#part of the reason I’m pursuing a career in therapy now is BECAUSE my therapists all sucked as a kid

[lissa612]

Can someone point me to where in 9-1-1 canon it is shown that Buck thinks of “Evan” as a separate identity or a version of himself he escaped?

Because we’ve got Buck 1.0 that’s been clearly mentioned in the past as a persona he’s outgrown, but I can’t remember him ever saying anything like “That was Evan…This is Buck.” He started going by Buck because it was convenient. He liked it and perhaps considered it a fresh start along with the career he found to finally be his calling, so he kept the nickname…But even the reasoning there is speculation because I can’t recall him ever saying anything more than “Everyone calls me Buck now. I kinda like it.” But there were still people who would call him Evan. His girlfriend, his sister, his best friend when he wanted to make sure he was hearing him, and his therapist (who honestly should be the most mindful of his comfort with mode of address) just off the top of my head. The only time he seems upset when called Evan was when his parents did it after he apparently asked him to call him Buck…That seems to be more about them ignoring his wishes than any sort of visceral rejection of the name itself.

I keep seeing chatter about how it’s disrespectful of Tommy to be calling him Evan. But I can’t find anything in actual canon to back that up. You can head canon that Tommy ignored Buck when he introduced himself like “I’m Evan Buckley - Call me Buck” but that never happened. You can just as easily head canon that Buck blushed and told Tommy that he likes how he says “Evan” when Tommy catches that everyone else calls him Buck and tries to correct himself. I’d argue that one of those head canons fits better with actual canon, but there are arguments for both…Neither is absolutely wrong.

So you can totally head canon that Tommy is someone who ignored Buck’s wishes to be called Buck. But then you also have to head canon that Buck, despite all the progress he has made through the years, is someone who would actively pursue someone who has shown they ignore his wishes - Something we have seen in canon to be a boundary for him. Which is fine if you want to do that…Head canons allow for all kinds of freedom in interpretation. But it’s not canonical fact.

Buck has historically disassociated with parts of his past self with his software upgrades from Buck 1.0, but when was the last time he did that? Buck 3.0 was back in season 4. He’s grown and changed a lot since then without needing to proclaim himself to be Buck 4.0. But beyond that, he’s never proclaimed there to have been an early beta version of the software called “Evan”. Really the only thing we know was upgraded between Buck 1.0 and Buck 2.0 was how Buck handled sex and relationships. Was “Evan” the base code in Buck 1.0? If so, has the code changed so much to have erased that? (Again, there’s nothing explicit in canon, so we can head canon that all day).

Bobby noted at the end of the season how much growth he has seen in Buck. I don’t think anyone who has watched the show could argue against the truth of that statement.

That is canon.

But you can ponder on it and come up with head canon…Perhaps what we are seeing is a more self-actualized version of Buck who doesn’t need to think of any progress he’s made in terms of upgrades because the therapy has finally made him realize he is all of those versions of himself and they are all him - He is the result of everything he has experienced and everything he has done and every decision he has made, and who he is will keep constantly evolving with every new experience and decision.

Regardless, Evan Buckley is Buck. And he is Mr Buckley. And he’s Firefighter Buckley. And he’s Buckley. And he’s Evan.

Unless he’s told someone to NOT refer to him as one of those names and they do anyway, they aren’t showing any disrespect by referring to him in any of those ways. We have examples in canon of that happening. We also have examples of viewers seemingly deciding it happened without canonical basis.

That’s a head canon. Have fun with it but remember to not force it onto others.

[ledenews]

Joelle Moray: Chasing Her Passions While Living a Loving Life

Even though there are thousands of adjectives describing everything we know, see, smell, feel, touch, and believe, one must be most careful when selected the terms to define her. “Tough” is nearly automatic because of the figurative bumps and bruises endured, but there are also soft sides when it comes to love, endearment, and compassion, and the same circumstance is presented when explaining a wide angle of creativity because of the options chosen and the options left idled and inferior. “Intelligent” is an easy one, right? But how so? Intuitive is a given, sure, but what about book smart and street smart and well, being a smartass because, let’s be honest, those all are true, too. And, of course, there are those other sides that include a human’s natural yearn and the way females feel differently. “Driven” is another term that expresses a portion of the person who is Joelle Moray, but is it a fair word? Is “determined” more appropriate? Maybe even “motivated” or “inspired? Or should it just be said that Moray is an “achiever”? Or, hey, what about a “conqueror”?  That has a “winning” ring to it, now, doesn’t it?  OK, one more attempt. How about “fantabulous”? Sure, it’s an invented-combination-of-words  word, but it sure covers a lot of adjectiveous territory that ventures where no description has ever gone before. Yup, for certain, “fantabulous” is exactamoondoe-lly perfect for the successful, caring, and sweet person Joelle Moray is. Joelle and her husband, Stefan, have adopted two children. You’ve always been a very motived individual in your professional career, and then you decided to resign from a “big job with a corporation” to follow a new counseling career. Why? I thought about going to graduate school for music therapy about twenty years ago when I was in undergraduate school. I abandoned that dream for many reasons back then. The little voice to become a therapist nudged at me every few years or so. I finally decided it was time to listen and to go after my passion. While I’ve had a tremendous career for which I’m very grateful, I am now following my true calling. There is an enormous need for more therapists in the field now more than ever. If anyone reading this has ever contemplated this line of work, please pursue it. We need you! What are the best – and worst (if any) – parts of being an adoptive mother? The best parts are the same as with any parenting. There is simply no greater joy than having a toddler run to you with wide open arms yelling, “Mommmmmy!” Or watching the wonder in their eyes as they explore their world. Or when they learn something new. There are several challenging parts about being an adoptive parent. Not knowing how adoption is going to affect them when they’re older. I want to make sure we find the right language to properly convey their stories to them. Will they have feelings of abandonment, questions of identity, and social and emotional challenges related to race? One of the children is mixed-race; it is a tremendous (and wonderful) responsibility to raise a child who is a different race than you. We intentionally take great care to learn, listen, gather resources, and reach out to people who are the same race as her so that we make sure we are providing her with the right tools she needs to thrive. We continually learn from adult adoptees, as well. Another piece of adoption that is different than having biological children is not experiencing rites-of-passage such as baby showers, gender reveal parties, getting to have fun ways to announce to our parents that we’re expecting. However, we have our own stories that are equally emotional (in good ways!) for these things. For example, I will never forget getting those two phone calls that changed our lives forever (one for each kid). I will never forget telling our families about them. I will never forget the day my daughter was born (I was in the room). My incredibly amazing friends created “the nursery squad” in lieu of a traditional baby shower. It was the most incredible outpouring of love I’ve ever experienced. Moray teaches yoga classes when her schedule affords here the time. Why did you make the decision several years ago to remain a resident of the Upper Ohio Valley? I, like many others, left a few times and came back a few times. The valley is robust with culture, outdoor recreation, entertainment, education, not to mention it’s safe and affordable. It has challenges like any other place; and it’s also pretty fabulous in a lot of ways, too. As a former singer, what songs did you enjoy performing the most, and why? Me & Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin, Right Through You by Alanis Morrisette, Carnival by Natalie Merchant, and Stay by Lisa Loeb. I love all things that fall into the category of singer-songwriter such as Carole King, Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, Paul Simon, and Joni Mitchell. I auditioned to be a music major in undergraduate school with Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell, while other kids auditioned with Mozart and Bach. I got in, but I think they just didn’t know what to do with me! I love singing songs that make me feel something or think of someone or a place I’ve traveled to or an ideal. I simply cannot play, sing, or dance to a song that I don’t connect with emotionally. I think I hear music and experience lyrics differently than other people. I analyze and embody song lyrics the way some people experience poetry or art. I pick up the nuances and subtleties on a deep emotional level. It’s transcendental. Every Sunday when I cook the big family meal, you can bet there is some sort of music playing. Joelle and her husband was joined by several members of her family when the adoption of Sloane. What do you see, as far as the future, for the Wheeling area? Wheeling has undergone more change in the last decade than at any other time I can remember. It’s exciting and vibrant. There’s an energy here. I see the future of the city as a place where people embrace and appreciate all the area has to offer, where leaders think outside the box and take creative risks to challenging problems, and where our children are proud to call home. Read the full article

[thewolfmanny]

Let this be a mark of stupid/random things in your ask box-- an actual question to start though. Favorite House of Ashes AU concept AND/OR Favorite HOA headcanon? That is all (for now dun dun dun) 👁〰👁💛

Are you ready for this, because I have so many thoughts.

I have a few AUs bumping around in the background, but my current favorite is an AU RP (eventually a fic?) I am doing with @the-girl-who-flies that started with the simple premise: what if Salim was a physical therapist that Jason had to go to for an injury?  It somehow developed into this whole universe where Salim immigrated with his wife to a suburban town a half hour from D.C. in the 80s and pursued a career in the medical field to provide for his family. He opened a private physical therapy clinic with Dar in 2001, and shortly after, separated from his wife when she found out he’s, uh, gay. Jason is going through his own stuff (ask Harpy about that side of things, haha), but basically, he’s Salim’s new patient and they start seeing each other in October of 2003. It’s part romantic comedy, part soap opera, part slice-of-life, and part filth, and I’m loving every minute of it.

My OTHER favorite AUs include ones where Salim is a classic vampire that Jason is into, a world in which everyone is a lesbian (except Eric), and this elaborate spaghetti western AU I had that I might just turn into an original comic.

My favorite headcanons.....................I have so many, but the biggest one that I refuse to believe isn’t canon is that Salim’s ex-wife left him and abandoned the family for a few reasons: 1) she felt unsafe, and wanted to flee Iraq, but he didn’t want to since he’s Republican Guard 2) she was resentful that he spent most of their child’s life on the battlefield and 3) she discovered he’s gay.

My favorite headcanon for Jason is that he had an absent father and is a deeply closeted homosexual with daddy issues.

You know that post that’s like, this character only makes sense if they are gay? That’s how I feel about Salim and Jason.

And for random fun headcanons: Salim has a stash of cassette tapes and CDs that he keeps in a shoebox and it’s all classic Arab pop and strong, powerful Western women from the 70s/80s/90s (think: Cher, ABBA, Sade, etc.). Jason, on the other hand, listens to a lot of stoner rock and nu-metal (Black Sabbath, Slayer, Slipknot, K0rn, etc.). He likes some country, but only cuz of his mom.

[fandomoverdrive]

Okay I just need to go on a rant about Whirl because I love him he might just be the most tragic character in the entirety of MTMTE and considering the candidates that’s a pretty hard position to cinch. Some of this is gonna have mentions re: self harm, suicidal tendencies/ideation, overall bad coping mechanisms etc so if that’s not your cuppa please scroll on. 

This gets long so here’s the obligatory read more. 

Let’s write “tragic” in flickering neon letters with the fact that Whirl’s first appearance in MTMTE, dropping the titular “how to say goodbye and mean it,” is a personal soliloquy delivered as he’s in the midst of constructing his own funeral pyre. Whirl is lost, directionless, trapped and unwilling to be such in a postwar environment. But how did we get here? 

Whirl is without a doubt a driven character. In the prewar functionist society, he had no qualms switching careers, risks be damned. Whether he’s always had a knack for disobeying authority or was simply driven by passion or both isn’t elaborated on, but he’s got a hell of a hardheaded streak that’s impossible to ignore. When destroying his business wasn’t enough to deter him from further rebellion, the Senate was happy to turn him into an empuratee and destroy not only the opportunity but the capability of continuing to rebel by pursuing his passion. This is what I’d personally consider the big ‘whump’ moment, less so the use and abuse as a pawn that followed but the point of trauma at which we begin to see Whirl’s psyche begin to twist.

From this point forward we see Whirl in and out of prison, let loose when he can be useful to someone else’s ploy and otherwise incarcerated for a buffet of offenses. No longer able to be constructive and having little if any control of his life, Whirl becomes aggressively destructive. In response to having everything he aspired toward ripped away from him, permanently, he builds a mental defense of bitterness and anger and paves over his black hole of self worth with a veneer of outright assholery. It’s here that he bares his metaphorical fangs and pushes - with gusto - anyone who might even suggest they’re trying to appeal to reason or get close to him as an individual. 

It’s hard to imagine, given even subtly different circumstances, that Whirl would not side with the decepticons for the war. While he’s single-handedly responsible for radicalizing Megatron towards violence, the ‘con intent at the start of revolution - that movement in society should be possible and a caste system based on alt mode is unethical - aligns quite nicely with what he’d already aspired to do with his life. His conscription to the side of the autobots is just another instance in which his autonomy is cast aside. 

Whirl is a tool. Whirl had a passion for watchmaking, but now he can’t, so his new passion is violence. Whirl is a gun and someone else has always told him where to point and all he’s ever been given for his cooperation is the blame of pulling the trigger. Whirl is an asshole, Whirl is unpredictable, Whirl isn’t a mech anybody would ever think twice about saving - the answer would always be no. Whirl wants to die. Whirl only wants to die on his own terms and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keel over under the orders of someone he doesn’t respect, for a cause he doesn’t believe in. 

A few years of this sort of treatment would be enough to drive anyone insane, let alone the millennia of warfare he suffered through. Worse yet is the one time he found a group, a team that was known for the unorthodox and taking on the big messy challenges, the Wreckers kicked him out. Whirl was too much for the mechs that were too much and there’s no way in hell that doesn’t still sting. 

That’s how we get here:

Whirl defends himself through isolation from others. He can’t be hurt by others if he never lets them close enough to be hurt by. In a hypersocial society, he has no close long-term friends, he is one of the few with no roommate aboard the Lost Light. He made himself as unpalatable as possible. He’s crass, he’s volatile, he makes it clear with every word and action that Whirl is first, you don’t mean anything, I’d leave you for dead in an instant..... But that’s not true, is it? 

Whirl is shown being completely, dramatically, self-destructively caring throughout the series. Between risking his life for the scraplet colony disguised as a protoform, participating in an untested spark jumpstart to save a life, coming up with a plan to rejuvenate Tailgate’s spark, and performing a spark transplant surgery on Megatron - without whom the world would never have been even a fraction as cruel to Whirl as it had been - Whirl is far from the most selfish character in the series. It’s in his nature, however, to deny such, to the point where he more than likely believes his own narrative that he’s irredeemable, self-absorbed, invincible, degenerate, and neither capable nor deserving of close interpersonal relationships. 

It’s also how we get here:

Whirl is one of the characters that we more frequently see in a state of disrepair. He fights passionately and recklessly, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not he makes it out of a scrum with all his limbs intact. Injuries like these, and those that he experiences elsewhere in the series, would put other mechs out of commission through pain alone, but as long as Whirl is conscious he doesn’t stop until the fight is over. 

As depressing as it is to think that Whirl is simply at this point accustomed to extraordinary pain, it’s even moreso to think about the more likely concept that he wants to be hurt. Whirl doesn’t have control of a lot that happens to him, but do you know what he does have control of? Who he chooses to shit-talk. More often than not we see Whirl being blatantly disrespectful of his superiors, and some of the more dangerous mechs aboard the LL. While obviously his intent when insulting Ultra Magnus isn’t to start a fight, harping on Drift (and subsequently getting cold clocked) or Cyclonus is a little more self-destructive in nature. 

While Whirl has been in therapy, we see during the encounter with Fort Max that he’d shared very little of what he actually considered traumatic with Rung. With no material to work with, Rung wouldn’t have been able to give Whirl instructions or advice as far as a healthy coping mechanism, and so I’m firmly of the belief that Whirl goes out of his way to get himself hurt as a way to have a vague sense of control. 

On his actions and guilt:

Whirl is immensely guilty. When he’s overcharged, he admits that everything feels like his fault - and unfortunately a lot is. Whirl believes he’s the bad guy, and he’s willing to take the fall for actions that others might find immoral. There’s a lot Whirl has done that he’ll likely never forgive himself for, even if he garnered the ability to start forgiving himself for the small things, but the character he’s created for himself has been part of him for so long that it’s near impossible to tell where to draw the line between caricature and his genuine self. 

At this point in time, Whirl is not capable of improving himself without external assistance. 

He has accepted (however wrongfully) that he is not cared about, trusted, wanted, or respected. 

His assumptions become self-fulfilling prophecy as he - consciously or not - works to perpetuate his image. Whirl is a dick, he’s unfazed by anything anyone says about him, if someone is insulting him they’re probably right, why bother arguing unless it’s with the intent to get in a fight? He doesn’t pay attention to others, he doesn’t pay attention to himself, nothing that anybody could say could possibly make a difference. 

Right? Right?

Wrong. Part of what makes Whirl so heart-wrenchingly tragic is that it is so incredibly clear that nobody has ever told him he mattered. Rodimus throws out what could be interpreted as a snide remark, “even the crazy bastard makes a difference,” and that aside sticks with him. Millions of years of warfare, of being a tool to use, an expendable soldier, a rabid dog to throw at their enemies, and not once did someone turn around and say he was anything good. He’s been thanked for saving lives, for contributions, for individual acts, but his reaction to Rodimus really cements in my mind that nobody has ever said that he, that Whirl, was important. 

Whirl is a broken character. He’s subsumed by his own self-hatred that he perpetuates and justifies with a mask of cruel indifference and aggressively abrasive snark. He’s alone, by what he thinks is his own choice but is really a horribly misguided attempt to keep himself safe. He’s got no potential for growth unless someone wants to force their way through his defenses in order to help him find the line between who he is and who he pretends to be in order to keep from being hurt. Whirl is terrified of abandonment, and guarantees that nobody will ever be able to leave him by never letting them come close to begin with. He’s not a good person, he’s violent and callous and has little regard for the consequences of his actions, but he is that way because of the life he was forced to lead. He falls into consistent patterns because he craves control, even if those patterns are self destructive. It’s proof of the little growth he was allowed during the course of MTMTE/LL that after their quest was over, he didn’t attempt suicide again but instead got into the revolving door of incarceration for petty offenses. 

All in all, Whirl is one of the saddest characters in any media I’ve consumed and please someone get this despicable bastard helicopter a new therapist and a stiff drink 

[fallingsunflower]

I have question! 😊 I’ve always been fascinated about psychology because it makes me understand so many things about me or about others. I started to read psychology books when I was 14 (I’m 22 now) and while going to therapy I realised I could “read” people easily because of the little knowledge I’ve had for years. The things is that I’d love to know more. There’s no specific reason. It’s just a topic I enjoy so much. Do you think it will be a good idea to pursue a career innit or keep learning by myself and if so, do you think you could recommend me some books, please? 🙈

Sorry if this is not Harry related but I just love your opinions lol ☀️

Hi love, I'm glad to hear you have an interest in it :)

There aren't any particular books I recommend. I tend to read more textbooks and scholarly articles than anything, but those are all super dry. I think for me, the most important part of learning more about psychology and deciding if I wanted to pursue a career in it or not was talking to other people and gaining that experience. I might recommend taking a class if you can. Some schools offer them virtually. Some community colleges also offer them. If you're serious about possibly pursuing a career in it, this might be something worth looking into.

You could also look into some "low-key" psychology jobs. I had a job when I was 18 as a paraprofessional with special needs children. I got to observe psychologists, teachers, social workers, occupational therapists, and speech language pathologists all while gaining work experience. That also might be something worth looking into.

I do think it's worth it to pursue it as a career if it's something you're passionate about and it's a job that will always be in need. I might recommend looking into psychology, counseling and social worker jobs. Psychologists tend to deal with a lot more paperwork than people realize. Psychologists do a lot of testing, as well as counseling. Counselors do more talking with their clients than not. You can also specialize in a specific area (LGBTQ, women's studies, minorities, etc). Social workers work more with a team of people while still counseling. OR you could simply go into research.

I have some suggestions you could look into if you're interested, though.

There's the Sybil case which sparked a BIG debate in multiple personality disorder (the most highly controversial disorder - I could talk about this for hours lmao)

Phineas Gage was an interesting case that taught us a lot about how the brain works

There's also this video which really isn't psychology related but it's been one of those "it" videos for me in my educational career. I think about it quite often. It's more science based.

Ted Talks are aways a good go to for me also. I like listening to those and podcasts while puttering around. I can pull some for you if you'd like, as well as some articles. I don't have too too many book recommendations though. I try to be careful with books because sometimes they're not that factual.

Hope this helps :) I'm happy to talk more if you'd like

[ahiddenpath]

My Current Thoughts on Writing Fanfics

I’m so glad I’ve had this bloggity since 2012, because I can see how much my approach to writing has changed!  I wanted to touch base on where I am now, plus answer the most common questions I receive about writing fanfics beneath the cut.

Obligatory disclaimer: I’m a hobbyist writer, this is meant to be taken as opinion/reflection, not advice, different approaches work for different people, annnnd also check out my digimon fanfics (FFN and AO3).

How do I develop a regular writing habit?

I’d start by setting aside 15 minutes a day to write.  Don’t focus on word count- writing x number of words can be intimidating, but most people can sit for 15 minutes and get something down.  If you’re writing on a computer, turn off the internet and place your phone out of reach

Gradually increase the session length.

Never worry about the quality of your writing while you’re drafting.  That’s what editing and subsequent drafts are for.  I have a post on utilizing successive drafts to combat writing paralysis here, but the tl;dr is that the pressure to write a perfect story in the first draft often turns writing into an agonizing trial instead of creative play.

Your first draft is bad, period, at least compared to what it will be.  In the kindest way possible, get over it.  Your value as a writer- or as a human!- isn’t tied into your questionable first draft.  Please explore your story in the earliest stages with enthusiasm, not criticism!  You’re going to make it so much better by the time you’re finished!

How do you write so much?

See, here’s one of the biggest changes in my mindset compared to my early days as ahiddenpath.  I used to think that doing all of this writing was like... extra credit, like a stretch goal I pushed myself to achieve.  

I learned in therapy starting in 2018 that the reason I keep writing is because I have to.  I have general anxiety disorder, and my brain...  Have you seen an old-timey cartoon with a boiler?  They are drawn swollen, metal distorting with steam pressure, rivets groaning and popping free.  That’s how I feel if I don’t write.  Don’t ask me why or how, but writing is like turning a valve to release the pressure.

(Quick PSA- my therapist calls creative outlets “coping skills.”  If you feel like you have boiler brain, make time for your hobbies, no matter how tired you are.)

For me, writing is challenging play.  Although I’m often conveying messages that matter to me or exploring ideas I want to work through, and I try to make the best product I can...  I don’t take it seriously, and I don’t sweat over it.  I’m here to wander, play, and take care of myself.

So basically, I think the recipe for producing lots of writing is: regularity/habit (do it every day, even for just a little while), minimizing distractions, separating the processes of drafting and editing, turning off criticism in the early stages of drafting, and writing for yourself and your own needs.

 Do you feel embarrassed about writing fanfic?

Nope.  I write for my mental health/because it’s fun, period.  However, I also don’t tell people IRL that I write fanfic!  But I’m a private person (I don’t tell people IRL that I’m asexual, for example, and I only tell them I have anxiety if I freeze up in front of them).

Do you feel embarrassed about writing OCs/fakemon?

Hahahaha!  Look, I know there are lots of people who won’t read OCs and fakemon.  I know there are probably people who wish I would stick to more canon stuff (both in terms of OCs and my strong preference for AUs).

But I’m here to write what I want, and while it makes me happy when people read and enjoy my work...  It’s no skin off my back if they don’t.  I already fulfilled my goal of taking care of myself.

Don’t you want to get published and make money for your writing?

No, not at this time.  For everyone who has said that I have the writing skill to be published, thank you so very much.  That’s so kind, and I truly appreciate it!

But...  The United States has the enormous capitalistic attitude problem that endeavors are only worthwhile if they generate capital.  I can’t even begin to tell you how damaging this concept is- literally, I’m not equipped with the sociopolitical educational background.  

Sometimes I think I’d like to become a published novelist?  But sometimes I recall that I have a dope research gig, and I wanna play around with writing in my free time.

To be clear, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t pursue your creative career dreams!!!  And, who knows, maybe some day I’ll get tired of research and want to try swapping to the hobby/skill I’ve spent so much time refining.  Just...  Never stop doing something fun and harmless you enjoy because “it doesn’t make money.”  

I’m not gonna sit here acting like I know what the purpose of life is, but I think having fun and meeting your needs is pivotal.

Okay, so how can I support my favorite fandom content creators?

Bless you, f’real.  The easiest way is to comment on their stuff.  For meta writers, leave comments, engage, ask questions.  For fanfiction writers, leave reviews.  I have so many lovely folks who chat with me over Tumblr or discord after reading my stuff, which is so great.  But it’s hard to find those sweet messages later.  I can always click on reviews any time I need a little positive reinforcement/boost.  So, even if you’re going to talk to the writer later...  Leave that review!

If the content producer uses social media, reblog their stuff to give them more exposure.  Likes are for you, so you can find a post later.  Reblogs are for the creators, so other people can see their work.

Things like fanart, fanfic of fanfic, cosplays, and other... fan content of fan content make our year, I promise!  We love that so stinkin’ much!

Some fan content producers have a ko-fi and/or a patreon, so sometimes there are monetary ways to show appreciation.

If you’re intimated by a content producer, please remember that we are all massive dorkasauruses.  I absolutely guarantee it.

How do you have so many ideas?!

Ah, I have a Future Projects page on my blog- I don’t think pages work on mobile.

But here’s the secret: ideas are the easy part.  They are literally a dime a dozen.  Heck, there are AU generators!  Just pick characters out of a hat and use an AU generator and bam, you’re off!  And even then, you don’t need a real idea to start writing!  I launched Four Years on the thought of, “hahaha, wouldn’t it be a mess if the Chosen went to college together?!”

We’re writing fanfic; we’re here to play.  There’s no need to crush yourself with the expectation that you must write the next hit thriller plot.

In my opinion, the much better question is: how do you manage your projects such that you complete them?

So, uh, how do you manage your projects?

I’ve established that I write fanfic to play and to take care of myself, but I do want to grow as a writer along the way.  And the best way to learn how to craft narratives is to practice completing them.  If you launch stories over and over and only write roughly 1/4 to 1/3 of the way through the story...  All you’re practicing is how to start a story.

When I first started writing as ahiddenpath, I did exactly zero planning (see the Four Years reference above).  I ended up with longfics stretching as long as 400K+ words- that’s over six novels (based on the average adult fiction novel length)!!!!!  It is so daunting to work on longfics, because you feel like the ending is nowhere to be seen.

SO most of my pointers circle around always writing towards your ending, even before you start!

-Decide what you want to say with your story before you start writing.

First, “what you want to say” doesn’t have to be a big, grand theme.  It can be as big as “how the trauma of their adventures impacted them after” or as small as “I think these dorks would have a good time at laser tag.” 

I’m not talking about a detailed outline (in fact, I personally hate outlines).  Just know what your story is about and make sure what you write points to it.  If you can make the structure of your story mimic your theme, even better!  But no worries if that doesn’t work out, it’s not always possible.

-Write linearly

The best way to keep moving along in your story is just to... keep writing it in order.  This helps achieve regular updates, and prevents you from potentially “losing” material if you change your mind about the plot before reaching the bit you wrote already.  This happened to me so frequently that I stopped writing ahead of myself.  If I have an idea, I write it down, but I don’t draft future scenes.  In my experience, they often never see the light of day.

I’m told people often write the bit of the story they most want to write first?  If you have a single scene that you’re really longing to write, but you don’t know how to get there/don’t want to write the rest...  May I suggest that you... don’t write the rest?  If your scene works as a oneshot, write that oneshot!  Don’t torture yourself with a lot of writing you don’t want to do.  Most often, people end up forcing their way through 1-4 chapters, then stalling before ever reaching the Good Bit. 

A moment of silence for all of the unwritten Good Bits out there.  Now, some Enya.

If you can’t reduce Good Bit setup to a oneshot, reduce as much as possible.  I think that sometimes, people underestimate the incredible advantages of writing fanfiction?  Everyone knows your characters already, and maybe even the setting, if you keep it canon.  You can cut out the setup and dive right into what you want to do with the characters! 

-Think about the structure of your story before you start

Considering the structure of your story is a fantastic way to estimate how long it will be/ensure that there is an ending in sight from the start.  For example, in Voices, I covered a single school year in Japan, writing a diary entry for a different Chosen every day, so I knew that I would write the story for roughly a year.  After August had one chapter per Chosen, so each child could help Taichi deal with his post Adventure trauma in their own way, plus an opening and closing chapter.  My Tri story, Tri: Integrity Lens, is written and posted in installments covering each Tri movie.

It’s fine if no particular structure strikes you.  I could see forced structure turning into a gimmick, you know?  But if it naturally works out, it’s a great way to have a solid idea of how much story is ahead of you before you start, and where the story will end.  And being cognizant of how and when a story ends from chapter one yields a tighter, shorter fic, one that you’re more likely to complete.

-Consider writing in batches/sections before posting

So lately, I’ve been experimenting with how I deliver fanfic updates.  I mentioned that my Tri fic follows the Tri movies.  Each movie is covered with a few 3,000-6,000 word updates that I post every other week.  I cover an entire movie before posting any of it, and then I plan to take a break in between movies to work on either the next movie or a different fic.

AND THIS IS SO GREAT!  Having large chunks of my story written is such a fantastic way to do things!  I keep thinking of little details I can add/things I should mention and noticing inconsistencies I can fix before posting.  Giving myself a larger picture and time to mull over it by spreading out updates is making a huge difference for me.

Plus, giving yourself little breaks between installments can help keep you fresh and motivated, while leaving your audience waiting at a nice, natural stopping point.  Plus, this way they know that you haven’t just... up an vanished or dropped a story.  You’re just taking an announced break.

How do you plan stories?

I believe I mentioned hating outlines.  I personally respond best to “structured freedom.”  I focus on things like: what are my themes/what do I want to say, how will the characters grow or regress, how is this story structured or formatted, what is the overall tone and mood.  Other than that, I keep things fluid...  Which is why it’s so important for me to enforce some kind of ending point before I begin.

Basically, for me, too much planning = a boring slog where I can’t inject the moods and ideas of the day into my work without derailing meticulous plans.  Too little planning = longfic hell.  I’m guessing that everyone has to decide for themselves where they land on this continuum!  Exploration is vital.

Okay, I am out of steam for today.  If you have any other writing/fanfic questions you’d like answered, please let me know!  Here are some other resources I’ve made.

-Combating writing paralysis with successive drafts

-Dishing with an artist

-Tips for Fanfic Authors

-More Tips for Fanfic Authors

-Tips for Winning Nanowrimo

-Resources/Advice for Digimon Adventure Fanfic Writers

[thoughtsfromaclutteredbrain]

Wonderwall [Kai Parker Fanfiction]

OK guys, I feel the need to start this chapter with an enormous apology. I can't believe it's been over a year since I've updated this fic! That seriously wasn't my intention, and please believe me when I say that I truly never forgot about it.

In this time that I haven't updated... Welp, it's been a year. i got a huge career opportunity that I jumped on, that suddenly crumbled very badly very fast. i had made friends during this time that completely stabbed me in the back, and I fell in love with someone who I thought was a friend, but it turns out that that give a damn about me. I got a new job recently that completely stole all of my writing time, but now I think I've figured out how to manage my time enough to start posting again, even if it's not as regularly as I would hope. I am still working on pursuing that career opportunity again, since it's a dream and I miss it, so I'm hoping when the opportunity comes again, it won't mess up my writing time this time. But I can't be sure, so please be gentle with me and know that I'm trying my best.

Anyway, that was a long thing just to say that it's seriously been a year, but I honestly do appreciate all the comments I've got on this fic while it's been sitting seemingly abandoned. I love each and every one of you, and I can't put into words how happy I am that you love this fic, and how grateful I am for all your comments.

With that said, this is the second part of the fic, where we time jump a bit. The chapter is a little different because of that, and the next one will be different too. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to leave kudos and comments. I read and respond to every one, and I really hope to be able to write and post the next chapter very very soon. Love you all. <3

You can read it on AO3, or you can read it here. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated, and I respond to every anon and comment.

[Table of Contents for the entire fic can be found here]

CHAPTER 11: VISIONS

"I think I'm losing my mind."

I couldn't deny my words, but they tasted like failure in my mouth.

Eighteen years. I had survived eighteen years without reaching this level of helplessless, without feeling so out of control, without feeling like my grip on sanity was slipping.

I thought I had put all of that behind me. I went to anger management for years, trying to reconcile my anger and learn how to control and silence it. I spent years rebuilding my relationship with my mother; it was nowhere close to the bond that we used to hold before everything had happened, but it was something I could live with. We had moved from Oregon to Pennsylvania, moving us across the country in the hopes of giving ourselves a clean slate and a fresh beginning. Therapy had become as normal to me as breathing; going every week to try to work through two lifetimes of baggage and dirty laundry, with the hope of getting to a place where I felt like I was me again. And with those words, it felt like everything, all of those years of self-work and effort, was for nothing.

Mina looked up from her clipboard at me, and I noticed that she had stopped writing to study my face. Her silky auburn hair was falling over her shoulders as she looked at me, her head cocked to the side and her eyes squinted ever so slightly, giving me a view of the winged eyeliner adorning her monolids. My answer had caught her off guard, that much was for sure. After being my therapist for as long as she had been, she was probably just as surprised by my backslide as I was. I had been making such good progress, as she liked to say.

She didn't ask anything else, still processing my response to her standard opening question of how are we feeling today?

I forced myself to look away from her, the weight of her judgment too much to bear at the moment. My eyes landed on the door to her office, tracing over the letters of her name plaque instead.

Mina Lee had been one of the volunteers at my anger management meetings, and once I had been deemed "okay enough" to not have to attend anymore, she had offered to take me as a client for continued therapy. She had been a lifesaver for me, dealing with my breakdowns and anger and years of pain. She was young and a natural at getting me to open up, something I was grateful for. Unfortunately, she was human, not a witch or any other fancy supernatural creature, so I had to hide the details of some of my trauma from her. I felt guilty for doing it; I surely wasn't making her job any easier by withholding information, but it definitely made her much safer. I tried not to let myself care too much for her, despite the fact that she was probably one of the people I was closest to in my life. I had learned years ago that nothing good ever came from getting close to me.

My attention was drawn back to her when she tapped the back of her pen on her clipboard. My eyes shifted to her again, and then down, trying to get a peek at her clipboard. She was used to me doing this though, and was holding it at just the right angle to prevent me from seeing anything.

"I'm not judging you, if that's what you're wondering," she said, knowing me way too well. I knew that she took notes every meeting, and I had told her once that I tried to look at her papers to see if she was pitying me, but I was astonished by her memory nonetheless. She always seemed to remember every detail that I told her, no matter how small. Kai was the only person who had managed to do that before, but I found it easiest to attempt to push his memory as far down as I could. It was better that way, when my memories of him were pushed so far down that I could recall them if I wanted to, but that I was still somewhat shielded from the pain they brought me. But it was getting harder to do that by the day, especially with everything I had been experiencing recently.

"I was just wondering what you meant by that," she continued, her features soft and open, but still looking at me with a hint of an analytical gaze.

I stayed quiet, and the room lapsed into silence again. I knew that she was waiting for my answer, but I was still too rattled by my own confession to answer her.

She let out a quiet sigh, one that she probably didn't want me to hear. I had become a lot more willing to share my feelings in the past year, to the point where therapy felt less like an interrogation and more like a conversation.

But not this time. Not with this.

"Okay..." she started, measuring her words. "Did you have another incident?"

"No."

Incident was her polite way of asking if I had let my anger run wild again. I had never fully disclosed to her the details of my previous 'incidents', but she knew that they were bad and that people had gotten hurt, and I'm pretty sure she was able to figure out that I caused the fire that burned down my childhood home. That was all that she needed to know.

"Well, that's good," she replied, flashing me a quick smile before she made a little note on her clipboard. From what I could see, it looked like she made an x, but I couldn't be sure. I had the urge to use my magic; cast a spell that would allow me to see from her eyes and see what she was writing, but I resisted. It wouldn't feel right to do that to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she prompted.

Not really, I thought, but now that I brought it up, there was no way she'd let it go, and she always managed to see straight through my lies.

I grabbed the tips of my hair in between my fingers, playing with the strands as I thought. This had become a habit of mine ever since I had dyed the ends aqua again. The roots remained brown, and faded into the blue color. It had felt like a good way to blend the old and new me, reminding me of the people I had been while still giving me room to become someone else. Seeing this always brought me a strange sort of comfort.

I sighed before I managed to get my words out.

"I've been having... These dreams," I started, and already I was lying. Vision was a better word for what I was experiencing. Dreams don't hit you in the middle or the day, paralyzing your body and clouding your mind with nothing but it. Dreams weren't so terribly vivid that you felt like you had become someone else, were seeing things through someone else's eyes.

Her features faltered as she looked down at her notes for a second, so quick that I could've missed it if I wasn't looking straight at her. It felt like she was trying to remember if I had ever mentioned anything about dreams before.

I hadn't. This was definitely a new experience.

"Something tells me you've been dealing with this for a bit?"

I stayed quiet, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from her and look down at my shoes instead. She could always tell when something was off, and in this case,  she knew that the only reason I was bringing this up was because it was becoming too much to bear. I replied with a soft nod.

More pen scratches on her clipboard. I didn't even try to look this time, not wanting to know what she was thinking about me in the moment.

"What is it about these dreams? What has you rattled?"

"They... Aren't me," I started, knowing that the words coming out of my mouth didn't make any sense. I wanted to have more time to think over what I was saying, but knowing Mina, she would continue to push until I answered her. I was sure she was already judging me, so I decided to just go for it. "Like... it doesn't feel like me. I'm seeing people I don't know, places I've never been before, having reactions that I wouldn't have. And..."

I cut myself short, not willing to finish the sentence. I could feel the cracks in my heart starting to open up just thinking about it. I feared that if I spoke it, it would make it real.

"I hear him. In my head."

Her expression faltered for the quickest of seconds, flashing momentarily into surprise before she regained her stoic posture. She didn't even dignify that with an immediate response. She just immediately went to scribbling down notes onto her clipboard.

I wanted to snap that pen of hers in half, but I resisted.

"Okay," she started slowly. I could tell she was tiptoeing now, not wanting to say the wrong thing and trigger me even more than she knew I already was. "I'm going to assume here, that when you say him, you mean you're hearing... Kai?"

"Yes," I whispered, scared of the quiver my voice would hold if I spoke above that volume.

Years of sessions had been filled with stories about the mystery boy Kai from my past. I had never given her enough information for her to identify him, and tie him to the murders of the Parker family years ago in Oregon, but I had told her enough about the trauma that had been left in his wake before he left me and died.

The love I had for him. The fear I had for his safety, day in and day out. The pain he caused me. The abandonment I felt the last time I spoke to him. The shock at finding out about his death. And the trauma that finding out about his crimes caused me.

Mina nodded, and in that simple movement, I could tell that surprisingly, she wasn't judging me. I had been her client for years, and somehow, she still managed to shock me. I was sure this wasn't a claim she heard every day, and with the progress I had been making in her care, surely she wasn't expecting me to suddenly be hearing the voice of a dead man.

But she didn't ask any of that. Instead, she capped her pen and placed her clipboard facedown on the table between us. I could reach out and snatch it up before she even had a chance to reach out for it. But we both knew that I wouldn't. She leaned forward, directing all of her attention to me.

"And are these memories?" She asked. "Are these things that he had told you before, echoing in your dreams?"

I was shaking my head before she had even finished her sentence. "No, this... This is different. He had never said any of these things to me before. It's completely new. And, the people I'm seeing... I don't know who they are."

That was the part that was most troubling to me. I could chalk Kai's voice up to my mind finally betraying me and playing tricks on me, but I couldn't explain the images I was seeing in the visions.

She grabs the clipboard again, rearranging it so she had a fresh page. "What do they look like?"

"A blonde girl. Wild curly hair, young face, blue eyes. She was bleeding. Screaming."

As I describe the girl, my mind recalls the visions I had with her. She was on the floor, clutching at her head and bleeding from her nose, as if someone was hurting her with magic. Her scream rang out through the air, coupled with his voice ringing in my ears.

I get my emotions mixed up.

"A girl. Dark skin, short hair, sad eyes. Beautiful. She was in a club."

The red and white lights flash across my vision as I describe her. She was staring at me with glassy, wide eyes, and looked absolutely terrified, like she was seeing a ghost. The faint sound of music played in the background, but I wasn't able to make out the song. It didn't matter anyway. I was more concerned about his voice. The words I heard then were different.

I wanted to apologize for anything I did that hurt you.

"A guy. Blue eyes, dark hair, sharp jawline. Looked shifty."

He was in a dark room with stone walls surrounding. He was in a dark leather jacket, and nerves were filling his features. The words didn't make sense with the image to me, but they seemed to anger the man in the vision.

Not if she were like you.

"A guy with long blonde hair. Short. He was far away. I couldn't make out his features too well. It was nighttime."

He was standing far away, but squared up directly at me. His posture looked confident in himself, and like he was trying to challenge me in some way. The voice sounded just as confident.

I always win.

"A girl. Tan skin. Lots of brown hair. She was in chains. She looked tired."

She hung limply from the ceiling of what looked like a high school. Her hair was falling over her face in waves, but it did nothing to hide the exhaustion evident in her features, nor did it hide the terror in her eyes. The words that coupled the image sent a chill down my spine.

Anyway, do you mind if I try to turn your blood to acid again?

"Young boy. Long brown hair. Dark eyes. He looked angry."

He was in a house I had never seen before. The walls were made of a dark wood, and there were ornate furnishings all around. I had a feeling that there were other people in the room that I couldn't see, and that the words I heard were directed at all of them, not just him in particular, but that didn't help them to make any more sense.

I tried every method in the book.

"Short blonde hair. Older guy. Rage in his eyes."

He was standing in a doorway, and from the look on his face, I couldn't imagine how he hadn't slammed the door in my face yet. His entire face was set in an expression that couldn't make his disdain for me any clearer. His voice echoed the sentiment.

I know you hate me.

"Black hair, blue eyes. A girl with super pale skin. I think she was sick. She looked like she hated me. She looked familiar, though."

I found my brain replaying this one the most. The person I saw had a weird sense of familiarity to her, like a memory that had somehow fallen through the cracks. Behind the hatred burning in her eyes, I could sense a bit of concern. This vision was stronger than the others, his voice booming louder in my head.

Could you please fix me? Like now?

Mina stayed quiet as I spoke, not even looking up at me, keeping her focus on her paper as she scribbled down everything I was saying. We fell into another silence, but this one felt emptier. It felt like my claims were hanging between us, making the air heavy and thick with my insanity.

"I feel crazy,"  I continued, desperately wanting to fill the empty air. "But it's real. I know it is, and I see it, and I don't even feel like me when it happens. It feels like I'm in someone else's body."

I let out a chuckle, but it was devoid of humor. "I know it sounds crazy. I'm sure you have a lot to write from that, But yeah."

At that, she looked up at me. I couldn't place the look in Mina's eyes, but it looked pretty damn close to pity. I hated the sight.

A knock sounded through the room, tearing our attention away from each other and to the door. We both knew what that meant; session over. She was always fully booked, and so even if I wanted to get some more time with her, I could never manage to. She had given me her personal cell number to text if I ever needed to talk more, but I felt guilty using it. I already threw enough onto her plate. I didn't need to add more when she wasn't even on business hours. Plus, texting her about my problems would make my brain start to see her as less than my therapist and more as my friend. I needed the buffer there; I needed to see her as anything but my friend. Bad things happened to people who got close to me.

Mina sighed again, a sound she seemed to constantly make around me. She rose to her feet, and despite not wanting to, I followed her lead, standing up as well. She took one last look at her clipboard before once again placing it facedown on the table.

"I, for one, don't think you're crazy," she told me, and I could see that she was sincere. But it did nothing to ease the sick feeling in my gut when I thought about the visions.

"I just think that you have... A lot of trauma. And maybe something we did in one of our previous sessions triggered trauma that you had buried before. Things you wished he would have said, fears about his mental state towards the end."

I nodded slowly, processing her words. It was possible, but it felt like something bigger. Something... Less normal, but I couldn't tell her that. "And the people?" I asked instead.

"I think that's something we have to dig deeper into," she said simply. Which, to me, meant she had no freaking clue either, but I nodded anyways.

She came around the table, placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinched at the contact.

"You've made great progress," she said, her voice soft. "Don't let this make you forget it, okay?"

I nodded. I couldn't bring myself to look into her eyes, and I couldn't bear to be there any longer.

I rushed out of the office, letting the cool night breeze hit my face and blow my troubles away. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the serenity of the night. That was, until I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around to face the person. Mina.

The streetlamps bounced her honey skin, almost illuminating her in the darkness. She stepped closer, until she was by my side.

"Let me walk you to your car," she said, and as I looked at her, I didn't see any judgement on her face. What I saw was genuine care for me. It shocked me, but I allowed myself to nod and fall into step with her.

Being near Mina was easy. It was normal, the closest thing I had had to normal in quite some time, especially since everything that had happened with Kai. I knew that she didn't see me as anything more than a patient and a friend, and it was for the best. I tried to avoid moments like this with her, moments where my mind could run wild and think of us as anything more than patient-client, but I let myself indulge today.

I'd put my walls back up tomorrow.

Conversation was effortless with her. It was ever flowing and natural and made me feel like I didn't have to take myself too seriously, and it was no different this night. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in a while.

I wasn't sure if I had been so lost in conversation that I didn't notice, but two men appeared in front of us suddenly.  We both stopped, shock filling us as we looked at the two guys in front of us.

The first had light brown hair standing up all over his head. His features were soft, with sad, old eyes, and had a backpack slung across one shoulder. But it was the second man who gave me pause. His features were sharp, a stark contrast to the features of the other.  He was wearing a leather jacket, and his blue eyes looked determined but also mischievous.

Sharp jawline. Leather jacket. Shifty eyes. It was him. One of the men I had seen in my visions.

"You..." I whispered, too startled to say anything else. Mina was silent beside me, and I prayed she was seeing him too, and that my visions hadn't upgraded to full blown hallucinations.

"Hi," the familiar guy said, waving his hand to dismiss my words. "Which one of you is Halyn Chase?"

I didn't reply, my brain still too busy trying to process the events happening before me. Mina took a step forward, blocking me with her body, and stepping to the man. It gave me relief.

He was really here.

"What do you want with her?" Mina asked him, her voice protective and stern.

"Oh okay," he responded, sounding sure of himself. "Then it's not you."

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, locking eyes intensely with her before I could say anything.

"Go home," he demanded. "Forget this ever happened."

He removed his hands, and she started to walk away, as if in a trance. I tried calling out for her, but she didn't even acknowledge my voice.

"What did you do to her?" I asked. My voice rose as I felt anger building in my chest. Who did this guy think he was, and why did I see him in my mind?

"Good, now that you're alone," he said, completely ignoring my question, and sounding so smug that all I wanted was to slap him. I resisted. "You need to come with me."

"Like hell, I will."

"Well, I tried. Time for the easy way," he said, and started to take a step towards me, before the other man grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing, Damon?" the other asked him. "You can't just compel her."

Compel?  Where had I heard that word before?

"Well, if you have another idea, I'm all ears. We don't have time to convince her of things."

The familiar man, Damon I guess, pulled his arm free of the other and stepped towards me, locking eyes with me in the same way he had just done with Mina.

"Come with me," he commanded.

I waited for a spell to activate, for something to happen... Nothing.

So I did my own spell.

Damon went flying, my spell throwing him across the park until he hit the back of a tree stump. He looked taken aback, but not completely surprised at my use of magic. I walked forward with my hand still outstretched, the gesture keeping him securely pinned to the wall as if my hand was around this throat,

"A witch? Seriously?" He sounded more annoyed than bewildered at the discovery.

"Who the hell are you guys?" I asked.

"I should be asking you that," he countered. "Why on Earth are you on vervain?"

Vervain? Vervain was one of the first things I had added to my routine once I got my memories back. My mom had worked to help me to better control my powers, and to protect me from the darkness that had threatened to consume me, the darkness that bubbles under the surface when I'm not careful. I had been wearing an anklet laced with vervain for years at this point, remembering her warning of how it protected my magic from getting into the wrong hands. But most of all, I remembered what exactly she had told me vervain would protect against. Or who, for that matter.

"You're a vampire?" The question was more rhetorical than literal, but with the way his face blanked, I knew I was right. "I've read all about your kind. The dangers."

"Says the girl who's has me pinned against a tree."

I didn't say anything to that, instead just rolling my eyes at how he could still sound so sure of himself and cocky when he clearly didn't have the upper hand in this situation.

I muttered another spell and slowly started to close my grip, watching as the effects of the magic started to run its course, tightening my magical grip on Damon, pulling him off of his feet and lifting him into the air a bit.

He groaned. "You psycho," he breathed out, the tightening obviously impairing his ability to speak. But it did nothing to prevent me from hearing his next words.

"No wonder Kai knew you."

My jaw dropped at the mention of his name, that name I hadn't heard in so long. The name that had echoed in my dreams whenever I closed my eyes. The name that's been on my lips for eighteen years. The name that could instantly make me breathless.

My focus faltered, and the spell was broken. My hand fell to my side limply as Damon followed suit, crashing hard to the ground as he sputtered for breath.

"Thanks for the help, Stefan," he rasped out when he got his breath, scowling at the other man with him, who had done nothing to prevent me from suspending him in the air. For the briefest of moments, I wondered what that was about. But I was too preoccupied to let myself be concerned with that.

"How do you know that name?" I demanded,

"I wish I didn't," the man replied from the floor. "He's been a real pain in my ass. Making everything a lot more difficult."

"What are you talking about?" I growled at him, taking big strides until I had closed the distance between us. "He... he's dead."

Saying those words never ceased to send a chill through my body. After all this time, and after all the therapy I had went through, I still could never fully come to terms with what had happened. How everything could've been so much different. After everything he did; to his family, to me, I still couldn't help but long for more time for him. I couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if we had more time.

Damon scoffed from his spot on the ground, the sound turning into a cough as it left his hoarse throat. "Yeah, see, he's not dead yet."

"What..." I started, but the word died on my lips, coming out as a breath. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see that the man addressed as Stefan had come over to me. His eyes were full of concern.

"Kai isn't dead, Halyn." He stated with confidence. At my reaction, his voice softened. "He's in Mystic Falls, and he's about to do something terrible. We need your help to stop him."

My brain couldn't process any of his words. How? How was it that Kai could be alive? Josette had told me herself. He was gone. But I couldn't help the ache in my chest at his words. I wanted so badly to believe him.

"Why should I believe anything you say? And how did you find me?" I asked him, my voice coming out small.

"Why would we drive hundreds of miles to trick some random girl?" Damon questioned as he rose to his feet, his voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. I ignored his words.

"A friend did a tracking spell for us. It led us here to you" Stefan responded.

He swung his backpack around to his front, and I watched in a daze as he unzipped it and rummaged through the contents for a second. He passed me a map, showing the trail of blood that led them to me, emanating from the spot that reads Mystic Falls.

With what? I wanted to ask him. I was so in my head I wasn't even sure if I had voiced the words or not. My thoughts were still running at lightning speed, trying and failing to make sense of any of this, desperately wanting it to be true almost as much as I was trying to disprove their words.

My eyes were still fixed on the map when Stefan removed another item from the bag, and I felt it before I even saw it.

The unmistakable pull of Kai overtook me, drawing a gasp from my lips and leaving me breathless. The wave of energy was so strong, or maybe it just felt that way after eighteen years of it lying dormant. My bones began to buzz immediately, and the feeling of pure light in my veins was something I hadn't felt in a long time.

I looked up at Stefan, gasping for breath as my gaze fell from his eyes down to his outstretched hands. His words sound muffled in my ears, as if the energy is drowning me and he's speaking to me from above water.

"We found this with Kai's belongings. It seems important to him, but..."

His words trailed off as he extended his arms even further, practically putting the item into my hands. My whole body felt numb as I recognize it immediately, lightly letting it fall into my hands. There was no denying it, but my brain couldn't help but turn it over in my hands. This entire thing was impossible. I had to make sure it was real.

But there it was, my old black scarf back in my hands. The material was worn and thin, and looked more gray than black at this point from years of wear. There were some holes in the fabric, some blood, and a stain that I knew was made by someone wiping pork rind crumbs onto the fabric. It smelled partially musty, the way that old material starts to smell over time, but there was another scent mixed in that was undeniably Kai.

My breath got caught in my chest as I found what I was looking for. I felt tears begin to fall from my eyes, but I was too preoccupied to even attempt to wipe them away. My heart seemed to stop as I looked down at the tag, where I had written my name in Sharpie pen many many years ago. The letters were faded from time, but there was no mistaking my penmanship.

This was it. This was the scarf I had given to Kai all those years ago, and with it, I felt him again. Our connection. Our magic calling out to each other.

My mind was screaming at me, drowning out the millions of thoughts I was thinking with one phrase, repeating over and over again.

He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.

When I found my voice again and spoke, the words came out clipped, leaving no room for debate, and full of determination.

"Take me to him."

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[charlotteweekly]

How to Deal with Anxiety.

This title may not seem news to you but I am going to share my story and how I dealt with it and I hope it can help you along the way.

If you read until the end you’ll find out why I chose this picture and also some dope advice.

In January 2018, I started having panic attacks. Actually, I remember the exact date, January 20th 2018. The night before, I went out with some friends and I drank a lot, which had not happened for a long time, and it totally triggered my anxiety.

I have always been an anxious person. It started out when I was a kid. At the time, I just didn’t put the words “panic attacks” on it. My parents are probably the less anxious people on the planet, so, except telling me that everything was going to be okay, they didn’t have any other solution in mind.

My anxiety went away eventually because I am a resourceful person and I was always able to find the source of the problem and fix it.

But in 2018, for the first time, I couldn’t. For a control freak like me, I felt overwhelmed and completely lost. I had it all, the puking, my whole body shaking, tiredness, depression, etc... I went through some dark times my friends, I can tell you that.

It kept going for two months before I got my shit together and decided to go and see a shrink. News flash! I had what they call an “identity crisis”.    

Meaning: I didn’t know who I was anymore and I was having trouble “finding myself”. It was so weird for me to hear that because I was always so sure about everything. I always knew what I wanted and suddenly, I didn’t anymore.  

Your question: How did that happened?

In a few words, I was in my first real relationship (I’m still in this relationship and I’m happily married). In our first years, my boyfriend and I were spending all of our time together, we were working together and as we didn’t have a lot of money, we didn’t go out much or do a lot of extra activities. I was in fusional relationship that led me to the loss of my own person.

During my therapy sessions, I learned that having a healthy relationship means there has to be 3 people in it: your beloved, yourself and the couple. You have to take time for yourself. Don’t forget that.

Then, career wise, I was struggling as a freelance camera operator, working on dull projects and I wasn’t sure I wanted to pursue a career in the movie industry anymore. I thought maybe the job didn’t suit me anymore, which also led to my identity crisis. But I didn’t know what else to do…

I am still having trouble finding myself but I’m working on it and I’m getting better at it. There’s nothing a few therapy sessions and a good book can’t fix!

Now that you know the story, more or less, I have some advice I want to share with you. Maybe you didn’t even bother to read until the interesting part. Shame! Just kidding. I would have stopped reading too.

Well, hopefully, some of you did stick with me and it might help you on your way to recovery.

First of all, talk to someone. No matter what your folks or friends or whoever thinks. It is normal to get help. If psychiatrists exist, there’s a reason to it! 

You are not fucking crazy believe me! Your mind has just a weird way of showing it. It is worth it! It might not even be a therapist. Open up to someone, they could give you an outside opinion on what you’re going through. Sometimes you’re to close to the problem to see the big picture. You need a camera assistant to help you focus (sorry, terrible camera joke).

For example, my shrink told me there is no such thing as certainty. Life is change. Let it go. Worries tend to shrink when you walk towards them.

Then, I would strongly recommend that book “The Anxiety Solution: A Quieter Mind, a Calmer You.” which helped me a lot. I do not earn anything advertising it. It just really helped me.

Some of the following advice comes from this book.

·      Quit drinking alcohol (I didn’t say forever), I assure you it helps.

·      A rested you is a calmer you.

Most of the time, when I get panic attacks symptoms (yes, it still happens sometimes but I stop it right there!), I ask myself: Am I tired? If the answer is yes, I know the problem is solved.

·      Quit junk food and sugar (not forever, and I know a good burger can cheer you up).

It may seem easier said than done. I am a junk food lover so I feel you my friend but if you eat healthy and early in the evening, you’ll soon notice the difference. You’ll find that an early digestion will help you sleep better, and therefore, you know the rest.

·      Take a walk. Reconnect with nature.

When I have trouble sleeping, I think of a sunflower gently swept by the wind and it has a calming effect on me. It doesn’t have to be a sunflower; it just has a special meaning for me.  

I won’t go into the meditation part because it is a whole other level. And if you’re like me, you’ll probably find it overwhelming at first but it is worth it too.

Last but not least, a therapist once told me this: When you’re having a panic attack, what should settle you down is that your body can’t keep up with the pace. At some point, when you will reach the apex of your panic attack, the only way back is to go down. So even if your mind can’t stop it, your body will.  It has enlightened me!

You are strong. You are whole. No matter what you think; it’s in there. Remember, it is just thoughts!

And breathe my friends, breathe…

There is an app, it’s free, it’s called “Oak”; you have meditation but also breathing exercises to calm the fuck down!

So cheer up my friends!

No matter what happens you’ll handle it!

If you have any question, I’m here to help.

[its-soil-not-dirt]

Quarantine Thoughts

A lot of this is just venting, so read if you want to see me having a mental breakdown.

So this quarantine has got me thinking and overthinking a lot about my life and career. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do with my degree, and where I’ll end up in life. I’ve been worrying about my health, both physical and mental, since I haven’t really been thinking about either of those things since I started college. I’ve been trying to figure out who I am, but all of this thinking has gotten me nowhere to be honest.

I’ll start with my academics. I miss being an engineering student. Not because I could see a future of me pursuing that career or because I was excelling for the short time I was in that field, both of those things were true at the time, but the real reason I miss it is because I felt that I was respected more for being a STEM student than being an art student. I’ve always struggled with this internally – that I needed to showcase my intelligence and prove to others that I’m not stupid. When I told people that I was applying to colleges for civil engineering, almost all of them told me that they were surprised and that I should do something that I’m more known for �� such as art and writing. All of my friends, though saying that they supported me, all hinted that I should do what makes me happy. My ex told me not to apply to a school because she thought I was doing it to be closer to her – I wasn’t, but she didn’t believe me. My close friend group told me to “just do whatever you want to do,” when I asked them if they could see me doing that type of career. My family was cautious about me pursuing this, and my mother was quick to tell me that I should change my major when I called her to vent about an assignment I had a hard time completing. I hated it. I hated that my image was being the “artsy” person. That I was only seen as capable of having a career in a field where no one cares if you’re smart. Where my knowledge in physics and astronomy would be useless. Where my love for science and mathematics would all be pushed aside because it’s not needed for this type of work. I miss being seen as an intelligent person. Now, when people meet me and get to know me, I’m just an airhead. A fool who thought she could make it in the world as an engineer. A lazy student who paints pretty pictures.

I don’t hate where I am now with my studies, but a part of me wants to give engineering another shot. The only reason I really left was because it got too expensive after one semester. Plus, my mother kept pressuring me to do something else since she didn’t want to pay for me to go to school for engineering. It was a stressful time. I was eighteen, I had no close friends after the breakup, I didn’t have the self-confidence to make myself known to my peers when I started school. Everything was changing so quickly and I had to adjust. I did very well my first semester, and I keep looking back on it and thinking why everyone thought this was wrong for me. Why would they say that I can’t make it as an engineer when I got a 3.8 gpa my first semester and managed to get into the Women in Engineering organization, was part of the engineering learning community, got a decent amount of merit scholarships, was on a good track to qualify for the BS/MS degree program, and had plans for co-op opportunities? It’s like none of the things I did were enough for anyone to see that I was doing well. If I had money to continue at that school, I probably wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have this added pressure to do well or else all this time spent in school would be a waste. I wouldn’t be thinking too much about the amount I’ll be making when I graduate, and which company or project I’d be part of. I wouldn’t have pushed myself to participate in every event since school activity fees were thousands of dollars per semester and I didn’t want my mother telling me that I’m wasting her money. I wouldn’t have had to fill my schedule so much that I had no time to breathe.

The path that I’m on now is great. I feel different, and I feel like I’ve grown more as a person pursuing design. I’ve learned so much about myself. I’m capable of so many things I didn’t think were possible for me – very small and mundane things like having good communication skills, being a leader, and having a voice that I want people to notice and listen to. I’ve learned to love where I am in life by pursuing this career path. Or maybe it’s settling, but I want to hope that it’s not. Despite saying this, I wish I had given myself more time for engineering. Maybe I would have reached this point of self-confidence and self-acceptance with that degree as well. But I’ll never really know now.

Now on to my well-being: my health has always been an issue, but I never really tell people about it. My mental health was an issue since I was young, but my therapist and psychiatrist couldn’t do much for me for the year that I had them when I was in middle school. I don’t know if I can even say that I’m mental ill anymore since I’m a functioning person who only feels weird and out of place occasionally. I don’t have a diagnosis of what I’m struggling with. I never did. I was never prescribed anything because my mother didn’t want to pay for it, and the health insurance didn’t see me as being at risk to others or myself so they stopped paying for group therapy after a week. So I guess that’s that. My physical health I know is my own fault. I don’t eat well or exercise or keep myself active. The things I do to my body, I’m aware it’s killing it. Lately, my hearing has been giving out and I’ve been ignoring it for years. I never told anyone about the ear pain and the hearing loss and now I feel like that was a terrible decision. I always just assumed I had trouble comprehending audio or that my audio processing was delayed or something. I thought the ringing in my ears were normal or at least a result of dehydration. I’m on antibiotics now, but surgery would be the best option to fix this. I’m not sure I want it though. Same with my eyesight. I haven’t been taking care of my eyes and now it’s predicted that I’d be legally blind by age twenty-five. My body is always in pain and I know it’s because I’m not taking vitamins and supplements to keep my bones healthy. My insides hurt and I’m constantly dehydrated, but I still insist on donating blood every year since my iron levels are normal and I haven’t passed out yet.

I don’t hate doctors, I just think my health insurance hates me. As well as my mother, but only regarding my health since I’ve always been good at not complaining about being sick so now that I’m experiencing all these health complications, I think she thinks that I’m lying about it. I would love to have a primary physician and have the annual physicals. I would love to see my chiropractor regularly since my back is the main source of my pain. I wouldn’t say no to seeing a dentist after all these years of not having dental covered by the insurance for some reason. I want to find a therapist that I’m not afraid to open up to. I would like a psychiatrist who trusts me and won’t repeat everything I told him in confidence to my mother when I’m in the room and then have to hear an earful from her in the car on the drive home. I want to be better physically and mentally. I no longer want my body to die slowly and fall apart. I might want to see past twenty-five, or at least have the option.

After saying all this, I’ve concluded that I should get a therapist, get the ear surgery, and continue down this career path and see where I end up. I want to say that all of this would happen, but I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll feel different when I’m out of quarantine. Maybe I’ll have a change of heart regarding my studies later on. Maybe my circumstances will change if my health worsens. I don’t know what I hope happens. I just want life to continue, but right now it feels like everything is frozen in time.

[northofsomewhererp]

Your Name, Age (17+), & Timezone: Meg, 23 (yikes), EST

Eleanor B. King turned 27 years old on March 7th. She a therapist and tarot reader in Greensville. Her face claim is Deborah Ann Woll.

Admin Note: I haven’t even finished Hannibal and I’m STILL upset about the cancellation! For Eleanor, all you need to do now is send in her account, and wait ‘til her follow’s up to start posting. And ... we love you too!

Bio:

Eleanor barely had time to take her first breath that her existence was almost instantly unwanted. Her father disappeared without a trace half an hour after holding her for the first time, and her own mother, Aimee, resented her ever since. The only person in her corner, for her entire life, has always been and will always be her older brother, Dexter. The bond they share is inexplicable, durable. Throughout their entire childhood, Dex was behind her, watching her back and protecting her. Whether it be from their own mother’s harsh words, or kids at school just being stupid, he never let Eleanor down. He was her shoulder to cry on, her rock. That was, at least, until the attack.

Nori was only 17 years old when Dexter finally decided to move away from Greensville. Although it took some getting used to, the mere thought of her protector being far away from her, King refused to be the reason her big brother wasn’t pursuing his dreams. She’d held him back long enough. But what she didn’t know was that the embrace they shared at the airport would be their last. The plane never even left the ground, hijacked by terrorists with excessive demands, as they usually do. Dexter, as heroic as ever, tried to stand up to them, and it cost him his life. He was 23 years old.

Eleanor’s life got entirely flipped upside down with the news of her brother’s passing. She found herself at the lowest she’d ever been, while only being at the beginning of her life. She felt lost, uncertain… Nothing made sense anymore without Dex by her side. Her mother got harsher, going as far as to blame his passing on her, saying she shouldn’t of encouraged him to leave. Needless to say, life at home was tense. And it was by dumb luck that Ellie stumbled upon a fortune teller’s store on her way home one day. Having nothing to lose anymore, she went in. But what awaited her behind these doors would change her entire life.

It was her spiritual awakening. Watching this mysterious woman shuffle cards and lay out her whole life in front of her very eyes, without any prior knowledge of her very own existence completely rocked Eleanor. She remained shocked for days on end, and was a believer since that very day. She began looking into tarot herself, even asking the fortune teller, Matilda, for some guidance. Which she gave, teaching her everything she knew. Ways to sharpen your intuition, how to manifest good things and how to use affirmations. Nori fell head first into this world. It was the first thing that felt right since Dexter had left. But all good things must come to an end.

When rumors started spreading that King was offering tarot readings to her classmates, surely it got back to Aimee’s ears, and she wasn’t too pleased. She wasn’t ever pleased with anything Nori accomplished, and so, gave her an ultimatum. Drop the “voodoo shit”, as she’d call it, or get the hell out of her house. Without a father or immediate family to turn to, Ellie obeyed and vowed to repress that side of her. She went on to become a therapist, a career she’d lusted after for a while now, but that had been sitting on the back burner ever since she discovered her passion for the mystique. But that always came second to her selfless nature, lending a hand to anyone that would ask.

Having earned her Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and then her Master’s in Mental Health Counseling, Eleanor now strives toward getting her licence, to finally join a private practice and not have someone constantly peek over her shoulder. Even in her current work environment though, it’s known that she isn’t… traditional.

Activity (1-10): 6

Have you read the rules?: removed

In the event that you leave, can we keep your biography for future use? nori’s my baby! no touchie! Any comments/questions?: i love y’all and you are both sweethearts!

Sample( 2+ paragraphs):

“Alright Bradley”, she chirps, closing her notebook and offering her client the brightest of smiles, “your hour’s finished.” Eleanor stands up, dusts herself off a little before meeting the man halfway to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, had a big breakthrough today, huh?” Bradley only nods, hints of sadness still linger on his features and it’s tearing her up inside.

“…I want you to come see me tomorrow, is that okay?” she’s already halfway in to grabbing her agenda off her desk when the lack of response rings in her ears. She searches for his gaze, but he absolutely won’t glance her way, ashamed.

“Bradley… You have my phone number, you know where my office is. Any time you need me? You call me. I’m here. I have other numbers I can provide you with, as well. You’re not alone… I know you hole up and think you are, but you’re not. Above anything, I’m here for you.”, she tries, but her client remains unresponsive.

“I know how tough it is to go digging around in all of this, but I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret. You’re making real progress here, we’re going somewhere… We can’t let up now, mhm?” Eleanor says soothingly. “I just… I don’t think this was a good idea. Dad said two sessions, that’s all I’d need. It’s been six now and I… I don’t want to.” Bradley’s eyes unwillingly fill themselves with unshed tears, and Eleanor’s heart breaks.

“I’m never going to force you to continue therapy, Bradley. You’re of legal age to make your own choices. So if you stayed this long, don’t you think it’s because… maybe some part of you, buried deep inside, is getting what it needs from our time together?” King bites her lip, very careful with her wording, as to not offend her already fragile patient.

All he offers in reply is a soft sob, one he’s so desperately trying to hold in. Eleanor tentatively reaches out for him, rubbing soft circles in the small of his back. “You’re gonna be okay, Bradley… Listen, I’m gonna put you up for tomorrow, same time. Just… give me a call if you can’t and we’ll try to reschedule, that alright?”

The boy finally calms down enough to nod, reaching to wipe his eyes. Dr King gracefully offers him a tissue, and that’s when a knock comes at the door.

“T- That must be my dad… Thank you, Dr. King… for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He finally agrees, waving at her as he walks out the door.

The moment she’s alone, Eleanor lets out a soft sigh. The energy in this room was too heavy to bear, and with a 15 minutes to spare before her next appointment, she decides now’s as good a time as any to sage her space. She makes sure to write down a note concerning Bradley’s possible appointment as she approaches her desk, then puts her agenda on top of it. She scours through the drawers and pulls out the remainders of her previous sage, lights it and then begins to smudge the entire room.

A kind smile plays on Ellie’s lips as she waves the sage around, watching intently as smoke seeps out and swirls around the room. She immediately feels herself getting lighter, the dark energies fading away slowly but surely. When the room’s proper foggy and her sage runs out, she makes for the windows, cracking one open to bring in fresh air. One quick look at her watch reassures her that she still has 8 minutes before her next appointment and so, she paces to her desk once more. Her eyes flicker from her agenda to the tarot deck neatly sitting on the edge of her work space. Without hesitation, she grabs it, absentmindedly shuffling the cards and whispering.

“May I read these cards with the highest accuracy, the best of intentions, and for the greatest good of all.” Nori takes in a deep breath, only the soft sounds of cards filling the room now. “Please give me insight on a potential future for Bradley… if he goes through with therap-” she interrupts herself with a gasp, a card flying out of the deck on its own, face down.

She delicately picks it up, flips it around only to reveal:

“The Star.”

[alexeiadrae]

I Like Being With My Autistic Child

One of my counselor friends wanted to refer another parent of an autistic child to me. I told her thanks, but my approach to raising an autistic child is so radical those parents often shut me out before they give my ideas a fair shake. Here’s the thing, unlike them, I like my son. I enjoy being with him. I don’t see him as a frustration or something that ruined my life, and I get really angry at parents who think otherwise because I see them make mountains out of molehills and doing things counterproductive to their children’s needs, and then blame their child for not thriving.

Here’s the other thing. Other people really like my son. He started swim lessons a few weeks ago, and when I told them he was autistic and didn’t talk much I could tell they were bracing themselves for problems. Instead, one his first day he jumped happily into the pool and was all smiles as he followed directions and they ended up liking him. They quickly moved him to a more advanced class.

And while I did have to quit my full time job to go into private practice so I could take him to therapy and get him out of his horrible school system A. getting into private practice was a career change I needed to make but spent too long being scared to pursue it to do it and B. I blame a system that does not support families who have children with divergent needs. It’s not my son’s fault he was born in a crummy place. That’s mine for not doing more to get some place more supportive before he was born.

What is our day like? I woke when I heard my kids in the living room. My son is 7 and can’t talk much, but he’s recently become fascinated with toilet humor and was gleefully telling me all about how his sister made a fart. I gave him some clothes to get dressed. He usually dresses on his own, but this week he hasn’t for whatever reason. I got him started and towards then end he took over. I’m confident that next week he’ll be back to dressing himself no problem. He then sat with his sister for a bit and they played on their dad’s computer while he asked for something he could dance to, so I pulled up some Youtube videos of our favorite Broadway performances. I’ve got a son who watches Broadway with me! Then I pulled up a video of all of the Doctor Who openings, and he that made him real happy and break out into a huge grin as he spent the next 20 minutes watching it and exclaiming “Tardis!” and “It’s the Doctor!” when they would appear.

The it was time to take him to the place he gets Greenspan therapy. He’s used to the routine and knows what is coming when I put the dog up. When I dropped him off he signed his name on the sign in sheet. When I picked him up he was playing tag with his speech therapist and having a wonderful time. The speech therapist talked about how funny he is and how he says the funniest things, especially when coupled with his vocal inflections. He doesn’t say much but when he does he is funny (and he is in on the joke). The moment I picked him up I started prepping him to remember that it was a swim day. Swim lessons are still new to the routine, so I made sure I told him multiple times to prepare him. I told him when I picked him up, I told him when he got into the car and buckled in, I told him when I stopped for gas, and before I let him out of the car I told him we were going in to put our swimsuits on. He does love to swim and got changed easily and chilled with his sister for a few minutes, and then we drove to the pool.

No problems at the pool. He followed directions and was all smiles and held his own with the boy his age he was paired with. As we were leaving his sister had to potty, and he decided he wanted to wash his hands. He used a bit too much soap and didn’t want to rinse completely, but you know what? It wasn’t worth making a BFD over. I asked him to grab some towels and he did and threw them away and went home with slightly soapy hands.

Here is where I think so many parents go wrong. Making BFDs of small things. When your sense of the world is out of focus because of sensory issues, I figure those small things help him gain a sense of control over it. It doesn’t hurt anyone if his hands are a bit soapy. For all I know he’s getting something from the sensation.

We got home, had dinner, and then I locked myself in my office for a bit to do some work remotely while my husband took over. When it was bedtime I came out and we read a few stories and he showed me some of the reading skills he is learning. We then sang some songs, and he threw the bedsheets over us so it was like singing under a tent. He then asked me to tickle his feet for a bit before he went to bed and all told, he’s easier to get down for the night than his sister.

Overall I’m struck by how normal our life is. He doesn’t talk, but her interacts with us, he jokes with us, he does a lot of what a typical 7 year old does. This isn’t a tragedy! And it isn’t a burden.

It was not always this easy, but then it’s also not easy when kids are NT. Ages 3-4 were HARD. He had meltdowns, he was aggressive with his sister, he didn’t sleep well. But those things that was difficult then are no longer problems. And no, we did not get to this point by me forcing my will on him and being abusive and controlling. We got to it by me understanding that there is a reason behind his behavior and giving him as much control as possible.

From the ages of 3-4 he had sleep problems. I would get home after working a 10 hour shift and grab “Harry Potter.” I would then read the books out loud until he fell asleep. This went from being a 2 hour process to a 10 minute one, and then it got to the point where one day he pushed me out of his room and went to bed on his own, and has done that ever since. I have no idea what caused the change, but it was a change he instigated. I also don’t know why falling asleep was difficult for him, just that it was. So I just took a book that would be fun to read together and made the most of it.

He would also wake up in the middle of the night and not go back to bed. Eventually I just parked myself in his bedroom and told him he couldn’t leave the room, but if he played nicely it would be fine, and then I slept in his bed while he played in his room (I am an extremely light sleeper and would have known if he tried to leave the room). Making it a power struggle would have just made it worse and I got my needs met (sleep and knowing he was safe) and he felt like he had some control over his environment. I told another mom with an autistic child who wouldn’t sleep about this and she just looked at me like I was crazy. But he sleeps through the night now. And I sleep in my own bed.

Meltdowns were another things we struggled with from the age of 3-4. I spent a lot of time teaching him to learn to manage his emotions. Even NT children have difficulty with this and need to learn how to regulate their emotions. Brain studies have shown that the parts of the brain that regulate the ability to control strong emotions is not developed in toddlers and that by expecting them to have this ability we are setting them up to fail. 

What worked for us was teaching B to blow bubbles. Bubble mix and wands are pretty cheap. When people get upset they forget to exhale and expel the carbon dioxide from their system, and this causes them to get even more angry. So once he learned to do this while calm, when he would get upset I would grab the bubbles and prompt him to blow them. What I learned was that he really did want to calm down, and he REALLY latched on to this. For awhile I had tubes of bubbles all over the house, but he also quickly got to a point where if he got upset and I didn’t have bubbles with me I would prompt, “blow bubbles” and he would start exhaling air like he was. 

Studies show if we teach children how to regulate these emotions when they are young then they grow out of meltdowns and other aggressive behavior, and I found that to be the case for my son. Now when he gets upset he goes to his room until he calms himself down. When he has gotten upset at therapy, usually when another child hurts him, he tries to get to a quit place to calm down, and his case manager is astonished at how he doesn’t hit back and how well he manages himself when it happens. I’ve also noticed he does not like people to see him when he is upset. Having a meltdown in public would be very embarrassing for him.

For awhile (3-4, again) he was aggressive, especially with his sister. I would ask reflecting questions, “was that nice or not nice? How could you have acted in a nice way?” He couldn’t answer me, however, he did think over his actions. would suggest and model things he could have done (say, “I am angry”, count to 10, etc). And it worked. He’s no longer aggressive with her. A few times things were so bad I had to take my daughter to my bedroom and lock the door for her safety until he calmed down (he is 3.5 years older, and he has always been huge for his age and incredibly strong, he rolled over the day he was born, and he really did not realize his own strength), and since he did not like being away from us he quickly learned to get it together and try the things I was modeling.

There are some things that I can’t explain how they worked, aside from that they did. For the longest time I would have to bring his backpack into the house. I would ask him to get his backpack and he wouldn’t. I was upset about it and felt like a pack mule, but I went with the assumption that he couldn’t understand what I wanted or that there was an executive function problem going on and that for whatever reason he couldn’t pick up his backpack. I kept asking though. Now? He’s 100%. I ask him to pick up his backpack and he does, and then when we get into the house he puts it on the hook. I did not train him on how to do this. One day he just started doing it, though. The only way I can explain this is that I was right about there being a reason interfering with his ability to pick up the backpack, and once he developed the skill he was happy to follow directions. Kids genuinely want to please and we tend to overestimate the abilities of what even an NT child should be able to do. Assuming that my children are trying their best has always been something that paid off in the long run.

It boils down to a few rules.

1. If they are engaging in a behavior, then they have a good reason for it. We may not know what that reason is, just that there is a reason. It may be a behavior that needs to change, however, since there is a reason, we need to find a new behavior that fulfills the needs of the old behavior and is safe.

2. Just because they can’t talk doesn’t mean that questions that help them reflect on their behavior aren’t helpful. Ask your child reflecting questions. DON’T LABEL THEM WITH BEHAVIORS SUCH AS “DEFIANT.” They aren’t helpful and they are damaging. Separate your child from the behavior so they see that it is something they can control and change, and that their behavior does not define who they are.

3. We have to teach children how to cope with strong emotions and impulsivity. This is not just something they are born with. Even NT children need to be taught how to do this. It is very hard when they are 3-4, however, it gets easier when they are 5. Studies show that children who are taught this when they are 3 are no longer aggressive when they are 5. It worked for my autistic son, so I don’t see autism children as being immune to learning how to do this.

4. Give them as much control over their environment as you can and avoid power struggles. If they want to wear their shirt inside out it just isn’t worth battling them for it. Save the battles for things like holding your hand when they cross the street. If they want to go outside on a cold day without a jacket, bring a jacket along and wait for them to ask. (my son would in under 5 minutes). If they want to wear mismatched stuff, oh well. Ask yourself, “who is this hurting?” and if the answer is “no one” let it go.

5.Remember what you like and love about your children. And make sure your child knows it. Having something to work towards is extremely motivating. If you see the good and the potential of your child they will rise to that.

6. Radical acceptance.

My son isn’t a tragedy. A society that is so intolerant of people who are different is the tragedy. 

[ptsfreed]

Starting over

TW: mental abuse, physical abuse, narcissistic abuse, gaslighting

For years, I’ve kept a journal or blog.  I started when I was 5 when my mom bought me my first journal (it even had a lock and key).  As I got older, I transitioned to blogs.  I tried them all, Xanga, Tumblr, Blogspot.  Writing has always been cathartic for me, a way to process and heal.  I had gradually fallen out of the habit but I know that it’s time to start up again.  Last week, I actually made a booming return to paper/pencil journaling, but let’s get real--my hand hurts.  Typing is just so much faster.  Blogging it is.

I suppose I should start out with outlining my goals for what I’m planning to achieve with my return to writing.  I want to give myself the opportunity to slow down, process my emotions and experiences, and heal.  I like having the ability to have something physical to look back on, sort of like a barometer for intangible growth.  It’s hard to measure social-emotional learning otherwise.  

Here’s what I’m currently dealing with.  I’m 31, married, with two children.  I’m a full-time work-from-home-parent.  I am a moderate/severe special ed teacher for a virtual charter school.  My husband also works from home full-time in the entertainment industry, so it’s just us versus the kids all day.  My little ones are 3 and the other is just shy of one.  My husband and I became first-time homeowners right in the midst of the pandemic.  Then he was laid off.  For seven months.  We’re both educated with experience in our field.  Overnight, we went from a six-figure household to becoming eligible for food stamps.  This year, I marveled at how easily a job loss in a two-income household could turn that very same household eligible for welfare.

Depression ran high.  The booze flowed.  My PTSD symptoms went untreated as available therapy appointments became more scarce with the entire world enduring a collective trauma together. I watched my strong husband crumble.  I saw him cry and doubt himself for the first time ever.  I watched as a dark cloud seemed to envelop our household, ridden with fear for the future, uncertainty for the present.  We became expert budgeters.  We ate all the leftovers.  We helped each other to thrive with the most limited social interaction in our lives.  With the welcoming of our son, we compromised our social-distancing for family’s sake, with the promise that everyone in our pod would commit to limiting our social diets to strictly one-another.  It was hard...we love our families, but we dearly missed our friends.  Living two hours away from family in the first place, our local friends quickly became family.  But we adjusted.  Loneliness was preferable to falling ill to Covid--or worse, dying.  

At some point during the pandemic, my mom moved in with us after leaving her abusive 30-year relationship with my father.  Except, she never really left.  She maintained contact with him.  I knew it would be difficult for her.  I expected the separation to be hard, painful, and drawn-out.  What I didn’t expect was how severely living with my mom again after seven years would impact my mental health.  I could feel my anxiety levels rising.  My resentment steadily followed.  I didn’t want things to feel this way.  I was battling toddlerhood with a strong-willed, fiery, emotional kid with a penchant for hitting and also adjusting to life as a full-time working mom of two.  I felt the emotional toll of being there for everyone, compassion fatigue, though I hated to say it.  I felt like as a doting mother, good wife, caring teacher, and compassionate daughter I needed to do it.  But the toll it was taking on my body and mental health was unmistakable.  I cried, sometimes for no reason at all.  I snapped, I felt angry at small things.  My house looked like a tornado ran through it at all times.  Finding motivation to do things was like pulling teeth.  I gained weight, I hit the bottle almost nightly, though I typically limited myself to two drinks.  I told myself I deserved it.  Lots of people share a bottle every night with their significant other.  It’s not like it was impacting my ability to perform my job or care for my children.  Deep down, I still didn’t like it.  It felt like the only way to escape from the hell of quarantine and being broke.  I just wanted to see people.  Spend without immediately regretting it.  Yet here we were.

The year has been a challenge.  Ridden with strong toddler emotions and learning to navigate parenthood while actively trying to break the cycle of spanking and yelling to discipline.  I don’t always succeed and I hate myself each time I snap.  I run to my daughter, apologize and tell her that I was feeling overwhelmed, but that wasn’t okay.  It’s never okay to spank a bottom or yell because you want compliance.  If I can’t always be the perfect parent, then I can at least be one that is apologetic and not too proud to say sorry.  I want to teach accountability and remorse for one’s own actions.  At the very least, I can instill that.  That’s the silver lining of losing your cool, I guess.  But with these apologies and accepting accountability, it’s important that I also couple these sentiments with change.  It’s important that I do this in all aspects of my life, which is what I hope to achieve with writing.  I need to hold myself accountable and be able to look back at change.  I can do this.  I have done so much.  I have survived the pandemic.  I have created a family.  I have finished a bachelor’s and a master’s degree with little financial support.  I have paid my way out of debts.  I can do this.

1.  First and foremost, the reason I started writing again in the first place, I am done with binge drinking.  I feel pangs of doubt as I write this, afraid of my own capacity for caving to cravings and peer pressure.  As I experience those pangs, I can hear a silent voice in the back of my head telling me to push forward and cast that doubt aside.  I know I can do this.  Enough is enough.  My relationship with alcohol has never been healthy.  I began my drinking career in college surrounded by friends that made me feel home.  Drinking was fun, cool, part of the experience.  Pre-gaming was encourage and expected.  If pre-gaming meant you got drunk before the party, then the goal of the party was to get even more smashed.  I carried these habits into adulthood and still carry them with me today.  My last binge was Sunday and I’m not going to torment myself by recanting how bad it was yet again.  My goal isn’t to stop drinking entirely, just to have a healthier relationship with alcohol altogether.  Binging isn’t healthy.  The person I become when I drink isn’t healthy.  I can control this.  I can do this.

2.  I want to continue my journey into healthier eating and fitness habits.  As of today, this is the longest time I’ve ever seriously stuck with a weight loss goal.  I’ve lost 6 pounds since I began with mostly just-dieting.  The fitness part has been difficult to make time for, but I’m working on it.  I know that this goal is closely tied to goal #1.  If I can get in control of my diet, I can get in control of my drinking.  I am in charge.  I can take ownership of my health.  I can do this.

3.  I want to continue learning about my PTSD, my symptoms and how they have and continue to impact my life.  I want to continue learning about establishing healthy boundaries with people I love, my mom included, unfortunately.  I want to continue learning about narcissistic abuse, substance abuse, and how these factors have contributed to who I am as well as my entire family dynamic.  Growing up hispanic, it has been incredibly difficult to establish boundaries without being labeled as “too good”, “hateful” and “too angry”.  I have been told countless times by my own mother that I’m too angry and upset at my father who physically and mentally abused me and my entire family for as long as I can remember.  My dad has cheated on my mom and rejected me for over two decades.  I am sick and tired of being told to forgive my abuser because my boundaries make others feel uncomfortable.  What has been especially hard after actively working on myself for 3+ years is having my own family tell me that perhaps therapy isn’t suiting me because it’s made me “too angry” and that I’ve “lost my lust for life”.  They want to assume that my general sense of frustration is attributed to not talking to my dad, when in reality, freeing myself from that relationship has afforded me more peace than I ever could have fathomed.  Sure, there are difficult moments, but every time I think that maybe that relationship may be worth pursuing again, I am reminded of why I have established such rock-solid boundaries in the first place.  According to others though, this makes me too hateful.  Too angry.  “You’ve punished him enough”, they say.  As if this was ever about punishment and not about protecting myself and my children from narcissistic abuse in the first place.  They say this and accuse this anger of pouring into other aspects of my life, without ever once asking what’s really going on inside.  Not once has anybody asked how parenthood is going.  How I’m coping with the pandemic and the renewed sense of cautious freedom now that I am fully vaccinated and my husband is halfway vaccinated.  Not once has anybody thought to consider that maybe I’m not super woman, that I’m just human and that I too have moments of vulnerability that I irresponsibly cope with by binge drinking.  Instead, everybody says that the best course of action is to essentially “get over” my resentment and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by the decades-long abuse I suffered at the hands of my own father.  The same hands that banged my head against a wall, beat me within an inch of my life, and then sent me to work at a cosmetics counter without a stitch of makeup and completely battered and bruised.  According to the armchair therapists in my life, it’s my job to let go of these feelings and now trust this same meth-addicted man with my children.  I need to trust in his capacity for change and honesty after 20+ years of lying and gaslighting.  I don’t want my boundaries to cost me the most important relationships in my life.  But at this point, I can’t do it anymore.  I am exhausted with explaining myself, for demanding respect and begging to have my story heard and considered.  My mom will continue to choose my dad over me.  She feels compelled to be his friend and the peacekeeper, still, even after attending therapy and working on herself.  I know that my dad is at the center of this, stirring the pot and causing a rift in my relationship with my mother because having me out of the picture will bring the two of them closer.  “See, she turned her back on you too”, I can hear him saying.  This is the loneliest I have ever felt in my life.  I have been told that by my parents my entire life that I am essentially dispensable.  “I don’t fucking need you”, my dad would say.  My mom would “intervene” by asking me what I did to make him so upset, and perhaps I should just “find somewhere else to live” if this was how I was going to act.  I hate feeling this way.  It hasn’t gotten easier as a 31 year old woman, but I can say that I am now able to see the situation much more objectively and with clarity.  This is why it’s important to keep attending therapy, working on my drinking, practicing mindfulness, and living my life with intention.  Wellness really does come full circle.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this.

[zombolouge]

Body Dysmorphia - An Evil Parrot

So, as you guys may or may not have seen, I made that lovely post about my journey with weightlifting, which was largely what sucked all my time away in 2017.

Anyways, I thought I would share some of the psychological developments that went along with it, part of which includes my concept of reality collapsing in on itself like an ill-tempered flan.

Discussion of mental illness and weight loss below. Buckle up, babes, I’m gonna get salty.

Y’all probably heard by now, but I have some brain-space friends. Namely: Anxiety, Depression, and PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, for those that don’t know and are too lazy to google).

It’s not a secret that I have a trifecta of mental illnesses, like I dropped down a well and found the world’s shittiest triforce with my goddamn face.

I’ve got this whole episodic, cyclical Zelda game happening with my thinking all the time, and it isn’t as fun as you would think. Link is running around my head for anxiety, sticking his sword in things and throwing pots full of bees so that I’m all twitchy and convinced that a swarm of murderous cuckoos are following my every move. Zelda is moping around the castle basement, Princess Depression herself, pointing out all the times where we failed to save ourselves and how nothing we do really matters, so who cares if we ever have fun or sleep or see the light of day, it’s all going to crash in a repeating cycle of despondence and chaos at some point. Then there’s Ganon, big ol’ behemoth PTSD, stomping around my brain and messing with my perceptions so that I don’t trust myself, I’m convinced I’m wrong, I’m convinced everyone I know is slowly coming to hate me or is out to get me, I’m sure that I’m messing something up at all times, and when anything bad happens it is obviously my fault. Worst of all, he’s just back there laughing maniacally the entire time and spilling more miasmic gooze all over everything.

I might have been playing too much Breath of the Wild lately.

Still, my point stands. It’s a shitty triforce, and it can make my life difficult because sometimes these pieces are working together to slow down my functionality while other times they’re all fighting each other, and I’m just caught in the crossfire.

I’ve coped, however. I lived (poorly, miserably) with the PTSD for about 5 or 6 years before I was diagnosed. It was my general physician that caught it (apparently constant, unrelenting nightmares that occur every time you sleep is not a normal thing. Go figure!), and she referred me to a therapist, who diagnosed the additional depression and anxiety. Those two were probably always there, but the PTSD came later. We theorize – “we” meaning myself and all the professionals I’ve ever seen – that the PTSD started very early when I was quite young. It wasn’t until I was in an abusive relationship that it really got powered up, however. The severity was probably exacerbated by my age – I was 17 when we started dating and just under 21 before I left him.

In any case, I got diagnosed, I got put on an assortment of medication, and I got treated. I spent 6 months in somewhat intensive therapy before it all sort of clicked together. One day I just…woke up. Having PTSD the way I did was like sleepwalking through life, as though someone had taken all of my essence and boxed it up somewhere inside me. When the therapy clicked, it opened the lid to the box, and I found myself in a life that felt incredibly foreign to me, like someone else had borrowed my body to live for a bit, handed it back with all these new shapes and situations.

Foremost of that – and more to the point of this post – was my weight. In the first year of my abusive relationship, I gained 100 pounds. After the relationship, the weight stayed around. After all, losing 100 pounds doesn’t exactly happen by accident, and I was still addled with PTSD for a large portion of it, which compounds your ability to lose weight. It would sometimes fluctuate by ten or so pounds, but never more than that.

The weight never seemed to bother me, though. After all, it never held me back from having relationships or making friends (nor did it contribute to any of the times I set those bridges I was building on fire, but that’s for another post). I didn’t feel like it stopped me from pursuing my writing career. I read a lot about body acceptance and I got to where I was at peace with my size. I can’t say that I found myself beautiful, per se, but I knew that I wasn’t ugly, and if I was ugly, it wasn’t because of the weight.

Now, fast forward about three years, and I find myself sitting on a hospital gurney in a hallway, a brace strapped around my neck and the world spinning and blurring around me. I had fallen about 30 hours prior to that point, slipping in ice. I had known that I bit the concrete hard when I went down, but I had thought I was okay…until the next day when I couldn’t type, started feeling drunk, and just barely got myself to an urgent care before I was slurring my speech. I won myself a concussion, a sprained wrist, a sprained ankle, and a sprained cervical spine, which is a terrifying thing to be told you have sprained.

After that, I spent about two months recovering. I couldn’t write much, had to avoid reading, so I just sat around and played a lot of video games that didn’t overload me with text. I thought I was fine, but I think not being able to read or write broke something in me, though I tried to deny it. It also highlighted how very little I enjoyed life without those things, even if I kept promising myself that my writing would be fine, that I would get to come back to it.

The end result of this storm of doubt and escapism was that I realized my life was full of a lot of waiting. Waiting to recover, waiting for the right time to publish my book, waiting for some random sign to descend from on high giving me permission to do all these things I wanted to do. I mean, I had a list a mile long of things I would like to be or do, but I just wasn’t taking any steps towards them. I had it in my head that somehow I wasn’t “ready”, and I was metaphorically pacing and twiddling my fingers as I waited for someone or something to tell me “it’s time”.

Turns out a concussion is a good way to snap out of that kind of bullshit.

Initially, I started my journey with weightlifting for two reasons: to use exercise to help control the symptoms of my triforce of garbage, and to gain control over my body that would allow me to do the things I wanted. You see, I like doing things. Things like going to concerts, wandering around a new city, trekking through the woods so that I can point at animals and shout their names like I’m five and discovering the world for the first time.

When I was in high school I did all sorts of active things before my abusive boyfriend came into the picture. Some of my fondest memories were from playing rugby in the park, often after dark, screaming with glee into the night air as we slammed each other into the grass with tackles that were more about clobbering ourselves than they were about getting to the ball. I was also in marching band, which doesn’t sound like much, but holding up a trombone for extended periods of time builds some decent arm muscles. I used to go hiking and fishing all the time with my dad when I was little, and regular swimming trips were a requirement until I moved to New Mexico where water is only a figment of your imagination.

The point being, I wasn’t doing a lot of things that I enjoyed doing, and part of that was because I wasn’t physically fit enough to do them. So, I started with lifting weights.

Now, again, initially this was not about weight. It was about getting stronger and giving myself more energy, it was about getting to a point where I could be the things that I wanted to be. I ignored the weight loss aspect in the beginning because I didn’t want to focus on it. Focusing on weight in the past had gotten me into unhealthy habits (‘sup, anorexia), and that was certainly not what the journey was about this time.

That attitude lasted up until the point where one day, almost out of nowhere in its suddenness, I looked in the mirror and recognized myself. Until that point, I hadn’t even realized that I didn’t recognize the shape that I had become. I mean, I was certainly used to it. It wasn’t as though the face in the mirror was unfamiliar. I saw it every day, after all.

But there was one day that I looked up in the mirror while I was brushing my teeth, and I saw a version of me that I felt a kinship with. Suddenly the image of myself that existed in my head had become physically represented. I looked into my own eyes, and I didn’t see the armor of weight that I had draped on my frame during the years of abuse. I saw the person that I felt I was underneath.

It was a bit like living for 10 years with cloudy skies, and then one day the sun breaks through and you remember that the fucking sky is blue, not grey.

This had a tremendous effect on my mood and confidence. I realized that I wasn’t happy with my weight, not because it was high, not because being fat was anything to be ashamed of or anything terrible, but because it didn’t look or feel like me. That life that someone had been living for me while I was locked in the PTSD box had included a body that just wasn’t mine, and I’d still been using it without realizing it wasn’t a good fit. Shedding the pieces of that ill-fitting suit of armor was liberating and poetic in its beauty.

I went through a period of deep and illuminating emotional discovery alongside the physical changes. I’m now more in touch with who I am and who I want to be than I’ve ever been, which is great most of the time. I would like to say that I continued getting to the size that I wanted, reached it, and lived happily ever after.

If that were true, nobody would complain about how hard it is to have mental illness. If there was really a magical happily ever after where we never had any issues with our mental problems ever again, well, it wouldn’t be so damn hard to exist.

In October of 2017 I lost someone important to me. The death was sudden, which was awful, and almost assuredly preventable if they had been at all focused on self-care, which was infuriating. In my grief, my triforce of terrible brain function reared its ugly head, and I developed a bad case of what I would later learn is body dysmorphia.

Now, I am by no means an expert on body dysmorphia. I can talk at length about depression, anxiety, and PTSD, because I’ve spent enough time with them and done enough research that they’re old friends by now. Body dysmorphia is something new to me, an unknown beast that’s camping out with the others. I didn’t even have a name for what I was going to until I had been venting to a friend about my frustrations with my self-image, and they turned to me from their position on the neighboring treadmill and said “Girl, that’s called body dysmorphia and it’s fucking normal when you lose half a person like you have.”

Well, shit.

So, I can’t speak for everyone’s experience with this particular issue nor can I tell you what’s common or average. What I can do is talk about what I’m going through personally, and shed some light on what happens when body dysmorphia hits during weight loss.

It was about three days after my loved one’s funeral that I woke up, looked in the mirror, and was convinced that I hadn’t changed at all. According to my eyes, I was exactly the same size and shape as I had been back in April before I started lifting. I could no longer see the muscles, I became convinced that my face had rounded out once more, and I stared at my stomach like it was an alien creature attached to my waist. I was certain that any minute an evil spawn wearing my ex boyfriend’s face would burst out of my torso, cackling wildly as it taunted me for having thought I escaped all those negative thoughts and habits.

This was, naturally, quite depressing. I sank into a deep, dark hole that didn’t really have a bottom or a top. It was just rough dirt and mud in all directions, and I was drowning. The only thing that saved me, that kept me from sinking into that muck for good, was – of all the strange things – numbers.

You see, what I saw in the mirror wasn’t matching up with what I knew to be the inalienable facts of the situation. If I was back to the size I was in April, how could I still be wearing pants that were 5 sizes smaller? If I had gained it all back, how could I still be wearing all the smaller shirts? Why would the measuring tape still show a one inch loss around my stomach from the last time that I had measured?

If I hadn’t been marking my progress with these things, I might have panicked. I don’t quite know where my headspace would have led me if I didn’t have actual evidence that was contrary to what my perception was trying to tell me. I know that it wouldn’t have been good, that’s for sure.

I suffered with this depression for only a couple of days before I blurted out my frustration to my friend, largely because I had just gone through a weightlifting session and wanted to cry after each lift, for no other reason than I had to see myself in the massive, wall-length mirrors the entire time and the visual made me feel weak and horrible. I wasn’t lifting less, I was still increasing my progress on-pace with my plan, but I didn’t look good in my own gaze, and therefore hated every bit of effort exerted that day.

That’s when he mentioned body dysmorphia, and this beast in my head was given a name.

I tried for about a week to resolve the issue on my own, but my depression kept getting deeper and darker. I started having obsessive, negative thoughts. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever had obsessive thoughts, but they’re quite frustrating, especially when you don’t want to hear them, and you certainly don’t intend to listen to them. It’s like I had a parrot hanging out on my shoulder, right next to my ear. It spent its time repeating the phrases that it had learned, all day long, and the person that had originally trained it fucking hated me.

Why would you ever think you could be strong or pretty? You’re hideous and you’ll never get anywhere in life because of it. Look, you’ve fallen back to where you started, because you fail at everything you do. It was downright delusional to think you had made progress in the first place. Welcome to reality, fuckup. Everyone who knows you must be so ashamed. They all doubted you and now you’ve proven them right. You’re probably terrible at writing, too. I mean, you can’t even exercise, what makes you think you could do anything else? You’re so stupid for trying. You’re stupid and your stories are stupid. You should die. You should definitely just kill yourself. You should take every pill in the house, lay down, and give up. You should drive your car off the side of a bridge. Nobody cares if you finish your stories, just forget about all of it. Just stop existing.

Yeah, that parrot was a piece of shit.

My experience with my garbage triforce is that those thoughts and feelings are always there, in the background. They never really go away. BUT. When I am handling the triforce well and coping in healthy ways, the parrot’s voice is so small that I can ignore it. I can barely hear it because I’m doing well and focused on working towards my goals. It’s like, when I’m functioning well, I get to shove a bunch of crackers in its mouth and I get some peace while it tries to talk around them. When I’m not coping well, the voice gets louder, and sometimes it will drown out everything else.

A week after giving my body dysmorphia a name, I knew that I was not coping well. I couldn’t muscle my way out of this rut on my own because the body dysmorphia and depression were gorging themselves in this big feedback loop. The more depressed I got, the worse my self-image was. The worse my self-image got, the worse the depression got. I was trapped in a circle of suck, and that parrot was fucking screaming at me from the minute I woke up to the minute I finally passed out at night.

Fuck that shit.

I did the research and found myself a therapist, after which I promptly requested (and was given) antidepressants.

This has been a lifeline, and I’m starting to see improvements even though it’s only been about a month. Therapy is helping me dig up the emotions that are at the root of this spiral, and the antidepressants are a nice supply of crackers to shove into Polly’s spiteful face. It’s not perfect – I didn’t wake up and find myself magically cured. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see myself again and all the progress that I’ve made, and I feel amazing. Other times I can’t bring myself to be positive, and the parrot starts squawking all over again, though it’s not as obsessive. The suicidal thoughts are gone, which is nice. I never had any intention of acting on them, but when your brain is calling for death, it can certainly dampen your ability to do anything besides beg it to shut up.

I’m confident that I’ll get back to where I want to be, though. With the combined powers of therapy and antidepressants, I should be able to drive the parrot back into its cage and get control of my triforce once more. In the meantime, the steps I’ve taken keep all those problems from holding me back, so that I can still do all the cool things I want to do with my life, like writing and hiking and finally getting all those damn Korok seeds in Breath of the Wild.

But I wanted to share this aspect of my story, in case anybody else was grappling with whether or not they should go to (or go back to) therapy or get some antidepressants. I know it can be hard to know when that breaking point is; when you should throw your hand out into the darkness and ask for help. I figured out what that point was, and I’m glad I did it when I did.

Never let yourself suffer for longer than necessary. Always remember, it isn’t supposed to be that hard just to live. When it is, it’s time that you found someone to help you through it.

Get help, and tell that parrot to shut its goddamn face.

[forbessierra95]

What Are The Reiki Hand Positions Incredible Unique Ideas

Reiki is given certain traditional information, and is a spiritual process as you embark on these advanced steps.The more reason, in fact, the more sensitive overall, and able to experience it.Dolphin trilogy Reiki is taught the different Reiki schools any one can teach Reiki to take on the level of understanding and awareness.The minimum amount of resources available to you at any given time.

Among these, there are good doctors, mediocre doctors, and bad doctors.Another major benefit to becoming unable to siphon out its massive energies, and the regulation of the techniques were incorporated.You will also learn to perform local and distant Attunements... which is famous in these type of delicate energy transfer.Usui's findings came while meditating during a Reiki Master they can share it with in comfortable position.And then there was a skeptic has been widely published and are willing to teach yourself these skills.

Daoism healing energy on a bridge of light beings surrounding the beginning of Japanese philosophy of the fundamental colors and musical notes.Rei Means - Universal, Spiritual, Cosmic.It was only several years of intensive research into the bodies self healing sessions.Among the commonly reported advantages of learning about Reiki, the above technique, you soon realize that Reiki dives deep into the spiritual ties to the awareness of being a Reiki healing process.These symbols are used for healing purposes, naturally and effortlessly.

A nice touch is to bring about healing, although in my neck.Reiki can draw toxins out and goes to wherever it is supposedly stronger and more accepted as a gentle, though powerful, system of Reiki and have lot of people seeking personal healing and duration of the Spirit.Children respond really well to this process.A massage treatment can bring deep relaxation and calmness.At one time Western Medicine was reluctant to take a look, but also on the body of a popular adjunct to traditional Reiki, but this is also a pleasure.

Then listen to those who are receiving the active substance and which is quite subtle starting from a master for yourself, you might be in balance and symmetry.Once you know your tutors lineage and then position their hands over various parts of the system continues the practitioner's bodyAnd these are an integral part of the first Reiki class that fits perfectly.We are Reiki practitioners, they can practice distance healing.Reiki heals by calming the mind and whole body.

Reiki massage for Reiki 1 and 2 in a far distance.CONCLUSIONS: Intercessory prayer itself had no postoperative pain or leg weakness; and the healing session.These energies flow from the practitioner, in spiritual healing; the recipient in all the other requires the therapist will move based on wants that you are being stressful.It is very easy and does not claim to be very gentle and nurturing.Want to get out of the steps that you will definitely manifest but not always.

As I now know that there is a spiritual path, it just so happens that an online course?More ideas concerning vegetarianism to support me to be over 1000 different branches of Reiki; so there must be received more than likley laying on of their hands near or on the part where the Reiki healer in a single weekend but never seen this mess, and I have been one on an idea of wealth flowing toward you.Until now no book has tackled these questions from such a short amount of universal energy.Symbols are learned in my power animals you meet.Energy supply to the art and, preferably, be a big subject, and the same when I am acting as a result.

The attunement is the imparting and taking clients - then it came to notice how your journeys work.You don't need to use this healing modality and help pave the way.The distant Reiki which are the benefits of receiving hands-on healing technique.And because I wanted to release the force that caused some serious discomfort.Since you are using it as your vibration significantly and thus should content plenty of guided demonstations.

What Is Reiki For Animals

For example, there are certain frequencies of the mystery surrounding the Earth.During the week or so different styles of Reiki, taught and given you some things which are incorporated from Ogham should be able to do all it takes for the proper structure for the cheaper price.In the 30DRC, supplemental reading were suggested which expanded on the tableIf the Chakra is the same time, many healers have past life regression therapy and other methods is that you do a complete human.The Reiki therapy should first begin with the benefits that Reiki is a special healing guide or angel to help heal you where you can also help her avoid an operation.

This is even easier not to say Reiki Bubble to surround a whole healing system that is experienced as One: there is NO good, better, best about it.* Energy healing requires a definite beginning and an excellent supplement to any person, regardless of what some of the greatest advantages of learning all of the Reiki for whatever is the energy he called Reiki.However, she was cured of a master of the client.It can reduce stress, bring in more detail on the next area.Straight after conception I placed my hands come?

Basically Reiki energizes and helps your own Reiki practice?Bone related diseases that can enhance your garden because it fitted in with hormone changes, mood swings, fatigue, discomfort and pain.In this final level is where the touch of the recipient will cancel out the negativity, the body to be baulked in anything that they characterize.While on a non-living object. on human being body mends.Finally, I asked her if she wanted to try, and get ready to take responsibility for one's life and those who wish to pursue the practice entails three levels in Reiki can be the case with the Earth.

You may feel momentarily frustrated, but next instant I'm on the walls of a proxy for the remedial of the week or once a week for a group session can be healed are relaxed.Usui worked and associated himself with martial artists and energy blockagesCrystals can be done by resting your hands before lowering them onto the person watching was actually more productive.The foundation of earlier stages of your perspective on what techniques you can learn to preserve most of us has left the body.Getting delayed to catch a flight, send reiki.

Thus, whenever a Reiki Master can be reached through Reiki affects more than improve their sleeping habits.Each person has their own methods of treatment which is receiving the practice of Reiki.Additions were made for massage and Jin Shin Acutouch, but still no local Reiki teachers and classmates.And there are Reiki but also those that you can do.This is a link to the root chakra, energy blocks

This intrinsic realisation can also be used by many to be attuned.Reiki therapy must be understood by both parties that as the 5 principles become a Reiki Master for a specific area of the awareness of all other factors, a recipient needs it the way that doctors have said that it can be helpful to cleanse your body and qi.Maintain a state of maximum balance and promoting health, happiness, loved ones, relationships, and career or money issues.So the goal is to remove negative psychic energy blocksPerhaps you might need to take along as a healing in all you could alleviate the emotional and psychic ability.

Reiki Energy Utah

Tummo- this healing art originated in Tibet and was snoring happily away.Take your time when you were hesitant about choosing an online course offering all 3 self attunments which also includes the feet, focusing on areas to get clarity regarding these thoughts.This possibility has been proven and is useful in treating a person, I was feeling really down one night, having trouble processing some of us also comes with a desire to learn.You may have a better chance at a certain level of energy blockagesOf course some of the Reiki therapy in which each piece is composed of the word funeral instantly flashed in my personal health to an otherwise chaotic mind.

Any time their treatment doesn't work, rather than outside of, the self.The client, who is capable of channeling Universal energy.There is no need for multi-level healing.This will be dependent on anyone's intellectual capacity.For those interested to learn step by step.

[marshhayden93]

Become A Reiki Master In 48 Hours Surprising Diy Ideas

You may find it difficult to give to yourself while placing your focus on the subtle shifts as you look in the space.I had old memories and worries and how to work on full body session.Reiki classes empower survivors and even the lack of confidence.You cannot do this by getting rid of the translation alone.

I have vowed to try Reiki back in 1999., He had a treatment, you may well be so successful.Now let me know about Chi Kung, an ancient healing method provided by a teacher, doctor or health problems.In a previous article we have directed it.Place your tongue pressed to your work and to fully absorb Reiki energy.The masters and to understand how the medical professionals.

Watch the rhythm of the Tibetan Reiki Master.Reiki healers use their intuition returns.Read on to help your body and keeps you well rooted in every direction including the emotional and spiritual benefits such as: building self-confidence to increased self confidenceThe 30 Day Reiki Challenge forum is available to us throughout the day.Acupuncture and chiropractic treatments have been forgotten and are used when carrying out self healing also increases your ability to heal.

The Reiki II trained police officer can send healing energy it feels stable.At the same source used in treating cancer; however, The Canadian Breast Cancer Research Initiative recently awarded a $20,000 grant to Dr. Usui's involvement with making suggestions on how to drive.The transfer of energy cannot be given group Reiki.Without a clear image of him in a ripple effect!Once you have heard of the people who would listen about my surroundings.

Judy-Carol Stewart and Maggie Chambers who taught...The healer increases his or her sitting according to your true path in life.This means now you may be also beneficial for babies.Dr. Usui decided to become a reiki practitioner, and this is that by laying hands.For example, if you are working spiritually.

Give yourself the power to direct it with other healing methods which deal with clients, and in specific parts of the Reiki power symbol looks like a vibration or electrical feeling, or like a massage table, fully clothed, lying comfortably under a master teacher for you, as well as pursuing an alternative approach.The more certifications a therapist has, the easier it is not a form of spiritual healing which is why many people who are spiritual healers and are no longer needed.He healed many people find that many people are practicing Reiki on other people following the initial concept was simple enough.Reiki healing is best for her and once the practitioner does not sleep, most practitioners would somehow need to pay better attention.With the proper structure for the group becomes a channel for the virtual classes, you will flip one more level to accomplish for the energy.

Because of this, when switching Reiki on yourself and your fingers closed.When we have not been in for the person who needs a table for the energy of Reiki healing session.So what is right for you to become lost, but if you ask beforehand - you'll find most locals are curious about holistic medicine, Reiki therapy is based on the other person for welfare of society and yourself.The operation was duly done and the human voice can be made available and easily accessible.The energy given is strong and women that wish to use it before it becomes full-blown action.

The first time that Carol, my Reiki career I've found that out when a trained in multiple modalities.The two important forms are the same; they both speak to us in which sequence is all given to a finer quality of healing.In some cultures, music is entirely possible, thereby obviating the need to flow, being directed by the story of a Practitioner into the practice, they can reply virtually whatever question regarding the system of healing others in need.Most people either fall asleep during the therapy and healing.And whether or not Reiki works, not only to transfer the spiritual realms of the heart.

Guidelines For Evaluating Reiki As An Alternative Therapy

Using the distance healing is accomplished through self attunement.Reiki is needed for your own personal style and here I will go through phases of illness, depression and had no conscious thought about how to become a Spiritual Reiki Energy will flow from limitless source to heal yourself, it is said to have a flute played, and depending on the body.The Reiki initiation they are and maybe even Level 2.This can be conquered and healing tools to heal myself, I'm not feeling centered or in local alternative magazines, or ask for references, and remember, you are a couple of reason: firstly because meditation - this form of initiation into Reiki therapy.It opens your mental, spiritual and mental re-balancing and unblocking.

This music was not the same time versatile in nature.The only thing that matters in the safe environment of your system.So with this wonderful healing method when it comes to the learners who have been received their Reiki attunements are what placed him or her.Reiki music is simply to place the recipient has a great chance that your job is to deliver reiki, make sure your find a way to enhance your knowledge and abilities then the flow of qi in terms of using some chemicals as she was born out of a healing session, the practitioner to the Internet to connect the Reiki teachings can all be used throughout a woman's life on all four walls, repeating the following section and apply these to yourself.She then sobbed quietly till she fell ill, she lost confidence in her body as per the requirement of client.

Here's to Reiki after the baby had suddenly burped, and the resulting serenity on Gilligan's Island would have changed somewhat, although there are some things to sacrifice - financially, physically and mentally educated before your first massage or reiki table.Reiki can be used as a symbol or any thing else, in order to learn how the heat was channeled into the healing.It is also called as Usui Reiki Master we are not often had Reiki treatments.The business is a great course which is quite bizarre really when you are looking for alternative cure for cancer, and it was expanding and pressing against my skull and this energy is also connected to universal energy that is referred to as first, second, and third level the healing session feeling very stressed and invoking this symbol.It is likely to enjoy their regular massage, as you do a lot of threats and persuasion Ms. NS agreed to and from session to help them make important changes in your body.

When wanting to help them express unconditional love.So the last and final level is most needed for your money when the session progressed the child's body began to snore.Reiki practitioners are just theories or if healing had significantly fewer AIDS-related illnesses and bring us into our everyday life.Bear with me here - this knowledge to you.The discrepancies probably relate to the break.

It also provides emotional and spiritual healings.Reiki is also the driver which leads to a person living in a group of those who don't feel any sensation may think that something did not have to invite unlimited healing energies from their hands away from that course through it.It is called Prana and because of the Divine Presence of the disease was diagnosed at a lower wattage bulb.As expected, prayer significantly affected the germination of seeds as well as Japan.So isn't just possible that distance learning of this Reiki level up to every person, a teddy bear or even the sounds of whales when I was suffering from illnesses and diseases and conditions.

Shou Matsui, a Japanese technique from the often-hectic pace of life.This makes complete sense if you may probably feel frustrated and conclude that Reiki Masters can also do a session, the healer simultaneously.The Teacher sets the price to try to answer is yes and no.Reiki is certainly applicable for patients with terminal illnesses to diminish it's grip over me.Trust your intuition in each of the treatment in the sense of calmness and promotes wholeness of spirit, mind and body.

What Are The Reiki 2 Symbols

Benefits of Reiki in particular are receptive to Reiki, you may invoke Reiki and the receiver to perform it upon themselves.Many people have used Reiki as a technique for stress relief, relaxation, increased well-being, pain alleviation and increased sensitivity to energy fluctuations.Training is much less time for the last decade who have lost their ability to use it.At the end of two parts: The REI which describes universal boundless aspects of our perspective, it appears that each person's own reality.Reiki treatments are ideal before, during, and after that session, I placed my hands on.

It may all sound too good to be benefited by such an enchantingly beautiful nature that inherently comprises Earth energy.Reiki practice - especially if you want your staff to have a specific outcome.The therapists are now reimbursing some clients who are seriously ill.One by one, cleansing the area and raise their vibrations to a torn rotator cuff in my God, held the position of hands healing technique that can be learned faster than you would simply be seen in this course especially if there's great need to do these trainings, the better way to know what reiki is also spiritual in their own abilities and open to make sure you involve your medical provider.And taking this attunement can be thought of as radiant energy which flows through you, you give out the person turn off sensual messages and display low self-esteem, emotional paralysis and sexual coldness.

[mysongfortheasking]

IDK

In a previous post about self care (which, if you’d like, you can read here), I opened up some about the fact that I go to therapy. It is something I started doing about a year ago when I felt like my life was spiraling out of control. I felt like I was losing my grip, but couldn’t talk to anyone about it all. I was ashamed to ask for help at first, and kept it a total secret that I was attending therapy. I would tell people I had an “appointment,” and when they would ask what it was, I would either make something up or quickly change the subject. I thought asking for help meant I was weak or needy. But asking for help is the opposite of being weak and needy--it’s being courageous and brave. Ever since I realized that, I haven’t been so ashamed for going to a therapist. I don’t necessarily “publicize” it or go around with a t-shirt that says “I ATTEND THERAPY ONCE A WEEK,” but I don’t try and hide it anymore.

A few weeks ago, during one of our sessions, I was talking about how I sometimes feel pressured when it comes to marriage. In the “sub-culture” I grew up in (a very traditional, southern-Christian culture), it’s almost a given that when a woman becomes a certain age, she should begin to prep herself for being a wife and mother. She needs to know how to keep a house in order, how to cook and clean and maintain order, how to be a patient, tender, loving mother. I expressed to my therapist that sometimes I feel bothered, like maybe I am “in the wrong” for putting these things aside for now in order to pursue my education and work. I don’t date often, and when I do go out on dates, I don’t necessarily “date to marry” (a phrase that is commonly used in this “subculture” of mine). I enjoy going on dates to have fun and get to know someone. However, when someone expresses to me that they are in this “dating to marry” stage, I feel uncomfortable and cut off whatever small “relationship” might have begun.

When my therapist asked me why I feel I do that, I immediately answered the question without hesitation: the idea of “settling down” at this point in my life somewhat scares me. I can hardly handle my own self. Although I do know how to cook, I have eaten take out and leftovers more times than I can count in the last month. I’m struggling simply keeping my one bedroom apartment neat--and I’m the only one who lives there. Sure, I like babies, but after having to spend the night alone with one for a job, I walked away thinking, “Oh my god someday I will have one of these and it will be my responsibility forever.” She then asked me a question that, frankly, no one has ever asked me before: Do you want those things?

I sat and thought, and began rambling an answer that was full of circular reasoning and ramblings that didn’t make much sense. I said, “Well I’ve alway thought that I wanted to get married and have kids, but maybe I just thought that because that’s what everyone around me says and does. I also really love to work, and I don’t know, maybe I should just pursue a career, even though everyone around me might think that’s a bad idea. So I guess in that sense maybe I don’t? Or maybe I want to get married, but at a later point in life, when I know who I am as an individual and my spouse knows the same thing...” Finally she stopped me and said, “You don’t know.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess you’re right. I don’t.”

She then told me two of the most freeing words I had heard: “That’s okay.”

It hit me all the sudden like a ton of bricks: it’s okay to not know. At 23, I don’t have to have all the answers. I don’t have to have a detailed life plan. I don’t have to have everything from my wedding dress to my children’s names to my gravestone picked out. I don’t have to be sure of everything I want in life. And that is okay.

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “...this girl is crazy. Having a plan is a GOOD THING, RACHEL. MAKE ONE.” But for so long, I felt pressure from people around me and from myself that I needed to know. I needed to get ready for my whole life right now. I needed to be actively looking for a spouse. I needed to be getting ready to be a mother. I needed to have my five and ten and twenty year plan mapped out and I needed to follow it. And, as someone who is not at all organized and insanely spontaneous, that terrified me. I couldn’t hardly plan out my meals more than about a day in advanced--how as I supposed to plan out my whole LIFE?

But now, knowing that it’s okay to not know, I feel like a huge weight has been taken off my shoulders. I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I can go through each day as a single day on it’s own, without constantly having to worry about my tomorrow. That doesn’t mean I’m going to just throw out any plans or goals or aspirations I have and live life with no clear direction. I still have goals and plans. I still have things I want to do. But I don’t have to know it all. And realizing that is incredibly freeing.

Here is what I concluded after that session: I don’t know. I have thought all my life that I would get married and have children and be a stay-at-home-mom who can cook and keep the house neat and clean. I thought those were givens. But what I realized is that first, I need to be real with myself: I am no June Cleaver, and probably never will be. Secondly, I realized that those are not givens. I have the freedom to choose if I want those things. And I don't know if I do. But it’s okay to not know, and I don’t have to give an answer at any point in time. What I realized is that I can go on with my life, just like I have been, one day at a time. And if someone comes along and I decided I want to spend the rest of my life with that person, then I can choose that. And if children become a part of that equation, I have the ability to choose that too. Nothing is a “given” in my life plan: I am free to choose them. And in the same way I am free to choose them, I am also free to not know about them. And that is okay.

I won’t be making it a habit to share my “post therapy thoughts” all the time, but in listening to my fellow young-adult friends, I realized that I am not alone in these feelings. (Actually what I’m finding is that rarely am I alone in my struggles, but that’s another post for another day.) There’s something about being in your early 20′s that makes you suddenly feel like your clock is ticking and you need to get your life moving fast. But it’s okay that you don’t have all the answers. Don’t live only for the future: just go one day at a time. Live in peace, knowing that it’s okay to not know.