#maximum coping and self soothing

[um-lorii]

kinning is so fun to me . like yeah i am Shadow the Hedgehog from the hit gaming series Sonic. I Am also sometimes 5 Years Old

[comfortmechsforverystablepeople]

Heartbreak and self-hurt

@yourlocalmechanism-dr-carmilla

tw in the title

Jonny

Oh no you don't! No one is harming is crew, not even themselves. What do you mean it's your way to cope with your broken heart? This makes the best stories! Oh... no no no no! Don't cry, don't be sad, he doesn't like it when you are sad... What if you help him to work on a fun song, mh? Would that help? He even knows a few heartwarming stories about people in love which end good! Please don't hurt yourself, he would do anything to distract you from your pain!

Nastya

Nastya would be devastated if she would loose Aurora, so she feels concern about what happened to you. But she's also unsure of what to do... organic beings can be so messy, especially their hearts. That doesn't she won't try to help you physically at least. She knows a thing or to about taking care of injuries, having mercury in your vein isn't great for wounds and other bruises. So, she would leave her special first-aid kit near you so you can keep yourself safe. She would even help you if you make puppy-eyes!

Ashes

Ashes doesn't like to see anyone in the crew hurt, especially if they did it to themselves. It will kick their big siblings instincts. Get ready to be taken in charge, because you will end up in a blanket burrito on the couch while they put a movie to watch with you. They are extra comfy! And would probably play with your hair or you hands if you allow it. No pressure to talk about what happened, but they will make sure you are not alone in it.

Ivy

Ivy will try to cheer you up like she would like to be: with stats. Stats about the dangers of self-harm and that it doesn't help. Stats about failling relationship, because you are not the problem here. Stats about the chance to find anotehr great person to love and to be loved by, very high those ones. The point is, don't beat yourself on it, you are worth of love and you should love yourself!

Brian

This is a complex situation for him. He's not made of blood and flesh and he never really had a lover officially... But he would feel terrible if he had a fall out with someone in the crew! So, he would be deeply concern about you. Firstly, he had medical knowledges, so he would help treating your injuries without further pain, it's the least of things. Would like to read funny fanfictions? Since the crew teases him about Galahad all the time, he wrote about them to vent. Maybe that would help you getting out of your head... in any case, you are welcome as his co-pilot anytime if you feel like you shouldn't be alone!

Toy Soldier

This won't do at all! Firstly, because damaging your wonderful body and mind is a big no-no. It should be called vandalism because you are a gorgeous person. If you need advice to get rid of blood, it is your soldier! Secondly, because an heartbreak shouldn't put you down forever. It had a lot of experiences with every kind of love, so you can talk to it about everything. Would you want to hear stories about its time as a nymph? Around a cup of warm tea and little snacks, of course.

Tim

If someone knows something about heartbreaks, it would be Tim. And he would do anything so you wouldn't end up like he did when he was mortal. He will not say everything is alright and it will pass, but he will promise it will become easier as time pass. In the meantime, maybe a few octokittens could help! Sometimes, having animals around are better than humans, they won't judge you and their cuteness is soothing. He will show you how to pet each of them to have maximum purrs!

Raphaella

Behold! Her new invention! Preventive octokittens! You put that where you think you will hurt yourself, they will hold on to you no matter what and boom! Protection! You wouldn't want hurt this little creature's feelings, right? Of course not, you are such a sweetheart! What do you mean you can't move anymore? Oh well... guess she will have to pamper you then, what a shame~

Marius

It's not because he's not a real doctor that he can't help! Firstly, because he has a lot more knowledge about injuries and self-harm than the rest of the mechs. If you need advice, or anything really, he's your man. Secondly, because love is a very important for him! No matter what kind. He will encourage you to cry in his arms if it helps, there is no shame in it if it makes you feel better. He can even talk about his shenanigans with inspector Lyfrassir to make you laugh if you don't like the silence!

Aurora

Oh sunshine... Please don't do that! You are not alone and you are loved! Because you are worth it! If you forgot, it's okay because she woudl remind you by blowing so warm air in your face and make the floor trembles under your feet... She will make sure you know that everyone is here for you. And if you request someone, she would drag them immediatly to you, no matter what they were doing. You are top priority! She never really sleeps so if you need someone, she will be there!

Scuzz

Nu-uh. No way. They won't let you. They would hide any object you could harm yourself with. No matter how much the others grumble about the lack of pointy, sharp, or explosives objects. You are far more important than any of this. Why? What do you mean why? Because they love you, alright?! You deserve so much better.

Carmilla

Self-harm and heartbreak are old friends of hers. A dangerous duo, trust her. Which means she knows how to approach this. If you need useful advices, she is your woman. And she loves you so dearly that she knows you by heart, so she would have your favourite snacks, drinks, movies, and comfort objects if you search them. She would kiss your forehead and keep an eye on you if you need a nap.

In general

Self-harms and heartbreaks aren't new on board, but it's a subject serious enough for everyone to be at your service, especially if it's you. They will make sure that you know there is no need to hurt yourself, that you are loved and not alone. Because you are worth it!

[prashantkhetal]

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[akaraboonline]

Relationship Experts' Favorite Valentine's Day Vacation Ideas

According to experts, not all amorous adventures are created equal. This is why Bronstein and McKinney put down their notepads and temporarily play travel agent, each selecting destinations and trip types for Valentine's Day getaways they believe will help couples strengthen their bond, increase passion, prepare them for married life, and hopefully keep them away from the office for a restorative experience. No matter where you go, McKinney warns couples to be aware of the common trap of putting too much emphasis on Valentine's Day—and to avoid falling into it. "Think of it as a time to enjoy one another rather than a time to celebrate something special." "She makes a suggestion. "It definitely makes things feel less stressful

A Shore Thing

A beach break is the "optimal, number one choice" for romantic Valentine's Day travel, according to Bronstein, with sunset strolls in the sand, cabana lounging, rooms with spectacular views, and maximum opportunities to wear minimal clothing. "There's something energizing about being in nature and near water. It's soothing. It's seductive. It can be full of rejuvenating and romantic activities like private dinners on the beach or long walks, or it can be full of experiences that make your heart race like swimming with sharks, both of which are bonding." Where to Go

Relationship Experts' Favorite Valentine's Day Vacation Ideas Barbados, the birthplace of Rihanna and rum, entices with its pristine beaches, endless sun, sapphire turtle-filled waters, breadfruit delicacies, and warm Bajan hospitality. Whether you come on a cruise or stay at a charming coast-hugging hotel like the pink-hued Cobblers Cove, bright days can be spent snorkeling, sailing, or surfing the wild and unpredictable Atlantic coast near Bathsheba's iconic rock formations. If you'd rather not get wet, try spelunking at Harrisons Cave or a tasting at Mount Gay, the world's oldest still-operating commercial rum distillery. Spend nights eating sushi on a submarine or dancing to pulsating soca beats at a club in St. Lawrence Gap after a fish fry at Oistins.

A Self-Care Sojourn

In Bronstein's opinion, a trip to a high-end spa is a close second to a trip to the beach. "What's not to like about these locations? "They include everything: scenery, food, self-care, connecting with your partner, unwinding, bonding," she extols. "Most readers are in the midst of wedding planning, which is extremely stressful. Spas can help you reset." Some spa activities and treatments, according to McKinney, are "intimacy building and can possibly enhance sensuality," and couples who spend time together at a wellness retreat may return with a useful souvenir. " may provide us with an opportunity to incorporate our partner into new coping strategies to manage stress at home." Where to Go

At resorts throughout the red-rock majesty of Sedona, Arizona, wellness meets woo-woo. You can't throw a crystal without hitting a meditation labyrinth, past-life regression practitioners, or sound bath installation. But one of the best places to unwind is at Mii amo and Enchantment Resort, two sister properties located across from each other in the heart of Boynton Canyon. True believers will swear that the supercharged geography of Boynton, which is bookended by powerful vortexes, improves services. Even detractors of interdimensional gateways can't deny the healing abilities of these hands, or the rejuvenating effects of cupping facials, aura photography, chakra balancing, a four-handed Ayurvedic massage, or manifesting with the new moon.

Peak Pilgrimage

Do you prefer snow to sand? No worries, because the same logic applies to alpine excursions. The mountains will work their magic whether you stay in a cabin in the woods, pitch a tent by a glacial lake, or hit the slopes at a big resort. "Anything involving being in nature, particularly green or quiet spaces that allow for a bit of a disconnect," McKinney says, is naturally grounding. "Seeing wildlife and stars, as well as planting your feet in the earth, are all calming." Where to Go

Relationship Experts' Favorite Valentine's Day Vacation Ideas The pine-scented playground of Lake Tahoe, a cobalt mass that unfolds across California and Nevada, offers four seasons of fun, but winter is truly this region's time to shine. Heavenly ski resorts are in full swing. Snow blankets meadows and hiking trails and sits atop Sand Harbor's signature rock formations, making them even more photogenic. Hearths roar to life, hot chocolate flows freely, and cold weather forces lovers into cuddle huddles. The Desolation Hotel, a brand new sustainably built micro-resort with a bubbly hot tub, deck heat lamps, fire pits, and a double-sided fireplace that can be enjoyed from the bedroom or the tub large enough for two on the balcony, makes it easy to warm up.

The Digital Detox

Building on the idea that spotty service can be a blessing in disguise, gadget-free getaways ranked high on both therapists' lists of suggestions. "This is a good litmus test to ensure you're marrying the right person," says Bronstein. "TVs and phones, the Internet, and social media divert our attention, disrupt communication, and divert us from spending quality time." "She elaborates. "They prevent people from being present and truly listening to their partners. When all of that noise is removed, you can truly be present, focus on each other, and grow your love. The more time you spend together, the stronger your relationship will become." Where to Go

Relationship Experts' Favorite Valentine's Day Vacation Ideas When Rancho La Puerta, a 4,000-acre wellness sanctuary just across the California border in Tecate, Mexico, was founded in 1940, gadgets were not an issue. However, in order to maintain the peaceful setting in the modern day and continue to push their core tenets of "real conversation and connections," they established some ground rules such as no cell use in public areas, at meals, or on your casita patio, as well as limiting browsing and scrolling to five hot spots. They'd rather you spend your time working out, going to a chamber concert, hiking up hills, meditating, getting a hot stone massage, or chatting with like-minded strangers.

A Classic Staycation

We understand: With high inflation, frequent flight delays and cancellations, and a shortage of hotel and restaurant staff, the juice isn't always worth the squeeze. Forcing yourself to travel when you lack the time, funds, or bandwidth needed to plan and thoroughly enjoy a large trip not only adds unnecessary stress, but it may also actively harm your partnership. "Be aware of optional versus mandatory stress, and remove optional stress when possible," McKinney advises. "Optional stress is anything that does not have to happen. Depending on your circumstances, travel could be that." The key to preventing travel stress from ruining your vacation is to look for something closer to home and see the "glass half-full," as Bronstein suggests. "The happiest couples can make anything fun, lemonade from lemons and all that. "The key is to be playful and creative in order to make it different from home," she says. "Get some new underwear. Attempt a new cuisine. And don't even bring up the same topics at dinner that you do at home. That way, even if you're just down the street from your house, it feels like you're on a special vacation." Where to Go You can certainly dress up your house for a special weekend at home, or you can book a nearby Airbnb or small rental. Otherwise, look for a local hotel with opulent or unusual amenities that aren't part of your daily routine, such as the roof-top pool and Himalayan salt room at the Fairmont Century Plaza in Los Angeles. The W Philadelphia's Extreme Wow suite on the 49th floor includes a DJ booth, a gold-trimmed foosball table, and an electronic bed that spins 360 degrees. Some cabins at Castle Hot Springs in Arizona include telescopes and an outdoor tub. (And don't forget what they said about stargazing!) If the way to your heart is through your stomach, stay at a restaurant run by a top chef, such as the Thompson Denver (Michelin-starred Ludo Lefebvre's take on the Mile High City's namesake omelet is decadent and not to be missed) or the Line Austin (Top Chef season 10 winner Kristen Kish's culinary vision). McKinney also sees the value in revisiting an old favorite. "Return to places you've previously enjoyed together and that both of you enjoy to reinforce the positive memories associated with your partner and the location." Read the full article

[sugar--brown]

No worries! And no payement, my reward is your happiness! :D

I can try your request. Like I said, I'm not used to it but I can try!

/!\self-harm/!\

Jonny

Oh no you don't! No one is harming is crew, not even themselves. What do you mean it's your way to cope with your broken heart? This makes the best stories! Oh... no no no no! Don't cry, don't be sad, he doesn't like it when you are sad... What if you help him to work on a fun song, mh? Would that help? He even knows a few heartwarming stories about people in love which end good! Please don't hurt yourself, he would do anything to distract you from your pain!

Nastya

Nastya would be devastated if she would loose Aurora, so she feels concern about what happened to you. But she's also unsure of what to do... organic beings can be so messy, especially their hearts. That doesn't she won't try to help you physically at least. She knows a thing or to about taking care of injuries, having mercury in your vein isn't great for wounds and other bruises. So, she would leave her special first-aid kit near you so you can keep yourself safe. She would even help you if you make puppy-eyes!

Ashes

Ashes doesn't like to see anyone in the crew hurt, especially if they did it to themselves. It will kick their big siblings instincts. Get ready to be taken in charge, because you will end up in a blanket burrito on the couch while they put a movie to watch with you. They are extra comfy! And would probably play with your hair or you hands if you allow it. No pressure to talk about what happened, but they will make sure you are not alone in it.

Ivy

Ivy will try to cheer you up like she would like to be: with stats. Stats about the dangers of self-harm and that it doesn't help. Stats about failling relationship, because you are not the problem here. Stats about the chance to find anotehr great person to love and to be loved by, very high those ones. The point is, don't beat yourself on it, you are worth of love and you should love yourself!

Brian

This is a complex situation for him. He's not made of blood and flesh and he never really had a lover officially... But he would feel terrible if he had a fall out with someone in the crew! So, he would be deeply concern about you. Firstly, he had medical knowledges, so he would help treating your injuries without further pain, it's the least of things. Would like to read funny fanfictions? Since the crew teases him about Galahad all the time, he wrote about them to vent. Maybe that would help you getting out of your head... in any case, you are welcome as his co-pilot anytime if you feel like you shouldn't be alone!

Toy Soldier

This won't do at all! Firstly, because damaging your wonderful body and mind is a big no-no. It should be called vandalism because you are a gorgeous person. If you need advice to get rid of blood, it is your soldier! Secondly, because an heartbreak shouldn't put you down forever. It had a lot of experiences with every kind of love, so you can talk to it about everything. Would you want to hear stories about its time as a nymph? Around a cup of warm tea and little snacks, of course.

Tim

If someone knows something about heartbreaks, it would be Tim. And he would do anything so you wouldn't end up like he did when he was mortal. He will not say everything is alright and it will pass, but he will promise it will become easier as time pass. In the meantime, maybe a few octokittens could help! Sometimes, having animals around are better than humans, they won't judge you and their cuteness is soothing. He will show you how to pet each of them to have maximum purrs!

Raphaella

Behold! Her new invention! Preventive octokittens! You put that where you think you will hurt yourself, they will hold on to you no matter what and boom! Protection! You wouldn't want hurt this little creature's feelings, right? Of course not, you are such a sweetheart! What do you mean you can't move anymore? Oh well... guess she will have to pamper you then, what a shame~

Marius

It's not because he's not a real doctor that he can't help! Firstly, because he has a lot more knowledge about injuries and self-harm than the rest of the mechs. If you need advice, or anything really, he's your man. Secondly, because love is a very important for him! No matter what kind. He will encourage you to cry in his arms if it helps, there is no shame in it if it makes you feel better. He can even talk about his shenanigans with inspector Lyfrassir to make you laugh if you don't like the silence!

Aurora

Oh sunshine... Please don't do that! You are not alone and you are loved! Because you are worth it! If you forgot, it's okay because she woudl remind you by blowing so warm air in your face and make the floor trembles under your feet... She will make sure you know that everyone is here for you. And if you request someone, she would drag them immediatly to you, no matter what they were doing. You are top priority! She never really sleeps so if you need someone, she will be there!

Scuzz

Nu-uh. No way. They won't let you. They would hide any object you could harm yourself with. No matter how much the others grumble about the lack of pointy, sharp, or explosives objects. You are far more important than any of this. Why? What do you mean why? Because they love you, alright?! You deserve so much better.

Carmilla

Self-harm and heartbreak are old friends of hers. A dangerous duo, trust her. Which means she knows how to approach this. If you need useful advices, she is your woman. And she loves you so dearly that she knows you by heart, so she would have your favourite snacks, drinks, movies, and comfort objects if you search them. She would kiss your forehead and keep an eye on you if you need a nap.

In general

Self-harms and heartbreaks aren't new on board, but it's a subject serious enough for everyone to be at your service, especially if it's you. They will make sure that you know there is no need to hurt yourself, that you are loved and not alone. Because you are worth it!

aueuuejshfjsvsjdjd.....need co fort posts from the mechanisms.....jsut anything.....just them......veing proud of me or helping me through my depressive phase.....aaanything will do......

[deadlyflan]

TMNT OC: The Billies

Name: Billy

All of them are Billy. Don't try to distinguish them with Billy#1, #2, etc. No descriptors like Spoon Billy, Leaf Billy, etc. It's just Billy. That's Billy. That's Billy. That's Billy. All Billy.

Gender: ???cat???

Pronouns: Billy talks about Billy in the third person. So pronouns between Billies aren't a thing. However they/them is appropriate for other folks discussing the Billies as a unit.

Height: 4 foot (1.22m) including ears. Smol.

Species: A single (1) NYC feral alley cat

Age before mutation: 4 or 5 months. Gangly, hyper, confused. Curious. Bad ideas abound. However, could hunt, groom, hide, and fight (badly) as a cat.

Age after mutating: It has been about 3 months since Billy became sentient.

Skills:

A+ scavenger! Billy likes soft things, shiny things, food things, and stuff that goes boing.

Digging! Billy lives with Sgt. Billy (and sometimes Billy and Billy and Billy) in the hidey hole that leads to the Billy Base beneath the tool shed behind the children's museum in Brooklyn near the skate park.

Making Billies! You could call Billy a copycat. There's only one mutant: a single cat named Billy. However, Billy's mutation lets Billy make duplicate Billies. Which is good, because Billy gets lonely.

The problem is that all Billies share one Billy brain. So the more Billies there are, the less braincells they all have.

One Billy is about as smart as a 12 year old. Two Billies are an argument between 9 year olds. Three Billies are 6 year old gremlins. Four Billies are a complete disaster. Billy has never hit five Billies.

The default number of Billies is 2 because Billy likes being with Billy. Buddy system.

Appearance:

All Billies are Billy. So all Billies are physically identical: solid black cat, thin and noodly due to their age and diet, head too big to pass as a normal cat. The longer a Billy is out doing Billy things, the dirtier and scruffier their fur and clothes will look. Grooming is not something Billies do in public. Not safe! But grooming at the Billy Base doesn't last long since the only exit is a hole in the dirt. So Billies are just messy.

Folks don't get to see Billy body, though. All Billies wear many layers of clothes for maximum pockets. For camouflage. For having spare clothes when there is another Billy. And for the safety of seeming bigger than they are.

Mismatched hoodies and cuffed up sweatpants under basketball shorts and scarves with hats and once Billy found a tool belt, which had so many pockets but kept get caught on things. Billies are little waddling heaps of clothes.

Friends/Family:

Billy is learning to be a people from commanding officer and currently homeless veteran, Sergeant Billy Coleman. Sgt. Coleman needs far more help and resources than he's getting, but he's coping with his situation as best he can. He lost his right foot to a cartridge trap in Vietnam and uses an old prosthetic below the knee. He self-medicates with alcohol and self-soothes talking about himself in third person. He identifies heavily with stray animals and will split food with them when he has it.

The Billies, freshly mutated and frightened by suddenly having higher thought and multiple versions of themselves, fell into Sgt Billy's orbit for the food. Their eventual bonding as a family unit is a whole story that deserves its own post.

For his part though, Sgt Billy Coleman has never had kids or pets. However, he had soldiers in his command. On his best days, he teaches the Billies like the army taught him: how to take care of yourself and your squad and to stay alive. (Also to swear. Because soldiers.) On days when Sgt is struggling, the Billies scavenge food and water for him and act as lookouts so that their Sgt stays safe. When he is too sick, they bundle him in blankets in the Billy Base beneath the shed. It's dark and small, but the Billies keep the rats out and the warmth in. And they're making it bigger...

=============================

This character(s) was written for a TMNT 2012 role play set in season 2 or so where the main characters are still reasonably untraumatized but weird krang stuff is happening.

I think the Billies as a concept would be adaptable to just about any TMNT universe. I would only vary how realistic their father figure's troubles are. In a more lighthearted universe, for instance, the Billies wouldn't be hearing combat-experience-based bedtime stories. That's more of a 2012 thing.

But yes. These are my beloved trash-children, the Billies.

Post dedicated to @kalachelone, @crow-dog, and BoomBoom. Concept art by picrew.

[stankyleginthewalmartparkinglot]

An article on davekat, sand eating, and world war 2.

Karkat Vantas is a major character in the webtoon Homestuck. He is depicted as a self-absorbed troll who is obsessed with himself. He also has an antagonistic relationship with his human partner, Dave Strider. One of their favorite activities is eating sand together. Eating sand is one of the ways in which Karkat and Dave deal with their own feelings of depression and anxiety. It can be difficult to understand why someone would choose to eat dry earth, but it makes sense when one understands the psychological factors that influence behavior.

Karkat Vantas eats sand using his hands and his mouth. Some people may find this behavior disturbing, but it makes sense if one takes into consideration the troll’s psychological issues. Karkat’s life as a troll was traumatic and miserable. Unless he eats sand, he will experience unpleasant flashbacks to his unhappy childhood. Eating sand helps Karkat cope with his emotional pain by blocking out negative thoughts and emotions. Eating sand helps him avoid feeling depressed or anxious and focusing on positive aspects of his life instead. Despite how effective eating sand can be, Karkat has to do it responsibly or risk severe health problems from ingesting too much earthy matter overnight.

Eating sand is an unpleasant experience for most people; doing so makes one’s stomach ache intensely for several hours afterward. During World War II, Churchill banned soldiers from eating canned pears after he observed soldiers vomiting after consuming them. Doing so would have been more helpful than eating dry earth, as dry earth causes nausea instead of soothing emotional pain like other food does. Eating dirt also exposes someone to harmful bacteria that can make someone sick if she carries dirt inside her mouth without toothpaste or dental care afterwards. The risks associated with eating sand are not trivial; it makes more sense to focus on soothing emotional pain instead of causing additional stress by eating dirt inside one’s mouth and stomach.

Before I move on I recommend listening to the song below whilst reading for the maximum experience

Eating dirt is an effective way of dealing with emotional pain when weighed against the side effects associated with vomiting after ingesting dry earth orally or brushing teeth with dirt afterwards. The benefits far outweigh any risks involved when dealing with emotional distress this way. For trolls like Karkat who were raised in horrible circumstances as children, eating dirt allows them to block out painful memories by stuffing their mouths full of even more painful sensations—earthy matter—instead. It allows them to escape their daily misery by stuffing their mouths full of something they don’t mind tasting—sand—and passing the resulting mental burden onto their stomachs through their digestive system. For these trolls, eating dirt isn’t just a method for dealing with depression; it’s a necessary coping strategy that helps them get through daily life without falling into deeper despair or melancholy!

Everyone must deal with unpleasant emotions such as grief or anxiety at some point in her life, but some people have alternative ways of doing so than others do. Eating dirt helps trolls like Karkat block out depressive thoughts since ingesting earth causes nausea instead of making them feel depressed or anxious. As comforting as this practice sounds, there are best practices for eating dirt such as avoiding oral ingestion and hygienically brushing one’s teeth afterward for maximum effectiveness and safety. Whatever method best suits each person will help him get through life's difficult times, so long as he's willing to put in the work required for that approach!

[crystallinee-waters]

T r a n c e [Harleen/Joker]

Fanfic summary: They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Harleen Quinzel isn’t slipping, she's running headfirst along this path, and it feels so good. She has found her ways to cope. Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes. Fandom: Based on Stjepan Šejićs @nebezial-asheri comic Harleen.

"Do you look like me? Do you burn like me? Do you turn into your effigy?"

 ---------------------------------------------------

She couldn't stop herself.

Aside from the flush of her cheeks and the clouds swarming her consciousness whenever she saw him, there was something else. Listening to the way he talked, that sharp edge of his words, those eyes that fixated on her and kept her pinned in place. His stories that first annoyed her, seemingly self-indulgent, had her on the edge of her seat for the next piece of information, anything that could draw her closer. Anything he said, a look from him, losing herself in his gaze. But it wasn't enough, whatever it was.

It was carnal, refusing to be satisfied by looks or words. It needed. It craved.

It wasn't enough watching his pale, scarred back, the way he moved in his sleep, his green tresses falling away from his face, eyelids soft and purple. All those times she had been heading towards the maximum-security area after work, to see him like an animal in a cage, her breath caught in her throat.

A monster sleeping behind a wall of glass couldn't satisfy her.

In her dreams he did.

I know you see me, watching you. I know you.

She couldn't resist; every night she fought the wrinkled sheets, lost in the feverish dreams, the memory of the barrel against her face, from the time they first met in the streets. His smile, his teeth, and something she thought she could scrape away from right underneath the surface.

The memory of adrenaline made her head pound. She was flying, not here nor anywhere else, as the world turned to white.

An entire lifetime of decisions and memories, failures and achievements, had been about to be wiped out by a push of his trigger.

"How does one go about killing their attachments?"

She gasped against her pillow, her hips grinding against the mattress, her hand restlessly moving between her thighs.

Dipping into her center, with her fingers curled up inside of her, pushing hard. Feeling herself drip all over her hand, she moaned and headed straight down, seeking the only mental picture that could push her over the edge. Her hips were trembling by the time she found it, convulsing against her hand. He wouldn't step out of her dreams, and it was a way of coping with the fear.

He's behind bullet-proof glass. He can't hurt me. I could just walk away. I'm in control.

She was burning up from the inside out, eyes hollow and puffy at daytime. Staring at herself in the mirror in the morning, sweeping golden hair from her face, biting her bruised lip, swaying her hips, she wondered if that was why he let her live.

Of course not. He was not that kind of man.

He was the only man who didn't fill her with that kind of indifference and disgust, like they had in the past, all those middle-aged men in the middle of a divorce and life crisis, she had been there to soothe a wound that would only grow deeper.

As the weeks passed by, the dreams switched ruthlessly between sweet and sinister, having her lying on her back, gasping for breath, head thrown back into the pillow, moving her hand faster, harder against herself, desperate for relief, feeling herself clench and it felt hollow. He was there every time she reached the edge, urging her on with a grin, taking her hand and leading her on.

His lips would ghost over hers with a chuckle, amused at her state of disarray.

"Oh my, doctor, what a mess you've made of yourself."

Watching him sleep, she wondered what he dreamt about. The lines between right and wrong had never been clear, blurred from the very beginning. She cared about him, she cared about everything he'd ever said or done.

It always starts with denial, she would realize later. When you can't see how deep you're in.

The insomnia grew worse, she drank her whiskey and there was no point in resisting, really. Throwing herself back and forth on the bed in nightly terrors, drenched in sweat, spilled liquor on the bedside table, sticky sweet, her hands between her clenched thighs, gasping.

Those green eyes looked back at her every time, he was always watching. They haunted her in the mornings and the evening, while Harvey Dent ranted on the television screen and she watched him with contempt, shot glass in hand, wishing she had a shotgun instead. They followed her whenever she saw her coworkers, the guards leading her to his cell, right back into the rabbit hole that was him.

She couldn't think of it, what she had become, with her hand pressed tightly against her mouth in the bathroom at work, to conceal her gasps that slipped out from between her fingertips, eyelids fluttering shut.

Tell me I'm yours. Tell me you understand.

Some sessions she was certain he could see right through her. He knew what she did, what she was up to. There was that glimpse in his eyes, she had become so accustomed to the thought of it, that the real thing sent her mind reeling, her thighs clenching.

Could he feel the smell of her fear and arousal? She hated herself for being so primal, for letting him do this.

You're doing it to yourself, a voice inside her mind reminded her.

"You okay in there, Doc?" Joker asked her, studying her face. "You're looking… distraught." Behind the glass, he would run his hand through his green locks, his face tilting slightly upwards in that display of oblivious confusion she adored.

"I would like to see you smile one day."

She fled the room that time, refusing to push through. It was too much to grasp, her knees weak and her heart trembling, leading her to yet another sleepless night, whimpering into her knuckles as tears filled her eyes at the sensation. She was the predator, the twisted one, fantasizing about the man who had almost killed her.

She was so close to him.

The day after, after a particularly difficult session, she let herself slip. She took the biggest risk of her life, releasing him from his straitjacket. Nothing between them. A gamble. It would take nothing for him to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, and hell if she would let him.

Maybe she would. She wouldn't even fight it. She'd be free from the nightmares, the dreams, the pained fluttering in her chest. It was suicidal, and maybe she was.

In all twenty-eight years of her life, she had never been so desperate. Fists against the wall, she was about to beg him to do something, end it for me, bring me out of this, bring me to my senses. Fuck the life out of me. Do something. Do something, please-

When he came to stand behind her, so close she could feel his body warmth, she fought to keep her legs upright. There was nothing but her breathing and his, her heartbeat and what she assumed would be his.

But he wrapped her arms around her from behind, tightly, holding her there. She couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. A part of her wished he would actually have killed her instead. That feeling was fleeting, soon replaced by a sense she couldn't stop, violently it tore through her, and all she saw was green.

When she turned her around in his grip, she became aware of how tightly he had been holding her. It took effort to turn around, but he let her when he caught on, loosening his grip just enough for her to face him, chest against chest.

She studied his face with rapture, the angular shape of it, those eyes, those lips, the tresses of hair around it. All his attention focused only on her, a dizzying feeling. Breathless, waiting, begging with her eyes. She knew what he wanted and she gave it to him.

She stretched her lips to a smile, hesitant at first, then wider and he responded the same way before he leaned in and crushed his lips to hers. Her hands tangled in his hair without a thought, she was holding on to him for dear life when he pushed her against the tiled wall.

Fear twisted into a sense of ecstasy, settling low in her gut and swallowing her up, hands shaking. He was kissing her, the way she had wanted to, hard but without bruising her, grinning against her lips when she gasped for air. As if he was tasting her before taking a bite, running his tongue across her lips and her hips pressed against his, her hands tightening in his hair. She knew he could tear out her throat if he wanted to, and maybe that was it.

 That night, he was so vivid.

He sank his teeth into her skin, lapping up her juices, making her tremble when he kissed her, and it didn't matter what was real.

As he crawled on top of her, she was wide open and falling apart, cracking at the edges, trembling from something other that wasn't fear. Pulling him down by his hair, running her hands across his scars and feeling every hard ridge of his skin, it was like she was dancing.

Touch me, touch me.

The smell of him and herself drove her crazy, his hands firmly on her inner thighs, leaving imprints in her sensitive spots. He was lapping her up, biting her to make her spine arch up from the bed.

His hand flexed between her thighs, curling so hard into a spot inside her that she was seeing stars. His mouth and lips were sucking on her swollen lips, and she thrust herself roughly against his hand, gasping his name while burying her nails into his scalp. A quiet snarl from him let him know she had done something right. He rose to his knees with a self-satisfied smirk, lips glistening, and she was too far gone to ever regain her grip.

And ever so late, she would grip him hard, coax him, take him closer, begging him to sink into her. His face came in and out of focus when he pulled her into his arms, pressing her flush against him, licking a long line from her collarbone to the pulse point in her throat, back up to her cheek.

He was inside of her at last, and it was easy to surrender. With every slam of his hips and her rocking back to him, it became easier. His teeth latched onto her skin, sucking and she made new scars down his back, letting out that side he wanted to see. Blood collected underneath her fingernails when he smiled. His long, wiry pale fingers wrapped around her throat, just so, squeezing enough to her vision to completely blacken out for a moment, before loosening their grip. Enough to tell her what she already knew.

She laughed when he pushed her over the edge one final time, filling her with warmth and she grinned ferally, cradling his head.

A part of her was in wide-eyed shock, feeling the weight of him on top of her pushing her into the mattress, him still softening inside, having branded her from the inside. What about the thesis? What am I doing? Focus.

The other part was delirious, finally found, finally there. His fingertips traced her cheekbone, looking into her eyes for a moment, his voice low and hoarse.

"Are you happy now, Harley?"

She stroked his hair, closing her eyes. Smiling like she never had before in her life.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I'm not slipping, I'm running headfirst along this path, and it feels so good.

Fin.

Comments/likes/reblogs are welcome.

[aiaranradnay]

Grief

A/N: this is for the spn angst bingo challenge hosted by @spnangstbingo ​ . I've finally begun this journey, and am really excited about it <3

Square filled: Free Space

Pairing : Dean x Reader

Warnings : Loads of Angst, canon typical violence, torture and tears. 

word count : almost 5k.

Inspiration : Scientist by Coldplay. also shoutout to @effie-w coz its that vintage clock of hers that got me in love with this song <3 

Betaed by @wingedcatninja who offered to help my rusty head. thank you so much<3 your support and guidance refined the fic a great deal. she’s also named the fic, so thank you<3

feedback is much appreciated :)

It had started out as a pretty decent morning – Sam just back from his morning run, Dean sifting through the newspaper pile looking for a case. He had been grouchy lately – ever since he had been stupid enough to drunk dial his ex at one in the morning. He had woken up the next day instantly regretting his actions. She had left him; it was not his fault.

No matter how many times he thought of it, he couldn’t help but blame himself for the end of that relationship. But that call, she had specifically told him that it wasn’t him, she had taken the blame; he should probably accept it.

But she sounded so broken ... was she hurting too, just like he was?

His head whirled around the same thoughts over and over as his eyes raked through the most recent paper, finding an article about a gruesome animal attack two towns over – nowhere close to the wild. An uneasy feeling crept into his gut, his mind repeating her last words; her voice sounding pained and forlorn – “Goodbye, Dean, take care.”

Then his phone rang out, your name flashing on the display as the guitar riff blared out.

“It’s Y/N,” he told Sam with a scowl of pure hatred, masking the tiny seed of hope that had blossomed in his chest.

Sam watched his brother answer the call with a gruff ‘hello’, his expression rapidly changing into one of shock and fear. His face got paler by the second as the person on the other side spoke.

Dean felt his eyes burn as he withheld the tears. The hand that held the newspaper trembled, the article now making sense. The officer at the other end of the call requested him to collect the body and ended the call.

The first tear rolled down his cheek and his world came crashing down as he looked back into Sam’s concerned eyes.

“It’s Y/N,” he whispered.

It took them a whole month to get done with your ‘funeral’ – to get your mangled remains and a handful of bloody photographs from the police, put you back together as best as they could and bury you; for Dean to begin coping with your death; for Sam to accept your absence; for them to start living like normal hunters again. Sam probably tried to get his closure, but neither one was over it yet. At least once every week, one of them would be at your grave, Dean wishing he could have prevented it all, wishing he could go back to where it all started.

The first week, he was a mess; it was supposed to be a short visit, but the nearer he got to your place of resting the more he shattered. The impala too had picked up his sombre mood; her purr sounded like mourning, her radio softly singing one of your favourite songs. He then clambered out and seated himself beside your grave, whispering apologies to you – for not being there, protecting you as he should have.

His mind flew back in time and stopped by the pool table at a dingy bar where he was hustling his daily quota from the other players. They were idiots, and he was taking complete advantage of that. Then you had sauntered in. You were a stranger looking for some fun time; at least that was what you said. Two rounds later, he had miserably lost his entire day’s income to you. While you gave him a victory smirk, he desperately tried convincing himself that it was not your skills but his distracted mind that got him losing. However, you split the money with him the moment the blokes left and the table was cleared. “For all the trouble we go through for these losers, I think we deserve the money”, you whispered showing him the anti-possession tattoo on your wrist.  A few beers later, you had traded hunting stories and he had, to his own surprise, offered you a place at the bunker.

His entire frame shook as he sobbed over the death of his best friend, his love, who was unfairly snatched away from him.

Two weeks later, when he returned, he was exhausted – both physically and emotionally. The case they had just finished had been rather gory; but it wasn’t the gore that affected him – it was the victims. They all had something that eerily reminded him of you – the hair colour, the age, the physique. Every time they had a body in the morgue, the boys couldn’t help but remember your mangled form that lay six feet under.  The third time, Dean refused to go, unable to stand the grief. That day, the reaper at the crime scene who had popped up to harvest the soul confirmed that your soul was somewhere deep in hell, in some maximum security cell, with the best torturers available. The exact location however was unknown.

Castiel had called in a few days later, only to let the boys know that he couldn’t get that deep in the pit. Crowley had been smart enough to stay away. Dean felt terribly helpless as he sat there by your grave, not knowing how to help you. The usual strings of self blame wove around his head as he thought of endless scenarios where it hadn’t ended this way, where he had managed to save you. What he wouldn’t give to make a deal and take your place... wait a moment.

He abruptly stood up, a plan formulating in his head. Hurrying to his car’s trunk he pulled out everything necessary. Half an hour later, he was ready. The traps and sigils were strategically placed, and the tiny box buried in the middle of the crossroads. The only thing missing now was the demon. Soon enough the putrid stench of sulphur filled the air and a young man in a dark suit popped up, his eyes blood red. At first, Dean bargained his own soul in exchange of yours. When that failed, he drew out the demon blade, threatening and torturing the dealer for information. However, his attempts were fruitless, and ended with the orange-red glow of a dying demon when Dean buried the knife into the monster’s chest in blind fury.

As the sun descended, the rays shone on his handsome face, making the splatter of demon blood glisten. The tips of his dirty blonde hair glowed like embers as he stormed towards his Baby, seething with rage.

When you had first joined their ranks, you had requested just one small thing. “Don’t ask me about my past,” you had said. Both boys had readily agreed; they respected your privacy, knowing firsthand that a hunter’s life never starts with a happy event.  

As time passed any kind of discomfort or doubts you had about each other had evaporated into thin air. You had found a family you never thought you’d get again. The boys found you filling in the void they never knew they had in their lives.

To Dean you were like his saviour. He often watched you as you fooled around the bunker, loving how you patiently sat through research with Sam, despite being utterly bored. He loved your enthusiasm when he asked you to accompany him to the bar. He loved how the two of you had fun at the bar, even helping each other get someone for the night. It was all jokes and stupidity, for neither of you took anyone home. Ever since you’d waltzed into his life, his one night stands had diminished in number, and replaced by actual blissful sleep.

Sure, he still got nightmares and woke up in a cold sweat; but somehow every time that happened, you’d be at the door with a look of concern. Neither of you exchanged words – you just walked in and wrapped your arms around him, calming him down with your mere presence. He’d often apologize for it, but you’d always brush it off with a ‘doesn’t matter... wasn’t really sleeping anyways’. You would then soothingly coax the bad dream out of his mind; and he’d simply pour out all his secrets, answer all your questions and then spend hours reminiscing about the early days of hunting when things weren’t this painful. You’d listen earnestly, commenting at some points and by the end of it, Dean would be snoring softly yet again, a part of his burden having disappeared.

Sam loved how you took care of his brother; he saw the love you had for each other, the love that neither of you were even aware of yet. You had now become his best friend, and he often had hinted that Dean and you would make a good couple, but you were ignorant of it. He knew for sure though, that someday it would all click into place. He simply couldn’t wait for the day when his best friend would officially be family, be his sister-in-law.

Now, with you gone the world seemed to have lost colour. The research work was too tedious, the bar nights too lonely and the nightmares more gory and terrifying. The boys no longer had that caring hand comforting them, or that soothing voice loving them. The bunker was too quiet with no sound of high pitched laughter bouncing off the walls, or the steady hum of a song being sung.

Your death had ripped open a huge hole in their lives, and they had nothing to patch it back up with.

By now, it had become a very common sight to have a Winchester mourning at your grave; the mornings were filled with Sam’s tired yet ever hopeful voice, and the evenings reserved for Dean’s pain. They never came together; never even told each other about the frequent visits.

The fourth week thus passed with them wondering why you’d never told them that you were dying.

Dean had always considered you to be his rock; maybe it was your constant support, or your everlasting optimism... to him you were invincible, a constant. So, that one day when he saw you break down he panicked. He had never seen you so broken... and now the memory of your voice, you crying, fallen crumpled in the middle of the road, haunted his mind. It was obvious that hunting was affecting you too and he didn’t like that. So he did the only thing he thought was sensible – he benched you. He gave a different reason every time but it always ended with ‘you’re not going Y/N’. You didn’t like it one bit. You were a full fledged hunter who’d given up on everything other than hunting; to be forbidden from doing the one job you knew didn’t sit well with you... and thus the fights started. Misunderstandings and arguments escalated. Moreover the two of you had just begun being ‘more than friends’, and it didn’t work well.

Your fights left Dean restless and as a result, the hunts often got botched up. Both your minds were losing peace, your lifestyle got more reckless and your relationship got rockier. Sam tried his best to calm the two of you and make you see sense, but you were stubborn and you butted heads ever so often. It finally took one hunt to sever whatever was left. You were benched but you broke protocol and followed them. Time wasn’t on your side, and you almost ruined it for all of them. Cas had turned up last minute and saved you all.

By the time you reached home, Dean was seething with rage. The usual argument turned heated, both your voices loud and bellowing, a volley of angry accusations tossing back and forth until you broke. “You know what?! I quit! I FUCKING QUIT!! I’ve had enough, Dean! It’s clearly not working. We’re over.” Minutes later, you were at the front door, a duffel bag hitched up your shoulder.

Time froze for a millisecond before Dean exploded. “Y/N, DON’T YOU DARE! You walk out that door, don’t you ever think of coming back! IF YOU LEAVE, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME! YOU GET THAT?” for a split second he sounded so much like his father, even Sam flinched at the turn of events – like history repeating itself.

Maybe Dean would hate himself for doing it if only he was thinking straight. Maybe he’d have noticed your tortured face, his comment hitting much closer than he could have possibly imagined. Maybe he’d have apologized and things would be okay. But at that moment, it was a game of egos. “That would be just perfect, wouldn’t it?” you hissed, before storming out, the door clanging shut behind you. The silence that followed was deafening.

The silence seemed to have seeped into the bunker to this date.

In the stifled whimpers of the older Winchester, living his nightmares on repeat.

In the slumped frame of Sam Winchester, aching with suppressed emotions.

In the hushed flutter of the angel wings, as Cas popped by your grave, his eyes sunken with helplessness.

In the quiet of your absence, your grave remained still.

A dull grey evening.

A broken black car, grey with soot and dust.

A lonely grey headstone in the middle of nowhere.

A  defeated young man with a pale grey face staring hopelessly at the grave, leaning against the car.

He doesn’t know how to bring you back; he doesn’t know how to move on. The world has stopped for him, it doesn’t even have a meaning.

Regrets. A billion regrets; it’s the same thing haunting him.

Realization... of how the two of you had wasted your time fighting; all the time that you could’ve spent together; if only...

Memories... flooding in – cheesy lines and flirting; hugs of comfort, of love; stolen kisses, fearing the risk; giving in to your feelings; the nights together, loving each other.

“Hey Dean?” you mumbled, your head resting against his shoulder as the two of you sat, leaning against a tree in a tiny meadow Dean had discovered. It was hidden in the woods, a tiny paradise for the two of you. “Yea?” he whispered, not wanting the moment to end.

“Tag. You’re it,” you squeaked, before dashing into the wilderness. It took him a second to process, before he got up and sprinted in your direction.  Peals of laughter echoed through the trees as you ran, Dean right at your tail. You knew he'd easily catch you, despite the headstart. “Gotcha,” he growled as he tackled you, holding you close as the two of you came crashing down onto the forest floor. You squirmed under him, giggling the whole while as he watched you in awe.

And suddenly, you looked him in the eye, and he saw pure fear in yours. “Dean!” you gasped out. Startled, Dean pulled back slightly. “Dean!!” you cried out.

A blink of his eyes; you were gone.

“Dean!!!” your voice called out... but you weren’t there.

Sheer panic filled in Dean’s heart as he looked around in vain. Where did you go?

“DEAN!!!!” your voice was right there... where was it coming from? Under the ground?

That just didn’t make any sense.... yet there it was. Right from the depths of the earth.

A voice of pain; a voice of fear.

“DEAN!!!”

A sharp pain burnt his cheek as Cas slapped him out of his stupor; eyes focusing as he came back to the real world, his gaze meeting the concerned looks of Sam and Castiel. No one uttered a word. They simply helped him into the car and drove home.

The skies turned dark; the grave, once again, lonely.

Another case was done and dusted; and here he was yet again. His legs folded beneath him, his shoulders hunched carrying immense grief. A single tear rolling off his cheek and many unshed ones held within. His hands trembled, as he clutched a scrapbook – your scrapbook – tightly.

You had called it a journal; an art journal. And you wrote nothing about monsters in there. Dean hadn’t got it then; now that he had gone through it, he understood it all; hell, now he knew every little thing that was in it. It started out from when you’d joined the boys and contained every happy event that had followed. There were a million photos, drawings and cute cut-out crafts woven into a beautiful tale of a lonely huntress who found the best family. Faces – his, Sammy’s, Castiel’s – were delicately drawn around the day’s events. He didn’t even know how you’d gotten so many photos and it made him smile as he went through over and over. Those tiny flip-book motion pictures of the boys peeked out here and there. His smile only widened when he reached the timeline where the two of you had gotten together. There weren’t many photos – “I can’t even think straight around him, much less take photos”, you’d written. There were drawings though, where you had tried to recreate the time spent together as best as you could... and it was magical; like a fairy tale dream where you’d made him the prince. His heartstrings tugged in grief at the few missing photos, because he knew they were the best ones. They weren’t lost; as a matter of fact they were right there in his hand – slightly frayed and caked with grime and the remnants of your blood from when you had held them while you got torn into ribbons. Why had you made that deal anyway?

His vision blurred as the tears took over, his body casting a long shadow of a broken man, as the sun slipped below the horizon.   

Almost the end of week ten; yet Dean hadn’t come to you. Sam however did.

He knew that you were gone, and probably wouldn’t hear what he had to say; but if you could – then you had to know.

The young man knelt by the headstone, a bunch of fresh flowers in his hand – your favourite ones. “He wanted to come... Dean I mean; he wanted to see you, even put up a fight... but I... I just couldn’t let him out; he isn’t well, you know. Mentally – he...he’s crumbling, Y/N/N. He’s hallucinating; he sees you everywhere, and he...he just keeps saying that it’s his fault. He’s drinking himself to sleep, he’s hurting himself... it’s like your break-up all over again; a million times worse this time.” His eyes clouded with unshed tears as he remembered your heated arguments; the way you two butted heads. It seemed all so trivial then; all couples tended to fight – he could see the intense love you had for each other despite all the bicker.  

But over the days, your fights simply intensified; almost as if you were doing it all on purpose. And finally one day, it erupted with a final,’it’s over’ and you had walked out, never to return.

This time when the sun set, it cast its final rays on the longer locks of your best friend. “He’s losing it, Y/N; the pain, its killing him. He couldn’t even stand straight today, but he was so persistent about meeting you,” he chuckled sadly, “I had to add a few sleep meds into his drink to knock him out... I know that he’ll hate me when he wakes up, but you do understand my intentions right?”

Sighing softly, he rose. “Y/N, if you can hear me, come back to us. We miss you... Dean needs you back; hell, I need you back. I miss my best friend,” his voice broke towards the end.

The darkness settled in as he drove away.

Week eleven and yet you were still dead; they hadn’t found anything that could get you back. It was a Thursday and would have been your birthday if you were still alive. Sam had visited in the morning, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand. He had sat there for quite a long while talking to you. He was suffering – it was even worse for him because he hadn’t just lost you but also his brother; no matter what show Dean put up every day, he knew that the older one was no more the same.

That evening as the sun set, loud screeching of tires burned away the thick silence around your grave. A car – sleek, black, classic from the 60’s – swerved violently before shuddering to a stop right where the dirt trail to get to your grave started. A man stumbled out; a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was drunk beyond measure, struggling to stand upright.

How many could he have possibly downed just so he could get to this stage?

He fell on his knees with a thud. “I’m so sorry, baby. I was going to celebrate your birthday you know? But you weren’t there,” his broad frame violently shook as the pent up grief and sorrow flowed out of him.

“Why’d you leave? We could have worked it out, why’d you just give up like that?”

The ‘angry young man out for revenge’ facade that he held all day had crumbled, leaving behind a broken shell.

The worst part of it was that you were helplessly seeing everything. Hell apparently had wonderful reception to watch the outside world. Ever since the traditional chop-chop techniques of torture had ceased to affect you, the demons had improvised their torture methods – mind games.

They started out with a regular dose – your family dying, all your best memories with them changing into horror flicks while you watched helplessly. Surprisingly it didn’t affect you; years of recurring nightmares, Dean’s reassuring arms telling you that it wasn’t real, Sam’s wise counselling and all the love you got from them, had finally let you find the closure you sought. You now had a new family.

Then the visions of your family were replaced by the boys – you betraying the two, them suffering, dying, asking you over and over “why, Y/N/N?”... But you survived those too, convincing yourself that it was just trickery and that the boys were safe; they were Winchesters.

And finally one day they just let you see what the world upstairs was up to. That was where you crumbled – at their mourning faces; at Dean’s reckless attempts to bring you back, at Sam’s silence and their frequent visits to your grave.  That week was the worst, both for you and Dean. He visited everyday and you watched helplessly as he blamed himself for your death. The boys hadn’t taken a case that week, yet Dean seemed to have injured himself – bruised knuckles, multiple cuts and burns on his arms; never anything serious enough to kill him, but immensely painful. You screamed and bled freely as they carved into your skin, knowing that you were slowly giving up.

The last day of that week or maybe it was the next (or so you assumed for time ran differently out there), the torture seemed way more intense, and though you put up your best fight, you felt your body collapse and black spots dancing around your eyes. The last thing you remember before blacking out being a blinding light encompassed in gigantic golden wings followed by a searing pain in your shoulder.

Four months since your death, three since your funeral and yet he was there every week, reminiscing the time you spent, wishing he could go back to where it had all started.  

Thirteen weeks since your funeral; yet he wasn’t over your death. He still found himself pining, wishing, praying, hell even begging for you to come back. This week too, when they returned from the hunt, his hand automatically sought Baby’s keys. Despite the exhaustion, and the desperate need for some booze, he had yet again driven straight to your burial site. Like every week, ever since the funeral, he flopped down on his knees with a soft thud, right beside your grave. His eyes all teary, his voice all hoarse, he repeated the same three words he always said.

“I’m so sorry.”

The sun crawled down towards the horizon, casting its glow on the grief stricken man who sat by the grave. Silent tears rolled down his cheek as they did every time. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, as always, before recounting the week’s events. Soft noises of the underground rodents scraping through and scampering filled the silence as the darkness crept in. The noises – they seemed louder today; not that it mattered to Dean.

Then, just as he rose to leave, the soil that marked your grave started caving inwards, forming a shallow ditch. A hand shot out, feebly pushing off the dirt. A head followed, coughing and spitting out mud. The man’s tired green eyes widened, a gasp escaping his lips.

“Y/N.”  He breathed. 

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[whitestonetherapy]

Window of tolerance...

A client of mine experienced a very traumatic incident a few years ago and still deals with the effects of it today.  She has difficulty in reconciling this event with her life both before and after the trauma.  It just doesn’t fit. The memory of the incident is not like other memories at all. Instead of a regular memory her recollections are fragmented, they feel like they belong to someone else, and are combined with deeply uncomfortable feelings involving flashbacks.  The question of why it is she feels this way has come up and I wanted to write something about it here.  

Biology, the mechanics of the brain, and the quality of our relationships all have a lot to do with this.  Start by thinking of life as an uninterrupted sequence of experiences – from the moment you are born to the moment you die.  From your first breath onward your brain starts the process of ‘communicating’ with the adult that holds you.  You can’t talk, and wouldn’t understand words even if you could, so this starts with your brain communicating your immediate needs (the right-hemisphere takes the lead at this early stage).  You’ll probably cry loudly at this point.  Hopefully someone will hold you close and make some noises that are intended to be soothing and loving.  You have just begun the lifelong process of communicating your needs, feelings and desires to those around you.

What happens in response to your crying matters a lot.  By responding to your cries with soothing noises and tender touches your parent has engaged their own brain (again, their right-hemisphere) and begun a long process that will literally shape your brain, helping it to develop and learn to cope with all sorts of situations.  You begin to learn how to manage how you feel and, eventually, safely experience the full spectrum of emotional experience.  

This early example of mutual regulation between adult and child, where your needs are communicated, understood and then met by an adult, will play a small part in widening your ability to deal with physiological and emotional stress.  Neurons fire and proteins are coded, and your brain develops. Even as a baby you’ll come to understand quickly that certain things you do are likely to elicit certain responses.  That certain emotions you have can be shared, and that certain things are likely to happen around you if you share them.  You’ll learn this from crying at first, and then through playfulness and experimenting.  What parent isn’t familiar with the great repetitious game ‘I’ll-take-off-my-sock-and-throw-it-on-the-floor-for-you-to-pick-up’?   You’ll hopefully learn that parents can be relied upon.  As an infant your brain will start to categorise responses from other humans into a general set of rules (schemas) - these rules will be based on the consistent responses from the people around you, depending on what you do/ what you communicate.  This is the start of the complex scaffolding that’ll allow you to start to make automatic predictions about other people and the world.  You start to predict the future and generalise - but, also, very importantly, you start to see the world through the lens of your predictions (very important if early care is not adequate and your predictions are thus negatively skewed - a blog for another time).  This mental scaffolding gets more complex as you grow, and it will depend in large part on how you are treated, at least at first, by your family (badly, or well).  That’s for the future though, because at first babies are just concerned with the person holding them.

With consistent sensitive care over time, the autonomic nervous system of the child develops.  This is the facility that controls the level of physiological arousal the child has when he experiences new situations and is closely linked with emotional states.  Daniel Siegel (The Developing Mind; 1999) describes a “window of tolerance”, a kind of goldilocks-zone in which there can be arousal of the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system but without severe emotional stress.  The sympathetic nervous system manages bodily functions (heart rate, respiration, perspiration etc) and the parasympathetic system is responsible for calming you down – for de-arousal.  The two systems usually work well together, and we give them a good road test every time there is, say, an England penalty shootout, or jump-scares when watching a film at the Cinema, or when something more seriously shocking and frightening happens.

Parents play a vital role in helping children expand their window of tolerance.  By introducing a child to new experiences that are towards the edge of this window of tolerance, and by making sure they are socialised properly, children will gradually expand the capacity of their nervous system to handle arousal.  This helps them become resilient - they become strong even if they are not entirely safe.  Good news for parents who are very concerned about keeping their children safe at all times - by letting children take some risks we help them to cope much better with handling strong emotions throughout their lives.   Children will do this all by themselves anyway with games that seem reckless to an adult eye.  Last week I watched an Instagram video of my 10-year-old nephew in a New York park, clambering in ‘monkey bar’ style about 15 feet up from the ground.  He was using a section of a climbing frame that was obviously not designed for the purpose at all.  It was impressive, but I would probably have yelled at him to stop if I’d been there.  My brother is made of sterner stuff, being well used to his son taking risks, and he didn’t bat an eyelid.  The designer of the climbing frame just hadn’t factored in either my nephews excellent ninja skills, or the reality that children will always look at what equipment is available then immediately start to work out how to take further risks.  In fact, the maximum risk possible thank you very much!  If you walk by any park you can always find children doing something dangerous while a parent hollers at them to stop.  It’s not easy being responsible for kids behaving like that.  I remember looking after big groups at my sons birthday parties and there would always be one or two who would not stop, whatever the game, until they were pushing the limits of dangerous behaviour.  If someone climbed 10ft up a tree, these kids would climb 20ft and hang onto a branch by a finger.  It’s part of how children grow and begin to individuate, developing a richer experience of themselves and the world, but it’s not easy being in charge of a pack.  So expanding the window of tolerance is a good thing, and in childhood we seem to be biologically compelled to do that too.

Sometimes things can go wrong and our window of tolerance can be exceeded dangerously.  In the most extreme examples (e.g a serious accident), if the trigger is severe enough the memory schemas on which we’ve learned to predict the world around us are temporarily blown away and cannot cope.  When this happens the prefrontal cortex goes offline with all power diverted to the subcortical regions of the brain (limbic system, brain stem).  This is the way the brain responds to situations when urgent action is needed.  The parts of the brain responsible for rational thought and autobiographical memory are powered down.  In traumatic situations areas of the brain such as the Hippocampus may become paralyzed altogether. Because of this, the traumatic event that is unfolding is not written to the mind as a normal, ‘regular’ memory.  Instead it imprints directly on the limbic system of the brain, and so memories may be fragmented, incomplete, or context free.   In these cases ‘memories’ can take the form of sensory flashbacks, outbursts of emotion, nightmares.  And so we are left with recollections that feel different and dissociated from ‘the rest of us’, and not fixed in space and time.  This set of thoughts, emotions and impulses can be deeply troubling and can take us over (literally) long after the traumatic event has finished. This is common with PTSD.

Moving inward from the extreme of PTSD, many people experience extreme anxiety and fight/flight/freeze physiological responses in situations that seem ‘normal’ to others. It doesn’t take a serious accident.  Often this a result of our tolerance window being too narrow to begin with.  When this is the case even ‘small’ triggers are enough to drive us to full blown anxiety attacks.  I’ve known people for whom ordering a drink from a cafe would induce a state of frozen terror, or responding to a “hello” from a passerby in the street would be enough to cause physical symptoms of full-blown panic. I’ve known people who struggle to even consider as a ‘thought experiment’ being assertive (say, with an unfair boss at work) without taking themselves out of their tolerance zone.  I’ve met people who’ve stayed in bad situations for far too long, too fearful to take action of any kind to help themselves.  I could go on.  Such people feel trapped, alone, overwhelmed and out of options.  Sometimes this also comes with a sense of shame, leading to compensatory behaviours in other areas of life.  At the mercy of their situation, people may look for ways to achieve a sense of control in at least one area of their life, to quieten their mind, to block out the outside world.  Things such as food, exercise, drugs or self-harm behaviours might then be used to stifle all these difficult emotions and the horrible physiological symptoms of extreme anxiety.  Often a temporary relief is achieved but at the cost of compounding the root cause of the problem.  It’s a vicious cycle.  The medicine starts to cause the illness.   

Because the capability of our nervous system to handle arousal is something that first develops as we mature, we have to consider what conditions in childhood may have been absent or unbalanced in some way.  Scenarios where adults might have failed to provide the conditions necessary for us to grow resilient in our childhood.  Perhaps our caregivers were absent or too erratic in their care.  Perhaps they were harsh and emotionally remote (”buck up!”), or perhaps too overbearing, drowning us in a flood of their own uncontrolled emotion and anxiety at too young an age. Maybe, even more dangerously, both. Whether through traumatic incidents or repeated ‘traumatic experiences in our relationships’ our nervous system can be taken well outside of the comfort zone.  This often leads to panicked states of hyper-arousal (fight, flight) or hypo-arousal (a frozen numbness and even dissociation from the event). 

How likely you are to have experiences outside your tolerance zone depends on many things, but I’ll mention two here.  The first is your own ‘window of tolerance’.  This is particular to you, and will depend on everything that has happened in your life up until now.  As above, were the conditions right in your life for your own tolerance level to widen?  The second is the force of the traumatic experience you encounter.  If your window of tolerance is narrow then many encounters may lead to the kind of hyper-aroused flight/fight response described above.  Equally, it might lead to the type of dissociation and disconnectedness we associate with a ‘freeze’ response. Dissociation is a way of compartmentalising something that is too difficult psychologically or biologically to process and work in the therapy room to integrate these things can take time.  

My client and I are working with her memories and emotions of the traumatic incident, finding words to describe as closely as possible what happened to her (bodily, emotionally, spiritually).  By pulling them into order, and in particular working to reduce the intensity of flashbacks, we’re reducing the automatic fight response that accompanies them.  A part of therapy work with many other clients also involves trying to widen this window of tolerance.  This is sometimes happening explicitly and we might talk about it openly, but more often it happens implicitly as we go about other things, and so I put it in a big box called “what actually happens in therapy while we are busy doing other things”.  

Through talking about emotionally charged experiences we gradually develop our ability to hold uncomfortable feelings in awareness and to begin to share them with others.  Some people have never been able to do this, having had to deactivate the innate drive we are born with to seek attachments with people and share difficult feelings.  The skill has to be learned (or relearned).  In therapy, one aim is to begin to see difficult situations and dangerous emotions as being understandable, shareable, and changeable.  We might then feel less trapped, less prone to the ‘psychic-equivalence’ of equating our negative feelings or negative self-talk as iron-clad ‘facts’ about either the world or ourselves.  We start to have options as to how to react, and this can be encouraged by experiments in between sessions too. A better ability to reflect on our experience allows us to recognise that our internal world is not the same as external reality, and it becomes easier to put some distance between triggering events and our reaction to them.  With this flexibility, triggering situations that once overwhelmed our nervous system can begin to come more under control. 

www.whitestonetherapy.com 

[morbidoptimisim]

Kidswap au. Rose English is 100% convinced that her guardian filled hellmurder island with monsters as a last jab at her before dying, so she uses her usual personality and verbose to cope. John Crocker hates Betty Crocker, but everything he owns is from the brand, so sucks to be him. Jade Strider set Lil Cal on fire years ago and was raised by GCat. And Dave Lalonde is just there, having a happy childhood with the carapacians and wondering why his friends are all crazy. What do you think?

Rose English knew that their ancestor’s were testing them; it was as clear as the cake boxes in the Crocker closets and as alarming as the puppet’s ability to rise from the ashes reborn and unscathed. 

She felt for her friends, for it was their cries that had alerted her to just how manipulative and premeditated all of their orchestrations had been.

John’s deep-seated hatred towards Betty Crocker made his brand filled home a constant source of emotional agony. While she felt for his plight, truly, she did; it sucked seeing her friend be constantly ruminating at the mouth over one anxiety fueled conspiracy theory after another, part of her resented him over his, well, cushy lifestyle. It was hard not to; out of all of them, he had a house to live in with food in the cupboards that he didn’t have to hunt or replicate on his own accord. And though John was the first and firmest believer of her own theory of their genetic forebear’s plans of them, it was hard for Rose to think that Betty Crocker was the evil mastermind of it all; she left the boy boxes upon boxes of every divine looking confectionary known to man or alien-kind and the guilt of her doubt was the firmest gap between them.

Jade she feels, understands her struggle less; it wasn’t that the girl didn’t believe or disbelieve anyone, she simply did not care. For any of it. She spent her days inventing crude machinery that functioned far better than it had any right to by the laws of regular physics. Every few days she’d set fire to her stuffed guardian, only for the soul-awaiting capsule to reappear randomly some days later. It was her aloof and altogether unenthusiastic nature that bothered soothed Rose’s nerves, and aggravated her to no end; half the time she wondered if the girl considered any of them friends at all, or if she was too far down the well of her own scientific pursuits to think about what good fighting for the last shreds of humanity was for. 

And Dave, the poor boy; he seemed the happiest of the most of them. His island, while nearly devoid of food, was beautiful, elegant, and also lacking in any sort of monster at all, a fact that Rose was quietly jealous of. The lack of monsters seemed to balance out the island overwhelming sense of isolation however, as even with the last of the carapacians, Dave was constantly channelling his loneliness into an unhealthy hero worship of his ancestor. Despite his near-fanatical devotion to his guardian, he had proved to be the least aware of their collective situations and disbelieved nearly every theory that had been thrown at him; as it was, he read his Bro’s books on how to obtain and maintain maximum coolness constantly and concerned himself with practicing their teachings, confident that his ‘training’ would make him the hero of their intended journey. It was naive but admirable, and Rose simply couldn’t let herself destroy the boy’s sense of hope and self-worth, despite her major doubts on Dave’s actual heroing capabilities. 

Herself, she supposed, was perhaps the most laughable of them all. She felt as though she had asked for her fate in some bizarrely twisted self-pyrrhic completing philosophy. Surely, it was by her own hands that she continued to bite at her tethers and claw through the mud of her shores with determinable glare and vexation. It had to be, for no matter how her beloathed ancestor had stacked the board, it was her action and inaction that progressed or halted the game. Dave would tell her that it was a gift horse in disguise; these cursed misshapen beasts terrorizing her island, that her mother had left her all of them as a way of pushing her to her full potential. John would tell her that it wasn’t a gift from her mother at all, but a coincidental circumstance, as the island had been Her Betty Crocker’s Wildlife Conservation and Preserve, and that she just happened to be living where the alien fish queen had tossed her proverbial Noah’s Ark. Jade… well. Jade was more than happy to hypothesize what sixteen years of eating alien meat was doing to her body. To her brain. She wondered if the girl’s obsession for her family’s tradition of dissecting things would prove to be something to worry about in future, should there prove to be a future for any of them.  

She sighed and ran a hand through her messily chopped hair. She had been in one place for too long, thinking. The only way to survive she had found, was to keep moving. 

She hopped off of the carcass she had been harvesting from and scanned the water beyond the shore. 

Rose didn’t know why, but looking at it always gave her a pang of what felt like loss. An empty, half remember feeling that was as scribbling static in her brain. Like a word from a dream she no longer remembered. 

Pushing the strange, faint feeling away, Rose turned to the trees and took a grating, venom-laced breath. 

She had several more fantastical creatures to go, before she’d have slaughtered every pearly white creature on the island. And if her mother, or her mother’s rival had so tenderly flooded the board with pawns to spite her, then she fully intended to wipe the board clean of them all as one final ‘Fuck You’ signed cordially by herself. 

She was not a hero like Dave Lalonde, unwavering and true. Nor was she as cold and calculating as Jade Strider, enigmatic and progidaly gifted. And she refused to be as John Crocker, uncollected and afraid. 

No, she was Rose English. Her home was a bed of monsters, and she intended to out-claw, out-bite, out-rage that lot of them. 

She was Rose English. 

She was Leviathan.    

And she was hungery. 

[secretgiftsforshaman]

Real Healing Shit Part 2

After our play last night, I felt unsettled and upset and it took me a while to identify why. Much of it was an emotional release that came up to be processed, but some of it was unmet needs in the moment, because I did not understand them enough to ask for them to be met. I must emphatically insist that you did not do anything to hurt or neglect me. What we have done together has not, as far as I can tell, created any new injuries (at least for me), it has only uncovered old pain and trauma which already existed in my body so that it could be released. What follows is what I have processed and come to understand on this front so far:

I’ve written before about how stiffly I’ve always held my hips and pelvis because of the stuck, stagnant energy therein, and how I carry a lot of weight on my abdomen, and how much of it is a physical manifestation of the energetic armor and unprocessed emotions that I’ve accumulated over the years. I refuse to accept the bullshit (super unscientific, harmful, and dangerous) idea that thin = healthy and fat = unhealthy, because I, as a person who is studying and familiarizing herself with the true best practices regarding our relationships with food and with our bodies, know that everyone’s body is capable of knowing what it wants and needs, and that happy, exercised, well-nourished, and healthy bodies can be (and are) all kinds of different shapes and sizes. And I also intuitively know that my particular body will be happier when I can let go of much of the weight that is extra for me - because it is a simultaneously literal and metaphorical weight. The energetic/psychological/historical patterns that I have stored in my chakras/energy body *are* the same thing as this extra flesh. In order for me to do much of the Divine Feminine healing work we both serve - that which comes from my own life, and that which I have inherited - I need to engage with and dislodge these stuck emotions and traumas, and then feel them until I can release and resolve them. (I seem to have inherited a LOT of energetic trauma from my family and ancestors - all kinds of crappy behavioral/relationship/thought software, especially through my maternal line. My work is cut out for me!)

It feels like there is a deep, deep well of this stuff that is stuck deep in my lower belly, and that it can be accessed through ecstatic movement, energy work, sex, and pleasure (and naturally, the overlap of these) - through the physical and energetic movement of and within my pelvic bowl and female reproductive organs. The first time I remember masturbating was sometime in later elementary school when I discovered that pressing deeply into my lower abdomen brought me a particular pain-pleasure, never satisfying, but strongly desired all the same. Even after I learned how to stroke my clit to orgasm in college, I have continued to find myself wanting to press deep into this tight, needy, aching place (often when I’m full of sexual energy after a clitoral orgasm) which I think is somewhere near or just beyond my cervix, and I believe to be the inner nexus of my second chakra.

I think that a lot of the types of sexual desire that I’ve been feeling - wanting to be fucked hard and rough and deep, wanting my ass spanked and played with and fucked, wanting to be split open and have everything I’ve been carrying around in this place pulled out and held and tended to, wanting to be emptied of all the old, stagnant, painful detritus so that I have space to move kundalini up into and through my second chakra in a way that will allow me to truly surrender and receive pleasure and create and connect socially and sexually in healthy and whole ways: all of this lust is my bodymindheartsoul asking for the type of sexual energy work that it needs to heal itself. This is, I think, a big part of why we are called to each other: you are a safe, trustworthy, masculine source of the destructive sexual energy I need to destroy and heal the feminine wounds that Gaia has bestowed on me to carry and seek healing for. You are an acolyte of the Goddess who knows how to hold the Sacred Space I need to do this work, and I am a healer in her training/self-healing/transformation journey preparing to serve the Divine Feminine in my future clients (both formal/mass-consciousness clients and the erstwhile “clients” that have always been drawn to me for counsel and nurturing). This is why we are drawn together. This is our sacred contract.

For the longest time I’ve wanted to be filled and stretched open in a way that my own fingers could never achieve. During sex with Sweetie, I could never relax enough to accept more than two of his fingers at the absolute maximum - most of the time one was as much as I could take, but I often wanted more then, and I DEFINITELY do now. I don’t think we really spent enough time with foreplay, with few exceptions, and that this is part of why I found it so difficult to accept penetration: I rarely felt safe/unguilty enough to take as much of his time and effort as I needed to become fully aroused and/or have a truly satisfying climax. I also think that my bodymindheartsoul knew that I was not yet mature enough, or safe and held enough, to begin processing the stored shadow ‘stuff’ that would be woken up once I allowed anyone (wether someone else or even myself) deep enough into my body to touch it and awaken it.

A little over a week ago, I (finally, at the ripe old age of 29!!) got myself a dildo. This long held and growing desire to be stretched open the way I have never truly been ready for before - almost like lancing an abscess - has made penetration sound so fucking good that I gave in and sought out something to fill that need (pun so intended). The first time I tried the new toy, again about a week ago, it was very difficult for me to enjoy. I brought myself to climax once before I even began inserting it, because I hoped it would help prepare me. It didn’t help much, and eventually I had to stop because try as I might (again - I made the mistake of trying to force my pleasure, and I think I tried too soon after my bleed ended as well) it became more and more painful and I slid further and further away from pleasure, let alone orgasm. As I was trying to force myself back towards pleasure and climax, I became angry and frustrated with myself, but eventually I became numb and almost detached. I think that some lines blurred between the stored pain that I was tapping and releasing, and the pain that I was causing myself.

In the time since, I have experimented more with my new toy (but also while trying to practice self-compassion and surrender and self-trust) and I have achieved two of the BIGGEST, most long-lasting orgasms OF MY LIFE, and I loved the boneless, deep, pleasurable aaaaaache afterward :) Last night I wanted to experience another amazing climax like that, and to share it with you. I also felt that longing to be stretched open, to be fucked hard and rough and ragged, and it wasn’t until after the fact that I realized it was at least partially because a deeper part of me wanted more of that stubborn baggage exorcised out of me - it wanted the violent sex that could break open my injured parts so I could do more healing. Our dance turned me on enough that it was easy to penetrate myself and accept the toy I wanted to use, and with it I tried to give myself that hard deep fuck, but I really wanted someone else - someone I trust, like you - to give it to me. I kept pushing myself again, and I fucked myself deep and hard, and I became frustrated, and at once point - almost like a fever breaking - my emotions shifted and a vulnerable, sad place opened up within me, and a deep muscle trembling began. If you’ve read anything about psoas muscle/deep pelvic muscle trauma release, you’ll know what I’m talking about. This happened shortly before we both agreed to let go of orgasm and call it a night.

After we slowed down and stopped, I continued to feel a deep, occasionally sharp physical pain, with it’s correlated emotional ache and sadness, and wanted to debrief and receive aftercare and comfort to process it with. I think my assessment of feeling ‘restored’ was a little premature - it was less a restored energy, and more that I was feeling the healing process begin. Because we didn’t continue this work together, I turned to familiar sources of comfort to self-soothe and regulate my nervous system: hearty food, an audiobook, my bed, and a mindless phone game (mahjong, sudoku, and nonograms, if you’re wondering). These are all useful tools which, sometimes I use intentionally, and sometimes I misuse to numb myself out with. Last night, I chose to mindfully use them to help me settle and cope with the pain and sadness that our play had woken up in me, but these are only coping mechanisms: they are not the held sacred space and emotional connection that I needed to support me while I did the healing work with the released trauma. I wanted to ask you for more attention, but I chose not to both because I wanted you to have enough rest after giving so much of yourself, and because I needed to step back and try to understand what I was feeling and needing before I could explain it to you and ask you to help meet it.

I want you to know - with absolute certainty - that you cannot accept *any* responsibility for this experience I had. Yes, I felt my needs and I were neglected and untended, but because I did not communicate that to you (largely because I didn’t yet understand what those needs were), you are 100% blameless in this. Furthermore, it is only because of this unpleasant experience that I do now know what I want and need, and what to ask for in the future.

Because of my raw, mid-transformation state, and the way that sexual play has such power to prompt emotional release in me, even casual, fun sexual play has potentially intense emotional consequences for me. If we are going to continue to play, I would ask that we only allow ourselves to get into it when we both have the time and energy for aftercare and processing. For my part, I promise to improve my self-monitoring and communication so that I don’t set myself up to be neglected again and we can both have a better idea of when I will need that extra attention, and when I am safe to just have some fun. I ask you to keep in mind that I am dealing with deep and difficult work - deeper than many other Dakini you have danced with, I suspect - and I will need you to make sure that both of us are tended to as we do. Even light, easy play has the tendency to draw serious business out of my metamorphosing energy body. I am still learning how to fill my own cup, and how to ask for help filling myself up when needed. Please encourage me to tend to myself this way, and I encourage you to do the same. Neither of us can serve the Goddess from empty vessels.

I know down in my bones that I need to process this physically stored emotional/mental/spiritual trauma in my second chakra and develop healthier ways of processing trauma and meeting my needs that go beyond mere coping mechanisms and instead allow me, one day, to do this work for myself. I don’t want to rely on you forever. I want to learn how to hold the space I need for myself while I heal - because that is what will make me strong enough of a healer to hold sacred space for others, too - but until I learn how to do so, I need your help to destroy those energetic blocks and I need your support while I reassemble myself afterwards. I need my Shaman to swim alongside me in the shadowy deep. Teach me how to fish in the bottom of my ocean, Weaver. Help me weave a net to catch myself. To fish out the good pieces I can rebuild myself with and leave the dross that only weighs me down.

This isn’t the kind of work we can do every day - my system isn’t yet strong enough to process this deeply more than once, maybe twice a week. I trust us to flow and feel the timing out as we go. I am intimidated and afraid of the vast sea I’m diving into, but I have come too far to give up now. I have done entirely too much giving up, and I’m committing now to saving myself before I drown, and training until I am a strong enough swimmer to accompany others in their own oceans.

Time to jump in the deep end, Lover. Are you coming with me?

All my love,

Your Lionfish

[satisfaction-explorations]

Maybe there are two requirements for the side effects of the 5%s (or any work similar to this), or any similar work… self-soothing and bucket filling/battery filling.

What is self-soothing? Well, you will sometimes have a reaction or strong reaction to the above, and that will last …. amount of time. If it reminds you of past memories that you consciously remember or have feelings/images around but don’t remember, this means that it is triggering that past memory. Self soothing is techniques to get you through that … amount of time as comfortably, safely and ethically as possible. This is an extremely useful life skill. It may not solve the emotional problem, but it will help you avoid doing things you regret, and help you numb down and get through difficult emotions.

I like the concept of the ‘3 day storm’. If there is a huge storm outside that lasts 3 days, what do you do? You prepare as best as you can, go inside and take care of yourself. The first day the storm intensity might be at 90%, the second day at 65% and the third day at 20 or 40%. You just need to wait it out, and take good care of yourself in the meantime. So if your emotions are like the weather, what does preparing and ‘going inside’ mean?

It means having good self-soothing techniques so that if a 3 day reaction hits (very unlikely- it will probably last 6 hours, or 12 hours maximum, but it’s better to make a conservative estimate), you have enough techniques to cover the intensity. And healthy rather than unhealthy techniques.

And just to note- self soothing is rarely the same thing as fixing- it is coping skills- getting through it skills. When it is finished, you need to look at what fixing is required (e.g. habits, traumas, pains, emotional problems, physical problems, making yourself good, healthy and effective again). Don’t let it fester- deal with it.

Maybe the best way to deal with self soothing is to pretend your inner child is a baby or toddler in you and keep it calm and healthy. It is allowed to feel bad, but to keep it in a healthy range. Although, you would have a mental or cognitive component as well- you could helpfully talk to that part, or expressively then helpfully write about it. I do think exercise and movement is usually the number 1 way to deal with it. 

https://www.habitsforwellbeing.com/what-is-self-soothing/

https://eddinscounseling.com/grounding-techniques-self-soothing-emotional-regulation/

https://www.centersite.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=doc&id=9762&cn=353

https://blogs.psychcentral.com/emotionally-sensitive/2012/04/self-soothing-calming-the-amgydala/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/the-empaths-survival-guide/201810/self-soothing-strategies-8-ways-calm-anxiety-and-stress

And also, I can’t emphasise this strongly enough- if there are things that you have to do, especially, things safety, preparation, work or anything, it is completely OK to numb out and ignore feelings. Safety first. Priorities first. Feelings are what you do (1) during your recovery time (e.g. in the evenings and at lunch), and (2) what you do if you feel like they are getting too much for a specific situation and you need to take some time out and help them get back to a manageable or healthy range. And prevention is always, always better than cure. Plan ahead.

If you have urgent priorities, it is much smarter to deal with these first (especially thinking in humanitarian, management, or crisis situations). If you need to numb out, ignore and push aside feelings, do that and deal with urgent priorities first. Priorities need to come first.

[spirityoga21-blog]

YOGA AND MEDIATION-AMAZING WAYS TO REDUCE STRESS AND INCREASE OVERALL HEALTH.

YOGA AND MEDITATION TO REDUCE STRESS 

The word “Yoga “has been derived from the Sanskrit word “Yui” which means to unite spirit and body. In the ancient time period of time, the yoga practices have been done by the Buddhist Nikayas.  These are mostly done to transform the mind and boss.  Relaxing exercises such as yoga and meditation are helpful to reduce stress and helps to improve strength and flexibility.  Yoga is the centuries-old practice of holistic self-healing that helps to build harmony between body and mind.  There are best ytt in India which can teach you about the best ways to do the Pranayama. If you don't have any idea about yoga then, in that case, you can join yoga classes for beginners which are available in India.

 How Yoga and mediations provide holistic self-healing benefits at the time of immense stress?

 Bringing Inner Peace: Inner peace is the stage in which you are mentally and spiritually at peace. You must have enough knowledge on how to keep oneself strong in the different phases of stress. You are in the stage of happiness, contentment, and bliss. This will help you to free from the effects of stress. With the help of yoga and meditation, the relaxing breath, you will succeed to transform the stress into the peace.

 Improving Overall Health: Insomnia is a common disorder caused due to stress. With the help of proper meditation and yoga, you are able to cope up with stress. When you are able to handle your stress, then all the body organs will function properly. This will ultimately improve your overall health.

Aiding Weight Loss: There are some persons who are food additive due to the high level of stress and anxiety. All the breathing activities of Yoga help to establish a strong connection between the mind and body. Yoga and meditation help you to tone your body. When you will lose weight, you feel confident. This will reduce your stress to the maximum extent and overall health of the person improves gradually.

Relieving Depression: Depression is the stage of the constant feeling of sadness and lack of interest. The other symptoms are chest pain, irritation and multiple harmful radicals that damage our immune system. Different postures of yoga help to get rid of the depression.

Boosting the Immune System: Yoga and meditation help to increase the circulation of the blood and helps to reduce the stress hormones. This helps you to free from the bad effects of toxins. Most of the yoga breathing technique helps you to stimulate the immune system.

Improving Heart Health: The main reasons for all cardiovascular diseases are stress and anxiety. Most of the cardiovascular diseases are the result of blocked blood vessels. This can lead to a heart attack, chest pain, etc. Yoga and meditation prevent you from different kinds of heart diseases. Most of the deep breathing yoga exercises are helpful to slow the breathing rate.  These are very helpful to soothe the nervous system that generates different types of stress hormones.

Controlling Diabetes: Diabetes is the result of the excessive blood sugar level. Blood glucose increases the stress level at the maximum level. When you start all the breathing exercises of yoga, this will help you to reduce blood glucose to the maximum extent.

 The modern lifestyle attracts us through comfort & ease, in the variety of devices gizmos that have turned into vital to our everyday life. However it arrives with a large price tag & we compensate for it with lifestyle illness like hypertension, chubbiness & cardiac crisis, along with others. Extreme utilization of laptops mobile, phones, and dishwashers causes severe risks to our healthiness. They make us physically motionless; put us at greater than before the risk of sickness such as diabetes, cancer, plumpness and cardiac problems. In addition, countless gadgets, counting similar to electric shavers’, hairdryers and digital clocks, hand over gestures of electromagnetic emission that go through our bodies and worry about our biological procedures.

 Have you ever thought of living a lifestyle of how our ancestral used to live? Why they appraised Yoga a lot.

 Yoga is the science of modern livelihood, of true living and should be included in our everyday lives. Yoga lessons are not just a two-hour pastime class just the once in a week.

Yoga has technical arrangements to assist cool the mind, keep elasticity, and harness bodily and mental energies & to expand an incorporated personality.

This article is contributed by Spirit Yoga Foundation.

[contemplatingcoffee]

august week 2

every morning for the last week when i attempt to get out of bed i crumble. my knees give out and my legs have no strength as my body trembles with huge heaving sobs. waking up, getting out of bed, it means i have to live today. it feels like my body is rejecting that reality. it just can’t manage to stand up, to walk straight, to function. 

i had been teetering on the edge of this black pit of overwhelming depression since april or may. but every time i was able to pull back, to resist, to numb it out and fill the void just long enough to put distance between my psyche and the darkness.

but then in june when i stopped drinking i lost that trusted numbing agent. suddenly i had lost the one thing that had been keeping the demons at bay, although i had never truly known that’s what it was doing until i stopped. suddenly self mutilation sounded so delightfully calming, so perfectly serene, so pure and clean and quiet. if i hurt myself i can make the bad go away for a little while. if i hurt myself i will feel better. 

years of progress disappeared rapidly and suddenly i was thirteen years old again having never had a soothing drink. funny how becoming intoxicated with alcohol was the only thing keeping me grounded to reality. 

with my coping mechanism gone, i relied heavily on my relationship to fill the void. and then when that became literally distant i turned to exercise. if i can just push my body to the point of exhaustion then i stop the loop of manic self destructive thoughts that constantly play on repeat. so i go faster and harder and longer in an attempt to get me through the last few hours of the day before i can take whatever sleeping pills i’ve purchased for that week. 

but now the inner monologue of self hatred and loathing is playing at maximum volume from the second i wake up. it’s a common cliche to say you are your own worst enemy, but i wonder if the people that commit suicide aren’t really killing themselves but that enemy within that has been torturing them for longer than they can remember. people can excuse crimes of passion in self defense. 

the little shreds of my mind that still love myself just want to protect my body from the overwhelming force that only wants destruction. alcohol took away the power that negative voice had in my head. but now the negativity has majority rule. 

i wish i had never stopped drinking. but then again, who’s to say i wouldn’t have accidentally drowned out my own existence one day in an effort to drown the demons. 

i am struggling. 

[petupon]

Best Dog Clippers for Professional Groomers

Best Dog Clippers for Professional Groomers https://petupon.com/best-dog-grooming-clippers-reviews/

Regardless of what type of fur your dog has, odds are they need the occasional trim. But if your dog does have thick or wavy fur it’s important that you keep them trimmed short through the summer and prevent matting in the winter. We’ve gathered all the information possible on how to find the best dog grooming clippers for your four-legged friend.

Top Rated Professional Dog Grooming Clippers

To keep your pet comfortable they need regular grooming. You can either take them to a groomer once every 6 or 8 weeks, or you can groom them at home. There’s no right or wrong answer but, groomers need the best professional dog clippers available because they’re constantly using them. For pet lovers caring for their animals at home, buying clippers is an investment that can save you money in the long run.

1. Best heavy duty: Andis Vet Pak Detachable Blade Clipper Kit for Veterinarians

Heavy-duty

Self-cooling

Corded and Cordless

The Andis Vet Pak caters to professional groomers who have to from many different hair textures, thicknesses and are using their clippers constantly. These clippers are super quiet, so they’re great to use around skittish dogs or dogs with grooming anxiety. The Andis Vet Pak uses an ergonomic design to prevent wrist fatigue.

If you’re looking for power, this set of clippers clocks in at a max of 3800 rotations per minute, but it retains its cool temperature because of the ceramic blade. It also comes with comb guides and many blades which are detachable.

The Andis Vet Pak is everything, you would want in a great clipper except the weight. These clippers are meant to last the busiest of groomers for years, but you’ll experience some muscle building in your dominant hand after a bit of use.

These clippers are an investment, most people at home aren’t ready to spend this much on a new set of clippers. But, professionals should consider that buying a set of clippers that are this high in quality can save them money from having to replace clippers once a year.

The battery on this cordless clipper is pretty good as it can last for over an hour without charge. Many professionals prefer to keep it corded and charging until they start detailing.

2. Best cordless: Wahl Bravura Lithium Professional Pet Clipper

90-minute run time

Rapid Power

Lithium-Ion battery

Wahl is a brand that anyone in the dog grooming industry knowns. The Wahl Bravura Lithium has one of the most reliable batteries available right now. There’s no memory effect on the battery so you can charge it all night without the risk of killing it.

The motor uses a variety of torque settings to adjust the power and blade speed according to the dog’s coat. If you’re taking care of a thicker coat, the motor will adapt by slowing the speed and increasing the power.

This clipper relies on many different technological advances from Wahl. This clipper works great for years and holds up well to any type of dog hair. There are many concerns that people have with Wahl because it’s a well-known brand. However the price is low, and the longevity is proven!

Many professionals swear by Wahl for their quality and quickly focus on how they’re great to use with skittish dogs because they’re so quiet and have low vibrations.

3. Best for thick coats: Oster A5 2-Speed Animal Grooming Clipper

Stay cool blade

2-speed setting

#10 CryogenX blade

Would a list be complete without an Oster? The answer is no; it wouldn’t. Oster is a brand that has dominated the grooming industry for years. Whether you’re occasionally grooming your dog at home, or are a professional groomer, you could gain quite a bit with this clipper.

The Oster A5 2-Speed provide 3,000 RPM which isn’t the most powerful on the market, but it offers lower power on one setting, then on the high setting cranks it up to 4,000 RPM. The reason that Oster regulates their RPM is to prevent heating. They want your dog to be comfortable too!

Overall the Oster A5 2-Speed  is a great set of clippers for a home groomer that has 1 or 2 dogs to take care of. However, adjusting it is difficult which wouldn’t make it ideal for professional groomers that are looking to take care of multiple dogs with varying hair needs.

4. Best quiet: Andis UltraEdge Super 2-Speed Detachable Blade Clipper

Andis is a well-known brand for providing long-lasting dog clipper. The clipper comes with two speeds for providing easy grooming. You will get 3400 and 4400 strokes per minute at two speed. Therefore, you can use any speed mode depending on requirement.

For providing good durability, it comes with shatterproof material made handle and housing. The housing is easy to clean and maintain. You can remove the blades for easy cleaning. The detachable design makes it a perfect dog clipper.

To ensure sharpness and strength, it comes with carburized steel blades. Therefore, you will always get good performance. Moreover, the blade design is suitable for support maximum blades. Therefore, you can easily find a replacement for the blades.

The best part is its quiet experience. Your dog will never be scared of the sound. Moreover, it has no maintenance cost. You don’t need any cleaning oil or grease for using it.

You will get a 14-inch cord for easy operation. Therefore, you can easily move around your dog for grooming. However, you need to be careful as you are connected with electricity.

Overall, the dog clipper is a good device for grooming your dog. The versatile speed design with an impressive blade will always give you a premium cut for grooming.

5. PetTech Professional Dog Grooming Kit

Cordless model

Best for dogs with anxiety.

Come with multiple blades

Complete grooming kit with scissor ,combs , and nail clippers

Another cordless dog clipper for you! It comes with lithium battery for long backup time. Its ergonomic design is perfect for providing comfort during a grooming session.

According to the manufacturer, you will get up to 120 minutes backup for 2.5 hours charge. Moreover, there is a LED display for showing the battery power. So, it is user-friendly and you can easily know when to charge the battery.

For coming up with hairstyle, there is two-speed mode. Moreover, it gives you a turbo switch for speed up the motor. You can use also adjustable combs depending on the size you need. So, you can easily give a good cut on various size.

It is important to cut long hairs before you start. Otherwise, the motor may not cope with long hairs. So, you will not get an accurate cut from the dog clipper.

Overall, the dog clipper is a complete set for grooming. You will get clipper, nail file, nail clippers, adjustable and detachable combs and a cleaning brush.

How to Pick the Best Dog Grooming Clippers for Professionals

[caption id="attachment_619" align="alignright" width="300"] Source: flickr[/caption] There are many aspects to consider before purchasing a professional dog clipper. We’ve explored both sides here and gathered as much information as possible, so you can find the features that will make a great value for you.

Noise and Heat

There are a few factors that cause dogs to have anxiety about grooming. Specifically, noise, heat and occasionally vibrations. Because dog clippers use a motor that moves blades, similar to a facial hair trimmer, it vibrates, is noisy, and heats up. The more powerful the clippers are prone to their blades heating, vibrating and lots of noise.

Some major brands have developed blades or motors that are quieter and vibrate less. There are even some instances where they take longer to heat up. However, the primary solution to heat is sticking with fully ceramic blades as they disperse heat better than titanium.

High Rotary Speed

Good rotary speed is important for both you and your pet. It will help to finish grooming task quickly and efficiently.

If you choose a normal speed dog clipper, it will take much time. Moreover, you will need to trim one place more than once. It can also hurt your pet. So, it is important to consider high rotary speed per minute to get good support.

Durable & Sharp Dog Clipper Blades

You need to consider sharp blades set for your pet. A sharp blade will help to give an accurate cut. Moreover, there is no risk of tangles or nips when using the device. As a result, it will not hurt your pet at all.

Durable blades will help to reduce your cost for blades replacement. You can consider a ceramic blade for getting durable and sharp support. When finding a replacement, you need to make sure the blade suits your clipper properly.

Weight of the Clippers

Lightweight clippers are important to give a smooth cut. If you are using a lightweight clipper, you can feel comfortable. Moreover, it will not hurt your arms.

Using a heavyweight dog clipper can make your arms uncomfortable and tired. Therefore, you will lose control and give an unattractive cut to your dog. So, a weight of the clippers is also important.

Make sure you are not compromising the quality and motor power of the weight. You should pick a clipper that is a good combination of weight and motor power.

Multi-Speed Dog Clipper

You should buy a multi-speed dog clipper. Every dog does not have the same fur. As a result, you will need speed depending on the quality and type of fur.

If you are using a single speed model, you are limiting the use of it. Moreover, it is a frustrating on slow speed work. It can also reduce accuracy and make it sloppy.

Depending on your requirement and use, you can consider 3-5-speed level. The more speed level, the more you can expect a good result.

Quiet Motor

The quiet motor can help you in many ways. If your dog has a nervous disposition, it will scare because of the motor sound. As a result, you might face trouble to finish a grooming session.

You need a quiet motor that can help to work properly. It will help to soothe your dog and complete the grooming session. Having a quiet device works well with any sleep. So, make sure it does not make any noise for cutting the furs.

Corded vs. Cordless Dog Clippers

There are two choices for you. You will get a corded and a cordless model to choose.

A corded dog clipper is good because it will always give same contagious speed. Moreover, you can use the clipper for better grooming. However, you can’t use it if there is no electricity. On the other hand, it comes with a limited corded design. So, you can’t move to another place.

Cordless dog clippers are best if you like portable use. The dog clippers are easy to use and maintain. Moreover, you don’t need to think of the cord length at all. However, you can’t operate it for a long time. Some models do not give continuous speed because of low battery support.

Accessories included

Accessories are extra with the dog clippers. Depending on the models, you will get additional accessories. You can expect to have cleaning oil, combs and cleaning brush.

You can also get the accessories buying them separately. However, it will increase your cost. So, a dog clipper with some good accessories can help to save money.

These are the same factors that you need to consider. They are important to make your dog feel comfortable during the grooming. Otherwise, you will face trouble and it will result in a bad and inaccurate cut.

Conclusion

The Wahl Bravura Lithium Professional Dog Clipper  is the overall winner when it comes to choosing the best professional dog clipper. There are many options available but when it comes to power, speed, weight, size, and budget this clipper is a great option.

The blades are Snap-On which makes them extremely easy to handle and clean. There’s also the adjustment which spans come 0.7mm to 3mm. The Wahl Bravura Lithium Professional gives you so much control that if there’s any pulling or tugging you only have yourself to blame.

The system is lightweight, quiet and utilizes the Wahl low vibration technology to prevent skittish dogs from becoming upset when this clipper comes out. The blades quickly cut through thick coats and undercoats easily.

With a quick charge, and long-lasting battery you can’t pass up the Wahl Bravura Lithium Professional.

When you are plenty of choices, you will surely become confused. Therefore, we pick only 6 dog grooming clippers for review. So, you can read detailed reviews with advantage and disadvantage. As a result, it will help to make a wise decision for your pet. Don’t hurry, just give some time to choose the best model for your dog.

#petupon #dogclippers