eventually one of you apologizes to the other (it’s usually you to him, he holds grudges VERY well).

•You two hold each other and read a book and forgive each other pretty quickly.

Asmodeus-

•No, absolutely not, his little doll isn’t going to get very angry, not on his watch. Not the full-on anger, at least.

•Whether at him or someone else, he would cut you off almost immediately and that should to either his room or yours, and let you rant to him, but after you’ve calmed down a little bit.

•He wasn’t going to let his precious little doll get angry like that, it ruins the skin.

•So, if you want to get your anger out on someone, make sure Asmo isn’t around to see it.

Beelzebub-

•Let’s admit it, Beel probably doesn’t really like getting angry at people. He’d rather just be non-confrontational, unless it comes to food, that is.

•So if he sees you arguing with someone and getting angry, he’d probably leave the room and go make something for the two of you.

•Depending on when you found your way back to him, you may or not have your favorite food(s) waiting on you.

•But if you got angry at him? He would probably cry. He didn’t like you being angry, but especially not at him.

•You would have to apologize to him, you would feel too guilty.

Belphegor-

•Nah man he doesn’t care.

•Yell all you want, Cub, he’s going to either be asleep though it or drifting off to it.

•He loves your voice, and that doesn’t stop when your voice is slightly louder than it usually was.

•But if you’re angry at him, he’ll try to calm you down, and then you two cuddled and he soothed you.

•So, you getting angry doesn’t really phase him, he just likes to sleep and cuddle with you.

Diavolo-

•He was VERY weary of your temper. Not because he didn’t love you, he loved every part of you, but it’s an issue that you both need to address.

•You’re his future ruler, the person he has to have by his side, he knew that for sure, but you getting angry at the drop of a hat isn’t the best quality for a ruler to have.

•Therefore, he did bring it up with you, and recommend you to some therapists that a few of his servants had to go to.

•But, on the occasion that you needed to go off, he took you to an excluded room and allowed you to rant to him. He even bought a punching bag of sorts and told you to hit it if you needed to get your anger out.

•He loves you, though, so if the therapy wasn’t working, he wouldn’t stop trying to help you control your anger.

[erinelezabeth920]

Love in the Time Of

Shame. Is the thing I want to talk about. Love in the time of shame.

I mean I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d really rather not actually, except that I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m not the only one. Not by a long shot. So here we go.  Last night I wanted to go to bed by 10pm, so I could get up early and go on a run BEFORE signing into Zoom at 7:45am to lead a yoga meditation class for my friends and family, BEFORE doing some reading of self-help books and solo meditation BEFORE I start trying to do an impossible job from my living room for an unclear number of hours per day with an attention span of basically zero to negative. 

When I write this it sounds absurd. I know that. But brains are weird. Especially mine. Remember the anxiety based overfunctioning/ underfunctioning I talked about last time? Overfunctioning much?  Anyway, that didn’t happen. We had finished a DnD session with my brother and college roommate, (my character is a rouge-gnome named Huckleberry Shake who has short purple hair, is really good at sneaking and lock picking, and carries a crossbow. I like to imagine a sort of cross between ‘Midsummer's Night Dream’ and Assassin’s Creed’.) Anyway, it was around 9:30 ish pm. It was also Cinco de Mayo, and we had picked up tacos from the neighborhood about a 15 minute drive south with a strong hispanic/ latinx population. The past couple weeks I’ve been referencing that line in ‘Wet Hot American Summer’ where they all pile into the pick up truck to go into town and go batshit crazy. “It always feels good to get away from camp, even for an hour!” Just to drive somewhere to pick up food feels like a crazy adventure these days. 

I made us magaritas when I got back; they were bright blue because we had some kind of blue liquor that I can’t remember the name of. After DnD I wanted to watch some TV. I made myself another margarita and some popcorn, which is my quarantine coping crutch. I watched this trashy but great Netflix show about teenagers in North Carolina called Outer Banks. Except the episodes kept ending on cliff hangers (OMG he KILLED HIM?), so I kept watching. I painted my toenails purple, using packing peanuts to space them out. I was kind of proud of myself actually.

It was about midnight when I went to bed. I woke up with a small headache, a result of tequila and salty popcorn and poor quality sleep. I was going to go on a walk/ run and listen to the news. I didn’t. I snoozed the alarm about ten times. It was raining out. I led my yoga class and ate some sourdough toast. And here we are. The light is filtering through the apartment windows, as I sit on the couch in my sweat pants. The crazy thing is, I just feel SO much shame. And guilt. Guilt for having a headache, shame for not waking up early to do all these things I honestly don’t even need to do. I feel shame for not writing more often, shame when I look at the dishes that are dirty. Shame when I don’t go outside to go on a walk, exercise, or when I close my work laptop early to lie on the couch and scroll through my phone.  I’ve been trying the past couple weeks to figure out this phenomena that seems to be happening to me, but also to other people I talk to. I feel okay for about 3 days, and then completely collapse. I just can’t do anything, flatline, but there doesn’t really seem to be a direct cause. It’s just like dropping on the roller coaster without warning. I was telling a friend the other day that on weekends, all I do is sleep. Usually I’m a very active person who has an almost clincally hard time sitting still. I haven’t felt like this, I told him, since I worked the hardest jobs in my life- full time wilderness therapy or residential treatment for children with Autism working 12 hour days. I work MAYBE six hours a day these days but probably more like four, broken up by lying on the couch watching documentaries and scrolling on my phone. So why am I SO DAMN EXHAUSTED? 

I did some research the other week into chronic stress for a newsletter article I was writing for parents of my elementary school. Chronic stress is different than acute stress, I found, because it has no concrete beginning and end. It’s not like a car crash or a loved one dying. Instead (for those of us with the intense privelage not to be on the front lines- god bless if you are) it’s a constant low hum in the background through news headlines, grocery store lines and crossing the street when another person is coming your direction on the sidewalk. It’s a disruption of normality with no conceivable ending, sending our brains into a low key 24/7 flight or fight mode, draining us with tiny doses of adrenaline and uncertainty that build up over time. It’s not in the forefront, but it’s there in our tight shoulders, exhaustion, inattention, insomnia, short fuses and total lack of motivation. Until we can’t take it any more and crash, seemingly out of nowhere. And then the whole thing starts again. 

As Brene Brown says, “We’ve hit our collective weary.” In one podcast episode she interviews a grief expert. He says, we are all grieving right now. Even if we don’t name it, we’re showing the symptoms. But instead of grieving the death of an individual (for most of us), we are grieving the lifestyles we’ve lost (work settings, close contact, friendships, normalcy). And grief exhausts us. BUT, because most of us aren’t experiencing acute grief (ie a loved one dying) we feel shame on TOP of that grief, that we shouldn’t be tired or inept when others have it SO much worse. It’s a meta emotion. Shame layered on grief like a terrible lasagna. How can we be justified in experiencing grief when all we do is sit on the couch and watch Netflix and eat snacks for hours a day? We’re not even in a wartime or something concrete that gives justification and purpose. Instead it’s just a vague, deep sense of disruption of life as we know it. But it’s just as real. I was walking on the beach at the time I listened to the podcast; when he said the words, “We are grieving the loss of the world as we knew it,” the sun was setting over the water. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

A few weeks ago, Andy cut my hair. When the pieces fell to the floor of our friend’s porch and the scissors snipped away larger chunks than I woud have liked, my stomach dropped. I started panicking. I felt like the world was ending. I don’t panic when I read the news, go to the grocery store in a mask, or even read the death toll. But when my hair fell to the ground around me in the gathering twilight, I absolutely lost it. I came home and sobbed. It was the first time I’d cried since the pandemic began, and it’s like it just all came out. I was so angry at Andy, and he felt so bad. I was a shell of a person for twelve hours. I cancelled morning yoga for the first time in six weeks, lamenting everyone would have look at me close up on a screen. I wanted to stay in bed forever, (until we fixed the haircut and it actually looked pretty good). But for a second there I was broken, and it was because of a goddamn haircut. I mean for Christ sakes, people are dying out there. It made me feel so petty and stupid. There’s a global pandemic happening, and I am distraught FROM MY HAIR?!

But that’s how grief works. We can’t look at the thing head on, it’s too much. A death toll is just numbers. Our brains seek to survive, to normalize, to adapt just to get through. So instead the trauma seeps into the corners, slowly creeping into our bodies and collective exhaustion until one little thing causes the world to come crashing down. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. And then we feel overwhelming shame for being so affected by something so little. For me, my lizard brain was honestly convinced I would never be attractive or happy again. 

(ALSO to be fair we watched, ‘Little Women’ a few days later. In the movie there’s the scene where Jo cuts all her hair off to give her mother money to travel to their sick father in the war. She’s then pictured crying under the stairwell. “Is it mother?” her sister asks. “No,” she says, “It’s MY HAIR!”. "See?!” I said to Andy.)

The underlying theme here is shame. We’re ashamed of our emotions because they don’t seem justified. Comparative suffering. My suffering isn’t nearly as bad as others, therefore I should not feel this way. I’m ashamed of myself for eating snacks and worried I’m going to gain a bunch of weight. Then I’m ashamed for being ashamed instead of being body positive. I’m ashamed of myself for enjoying an evening with drinks (yes plural), popcorn, painting my toes and watching teenagers who are actually in their twenties look for buried treasure. Honestly, it sounds like a great night. And it was. 

I just finished re-reading “The Four Agreements”, the Toltec wisdom book. The first agreement is “Be Impeccable With Your Word.” I assumed from the first time I read it, it meant “always tell the truth”. The reality though, is it means, our words have power. Especially our words about ourselves. Just this morning I entered my enchilada and margaritas from yesterday into my ‘Weight Watchers’ app and felt terrible. I told myself I was fat, lazy and useless. Which seems absurd when I write it out, but that’s the honest to goodness narrative inside my head. Being impeccable with our word means watching what we say to ourselves, because our words create a reality. We create our own cycles of shame. 

Even at this moment, typing this, I feel ashamed that this piece of writing is so scattered. My English major brain is mad at me. Get it together Erin. Find a cohesive theme and stick to it. Get emotional, but not too emotional. Tell stories, but not too many stories. But writing at it’s best is vulnerability and transparency;  and honestly right now it’s hard to hold on to any one thought for longer than a few seconds. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just me. Little pieces, scattered thoughts, just trying to put the puzzle together. (Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on puzzles... Andy is MUCH better than me at them, and, saving the face of our relationship, let’s just say that is another dangerous straw perched on the camel’s back through only the fault of my own...) Anyway, I think at this point, just find anything that makes you smile. Literally anything. I personally like Brad Leone’s Bon Appetite Youtube channel “It’s Alive.” He makes me laugh so much. The episode with him and Orville Peck making elote almost broke me.  Find those things, hold on to them and be kind to yourself. It’s okay to feel less than. Just remember you’re not. We’ve collectively hit weary, the point in the race where you’ve been running for so long, but the finish line is so far away. It’s okay just to go one step at a time. 

Paint your toes. Eat your popcorn. Drink your margaritas. Whatever we can do just to survive. One step at a time. You’re not alone. 

And that’s love in the time of. 

[janeofcakes]

FJW: Chapter 7

** Here you go, everyone. Once again, I finished editing and couldn’t help myself. Also and quite to my surprise, a lot of people have asked to be tagged. I just want to say thank and I love you all, and if I do happen to not tag you, it is only my own folly and not meant to exclude. Just remind me to add you. Thank you all again. You make writing such a joy. **

“Her surname is Holmes-Watson!” Sherlock blurts. It is early afternoon, he returned to John’s room as soon as he dropped Rosie at school. He had observed her carefully for any lingering signs of stress from the evening’s news, but saw none. She seemed genuinely excited to resume her usual activities as she acclimated to the sudden change in her life.

His entire visit thus far has been describing Rosie to John, telling him stories of her life, showing him snaps, all at John’s request. He had reasoned, before Sherlock’s arrival, that these were all things he had never experienced and could never remember. Therefore, they could not impede his recovery. John wanted to be more familiar with Rosie before meeting her on the weekend and had asked Sherlock to tell him as much as he could. The detective happily obliged, but grew more uneasy as the day went on until he could bear it no longer. Thus, the idiotic surname declaration that just burst from his lips.

Sherlock nearly face palms, but keeps his hands at his sides. John looks at him blankly and then shifts his gaze from Sherlock to a wall to the bed’s blankets and back to Sherlock, all with his lips pursed in a true expression of confusion. He curls his lips in on one another and licks them as he opens his mouth to speak. God, how Sherlock has missed this man.

John inhales through lips shaped in a perfect “O” and purses them closed again, his brow furrowed. His eyes shift to the ceiling for a second or two and back to Sherlock.

“Okay,” he answers slowly. Sherlock doesn’t understand his reaction at first and then nearly face palms again at his renewed stupidity. John has no idea that Watson is his surname. Sherlock is just about to explain when Hoover’s words come back to him. It is infinitely better if John remembers things for himself. As Sherlock scolds himself, he hears John mumble two words of utter dismay.

“Oh, god.”

Sherlock straightens and focuses all of his attention on his grief-stricken friend.

“What? What is it?” suddenly his hand is on John’s and he is leaning close. “Is something wrong? Are you all right?”

“She was an infant,” John says quietly, the full impact striking him head-on. He blinks as his mind lets him put more of the pieces together. “She was only a few months old when this happened.”

Sherlock watches as John slowly inches his left hand toward his own long fingers. He wants to close the gap, but doesn’t suppose John would appreciate it. So he simply observes as the smaller hand gets closer. When John’s fingertips finally touch Sherlock’s he gasps at their warmth and clutches his friend’s hand in earnest. He looks up at John with tears in his eyes only to see that John already has wet trails streaking down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” John blurts in a shuddering voice. Another tear falls, slowly dripping down his face as he bites his lip and tries to hold himself together. “I’m sorry you had to do it alone. I’m sorry I…”

Sherlock can stand it no longer. He leaps out of his seat and wraps John in a tight embrace. Squeezing his eyes shut, a tear slipping from each one, Sherlock takes a long breath. He will never let go of this man again. He abandoned him when he fell, pushed him away on stag night, encouraged him to stay married to a killer, and ran when John hated him. He should have held tightly then and is sure as hell going to now, even if John hates him all over again once he remembers everything.

“It’s all right, John,” he whispers. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was.”

They remain this way for some time. Sherlock knows by the way John leans against him that his arms would be around him if he had full control over them. Just before Sherlock finally pulls away, he kisses John’s cheek lightly. Keeping his hands on John’s shoulders, he looks into the doctor’s wet eyes.

“Rosie and I have managed just fine,” he tells him, pulling himself together. “You have never been far from us. Before school began, we were both here every day. I have told her everything I know about you, which is quite extensive. My mind palace is much larger than the room you described. You occupy an entire wing.”

“A whole wing?” John’s eyes sparkle. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “What I wouldn’t give to see that.”

“You’ll know it all again soon enough. I’m sure of it.” Sherlock’s eyes drop to John’s wet cheeks. He lifts his hands from the man’s shoulders and reaches for a tissue. He gestures toward John’s face silently and John nods. Leaning forward, Sherlock very gently dries his tears, searching John’s eyes as he does. “Your physical therapy appears to be going well.”

“It is,” John nods, venturing a small smile. “I work the muscles on my own too. I want to move things along fast.”

“Is that wise?” Sherlock wipes his own cheeks after finishing with John. He bins the tissue. “They shouldn’t be overworked.”

“They’re fine.”

Sherlock cocks a speculative brow and John rolls his eyes.

“I am a doctor, you know. I won’t over-do it.”

“But you will, John. You are a very determined man. Strong and stubborn. It’s one of the many things I love about you,” Sherlock snaps his mouth shut and stares at John, completely mortified. What the hell was that? He has never said anything so stupid in his life.

“Oh really?” John laughs without even blinking an eye. “Stubbornness is a desirable quality, is it? You are an unusual man, Sherlock Holmes. I can’t wait to remember more about you.”

“I look forward to it, John,” he smiles. John smiles back almost like a shy school boy and they share a quiet laugh.

“So,” John begins casually, “I take it my name Watson?”

“Yes,” the detective smiles. “Doctor John Watson.”

John smiles back and looks about to speak when there is a knock on his door. It opens halfway and Eileen’s face appears.

“Hello,” she greets, friendly and a little uncertain. Something is wrong. Sherlock turns to face her straight-on. He fixes her with a stern expression.

“Eileen,” he says tersely.

“Sherlock,” is her cursory reply as she shifts her eyes back to John. “You have a visitor, John. Dr. Hoover has spoken with him about the parameters of your treatment.”

“Of course. Show him in,” John answers, absolutely brimming with curiosity.

The nurse steps aside and allows entrance to the tall, dark figure behind her. She reminds John of his physical therapy in an hour, for all their benefit, and closes the door again. Sherlock’s jaw tightens, the muscles working furiously beneath his pale skin.

“Hello,” John greets the man quizzically. He wears a spotless three-piece suit and carries an umbrella. His pale eyes gaze at John sharply, taking in every detail in much the same way as Sherlock when John first met him. Well, met yesterday. John looks at the man in much the same way and thinks for a moment that his ginger hair should be thicker. It also does not escape John’s notice that Sherlock is tense and very irritated.

“Bloody Mycroft,” the detective grumbles.

“Hello, Sherlock,” the man replies wryly.

“What do you want?”

“To wish John well, of course,” he leans on his umbrella and smiles at Sherlock with false politeness. “When were you planning to tell me of his, shall we say, startling recovery?”

“Mind your own bloody business.”

“You know why I’m here, Sherlock. It is not a matter I am likely to forget.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore!” the younger Holmes shouts.

“STOP.”

It isn’t a shout or scream. John doesn’t raise his voice at all and he still stops both men in their tracks with his deep, low voice, commanding and strong. Captain John Watson.

The Holmes brothers look at John, just a hint of surprise in their expressions. He watches them like a hawk. It isn’t a glare. No. There is no malice in it, but neither Sherlock nor Mycroft dares to move a muscle while those eyes are focused in their direction.

“There’s no sense in arguing, Sherlock,” John’s voice is strained a fraction and he gives his friend a tight smile. “The man clearly has an agenda and isn’t going to leave until he has what he wants, so let’s just indulge him, shall we?”

Sherlock blinks at John. He turns his head slowly to share a perplexed look with his brother. Both are speechless. John does not want to talk to Mycroft, that much is obvious, but ever the peacemaker with these two men, John pushes his feelings aside and does his best to move things toward resolution. After five years gone, John has slipped back into this role seamlessly without even knowing that he used to do it.

“So,” John casts his gaze on Mycroft pleasantly enough, “why don’t you tell me who the fuck you are and what you want.”

Sherlock nearly smiles. He nearly laughs. John is being so polite and so sassy and it’s just like old times, all those years ago when he had his John. His John? Yes. John had been his. Even after the fall and after his marriage. John never had to return to Sherlock’s side, but he always did. Was it ever more than friendship to him? Has Mrs. Hudson been right all along? Is she right now? Does John really care for him?

Sherlock is startled from his thoughts by Mycroft’s reply as he steps closer to John’s bed.

“My name is Mycroft Holmes. I am Sherlock’s brother.”

John’s eyes shoot to Sherlock’s and give him a true ‘What the fuck’ before shifting back to Mycroft. He wants to explain. He wants to shove Mycroft out the door and apologize. Tell John what a wanker Mycroft is and explain everything. But it is already too late and all Sherlock can do is hope his meddling brother doesn’t ruin this for him.

“I need to know what you remember about the day you were shot.”

“Nothing,” John smiles. “Goodbye.”

This time Sherlock does laugh and probably louder than he should have. Mycroft glares immediately. John looks Sherlock’s way too, but he is wearing a brilliant smile instead of a frown. Sherlock is too.

“You think there is nothing on the surface of it,” Mycroft presses, turning his attention back to John. “Look deeper and you might find the memories.”

“It’s not going to work,” Sherlock chastises, his anger growing. “You spoke with Hoover. You know…”

“When have you ever taken a doctor’s advice as more than a grain of salt?” Mycroft interrupts.

“When it became about John!” Sherlock snaps. “You will not jeopardize his recovery. I will not allow it!”

“A little prodding over a single incident will not affect his…”

“You are asking about when he was shot. The very ‘incident’ that put him in this situation. Forcing him to remember might result in PTSD and reliving the trauma.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Sherlock. He’s been through much worse.”

“But he doesn’t remember it! Any of it! His mind is a clean slate. Forcing him to remember anything, but especially being shot, could cause more harm than good.”

“All right, all right,” John says, drawing their focus again. Even with all the questions whirling in his mind now, he thinks it best to placate these men and keep them from having a fist fight in his room. They would certainly be banned from whatever medical facility this is and, while he doesn’t give a toss about Mycroft, who seems rather a prick, being unable to see Sherlock is unacceptable.

“I can think on it tonight once I’m alone. Surely you can come back tomorrow if it’s so important to you.”

“John, no,” Sherlock warns, but John cuts him off.

“Why is it so important?” John knows he is taking a risk even asking and hopes the answer does not reveal too much too quickly.

Mycroft inhales deeply through his nose and straightens to his full height. If he’s meant to look imposing, the effect does nothing to intimidate John. Mycroft gives him a small nod as he replies.

“I hold a modest position in the British government.”

“He is the British government,” Sherlock snipes, glaring at Mycroft.

“It is my duty to gain access to as much information on this,” Mycroft pauses, “person of interest as possible.”

“Are you saying she had a prior record? It wasn’t random?”

“It was not random, John. You were targeted.”

“Mycroft!” Sherlock shouts, unable to hold back any longer. He steps right into the man’s personal space. “None of this matters. The details make no difference. She shot John and would have finished the job had we not intervened. It’s as simple as that.”

“I need to know her plans, Sherlock!” Mycroft growls, pinning him with a deadly glower.

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Oh my god.”

Sherlock’s eyes dart to John and see the panicked expression coming over his face. Goddammit, Mycroft! Sherlock resolves then and there to kill Mycroft himself as soon as he has the chance.

“John?” he ignores his brother entirely and steps close to the bed. John meets his eyes with terror in his own. Sherlock takes his twitching hands in his own, knowing John is desperate for the contact. “John, it’s all right.”

“She’s still out there, isn’t she?” John is speaking quickly, his voice laced with fear. “She was never caught and now that I’m awake, she’ll come looking for me. Or you. Or Rosie! God! Where is Rosie? You have to get her out of school and bring her here, or somewhere else. Wherever it’s safe. Oh god, Sherlock, I can’t lose her. We can’t lose her!”

“John,” Sherlock moves his hands to John’s shoulders in an effort to calm him. He is about to assure his friend that Rosie is safe and sound, but John’s mind flashes forward before he can. A piece of glass breaks and falls, shattering on the floor, and a familiar face fills John’s brain so he can see nothing else.

“Her face!” he gasps. Mycroft’s eyes widen and he steps closer with interest. “Molly Hooper!”

“What?” Sherlock frowns in confusion.

“I remember her face,” John searches his eyes fervently. His hands are twitching every which way and his left arm bumps against Sherlock’s body every few seconds. “Did she do it? Did Molly Hooper shoot me?”

“No. No,” the detective steadies John, rubbing little circles into his shoulders with his thumbs in an effort to calm him. He lowers his voice and tries to make it as comforting as he can. “Molly Hooper is your friend. She is a doctor at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. She helps us with...me. Helps me with cases.”

John’s eyes are still filled with sharp, cold fear. He can feel ice blooming in his chest, threatening to freeze his heart whole. He has already missed all of his own daughter’s life. He hasn’t even met her yet and now how can he protect her? Damn his body! If he could move, he would push past Mycroft, drag Sherlock out of this hospital, and find Rosie himself.

“Rosie!” is all he manages to gasp. Too many thoughts. Too many fears whirling around in his mind. He can’t get hold of them, can’t get them to make sense. If he could grab his head with both hands, he would. It feels like it’s about to explode.

And then Sherlock’s voice cuts through it all.

John.

That silky smoothe, deep dark chocolate voice slices through the chaos with ease.

John, open your eyes and look at me. Please...

And he does. He hadn’t even realized he pinched his eyes shut, clenching them as hard as he could. And it is not until he opens them that he feels the relief of escape...from his thoughts and fears. They all dissipate when he looks into Sherlock’s silver-grey eyes.

“John, Rosie is fine. She is perfectly safe,” Sherlock pauses. He can see that John is calming, but saying just that isn’t going to be enough for it to last. He has to tell him what happened to Eurus. “The woman who shot you was called Eurus and she was killed by police while trying to evade capture.”

“Oh, thank god,” John’s entire body goes slack and his breaths come easier again. Sherlock glances toward Mycroft and they share an uneasy look before the elder directs his gaze to John once again.

Every muscle in Sherlock’s body hardens and for a moment, he is certain Mycroft is going to tell John. Tell him who Eurus was and if he does, John will never trust either of them again. Ready to tackle his brother to the floor to make him shut up, Sherlock steps away from John and nearly jumps at Mycroft.

“I am sorry to have disturbed you, John,” he is suddenly in front of the door, hand on the knob. Sherlock stumbles with an aborted leap. “Take care and get some rest.”

He is gone. Sherlock and John are alone again. The detective is still staring at the door when he feels a light, trembling touch on his wrist. His gaze slides to John and his features alter from trepidation to shock. John reaches for him with his left arm, his fingertips just close enough to tap feather-soft touches. John’s whole arm shakes and his face is scrunched up with the effort.

Sherlock turns to face him, taking John’s hand in both of his and pulling it to his chest to give the already exhausted muscles relief. Sherlock lifts a leg and sits half on the edge of the bed, looking into John’s stormy eyes. He can see the fear still there, warring with the mind that tells him Rosie is safe and the danger is gone.

“John.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” John tries to keep his voice steady, “for keeping her safe. For raising her. I should have been here for you both.”

“You were here, John,” he tells him sincerely, but urgently. John must believe him. He must understand that he was never absent, even if he wasn’t awake to see it. “We saw you every day. We talked and read books with you. Had Christmas and New Year’s and birthdays. Rosie loves blowing out the candles for you.”

He smiles at John lovingly. John’s eyes fill with every word until one tear finally tumbles down his cheek.

“You have always been with us, John. Always. The biggest and best part of our lives.”

“Sher, lock,” the word is broken by a catch of breath and Sherlock takes John in his arms, hugging him tightly while his doctor sobs into his shoulder. Sherlock starts, eyes wide when he feels the light, trembling touch of John’s left hand at his waist trying to hug him, to draw him nearer. Sherlock pulls him closer and resolves never to let go.

@echosilverwolf @technicallywiseoncns @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @swissmissing @gloriascott93 @kingdomofbrokenhearts @srebrnafh @thetranslucentwallaby @britishaccentfan @plasticstrawsmuggler @spazzz32 @absentmindedsstuff

[kattipatang]

Idk what I’m doing lol... but life’s a mess

Back in the day I wrote out my entire life story and it gave me a lot of clarity and resolve. Nearly a decade later, I am going to do the same in hopes that I find some self-healing. Perhaps I can also validate my feelings so I don’t feel like I am entirely crazy for feeling the way I feel. FYI for those who know me, please note that (to my knowledge) I have removed my pictures and mentions of my name from this blog and do not wish to be identified at this moment. I would appreciate it if you could respect that.

I’m going to start all the way back in 2010. I came out as gay while I was in high school. I was met with a wave of support and love from students and faculty, except for a select few homophobes. However, if I thought they were bad, things were about to get much worse.

In early July 2010, I was awakened by my mother at 3am in the morning. This was very unusual, and the look on her face was one of pain and grief. She led me into a secluded room of the house where my uncle (her brother) sat waiting, my phone placed on the counter in front of him. My mom and father and gotten divorced after an abusive marriage, and we had moved in with my uncle and his family when I was 11 years old. Therefore, my uncle was a father figure for me.

I was made to sit down in between them, and the interrogation began. They had gone through my phone and found texts I sent to my friends, talking about my sexuality, and they claimed that they had also found out through the grapevine. I was yelled at by my uncle. He asked perverse and inappropriate questions about my sexuality, with dramatic monologues about how I am bringing shame to our immaculate family name that would put some of Bollywood’s most melodramatic moments to shame. All this occurred while my mother sat and silently weeped. Two hours of emotional and verbal abuse later I was sent back to bed.

The next morning, my uncle took my mom and disappeared for hours. Turns out they had gone to the doctor to discuss my situation, and a wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God,” I thought, “at least this person will see reason.”

I was wrong.

My uncle and mother came back hours later and took me with them to the car. My uncle leading, me behind him, and my mother closing in on me behind me. This would be the formation that would take place if we ever stepped out from here on out. For the next week, I had no cell phone, no access to the landline, no computer, no internet, all my friends were gone away for the summer - I was completely isolated.

Anyway, they drove me to the doctor’s office in the late afternoon, which I found odd because the office would have been closed by now. Sure enough, when we arrived at the clinic, there was a “Closed” sign on the door. However, my uncle opened it and lead me inside, with my mother following after me.

I was taken straight through the empty clinic - even the receptionist had gone home, so there was no record of my visit - and I was led into the doctor’s office, where he sat waiting for me. I walked in alone and the door was shut behind me.

What followed was a series of pseudo-scientific explanations as to how I’m mentally ill, disturbed and perverted. “This is a sickness,” he said. “God didn’t intend you to be this way.”

He added that this was probably because I don’t maintain a relationship with my father and was raised by a single mother, and I just need to “learn to be a man.” “And if you like anal sex, you know you can do that with a woman too you know?”

I was dejected. Destraught. Absolutely destroyed on the inside. A person I thought to be a voice of reason, was spewing the same judgemental ignorant rhetoric my uncle was. The irony makes me laugh though nine years later, because this year his wife discovered that he had been sleeping with a patient for the past several years. What a morally strong man…

The rest of the week is a bit of a blur. I disassociated myself for most of it. However the gist of it was my uncle interrogated me to see who I had sex with, my mother became suicidal, and my uncle became homicidal.

At one point he made explicit threats to my life, and I had to do an internal inventory. I can’t afford to run away and live on my own, I don’t want my mom to die, and I don’t want to get killed. So, I bit the bullet and basically faked a “recovery” to keep the peace. I had had enough of the emotional and mental abuse and manipulation from my uncle and just wanted some reprise.

I have a cousin I am extremely close with who I am out to. He lives out of province, and he was and is the biggest ally I have in my life. When he found out what was happening to me, he called my uncle. My uncle said something that concerned him, so he told me to fly out and stay with him for the duration of the summer until it was time for me to go back to school.

I did so and it was an amazing time. However, during that trip I also learned of how twisted my uncle’s brain truly was. He had told my cousin multiple ways in which he wanted to “deal with the mess” including murder, forced re-allocation and isolation, and he even wanted to hire a female sex worker to come rape me.

That stunned me, and I have never had a proper relationship with my uncle since.

Years went by, and it appeared as though the situation had been swept under the rug. My plan was to save up enough to one day pack my bags and leave, never to look back again. My mother and uncle were super close and he could have easily taken care of her in my absence.

That plan, however, was put on halt when the elders in the family decided that my mother should finally have a house of her own, a dream she had always had but never experienced. However, that would not be possible if I didn’t step up and help pay a portion of the mortgage. In actuality, I was given no choice either, so I put a stone on my heart and sacrificed my personal freedom so I could give my mother the comfort she deserves.

During the construction of the house though, everything went to shit. One day at the job site, a construction worker made fun of my more gentle mannerisms and began to make homophobic jokes. My uncle overheard and that was just the fodder he needed to begin making my life a living hell all over again.

From early 2016 until today, my uncle has been emotionally and mentally abusing me and anyone who will stick up for me. My mother would defend me, and he began to emotionally and mentally abuse her too.

I am stuck in the shittiest circumstance. My uncle and mother are waiting with bated breath to see what I do next.

My mother wants me to get married to a woman, something I will never do. My uncle WANTS me to flat out come out so he can further torture me verbally and/or physically, and make a spectacle out of my mother for having the audacity to speak up against his abusive tendencies.

And I honestly don’t know what the fuck I should do. On one hand, I refuse to marry a woman to please society. On the other hand, when I come out, my mother will want to have nothing to do with me, and with me gone, my uncle (and my aunt has joined the squad now) will have free reign to torture and harrass my mother. On top of that my mom won’t be able to make payments for the house, the house will be foreclosed, and my mom and sister will be forced to live on the streets, or move back in with my abusive uncle.

Just this past week while I was out of the house, my uncle came over to taunt my mother, because he knows he's emotionally vulnerable and won’t stick up for herself. He came over and told her that she’s basically unwanted and uncared for. That the people around her are going to treat her like a laughing stock. That no one is society will talk to her or say anything good about her because her son is a fag who will ruin the family izzat.

Izzat is something he is HELLBENT about. Back in the day when my mom was about to start college, he cornered her before she was about to leave the house and said “No one knows you for who you are, they know you as my sister. So if you fuck around with any guys whatsoever, I’m going to slit your throat and kill myself.” *slow clap for the amazing pep talk*

I am fucking exhausted. For the past nine years I have been surviving, not living. I go day in day out afraid for my life, afraid for what the future holds for my mother and sister. I’m afraid that something may happen to me, and no one will know and he will continue to live his life showing himself to be this perfect human who can never do any wrong.

However, I refuse to let that happen. Even if it’s the last thing I do, one day I am going to expose him and his truth to the world. He taunted my mother saying no one will care for her? Everyone is going to remember my mother for the beautiful soul that she is. It’s HIM that is going to be shunned by society for being the manipulative abusive psychopath that he is.

Everything is going to be made public one day. Crystal clear. Bright as day. I will make an example out of him, that if you around manipulating and abusing people for your little-man-syndrome/false pride, this is how you will be publicly disgraced and humiliated.

Until then, I need to go seek therapy, heal myself, and get ready to fight for not just my life, but for the sake of my mother and my sister. I had finally gotten to a point where I was actually excited to wake up in the morning. But now I’m back in that mental hole where when as soon as I wake up a wave of dread sweeps over me and I wish I hadn’t woken up. I would be lying if I said I have a will to live. However, I also refuse to do anything that would put my mother at risk for more abuse.

The thing that frustrates me the most is that while all this happened, NOTHING changed in my life. My struggle remained the same. As people zoom by me in life, getting amazing opportunities, running businesses, finding amazing life partners, just living their best life, I’m standing here like my legs are stuck in a block of cement. Feeling like I’m broken, lost, unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, and a failure.

Until I can do something, I could really use all the prayers I could get.

[inanawesomewave]

SOCIOPATH WALKS INTO A THERAPIST’S OFFICE, PART 2

The last post I did about the therapy I’m currently receiving seemed to get a lot of response, quite a few of you have got in touch and reached out to talk about your own sociopathy, or the sociopathy of someone that you care about, and especially about the care or lack of care that you have as someone with a personality disorder, specifically antisocial personality disorder. So, I thought I might make this a regular thing -- I love hearing from you all, and I think it’s probably a good idea to be honest and personable, so here’s instalment two of my therapy journey. We got really into it today. I had been quite tentative about how much I was going to reveal to my therapist about the true nature of myself, the parts of my personality that, whilst I’m not ashamed of and may even hold some pride in, would be considered unacceptable, or ugly, kind of shamelessly defective. There’s a shame there, not in myself, but in how I have to be perceived, and that in itself is a ridiculous and sociopathic conundrum that even has roots in narcissism -- I should get to be who I want, and the public image that I project should be justified and accepted at all costs. I can see objectively how that stubbornness and wilful ignorance forms a sizeable chunk of my ASPD, and that feeling alone made me understand why people say that sociopaths and psychopaths do not want or benefit from therapy. I wondered if the truth was we’re just harder nuts to crack, and we need someone we can trust, and gaining the trust of a person with perceived authority over our care and therefore autonomy and natural freedom is very hard for us. I wonder if the fact is a lot of therapists don’t want to try, that the abhorrent parts of us cloud their desire to effect real, compassionate change. The slog must seem like a thankless one when your job is to stop a sociopath from being a sociopath. You’ve got to work from the foundation up, but that’s what my therapist does. And I won’t lie, sometimes it feels like low-hanging fruit. I have to put my cynicism aside, because hearing “are you really angry at [whoever I’m angry at today], or are you angry at your mother?” over and over again does get weary, but for all the work I do talking about how childhood abuse, neglect and trauma are the biggest predictors of cluster B personality disorders, and however aware I am of my own rotten beginnings, there’s still a blind spot in me that would much rather blame something vague and mythical; The Human Condition, or even just The State Of Things, I’d rather rage against any and all minor authority or threat than accept the fact that everyone I end up being like this with, bears some striking resemblance to my mother. You can see how I’d be pessimistic though; oh, you’re a psychologist and now you’re telling me “it’s your mother”? Cool way to get into obscene amounts of debt and break your back in further education for years only to end up spouting the one Freudian cliché that every layman knows to be ubiquitous in psychotherapy. But, in my case, it’s just true. And maybe you’ve had that too, a father or mother who was narcissistic and abusive, and now you’ve ended up like this and you fucking hate anyone you think may be even slightly trying to manipulate and control you until you see that threat everywhere and must always attack. And maybe it’s your father, or maybe it’s your mother. The difficult thing we come to talk about in therapy is narcissism. Namely, my own narcissistic traits. I narcissistically thought I’d got out scot-free, and that sure I was confident and assertive but not narcissistic, there’s nothing in me that’s narcissistic. Hell, I’m so great at being not narcissistic. I’m the fucking best at being modest. Come give me praise for how great I am at not being a narcissist and fuck it, in general, I deserve it. So maybe it really is there.

After some gentle coaxing I gave him some examples of some of the things in the past I’ve done and said that maybe even I will concede might have been unreasonable, it was posited to me that I might have just been blazing through not necessarily on narcissism, but on grandiosity, an inflated sense of my own importance. I told him how just the other day I’d got into a very vicious, very visceral slanging match with someone I have known to be a malignant narcissist for some time, someone who is the partner of someone I love, and how the gloves fully came off and his partner, my friend, had to hear the full force of my sociopathic fury, and looking back, it might have been narcissistic injury. He spoke to me like I was small, weak, like talking to me like that was normal or acceptable. My outrage was first at his own behaviour toward my friend, but it quickly became about the attack on my ego and my battle to the top. I spoke to my therapist about how, after that argument, I switched into a familiar mode -- predator. It was like my mind was prowling, shooting off in all directions. I didn’t know fully what my prey specifically was, what point I needed to prove, but I needed to prove it. I have a burner facebook, and logging into that just to keep tabs on everyone I don’t like and have ancient grievances with for a couple of hours felt like an uncontrollable, necessary, cathartic compulsion, and it felt horrible and it felt fantastic. Like a narcissist, and like a sociopath, today I learned that my predation of anyone at all after a slight to my ego is fragile. Because we sociopaths wear all the masks, and the most well-tended-to one is one of absolute control, power and authority. And we don’t have as much control over that as we think we do. Sociopathy is a mask that eats into the face. What came next was a crack in that mask and through it bled the black sludge of horrid and bitter self-awareness -- when people tell me they wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of me, that I’m not to be fucked with -- are they humouring me? Have I been pathetic all this time? Apparently not, but fucking hell my fellow paths, think about that for a moment if you fancy looking into parts of your mind that you’ve spent a lifetime pretending are absolutely not there. I have blind spots, we all have blind spots. I don’t know about you, but that’s mine, and it’s the only thing that’s made me feel anything closely resembling true shame in quite some time. And I seek out narcissists. I hate them and love them. I’ve had several significant friendships fall apart because I’ve always known they were narcissistic but one day I realise I despise what I thought I loved about them. From the neurotic and overbearingly bitter grandiose dominatrix I thought I cared for, to the hypochondriacal self-autobiographical, self-confessed empath (lol) I spent years trying to have friendly affection for, I knowingly and willingly give such large portions of my time and energy to instantly-identifiable narcissists, and by the time I come to hate them, it’s a mystery to me why I was drawn to them to begin with. But it’s really not a mystery, is it? My mother used to tell me a story that her father told her as a child, something of a fable: A grasshopper could fall in love with a blackbird, but where would they live? Like will always go with like. But before I had time to really spiral about the possibility I might be just as bad as my own worst enemy, my therapist told me that I may currently be occupying a middle place, that true narcissists can’t access: that is, the space between self-aggrandisement and self-loathing. I mentioned to my therapist that I’d written two books, and he reassured me that if I were a narcissist that would have been the first thing I told him, and he wouldn’t just be hearing about it now. So I guess that’s something. But I did still tell him.

It’s funny when someone asks you questions about yourself, when you’ve spent a lifetime being so self-analytical and playing the part of your own biographer, because when it’s time to answer the tough questions, you realise you haven’t practiced for this, or the way you feel about recounting those stories is not what you’d anticipated -- by which I mean, I was very aware of what I was saying. And sometimes it’s beneficial to talk out loud to someone who makes a career out of being impartial, and can’t judge you, because then they can start joining dots you never thought to, but were glaringly obvious. My early to mid 20s were a chaotic binge of drugs and alcohol, but I think the thing I chased the most was the company of older, wealthier men, with natural privilege and dominance. Subconsciously, the goal of these relationships, with hindsight, seems to have been to assert my own dominance, or encourage submission, from this specific kind of person. All these relationships followed a very similar pattern, but it wasn’t until today that I realised that they were vehicles for my revenge on the people who could have helped me as a child, and whilst we know that sociopaths use people, and it’s never a good thing to do, we never think about why, even as sociopaths. Today I learned that we are all angry, vengeful, spiteful and bitter, but just like narcissists and borderlines, we’re protecting ourself from that truth by rewriting our own narrative. I never consciously masterminded those relationships, and it’s neither a good or bad thing that this was, seemingly, just my natural state of being, but I wonder if all sociopaths are a little less self-aware than they first thought. I guess they wouldn’t know the answer to that question. I didn’t, until today.

And none of it felt like bragging. I had no pride in what I was telling my therapist, just as I had no shame. But imagine you’re in court, and your charges are being read against you, but in your voice, by someone with your face. It’s just destabilising enough to spur off lots of chains of thought, but not so much that it’s causing distress. This may still be relentlessly sociopathic, but knowledge is power, and, even if what you learn about yourself isn’t what you’re expecting, I still see it as extremely beneficial that I know as much about myself and my processes as possible. Maybe next week I’ll find out why that is.

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ROBYN! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Arthur Weasley. Your application was honestly a dream. I love, love, love how you expanded on how Arthur’s speech impediment affected his growth, and the man he’s become. The way you delve into his relationship with Molly, and with their children just allowed me to disappear into his character. I can’t wait to see where you take him from here.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name:

robyn

age:

21

pref pros:

she/her

timezone:

GMT (wales)

activity:

I’m working full time but other than that I should be around daily to interact.

how do you feel about your character dying?:

I’d be gutted because Arthur has already been dealt a bit of a shitty hand (what with everything in the Mols/Gid/Fab realm) but such is war and that’s this world.

anything else?:

WHERE’S MY WIFFEEEEEEEE :(( — jk he’s just suffering already :D

ic details.

full name:

Arthur Septimus Weasley

date of birth:

5th february 1950

former hogwarts house:

Ravenclaw - A boy who could be heard without words, who can command attention from his peers? tell me he’s not here to prove himself with his knowledge of other languages or pour himself into non-verbal magic to provide himself with a voice that can not be ignored. For an individual that has never been thoughtless, Hogwarts freed him from any social restraints he put on himself, the house of the curious facilitated the growth of that character, to ask questions where he felt things were unjust or provide an answer to those that challenged him. It leads perfectly into his role within the Ministry as he attempted to introduce legislature to protect and normalise muggle culture.

(I have always been irritated at the trope-y excuses for the Weasley’s being Gryffindors,Art screams Ravenclaw to me, lemme know what you think)

sexuality:

heterosexual

gender/pronouns:

cis male, he/him

face claim change:

i’m happy with sam if you are

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

Art is that guy that you turn to when you need someone to hear you out or have a be with. He’s a rock because he has his world laid ahead of him, his marriage is absolutely water tight and his children are the light of his life. Shake that up and you’ve shaken his core sense of stability. With Molly gone… He’s lost in the hope for her to come back to them all, to their children, to him.

Therefore his strengths look like:

Homemaker/Comforter: He and Mol built the Burrow for themselves before the children were even a whisper in their subconscious, and now he strives for the familiarity and comfort that his home gave even strangers. Godric’s Hollow is a taboo place, in a horrendous situation, but Arthur turns the dingiest corners into little nooks for the boys or respite for those around them all. Hopefully everyone benefits from smaller icons of what home could be and where it could be found again.

Defender: Arthur’s decision to join the Order was not only to protect the ones he holds dearest, but those that need help. He is no pawn to be played with and whilst he feels he has made the biggest mistake by not taking his children and wife and leaving, Arthur knows Molly will come back to him. His knowledge in defensive magic will grow broader as he seeks to understand the darker twists and turns of runic magic and strengthening wand-less charms and hexes for the purpose of duelling. What else could he do with the time where the kids are asleep?

And his weaknesses look like:

Sightless: People may’ve picked up on the speech impediment, something he’s navigated for years but he’s currently blinded. Not physically of course, but things have occurred and who knows what is happening to those missing. Arthur is a certified knot of chaos, and is only just realising that it’s detrimental to his and his children’s safety. He’s too caught in what was and cannot accept a future without his wife and friends. It’s a lot for everyone right now, but he cannot drag himself from the searing pain of what looks to be the future. Unlike others, Arthur is finding it incredibly difficult to move forwards without his stabilising people. To have lost his brother-in-law, and not know whether his other brother-in-law, and wife, has annihilated any sense of security.  

Unamenable: In the sense that he hates the pity that others cast him whilst desperately requiring the support he needs for his own wellbeing and that of his children. It’s something that he needs to get over yesterday in order to survive as a parent, it isn’t weak to accept the criticism of those around him.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

His blood runs cold when he can’t see all of his children. Every morning he wakes up and forgets in those two seconds that Molly isn’t going to be soft under his arms, he’s content, but then he remembers. Arthur has stopped being the warm, inviting, individual that he was once acclaimed, and is now succinct with a worn nod or an obligated line of a smile. Opening up to the new people he’s put in close proximity with isn’t his game, and instead of offering stories to lighten the mood, he listens to everyone and everything he can. He observes more so now than ever and people can assume it’s because he has a speech impediment or that he’s grief stricken because his family are missing or because he’s preoccupied with his children. Arthur isn’t at Godric’s Hollow out of choice, he’s there because he couldn’t think of a better place to be with his children. He’s incredibly thankful but doesn’t trust people’s intentions, Arthur is aware that he can be used a tool in the machine and is biding his time until someone calls upon him.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why?

Arthur’s as conflicted as most. Stay in the quiet with the boys and lay low, stay protected where flicks of ginger haired aren’t sought out to match their mother’s. Yet there’s a fire in him that yearns to fight and flicker from the ashes and embers, to go and fight for Molly. And he so bitterly finds himself wishing that they would’ve waited longer for the children’s sake because if there were no children they could’ve fought harder at the immediate. She wouldn’t have been lost. He shouldn’t have been a coward and told her to go alone… He’s a mass dichotomy, no one move seems to have a balanced return, he always seems to lose.

It’ll take time but he will realise that he needs to listen to his gut and fight forwards, to set an example that good does prevail when it’s smart and strong enough. For now, they’re all exhausted and Arthur’s very much caught in that state of mind also.

With Molly missing, how is Arthur managing taking care of his children and continuing to be a part of the Order? Does he feel like he should remain a part of the Order?

He knows that he has obligations to the Order because after all, they are housing his children, using resources that should be reserved for those that are actively fighting. However, they accepted that strain and he will serve as best as he can. Currently Arthur is attempting to school his children with what books are littered through Godric’s Hollow and provide structure and normalcy where there seems to be none.

Art knows the Order need people who are dedicated to lose their lives for this, for others, and more importantly for the future, but he just isn’t sure if that is something that he can actively promise or provide to any degree.

Although he continues to read and further his skills to the point where he either decides to move the children and fight with the Order or leave Godric’s Hollow and take off with them.

extra.

here you can list or add any extras you created to get a sense of this character. that can include graphics, writing samples, mock blogs, etc. apps that have extras won’t have an advantage over apps that don’t, although it can help me further understand your grasp of the character.

00/00/52 Molly

05/02/50 Arthur

29/11/70 Bill

12/12/72 Charlie

22/08/76 Percy

01/04/78 George

01/04/78 Fred

01/03/80 Ron

11/08/81 Ginny

_________________________________________________________________

“Do not listen with the intent to reply. But with the intent to understand.”

Fingertips pressed to the tip of his thumb, orderly and silent within his pocket. Listen, watch, observe Arthur, it’s the fastest track to becoming a wiser man. Advice from his father, a stoic, genius of a man. He’s taught Arthur secrets about morality and how to keep his tongue in his head before he had even considered the evils of the world. It was priceless information to have instilled into you at a younger age - especially with the Weasley name carrying blood traitor status.

However it took a time for everyone to realise that words were caught struggling to tumble from his mouth, tripping on his tongue. Fighting their way through monetary issues meant that Cedrella and Septimus Weasley were incredibly busy people whilst Arthur was younger. Both working tirelessly in order to make ends meet, and of course they did, but at the extent of Arthur never really being able to realise the frustrations of having a speech impediment until he took interest in attempting to say new words at the age of five. He should’ve been talking for longer than that but it was a combination of being busy and Arthur naturally being quiet that allowed his disability to go unrecognised.

And so began the speech therapy with a diagnosis for developmental verbal dyspraxia. His speech went from incorrect stresses to monotone, breath control allowed Art to imagine the music he had heard and loved so dearly and breathe to it, suddenly he was starting to flourish. In the meantime, he was introduced to sign language in the therapist’s waiting room, and of course he was intrigued. Talking without words? It seemed like the ultimate solution and so he delved into books and taught himself to sign in the mirror. He wasn’t fluent with expressions and developing a less mechanical place until he made friends with a few deaf children. They filled the gaps in his knowledge and he was a new friend for them to play with. It was exactly what he needed to realise that he could manage without clear language, that he could make others hear him. And these children were muggle, without magic to aid their communication.

Arthur was so excited to be surrounded in magic that he started reading the texts at the age of ten, the anticipation made him nervous beyond belief, knowing that incantations would be his fall. Instead he read the theory of the magic, practising the movements and prayed that by the time he got to Hogwarts, he would just need time to breathe through the incantations. Thankfully he was sorted into Ravenclaw, a house that fed his traits of listening but nurtured the need to ask questions, he began to reach out to his peers and ask more. And they listened, sometimes baffled by his lack of intonation, sometimes reaching out to sign themselves, it was a house of curiosity and endless questions so of course Arthur was forced to be more communicative.

Whilst it wasn’t a cure all, it was what he needed to develop into the individual that would speak out against what he thought was wrong and stand strongly for what he believed to be right.

__________________________________________________________________

“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

Red hair felt out of place on the Ravenclaw table. Warmed by a firm hand on the shoulder, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at the faces beaming at one another, wondering what the first years might bring to the house. His quiet at the table was easily accepted and ears tentatively picking up names and hobbies. As he turned in his bed, his stomach was full of dread at the realisation of the title to live up to - the innovators and path makers. Arthur swallowed the fear of inadequacy as he rolled again, restlessness was a new thing to one so young.

It was only a week before another signed hello to him, something he hadn’t even clocked as he returned the gesture but was immediately dumbfounded as it came to the front of his mind. It earned a grin from across the room and finally he was settled in his new home, with others hungry to learn from their peers and fill gaps in their familiarity. Despite it turning out that the other thought he was deaf, Art still greatly appreciated the act of kindness, and it instilled in him to give time to others. He hadn’t tried that hard with those around him since he had been surrounded by kids at speech therapy, but this pushed him.

A mention of a charms club had him asking questions to a fifth year student who laughed at him but shrugged and jotted down the directions to a second floor classroom. His magic had never thrived more than when charged with excitement, and Art was soon to be questioned on how he was so proficient. Why was he so proficient? And so his slow explanation was spoken aloud, a rarity to the 11 year old, but others heard him and laughed, wondering if he was going to do their homework for him.

Ravenclaw is his spiritual home. It nurtured him not only with knowledge, but with opportunity. It gifted him the bollocks to ask Molly out. Ravenclaw bequeathed him the strength to shrug off ridiculous name calling and sneers about his sympathy towards non-magical possessing individuals. His core was absolute and clad with the experiences that he held dearest, to support and nurture. To defend. To listen, to learn before marching blindly. Arthur’s morality was furthered in Ravenclaw, it wasn’t borne in the house, but it was watered to full blossom. No longer a seed under fresh soil, but a sunflower tall and looking for light where seemed little.

__________________________________________________________________

“Eos ipsos defendere non possunt defendamus”

(Let us defend those who are unable to defend themselves)

Arthur fell in love with Molly. Molly fell in love with Arthur. Everyone knew that was the story, they could see it in the fond glances and touches that lingered, savouring one another. They were the couple that you almost couldn’t imagine not being together, complete yin and yang. One was burned hot and vibrant where the other ran cool and calm, pacing was better for the both of them as the realised how well the other benefited their lives.

People didn’t see the arguments about having children immediately or wanting to travel or the small pause that happened just after they bought the Burrow. It wasn’t for people to see. They certainly didn’t see the months long conversation about joining the Order or what it would do to their family. What it would do to them and for what? A cause?

“Protecting who at what cause?!”

It made sense now.

But of course there was a part to the yin and yang that absolutely reassured Arthur everyday he woke up. Because for over a decade he had given to loving Molly Prewett, he had received her love back, he was now a piece of her. He would know if she had died. He had to know. It wasn’t fabled that people collapsed out of the blue despite not knowing their significant other had passed. It couldn’t have been. He would hold Ginevra in his arms every night whispering promises of returning her to her mother, of offering the comfort of her touch, and there were nights when his daughter was his only comfort whilst he sobbed alone, defeated and exhausted.

“Children! Families! People with those to lose!”

The memory of the argument alone made him stoic and calmed his fears as much as it screamed his guilt in silent moments of thought. An odd juxtaposition but he was as determined as he was when the words had left his lips. All of them had but one goal to move through this. They would find her, because that was what they were all here to do - what they had to do.

__________________________________________________________________

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.”

Charlie. Percy. Fred. George. Ron. Where’s the baby?! WHERE’S T- Ginny.

Morning mantras were never reminding yourself that your children were alive and surrounding you, they were the eggs and bacon?

Or porridge?

No, Dad! I want toast.

It wasn’t always a tightened chest when he heard a clatter of locks changing whilst his children played across the room from him, an instant flash of hands to check that they were all aware to be respectful of those around them. He had never quietened their noise as he did so now… Not that they were louder than most’s speaking level. It still was unnatural to see his eldest pick up the younger ones when Arthur moved in front of them when somebody unexpected entered the room.

Watching his children grow up aware that they were all targets. Now that was stomach churning, to see their fight or flight in real time instead of in tag or when they were scared because they’d broken a glass.

Art was exhausting his imagination in order to provide fun alternatives for them to play or take their minds away from the cold reality. They were now learning how to write their wishes and new words and spells. Art was worried for his children getting to an age where they needed proper magical tuition, whether they would leave for Hogwarts as Bill had, how would they channel their magic initially without wands. Could he guide them through that?

What would Molly do?

His heart burned for his eldest son. He just wasn’t enough for everyone and that was the problem, wasn’t it? Arthur felt like he was letting his boy down by leaving him away from the rest of his siblings but it was the safest place for him. Perhaps safer than his siblings. It was the question that wracked his head - should he collect Bill from Hogwarts so that he was safe with everyone? How could he protect him when he was miles away? Would he be able to protect another child, especially one so desperate to protect his siblings… Molly would be so irritated at that thought. Or maybe she would be furious that he still waited, that he hadn’t taken them already. His mind buzzed light the air in a storm, but at least his words weren’t yet electric and sharp to others. Instead he exhaled and shook out the distress, heaving sighs in hopes of removing the weight crushing his chest.

Self doubt was an evil bastard and he was consumed with the what-ifs and the when’s instead of the right-here’s and the nows.

DAD!!!!

He had been waiting for it. Percy was writing letters to his grandmother when Charlie had stolen a rubber band and thwacked it across the room, hitting his brother on the side of the head. Arthur stifled a laugh whilst he watched Molly take a rather purposeful sip of tea to hide her smile before correcting the behaviour.

Dad?

Art blinked, staring at a frowning George, tuning back into the room. His son had been so hesitant, the boys were very patient with both him and Ginny in the absence of their mother. They wanted home as much as he did, but at least their space was slowly becoming more comfortable and their drawings were brightening Godric’s Hollow as small gifts to the others that sat and read stories with them all. He just hoped that this wouldn’t become their usual and he could return to the home he had made for his family.

__________________________________________________________________

AFTER THOUGHT:

(Muse is something that develops in scenario for me personally and I am stoked for the plot of this RP to reinvent the Arthur I’ve written for years. Hence how face value the answers are, but hit me up if you want more drabble or to further move through the points, I just want the chance to do this organically through interaction.)

[meditativeyoga]

Navigating Depression with Meditation

A woman named Sally called me not long ago consulting. I had seen her for a single session in examination months in the past, and also we had chatted concerning a range of restorative and spiritual concerns. Like lots of people with a rate of interest in spirituality, she was questionable of the duty of psychological medicines in today's society. It appeared like the mark of some kind of Brave New World to have mood-altering medicines so easily offered. However like several others, Sally wondered if there may be a medication that might assist her. She had been afflicted with persistent sensations of anxiousness as well as anxiety for much of her adult life, and regardless of a healthy and balanced investment in psychotherapy, she still really felt that there was something the issue with her. When I talked to Sally the 2nd time, she had been taking a little dosage of an antidepressant for numerous weeks, 25 milligrams of Zoloft, and also she was discovering that she really felt calmer, less cranky, and also, attempt she state, better. She was taking place a two-week reflection resort later on that month. Something regarding taking her drug while on retreat made Sally uneasy, and that was the factor for her telephone call. 'Possibly I ought to go a lot more deeply into my problems while I'm away,' she said. She worried that the antidepressant would impede that process by making her issues much less easily accessible to her. 'Just what do you think?' she asked.

Let me be clear right from the begin that there is no universal response in a situation like this. Some individuals see when they take medications like Prozac, Paxil, or Zoloft, antidepressants of the SSRI (discerning serotonin re-uptake inhibitor) variety, that they feel cut-off from themselves therefore. They do not feel their feelings quite so acutely as well as in some cases record sensation numb. Some, both males and females, discover that the medications disrupt their ability to reach climax. Numerous others find that the damping down of their feelings is much more refined. Among my clients notifications she not cries in motion pictures, for instance, yet she is eager to accept this since she additionally no more worries to the factor of fatigue regarding points she could do absolutely nothing about.

I was eliminated to listen to that Sally was really feeling better. Individuals that react well to these antidepressants commonly have none of the negative effects stated above. Instead they really feel brought back, recovered of the depressive symptoms that they were expending so much of their energy attempting to fend off. Much less preoccupied with their inner states, they are freer to join their own lives, yet they usually question if they are cheating. 'This isn't really the genuine me,' they oppose. 'I'm the exhausted, cranky, no-good one you keep in mind from a pair of weeks back.' As a psychoanalyst, I am frequently in the position to urge people to examine those identifications. Clinically depressed individuals think they recognize themselves, but possibly they only recognize depression.

Sally's question was interesting not only due to the medication concern but because of her assumptions concerning the nature of spiritual job. The concept that we need to go a lot more deeply into our issues in order to be recovered is a widespread one, and one that, as a therapist, I am supportive toward.

Certainly, overlooking the shadow side of our characters can only cause what Freud once called the 'return of the quelched.' Yet it struck me that there was a remnant of American Puritanism implicit in Sally's perspective, or at the very least a Judeo-Christian tendency to separate the Self right into reduced as well as greater, or better and also worse.

When individuals think that they are their problems, there is frequently a need to select away at the Self. People think that if they could simply admit the horrible fact regarding themselves they would certainly start to really feel much better. Going extra deeply right into our troubles could be simply an additional variation on trying to obtain rid of our troubles entirely to return to a state of original purity like the Garden of Eden. While most specialists would probably deny a religious influence on their thinking, numerous collude automatically with this mode of thought. Going extra deeply right into one's troubles is the common strategy of many therapies, and also it can lead to a type of sober sincerity and also humility that offers people a peaceful strength of character.

But to go more deeply into our troubles is sometimes to go just into exactly what we currently recognize. I made sure that Sally did not have to go searching for problems on her retreat. Retreats are hard enough also for people that are not depressed.

Sally's unsolved problems would come entering to fill up every area whether she took her antidepressant or otherwise, yet she may have a lot more success in not being absorbed by them with the medication within her.

I informed her that at this moment I felt she required to appear of her troubles, not go right into them extra deeply, and also that the antidepressant should not obtain in her means in that regard. To be overwhelmed while on hideaway would certainly not be helpful. As a therapist influenced by the knowledge of the East, I am certain that there is another direction where to relocate such scenarios: far from the issues and into the unknown. If we stick with the worry this usually generates, we have a special chance to see our own egos at job, resisting the unidentified while concealing out in the actual problems we claim to desire freedom from. Buddhism is really clear concerning how vital it is to relocate such a direction.

The Buddhist writer and translator Stephen Batchelor, in his ascetic brand-new publication on the teachings of a third-century Indian philosopher-monk called Nagarjuna, Verses from the Center: A Buddhist Vision of the Sublime, eloquently explains how the mind could be released of all restraints in reflection. He informs of how the eighth-century Indian monk Shantideva, author of An Overview of the Bodhisattva's Method of Life, was freed after uttering the adhering to words: 'When neither something neither absolutely nothing/ Remains to be known,/ There is no alternate left/ Yet total non-referential simplicity.'

Rather compared to going more deeply right into his issues, Shantideva discovered how you can disentangle his mind from them. This is an approach that Western treatment has little experience with, yet it is the structure of Eastern knowledge. The components of the psychological stream are not as vital as the awareness that recognizes them. The mind softens in reflection with the assumption of a specific mental posture called 'bare interest,' in which neutral, nonjudgmental recognition is educated on whatever there is to observe. Issues are not distinguished from solutions, the mind discovers how you can be with ambiguity.

The imagery that explains this transformation in timeless Oriental societies is disclosing. When nourished with reflective understanding, the mind unfolds like a lotus, sign of the prehistoric Buddha-nature that is obscured by our identifications with our troubles. Buddhas themselves sit after a lotus throne, symbol of a mind that contains everything but holds absolutely nothing. The lotus is an additional means of evoking the womblike nature of emptiness or sunyata, whose translation is literally 'pregnant void.' In Batchelor's book he defines how the understanding of emptiness 'relieves fixations,' another means of speaking regarding releasing the mind from an obsession with 'problems.' A translation of the Sanskrit prapanaca, 'fixations' take origin when we transform fleeting as well as ephemeral pleasures or displeasures right into objects that we then try to hold on to.

They are proof of a kind of psychological materialism that holds us as high as we would love to hold it. Sally felt that she ought to go extra deeply right into her troubles, not to comprehend their vacant nature, yet to confess the awful fact regarding herself. This type of truth-seeking concealed a continuing accessory to the kind of person she believed she ought to be: an individual without problems.

We are released from our problems, I have found out, not by going right into them a lot more deeply, however by understanding the vacant and womblike nature of our minds. Sally did not should make Zoloft right into an additional problem. She can use it, rather, to assist unfold her lotus mind in meditation.

Mark Epstein, M.D., is a psychiatrist in New York and also writer of Thoughts without a Thinker: Psychotherapy from a Buddhist Perspective as well as Going to Parts Without Breaking down. He's been a trainee of Buddhist reflection for 25 years.

[distractedfanatic]

Grey’s Talk + Real Talk

This delves into mental illness and it also discusses spoilers for Grey’s Anatomy 15x16. 

Under cut for sensitivity and spoilers. This is also stupid (STUPID) long and I’m sorry but I needed to say it. Hopefully it finds the people who need to read it. 💗

[but seriously, it’s long]

Deluca’s Dad storyline was harder for me than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought. It was hard because I expected to be more conflicted and I felt guilty for how passionately sure I was about my reactions. I also feel that my strong (negative) opinions merit some explanation. Specifically, because my issue is not with his mental illness, but with the behaviour even (and especially) from the lens of mental illness. My possibly controversial stance is that mental illness is not an excuse. It’s a reason or perhaps an explanation, but it is not an excuse for treating people badly, for alienating people or for neglecting self-work and certainly not for abusive behaviour to people trying to help and support (and I know sometimes this is impossible. I get that.) But I do think Andrew’s Dad was manipulating him and it broke my heart to see Carina’s pain in this episode - give that woman a hug!

[Digression into some context building on my opinion....]

Mental illness is close to my life. It’s a personal struggle and journey for me and it is an active, constant, often painful commitment to remaining accountable for my actions and my relationships. It’s not easy, and it’s really not fair, BUT it’s my truth and I believe in the power of leading by example. So I don’t say it lightly that I believe mental illness is not an excuse and I believe I must out myself in order to take that stance. I cannot always control what I think or feel or even how I act. But I can control how I react to it after, how I approach damage control, how much accountability I take and how much power I give mental illness in exchange for wiping my hands of its destruction. 

My easy days are what some would consider their hardest. It’s all on a spectrum. My reality allows me to see both sides clearer because I have such a stark comparison between good and bad, up and down. I refuse to give mental illness credit for the absolute beauty and gratitude I have for my life and my good days, so why would I blame it fully for my bad days. Giving an illness I did not ask for and cannot control, the power of saying it makes me who I am or it dictates my quality of connections is not worth it to me to be able to surrender to it and hide behind it and I owe it to myself and everyone else to embrace it and understand it so it does not control me. I do name it. I do speak it - but how that looks for me is not rooted in shame or manipulation, it comes from a place of honesty. Of “I’m not okay today and I can’t have this conversation”. Of “I wasn’t myself and I’m doing the very best I can”. I feel the responsibility I carry as a result of mental illness and I have deep respect for anyone who is doing their best - whatever that looks like. And I draw the line at painting myself a victim - it is a disservice to the honest to god work it takes to be a human with a mental illness in a world still not built for us. And these stories on Grey’s about parents with mental illness are tough for me because I recognize that I’m in the drivers seat and should I decide to raise kids I will need to hold myself even more accountable because the cards I’ve been dealt cannot be any child’s burden. But I also appreciate this is a deeply personal topic and I respect that other people may disagree - that is their right. This is simply my own truth.

[Back to Grey’s….]

When mental illness is depicted on TV that’s always risky. (Shout out to You’re the Worst and A Million Little Things for getting a lot of stuff right and being self-aware). My personal experience is also why I have SUCH a soft spot for Helen (or at least, the season 15 version of her). I’m so proud of her, if that makes sense. I’m happy for Alex to have this time with her as her best self, and I’m proud of her. I loved how in 15x15 they played with the audience and Alex’s perception of what mental illness looks like and what stability looks like.

It is a struggle to accurately portray these topics because it’s a struggle to actually live them, or to watch loved ones live them. On TV and in life, it’s hard to balance a fear that you or your loved one isn’t okay, but also be open that they are not defined by their illness and that it can (hopefully) be managed (by meds, therapy, alternative options, or a combination). That they are a person that is bigger than any illness. And the cruelty is that “okay” and “not okay” can look so very similar.

So in Helen’s situation the bar was set low for Alex and he’s seeing that she is doing okay, so maybe he can stop looking at her as someone to take care of and focus on building a relationship. Andrew is doing the same, in theory - even if I think his motivations are influenced by other factors. But I do think Helen and Dr. Deluca will be foils to each other here. Both struggle with mental illness, both have sons deeply impacted as a result. But are the outcomes going to be different?

But also, has Helen primed us to expect that he will be opposite. If she is stable, do we automatically expect him not to be? We do have it on good authority (Carina) that he isn’t as okay as he seems. How much are they playing with our perceptions and misconceptions about mental illness? I don’t know that. I also don’t know Dr. Deluca enough to know what his personality is. He does come across as quite intense from the get go - but I don’t want to unfairly assume this is nearing manic territory, when it could just be who he is: a passionate, excited doctor and father who may be a bit tone deaf as to the impact he’s had on his family. My gut feeling is he is not okay. Carina tells us he is not okay. Everything. EVERYTHING about her in this episode exudes pain and exhaustion and proof of how not okay he really is and how she is shouldering that burden - more so with Andrew not open to seeing her side.

Now, regarding the conversation between Deluca and his Dad - that I personally feel fueled Andrew’s desire to take his Dad’s side… As it was happening I wasn’t convinced he would go down that rabbit hole. So I’m kind of disappointed that’s what seems to have happened. But there was a very key connection that tells me this was intentional - and if that’s the case, it is a larger theme that needs to be explored between him and Mer.

In 15x12 when he’s getting frustrated with her hot and cold he says (I’m paraphrasing my ass off here) [“I thought you were so BEYOND me. But you’re not. You’re like a child”] -- say what you will about the validity or appropriateness of those comments. But he was tuning into a real feeling he was having and naming that he had felt undeserving of her, at least in part. He was giving us a window into an insecurity he may not even be fully aware of.

SO. To see his Dad echo that to the letter was very interesting: 

VD - “I see you... but this woman of yours, she is beyond you.”

AD - “Wow... Thank you”

VD - “Andrea, even I have heard of Meredith Grey, all the way back home. She’s more than a beauty, she is brilliant.

AD - “Yeah, I’m aware”

VD - “So... then... we change the word together! We save the babies!”

If I’m correct in how intentional this was, then I 100% believe Deluca got hijacked by this nagging insecurity and is going full speed ahead, not only because he wants to give his Dad a chance or believes he is truly stable enough for this project (which may be true for all we know). But an additional, and perhaps more powerful motivator for Andrew is that if he can be part of medical history then he can meet Mer on the pedestal he has put her on - subconsciously or not.

My disclaimer to all this is that I do believe he is confident, and I’m aware he went after her first. But you can be confident and sure of an attraction and still insecure. You can be open to love and still be intimidated. He can feel all the things. I think the trouble will be if he is unaware that he is feeling them and therefore does not deal with them. And finally, if this is an issue that surfaces, and it’s not addressed, it could breed resentment and frustration on both ends - I do not want Mer taking this on as her own because she is not lording her power over him and in fact, she was concerned about that dynamic because she understands how hard it can be. My hope is that she recognizes it and can reassure him and he will find some solid footing in their relationship and with his Dad. If I didn’t love them so hard and love him so hard I’d probably enjoy seeing him all innocent and vulnerable, but I’m just scared he’s opening himself up to be heartbroken by his Dad. And I’m not sure I can handle that. haha. Finger crossed no matter what happens with the Deluca famjam, it only serves to bring Merluca closer. 🤞💗

I’m fascinated by where they could take all this. I’m cautiously optimistic that even if it goes sideways, they can still offer some valuable commentary on mental illness and the stigma around it.

I’m so excited to see the reactions from the rest of the fandom!

Sorry this got so real (and SO long). I just couldn’t talk about this episode without going into what is informing my thoughts. Talking about mental illness and mental health matters, and if my openness resonates with just one person, that’s enough. Everyone has light inside and it’s okay not to be okay. And for everyone else fighting this monster, and doing the very best to be your very best: I see you. You are not alone. 💗

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #167

“everything he sees is just blue like him, inside and outside.”

Did the house you grew up in have a big yard? It was fairly decent. Have you ever worked over 50 hours in one week? No. What has been the most difficult class you’ve ever taken? Latin. Do you think teenagers should focus more on their education rather than on relationships? Well, yeah. I mean that as in you should pursue knowledge more than love, but it can of course happen and should be taken seriously. What’s your opinion on couples ‘staying together for the kids?’ Awful idea. Your children don't need to grow up on the sidelines of a dead relationship. It can give them such negative expectations. Did any of the classes you took in high school count towards uni credit? No. Do you think being born was a mistake? No. Have you ever been arrested? No. Has a relative ever been arrested? Don't believe so. Do you think the Fountain of Youth exists? No. How about in a parallel dimension? Maybe, idk. Do you believe humans are part of a giant alien experiment? Not necessarily aliens, but I'm *open* to the possibility that we're just a simulation of a future civilization to learn how their ancestors lived, like we're literally Sims. I lean towards that being false, but. There's astonishing evidence for the possibility we're not "real," though regardless, I stand by the "I think, therefore I am" quote, so I really don't care either way. Do you think your blood is sacred? Uh... no? Have you ever been suicidal? Yeah. Was it a passing phase or is it something controlled by medication? It was something corrected with the help of medication, LOTS of therapy, and a closure conversation with Jason. Do you hold any holiday special in your heart? Halloween and Christmas, particularly. Is there a holiday you wish no one celebrated? Which is it? Why do you feel that way? Eh, I don't feel like flipping through the list of holidays right now. What’s your favorite book? Why is that? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo because it is a masterpiece of the needlessness for war, as well as The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, though by this point I don't even recall most of the story... I just know I adored it. Who is your all-time favorite author? Don't have one. What do you like about them? N/A Who’s your favorite poet? Poe, of course. What’s your all-time favorite band? How about all-time fave singer? I have too many favorite bands. Singers, Freddie Mercury and Brendon Urie. Do you think most mythological creatures exist? No. Have you ever had lice? No. What brand of dish soap do you use? Uhhhh idk, I don't wanna go look lol. Do any of your neighbors have dogs? Idk. Growing up, did you listen to country music? Yup, believe it or not. Have you ever dated someone on the football team? No. Do you like tomatoes? I'm not a fan. I can enjoy fresh ones in a small amount in a sandwich/burger, but that's it. What’s your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? No. What brand of makeup do you wear? I don’t wear a specific brand. What type of waffles do you like? (Plain, blueberry etc..) Plain or chocolate chip, depending on mood. Do you brush your tongue? Holy shit brush your tongue, dude. What kind of laugh do you have? It's loud and obnoxious as hell. What kind of cell phone do you have? (ex. flip, slider, or traditional.) Touch screen. Have you ever gotten searched by the cops? No. Have you ever been enrolled in private school? No. Do you know how to grill a steak? No. Would you ever use an online dating service? No, was on one v briefly and it was. Very much not my thing. I felt like I was hunting for a relationship when I'm way more for it just finding you. Do you like Gushers? YES. Do you have a large dog? No, Teddy and Bentley are both medium-sized. If not, are you afraid of them? Not at all. I love big dogs. What is more annoying: A sore throat or a headache? Headaches. Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Have you ever gone out of state for a concert? No. When is the last time you went on a date? March. ;____; Do your parents know that/if you smoke? I don't. What is your favorite board game from your childhood? I hated shopping, so I haven't a clue how it was Mall Madness lmao. I also loved that carnival Cranium game, whatever it was. Have you ever gotten rid of something you shouldn’t have and then really regretted it later? Yeah, senior prom pics. There were some where I actually looked pretty fuck Do you beat yourself up when you make mistakes? Usually. Have you ever tried anything off the Starbucks secret menu? No. Do you have string lights in your bedroom? No, but I'd like them. What is your favorite flavor of tea? Tea is disgusting. Do you have an inspiration board? I have a Pinterest board of hair colors and styles I like. What is your favorite magnet on your fridge? Never paid attention to the ones we have. Do you like to sit in the grass? No. Are there popsicles in your freezer right now? Yeah, we got 'em for when I got my tongue pierced. Is there a lamp in your bedroom? No. Would you prefer eating jello or pudding? Pudding. After washing your hair, do you put any products in it? No. Have you ever crawled through a vent? No. Last time you rode a bike? Years ago. What is something you used to always do but don’t anymore? Uhhhh. Idk. Well actually, I used to always have soda like multiple times a day, but now I go some days without touching it. What is the last thing you broke and how did you break it? Idr. What is the best thing you have received when trick or treating? Reese's, ha ha. What is the worst thing you have received when trick or treating? I hate(d) tootsie rolls. What word do you hate the absolute most? Probably "the 'n' word" or the derogatory term for gays... idk. How many seasons is your favorite TV show in so far? Eight for That '70s Show, but both FMAs don't have seasons. Do you remember getting sung to when you were little? No. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. When was the last time you had blood drawn? Couple days back for more tests. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? The future. What names do you like? Alessandra, Damien, Josephine, Luther, Chloe, Evelyn, Evangeline, Vincent, Victor... At what age do you want to start working or at what age did you start? My first job was when I was about 19, I think. Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? Olive Garden omlllllll. Who was the last person to piss you off? I don't know about pissed. Probably Mom. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yeah. What’s your favorite hairstyle on the opposite sex? I like scene/emo hair too much fuck Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? Probably. Which parent are you more similar to? Idk. I'm a pretty even mix of them both. Do you have a lot of self-discipline? Eh, depends. Have you ever been to another country’s capital city? No. What are some of your favorite qualities for another person to have? Compassion, kindness, an open mind, considerate, creative, difficult to anger, understanding... What smell reminds you of your childhood? Chlorine, gingerbread, rain in the air... Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No, and I wouldn't. When was the last time you spoke to the first person you ever kissed?  Second week of February '17. What’s a political issue you have a strong opinion on? Gay rights. Stopping that "oh if (s)he was raped ten years ago, why come out now?" bullshit that's been popular lately. What was the last fruit or vegetable you chopped/sliced up? Romaine lettuce for Kaiju. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? My bed. Have you ever done a Mason jar craft? No, but most of those that I see are so cute. What are you going to be for Halloween this year? Idk if I'm even dressing up. Do you decorate your front door for holidays? Mom puts up a wreath. What are all the costumes you remember wearing for past Halloweens? I literally remember none. Who is your favorite photographer? Check out mothmeister on Instagram. Cool as fuck. Don't know who takes the pictures exactly, but. Jovana Rikalo/thefirebomb on deviantART is also incredible. Were you shy in high school? Not very. Do you wish karma were real, or are you glad that it isn’t? I wish it was. What was your favorite Nick Jr. show? Rugrats. What school subjects are/were you the best at? English and science. What comes naturally to you? Spelling, usually. Bonding with animals. Do you prefer to call life a journey, a battle, a dance, or an adventure? Journey. Do you believe in the power of dreamcatchers or do you just like them as a decoration? They're just pretty decor to me. Who are the cutest babies in your Facebook newsfeed? I have two friends with young babies and neither are cute tbh. One's face looks like a grown man's with elephant ears, while the girl is just like, a month old, and I almost never find babies that young cute. What were your favorite mall stores when you were in high school? HotTopic. What time of day do you normally feel the most awake and alert? A while after I wake up. Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? Yeah. How old do you look? I guess my age? Do you like movie nights? Only if it's with someone. What would be number one on your bucket list? Pet a wild (well, habituated) meerkat. How old do you think you’ll be when you make your will? *shrugs* where is the fanciest place you have ever visited? Idk. Do you wear earrings on a normal basis? Ugh, I wish. Two reasons I don't. 1.) My first holes are stretched badly from wearing heavy earrings to much. Put one in the left especially and it almost looks like it's not even attached to my ear. Looks gross. 2.) I'm allergic to silver and like all my earrings are silver. Are your ears pierced more than once, if at all? Yeah. If you wear skirts, are you more likely to wear leggings, or go bare? If I was to wear them, I'd probably wear leggings. Ever stayed up all night on the phone? Jason and I did that (or almost did?) once early in our relationship. If you could move somewhere else, would you? Uh yeah. The one and only reason I won't move too far is because I'm unwilling to leave my psychiatrist; he's one of the biggest reasons I recovered and also gives me free samples of the medicine that saved my damn life, which costs over $1,000. No exaggeration. He knows that's absolutely outrageous. So it's like if I moved somewhere else, would my new psychiatrist do the same? Did the last guy/girl you kissed have any piercings? No. Do you actually love your parents? Yes. Have you ever had a school picture turn out absolutely dreadful? Like, all of them. I look high when I smile. What is the name of the last band you discovered? That I actually got into, Powerwolf. What happened last time you got drunk? Never been drunk, but on the occasion I got the closest, I was more outgoing and giggly. Do you know anyone autistic? I don't believe so. How about someone bipolar? Me. What do you want your job to be when you’re older? A photographer and also an out-on-the-field zoologist. I could bring my camera out with me, combine the two. Have you ever made your parents cry? Mom on sadly multiple occasions, and I could hear that Dad was tearing up when I called him wanting to make up. Do you always lock your door? Not my room door, but the front and back door pretty much always are. If I'm home alone, without a doubt. Have you ever been to Hooters? No. Do you snore in your sleep? No. Do you have a brother? What’s his name? A half-brother, Robert/Bobby. Do you believe in celebrating anniversaries? Year ones, yes. Have you ever driven without a license? I don't have mine yet, but I don't believe I've ever done so without my permit. What was your very first pet like? I'm pretty sure my first personal one was a long-haired guinea pig named Squeak. He was a total sweetie that loved attention and would do one of those high-pitched, four squeaks back at me if I did it lol. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I hope I become a wise, more loving than ever, content person that does all she can for humanity and doesn't isolate like I do so much. I want to be out there with people, making memories and always maintaining a young heart. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin's above anyone else, but Chester Bennington was a close second. What’s the craziest color you’d dye your hair? I seriously want to bleach my hair to snow white and have it fade to a blood-red tip, but that'd probably destroy my hair. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Hm. I'm not sure. What’s the silliest thing you’ve believed, that turned out to be untrue? LOOK I stg I learned in school that thunder was clouds rubbing against each other and I only learned the truth THIS YEAR. Have you ever pet a cow, a sheep or a pig? A pig. Who’s the last person to make you laugh? GameGrumps. Ever been in a race? No. Favorite brand of color pencils? Crayola, I'm a basic bitch. Do you like the smell of peppermint? Omgggggggg yes. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? Idr, maybe 150? It was at the hospital with my peers. In the end we were missing exactly o n e piece. What is missing from your wardrobe that you need to buy? I want a studded leather jacket pls I've wanted one since high school. When was the last time you witnessed a sunshower? A month back, maybe? Maybe sooner? Who was the last person to kiss your cheek? Mom, I believe. What temperature do you consider “too cold” to be outside? Comfortably, 40 F. Did anything bad happen to you in September? My knees became quite a problem. Had some rough streaks of depression. In your phone’s contacts, who is the first person listed under the letter ‘R’? When did you last see that person? No one under "r." If someone is sticking their nose into your business where it isn’t wanted, how would you deal with that? Would you say something to them? I'd like to think I'd say something. When your last relationship ended, how long was it before you felt ready to think about being with someone else? I realized I wanted to be with Sara while I was with him. It was one of the reasons I broke up with him. Think about your Facebook profile photo. What kind of assumptions do you think a stranger might make about you, from seeing that photograph? Would any of these assumptions be correct? (It's the same picture as here.) I obviously like a darker style, and it'd also be an understandable assumption I'm a bitch by my expression lmao. That one's not true, I hope. If you aren’t an only child, do you wish you were? Noooo. What is your birth order? I'm the middle child between my immediate siblings. What is your eye color? What would you want it to be? Blue/green/gray. I wish they were more sapphire. Do you like Victoria’s Secret, or PINK? I like their bras and undies, super cute, but other products, nah. What color highlighter do you prefer? Pink. What is the wallpaper on your best friends cell phone? Dunno. Do you like using big words when you talk? Don't hate it, but I avoid it when I can with most people. I wanna make sure they understand what I'm saying, no need to make it all fancy. What’s your favorite thing to do in the summer? Stay the fuck inside and wish it was fall. Eh, swimming. Do you like being tickled? NO. Are you loud when you’re having sex? I'd always try to be quiet even when home alone because I was worried about someone coming home and us not hearing or something. But it took effort to keep quiet sometimes, and even then I was a moaner. Are you a very open or private person? Depends on who I'm with and whether it's on or offline, but generally, private. What is your favorite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. What do you get complimented on the most? My hair. When was the last time you were in a public setting and a stranger annoyed you? I'm not sure. Scariest storm you’ve ever had in your town? Um idk. Skill you wish you had? Drawing exactly what I see in my head ugh. How do you feel about raising minimum wage? FUCK-ING DO IT. NC's is $7.25 an hour, and you can't live off that shit. Humor me. What physical ideal do you imagine in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? It really doesn't matter to me, but I'd say I'm more quickly attracted to people with a dark style. What type of personality traits do you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? Calm, open-minded, friendly, I like a bit more outgoing than me, compassionate, very passionate like myself, artistic, considerate... Any other essential quirks/interests/other you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? The only thing I can think of as essential are some common interests to bond over. I don't think I could date someone totally different from me. Or someone heavily religious. Any romantic gestures you really like? Small, simple efforts just for the purpose of showing you care, more than anything. I appreciate the cliche of opening doors. What were you like when you were a kid? Outgoing, talkative as hell, pretty odd, big time creative. What is your definition of cheating? Flirting in a clearly non-joking manner. Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? Both since the 6th grade. Are looks important in a relationship? For me personally, no, but I don't shame people who feel it's at least a smaller factor for them. Sure, it'd be more difficult to be more sexually attracted to you, but not romantically, which is what I care about. What were you doing right before you started this survey? Another survey. I combine them into longer ones. Ever get mad at something that happened years ago? Rarely, and if ever, briefly. What do you order on your pizza? Jalapenos. I miss meat lovers. What the kind of soda you drink most often? Mountain Dew Voltage. Do you freak out if a bee/wasp flies near you? Wasp, I'm fuckin' outie. I'm uncomfortable with any bee, but won't spaz over most. If Facebook started making you pay, would you still use it? No. If you were dying and had to tell the last person you texted one thing, what would it be? Lmao we actually had a convo about this once, and it'd totally be, "I love you, and I'll see you on the other side." If you could have sex to one song, what song would it be? We playin' "Death of a Bachelor" by P!atD on our wedding night 100% 100% 100% 100%. Are you a forgiving person? Too forgiving. Who is the last person you told you loved them? Sara Jaaaane. <3 Do you have a specific gas station you usually go to? Or do you stop wherever? Mom tends to go to Sheetz or Shell. She gets bad mileage at Sheetz, but it's super close to our house. Do you have a place you go to a lot that you may be considered “a regular” at? The people at New Addiction (tat and piercing parlor I go to) are starting to recognize me lmao. I'll be there tonight again. Think of the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a bed? Yeah. Do you like your girlfriend's/boyfriend's parents? YEAH. Why aren’t you with the person you first fell in love with? He couldn't stand my depression anymore. What’s worse, knowing you still love them, or pretending you hate them? THE FORMER. Do you own any television series box sets? All seasons of Meerkat Manor. What is your favorite band of all time? Ozzy Osbourne. Would you consider getting a tattoo any time soon? I'm getting one T O N I G H T  B O Y S. Do you like candles? Yeah, but I prefer incense. Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness? More like seven lmao. And I'm 99% sure I have ADD, but I haven't been officially diagnosed. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why? British, 'cuz I love it. Have you ever or do you currently live in a Gated Community? No. Do you know how to use a DSLR camera? Yeah. Do you know anyone who is named after a state? Jason's mom. Miss that woman, she sincerely cared for me. I owe her so much for staying on the phone with me for legit like two hours a couple nights before my attempt. It was dead in the middle of the night, yet she was happy to be there. Have you ever had a “bad trip”? If yes, what happened? N/A. Do you enjoy learning about conspiracy theories? Y E S. Shane Dawson got me so into them omg. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien Alexander, maybe.

[mortalspark-blog]

          “I have given my word that only death will take me from you.”

nicholas, as mentioned several times before, was frederick’s older brother and only other sibling. he was five years older than frederick but in spite of their age difference they were absolutely close. if they weren’t so visibly of a different age, people could have thought they were twin brothers. but with their parents constantly busy, especially their father, and their mother not caring as much about her sons as much as she cared about what place they have in the family at large, they early found only themselves to rely on and to trust. frederick was not particularly introverted from the get-go, but he was very drawn into himself as a child. brilliant, yes, but unwilling to share it openly with others. his brother was the exception. nicholas could read frederick like a book, knew everything about him and was the only that got him out of his shell. as children that meant to get frederick’s nose out of his books and to throw mud at him in the rain until they both had stains of grass and rain and mud on their too nicely-pressed clothes. once they were older and teenagers that meant that frederick never showed fear to anybody but nicholas and that no one could taunt or tease him like nicholas. ( yes, frederick still got a little mad, but forgiving happened in seconds ). and it was the same for nicholas despite being the older brother. he never talked down on frederick, never underestimated him and, most of all, he protected him. nicholas looked out for frederick, always put frederick’s safety and well-being before his and every day before bed made sure that his brother was alright, hugged frederick tightly to make sure they’re both still there for each other, before he went to bed himself. they had an unparalleled trust between them, one that frederick would never find anywhere else again. for frederick nicholas was the essence of family, the centre of his family and his world. he was frederick’s role-model and hero and best friend.

when frederick was fifteen and nicholas was twenty the first world war was in its height and of course nicholas got drafted. he was young, he had the physical condition to serve and unlike their father, who was too important as a scientist himself to be drafted, was the only one who got the letter anyway. it ripped frederick apart to know his brother would be leaving him to fight for - what, exactly? nicholas said he does it for frederick, for him to grow up safely. “somebody has to protect you, kiddo, and that someone has always been me. why should it be any different now?” nicholas doesn’t promise that he’ll come back and frederick realises that in the middle of nicholas saying goodbye. it shouldn’t be a shock when over a year later there’s a knock on the door because a letter would have taken too long. frederick is the first person to know about nicholas’s death along with their housekeeper because no one else is at home. he doesn’t cry. he breaks down and he screams and he doesn’t let anyone touch him, doesn’t want to be touched by anyone reassuringly or in comfort, when the only person who ever cared enough about him to comfort him was nicholas. it is from that time period shortly after he gets the news that frederick starts to resent and fear touch with a vigorous passion.

the funeral happens without a body, an empty casket mocking frederick whenever his gaze drifts to the wooden box. his mother cries and his father holds her tightly in the tiny church and all he can do is stand there, numb and void of anything but the crushing pain of how real it is that nicholas is gone; truly gone; and he will never come back to tease his little brother for his obsession with the medical books he reads instead of going out to dance. he will never hug frederick tightly and tell him it will be alright. never again. the shattered glass window ( some blasphemous kids ) is there to his left and no one looks at him and it is easy to hide himself away in the shadows of the last benches and drive its broken shards into the skin beneath his suit until he draws blood. until he doesn’t think about crying anymore. it is a first step into a desperate attempt to cope with his loss. he feels like drowning, his mind’s capability to running a mile a minute reminding him of the memories he made with nicholas, and he can’t live with that, can’t work with that. so, he distracts himself, first in harmful ways, to the point where he entertains the thought to follow suit. what does it matter anyway when he is alone now? when no one cares, when there is no one and nothing to care about. he is numb. he doesn’t want to feel his grief, so he wants to be numb. until his family notices it ( not his family, no, their housekeeper again, a nice woman he’s known all his life better than his own mother ) and they send him to seek psychiatric help. ( not that anyone ever finds out about it, no one does ). frederick seeks the treatment until he is twenty-two and releases himself of therapy. at this point, frederick was already haphephobic to an untreatable extent, a grief-educed depression and obsession with matters of life and death driven into him. he also became an adamant pacifist because of the circumstances of nicholas’s death in battle and therefor the war taking the one person frederick genuinely cared about from him.

nicholas’s death was the only topic at social gatherings, the mourning of a family’s well-known first born bound to be a ground for gossip and condolences. frederick escaped it once he made it to yale, putting everything he has into his education and his work, obsessed with becoming a doctor, a brain surgeon at that as well ( look into other people’s heads to ignore what is going on in his own ), and most curious with his family’s history of science. the torments of his classmates were more focused on his resemblance to his grandfather than the death of his brother. good, let them. any focus away from nicholas was what he needed, what he wanted. for himself and his family. some people didn’t even know he had a brother in the first place. suddenly the name ‘frankenstein’ started to stand for something else again than a death in combat. it was wildly mocked but also wildly praised the higher he climbed and the further his reputation got him through and after medical school. ‘frankenstein’ wasn’t about nicholas anymore, it was about frederick. and about their grand-father, but that was a case frederick could take on. this was something frederick could change people’s minds on. he was powerless in regards to nicholas and his legacy but this, the name they shared and that was still the joke of society, was something he could have a hand in. thus was frederick’s determination to clean up the reputation of his family. let them be more than a dead son and a mad grand-father. let them be something else. let people forget about nicholas, someone they never knew, and let him reside in the confines of frederick’s heart in mind, where was known and respected and loved. where no one talked about him like he was nothing more but a tin soldier. 

the older frederick got, the more closed off he became. soon, there were only hushed whispers at the parties he attended or the conferences he visited. ( ‘wasn’t there something with a brother ?’ ‘- oh no, you must be mistaken. i never heard he had a brother.’ ) there were people who never even knew him as more than the mad doctor with a brilliant reputation, the dean of new york’s most prestigious medical school. he even met a woman who never knew more of him than the parts of himself he dared to show; elizabeth never heard him say nicholas’ name out loud. she never knew he existed. to her, frederick was a full person and not the half of a done deal, and that was alright. it was what he wanted. he didn’t love her, or want her to pry, but he wanted the immunity and anonymity she granted him with her obliviousness. and the talk about them squashed any last evidence of the past only frederick thought himself to be allowed to cling to. there is so much evidence of who nicholas was and who nicholas was to him and most of it was even visible to anyone, manifested in his manners and his acts, but no one knew the source for it. no one but him. and that’s how it has always been with him and nicholas. no one knew them but them. because someone has to protect nicholas and that has always been frederick, no matter the expenses. so, why should it be any different now?

[iriscomplimentarymedicine]

Iris publishers-Online Journal of Complementary & Alternative Medicine(OJCAM)

Experience of Integrative Medicine in the Hospice Ward of the University Hospital San Martino in Genoa, Italy

Authored by  Nicola Traverso*

Introduction

During the last two years or so, I (NT) have been allowed to attend, as a tutor to a thesis medical student (SB), the Hospice Ward of IRCCS University Hospital San Martino, Genoa, Italy. The IRCCS Hospital San Martino is associated with the School of Medical- Pharmaceutical Sciences (ex-Faculty of Medicine) of the University of Genova, Italy.

In this Ward, the Head physician, Prof. Michele Gallucci, has introduced the possibility of carrying out integrative medicine interventions, and in particular

- massage therapy

- art therapy

- music therapy

- meditation

- writing short stories.

The patients admitted to this ward are essentially patients with advanced stage cancers, for which the only useful therapies are considered to be the palliative ones, since the therapies against cancer would cause more harm than good. The hospitalization of such patients usually lasts for a maximum of a few weeks; many of them end their lives in the ward, while others prefer to return home before death.

The ward environment is absolutely different from a typical hospital ward, and it is very reminiscent of a family environment. Each patient has his/her own private room, which is not numbered, but named after Streets of the historical center of Genoa. There is also a large terrace available for patients and their relatives, and a lounge where all patients who wish and feel can go, and where tea is served in the afternoon. In the lounge there is also an upright piano, which can be played by volunteers, of course in agreement with the medical and nursing staff, who supervise the lounge as well as all the other rooms.

Use and aims of Integrative Medicine in the Hospice Ward

Some years ago, Professor Gallucci decided to introduce Integrative Medicines, whose aim is not to replace conventional therapies, which are used in any case to alleviate the symptoms and physical suffering of patients: Gallucci’s opinion is that the available drugs are sufficiently effective in this sense. The introduction of integrative therapies was specifically designed to evaluate their possible effectiveness on the patient’s quality of life, on his/her acceptance of the disease, on the self-awareness of the near end of life and to observe whether these therapies are able to allow patients to fill with more intense meaning their last weeks of life. More specifically, reporting the words of the research protocol: “The patient, thanks to integrative therapies, explores his/her own condition and expresses his/her life experiences, becomes more aware of his/her own body and its complex balances. The general objectives are to improve the quality of life and well-being of patients, reducing the divergence between their expectations and what is really happening; to give shape to one’s existence and continue to build one’s life plan”.

Organization of work and Integrative Medicine in the Ward

The ward holds plenary staff meetings about weekly, which my medical student and I have occasionally been able to attend. In these meetings, the head physician professor Gallucci plays the role of coordinator and stimulator of the discussion, but he is “primus inter pares” with respect to all the other participants, whether they are doctors, nurses, doctors in training, integrative therapists or guests.

The objective of the meetings is to make a point not only on the clinical progress of patients and the situation in the ward, but also to discuss the Integrative Medicine interventions that were carried out during that week.

It must be remembered that not all patients are eligible for Integrative Therapy, and sometimes even some eligible patients do not accept the intervention of the integrative therapist. The patient’s specific sensitivity to each of the proposed integrative therapies must also be taken into consideration.

Opinion of the Staff on Integrative Medicine

Even though the number of patients accepted is small (the ward welcomes about ten patients at a time), and therefore it is difficult to obtain significant statistics, the members of the staff meetings claim to observe a positive effect of integrative therapies on patients; this effect can be different from patient to patient, and can consist in a better compliance with the therapies that the medical and health staff prescribe or administer to them, in an improvement of the acceptance of their condition, or even in a better acceptance of the conscience that life is coming to its end. A further often observed benefit is that the patient establishes a less medicalized relationship with the integrative therapist and is more inclined to reveal to the integrative therapist aspects of him/herself that seem to be more difficult to reveal to medical or healthcare staff.

Some Interesting Cases and Possible Interpretation

Personally, I have observed some cases that I considered of particular interest.

a) A patient followed the Story Composition Therapy and wrote a short story, which represented for him the awareness of having left a last sign of his existence. This experience made it possible for him to face death in a more serene way, with the conviction that he could continue to live beyond his death through the words of this story.

b) During a Music Therapy session, another patient evoked an image of calm waves gently crashing on a sandy shore. The patient also gave a title to this image, as if it were a painting: “Spring”.

I believe that the evoked images can be comparable to unconscious images that can emerge during psychotherapy sessions. Here, we are faced with a limbo, a border between land and sea, which could be the representation of the border between life and death. But it can also be the representation of the moment of birth, with the detachment from the amniotic fluid, represented by the gentle water waves. We could therefore suggest that the patient evokes her close death as a possible rebirth, in an environment of calm and tranquility, and therefore we could perhaps conclude that the patient is able to visualize her near future, unfortunately inauspicious, with relative peace of mind.

It can also be noted that in this case, art therapy and music therapy interact.

c) A third interesting case was that of a patient who, during a Music Therapy session, evoked the image of a village on which the snow fell gently; she looked up and saw that it was the full moon literally snowing from the sky.

It is obviously a surreal image, and therefore most likely evoked from the unconscious of the patient. It is night, but the moon is full, and we know that this can give a peaceful brightness to the world, sometimes clearer and more significant than blinding sunlight. The Moon, perhaps a celestial mirror of the Great Mother Earth, dispenses a cloud of tranquility, a blanket of serenity on the village below, which awaits its destiny.

Also, in this case, we can sense the patient’s ability or need to give a meaning of peace and calm to her destiny. In the embrace of the Great Mother, the patient seems to feel a security that will probably help her in the moment of her death.

Conclusion and Limitations

Of course, it should be noted that each interpretation would require longer times and numerous sessions to be confirmed, but, unfortunately, in the conditions of the patients of the Hospice, this possibility does not exist, due to the terminal condition of the patients.

Therefore, one of the objectives of Integrative Medicine activities could be that of approximating the goals that psychotherapy could achieve in much longer periods of time, unfortunately not available for this kind of patients.

So, at least sometimes, Integrative Medicine could open shortcuts to reach the depth of the patients’ unconscious and possibly resolve or at least attenuate anxieties and conflicts of these patients in a much shorter time than classic psychotherapy would do, and accompany them to their destiny, providing them with a greater sense of resignation, acceptance and peace.

To read more about this article: https://irispublishers.com/ojcam/fulltext/experience-of-integrative-medicine-in-the-hospice.ID.000623.php

Indexing List of Iris Publishers: https://medium.com/@irispublishers/what-is-the-indexing-list-of-iris-publishers-4ace353e4eee

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