#so it wasnt a personal issue at all but that occurrence WAS what made me realize i probably needed to set a boundary

[lostjudgmnt]

i never know how to approach situations where i realize i need to set a boundary as a result of something someone did when it’s one of those deals where the person is someone i like and they havent done anything WRONG and its in no way personal i just realized something about myself because of something they did that i probably need to set a boundary about. i worry about making them feel like theyve done something wrong or upsetting them or otherwise them taking it personally when its really just me being weird about something and trying to take care of myself and preserve whatever relationship we have (even if its something as simple as being mutuals)

[thetravelerwrites]

Commitments: Part 1 (Gargoyles Fanfic)

Rating: Teen Fandom: Disney’s Gargoyles Relationships: Goliath x Elisa Maza Additional Tags: Marriage, Proposal, Engagement Trigger Warnings: Light Language, Sex Mention Words: 3996

Takes place in the years 1998-2000, and pertains to the Commitment Ceremony that had been planned for future comics between Elisa and Goliath. There will also be Brooklyn/Katana and Broadway/Angela moments thrown in. Please leave feedback!

It wasn’t going to be a wedding, not exactly. Gargoyles had no need to marry; once they gave their heart to someone, they were bound to that person until death or until they decided they were no longer compatible, which frankly was an uncommon occurrence among Goliath’s people. The severance of his union with Demona was, although perfectly understandable under the circumstances, exceedingly rare.

Gargoyles trusted their feelings far more than humans did theirs. On the whole, they didn’t often succumb to insecurity about their own love for their mates or the love of their mates for them. Perhaps that was why humans needed the security of marriage, the notion that they controlled their own emotions and not the other way around, to give them a sense of certainty about their feelings. Tokens, legal documents, and ceremonies were all trappings of humanity’s desire to make something as simple as loving another person complicated and tedious, and to Gargoyles, unnecessary.

The ceremony had been Goliath’s idea, though. After the Masquerade two years ago at the Xanatos Building in which Thailog had nearly killed Goliath, Elisa had sat down with him sometime later, nearly a month, and they discussed their relationship at length over coffee, laying out what being together meant for the both of them and if they felt it was still worth pursuing. They both agreed that it was.

Elisa told him that she had come to terms with the things about their lives together that would always be out of their reach and seemed content to lay them aside, having made the personal discovery that being with Goliath was worth far more to her than a normal human life. Goliath wasn’t sure he completely believed her but decided not to push the matter. He was simply happy to have her back.

After they had talked, Goliath had flown back to the tower with his thoughts in a roil. Being with him shouldn’t rob her of everything she had wanted in a mate. Surely some middle ground was to be reached in this situation. He had taken seriously the things Elisa had said during the brief period when they had separated. There were things he knew he’d never be able to give her: the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence she had spoken of. Gargoyles didn’t believe in money, and they had little to no interest in physical property, so buying a house was out of the question. Goliath suspected, however, that this specific desire was an optional one.

It was children that would be the biggest issue for Elisa and Goliath was keenly aware of it, even if she said it didn’t matter to her anymore. It wasn’t the same for him; Gargoyles did not have daughters or sons, nor fathers and mothers. The children of the clan belonged to the whole clan. That was simply the Gargoyle way.

Though he had to admit, this was no longer true, at least for the Manhattan Clan. Brooklyn was deeply devoted to his and Katana’s hatchlings. Goliath knew Angela and Broadway had been privately discussing laying their own egg. Goliath himself had come to love his only biological daughter as any father should, and while Elisa loved Angela very much and treasured their friendship, he doubted Elisa would ever consider her a daughter. They were too close in equivalent age for that. A child was one thing Elisa would never have with Goliath, and though it was a matter they both regretted deeply, nothing could be done to change it.

It wasn’t until he was back at the tower and overheard Owen talking about plans for Xanato’s anniversary that it clicked. There was one thing he could do for her. He could, officially and in public, surrounded by friends, family, and clan, declare his love for her. Become not only her mate, but her husband, and she his wife. Human terms though they were, Goliath didn’t mind them so much if it would make her happy, and he dearly wanted her to be happy.

Goliath was unfamiliar with the specifics of the ritual and resorted to asking Elisa’s brother, Talon, for help in planning it. One aspect was talking to the parents and, in some cases, asking the father for permission. Talon laughed at this, amused at the thought of the progressive, independent Elisa furious at both Goliath and her father for discussing her like she was a commodity for which they could barter.

Goliath did think that talking to Elisa’s parents about his intentions was appropriate. He wanted them to be there for the ceremony, as they would become part of his clan. Diane accepted it immediately, though Peter had needed a bit of convincing. Diane had given Goliath a ring that had belonged to her grandmother; a silver band with five inlaid sapphires. In return, Goliath asked Diane to officiate the ceremony. Diane cried, accepted, and hugged Goliath around the middle, an embrace Goliath awkwardly returned.

Another aspect of the ritual was, as Talon had put it, to “pop the question.” And one couldn’t just come out and ask, either, it had to be done in a special way with forethought and meaning. Talon had told Goliath about New Hope in Pennsylvania, which was an hour and forty-five minutes by bus, but much faster by air, which he knew from taking Maggie there a fair few times. There was a wildflower reserve there that Elisa had visited often as a child, but she hadn’t been back since she had entered the academy. Goliath thought it sounded perfect.

He kept his intentions quiet from everyone else, waiting for the right moment to ask Elisa and get her answer before mentioning it to anyone besides her family. It had taken time, more than a year, for him to work up the nerve. One thing or another always seemed to get in the way; her work, their missions, villains, new threats, all seemed to pop up just as Goliath was attempting to pull her away and ask.

One night in July of 1999, he finally had the chance he was waiting for. Elisa had three nights off in a row, the city was relatively quiet, there were no pressing matters to attend to at the castle, and despite the summer heat, the nights were pleasantly cool. Thinking this could be his only chance to do things properly, he made his plan to take her out to the reserve swiftly, before something could stop him. Goliath had only told her they were going somewhere special and left it at that.

That night, he reached her apartment and let himself in through the open window. He found her in the kitchen packing a picnic basket with various things, looking up at him with a beaming smile as he came closer. She was draped in a lovely pale blue dress, knee-length and flared at the hip, as practical as it was pretty.

She abandoned her task long enough to jump into his embrace, her feet dangling from the floor, and plant a kiss on his lips, which he returned with a gentle smile.

“It’s good to see you, too,” He said.

She laughed. “So where are we going?” She asked, still clutching his neck and running a finger up and down the place where his back curved into his neck, feeling the strange, minuscules scales that made up his skin, so fine and small that you had to be looking very close to see them at all. Rough when caressed one way, smooth if rubbed the other.

“It’s a surprise,” Goliath said as he released her. Her hands slid down his chest as she was set back on her feet and moved away to finish packing. “But we must go soon. It is quite far.”

She smiled and nodded, picking up the basket and a blanket that had been thrown over a nearby chair, and allowing herself to be lifted up and cradled in Goliath’s arms. Then they were off.

The trip took the better part of forty minutes, and they whiled away the time by talking about one thing or another. It was so much better now that it was all out in the open and they didn’t have to dance around each other as they had done in the first two years of their acquaintance when they couldn’t admit their feelings. Now things between them were easier, effortless, like talking with your best friend. Because Goliath was her best friend; the best she had ever had.

Elisa had been talking about plans for her sister’s graduation next year when she looked down and stopped mid-sentence.

“Wait!” She said, shifting a little to get a better look. “I know where we are! The wildflower reserve! Goliath, how did you find out about this place?”

“Your brother mentioned it to me,” Goliath said smugly. “He said this place was special to you.”

“Aw,” Elisa tutted. “I should visit him and Maggie soon.”

“I have no doubt you two will have much to discuss,” He said.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Nothing. There’s a deck there where we can land. Hold on.” He dove downward quickly, flattening his wings against his back as the ground rose swiftly to meet them. He unfurled his wings with enough time to slow them without scrambling their insides before landing gently on the wooden patio sitting in the middle of the field, surrounded by the colorful, fragrant plants as far as the eye could see. Talon had been right. This was the perfect place.

Elisa handed him the quilt, which he shook out and laid down over the wood. Elisa knelt and went about setting the things she had packed out onto the fabric. Goliath sat down cross-legged and assisted.

The basket had contained sandwiches, cheeses, and fruit, as well as water, wine, and if Elisa was feeling particularly festive, a bottle of whiskey.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Elisa,” Goliath said, looking over the spread she had packed.

“It wasn’t any trouble. I just threw some stuff in a basket. You’re the one who lugged us here in forty minutes with no break.” She handed him a glass of wine and a small plate with food, which he accepted with a smile. “I’m glad you suggested we do this. I love New York, but it’s nice to get away from the city for a while and spend some time with you alone.”

“I agree,” He replied. “This has been long overdue.”

She poured herself a glass of wine and settled next to him, leaning into him and sighing contently. He enjoyed the weight and warmth of her body against his. They ate and drank in relative silence, but not an uncomfortable one. They were not the type of couple that felt the need to fill the void with inane chatter. Simply being alone with each other with no sense urgency or distress was reward enough.

After a while, when they had eaten their fill and drank enough wine to make them feel very at ease, Goliath sat up straight and reached behind him.

“I have something for you,” He said, pulling out a thin, long blue box in roughly she shape of a book, complete with a bow. “A gift.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Where were you hiding that?”

He smiled a wide, toothy smile that was most unlike him, and presented the box to her. She took it with a furtive glance at him.

“You’ve never given me a gift before,” She said, intrigued.

“No,” Goliath admitted. “Gift-giving is not a typical Gargoyle practice. Tonight is special, however.”

“Special, how?”

“You shall see.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she untied the bow and lifted the lid. It was, in fact, a book: a photo album. The covers, back and front, were plain and bound in a midnight blue canvas. She opened the cover and gasped. The very first picture was of every person she loved standing together; her parents, Derek and Maggie, all of the Manhattan Clan, including Brooklyn and Katana’s hatchlings, tall Nashville and tiny Matsuko, and the newest edition, Broadway and Angela’s egg, which they proudly held between them. Lexington had little Alexander on his shoulders, now three years old but looking much older. Even Beth was there, smiling and standing with her arm around Derek’s waist. Goliath was also there, standing head and shoulders above the rest, square in the middle with his hand on Angela’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his normally grim features.

“Oh, my God,” Elisa breathed, flipping through the pages only to find more photos of her family and the clan interacting. There was a picture of Alexander playing with Matsuko, with Bronx laying belly up next to them. There was one of Derek, Maggie, Beth, Diane, Peter, and Matt Bluestone all playing cards together. There were tastefully shot photographs of the Gargoyles as stone in the sunlight, both in greyscale and in full color. There was even a sneakily obtained shot of Elisa sitting with all of them last year when she had managed to get them together for Christmas dinner, taken without her knowledge. She marveled at each page, a wondering smile lighting her face.

“How?” She asked. “How did you do this?”

“Your sister, Beth, helped me put it together. I wanted to do something special for you. She gave us all disposable cameras and asked us to take pictures, and she developed the film herself.” He was delighted by the pure joy in her expression. “You like it?”

“Goliath, I love this. I love it so much. It’s beautiful.” She kept turning the pages, stopping at each one to admire and smile at the candid shots of her family, of Angela sitting quietly and cradling her egg with Broadway hovering protectively nearby, of Katana and Beth laughing over tea with Matsuko in Beth’s lap, laughing along with them. Of her father and Hudson reclining in easy-chairs, talking somberly over a glass of bourbon. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever been given.

“Thank you, Goliath,” She said, holding the book to her chest. “I love it so much.”

“Keep going,” He said with a smile. “I saved the best for last.”

She grinned at him and kept turning pages until she reached the back cover, where rested a small, plain, white envelope.

“What’s this?” She asked, holding it up.

“Open it,” He replied. His smile was gone and he seemed to tense suddenly, though she was unsure why. Puzzled, she slit open the top of the envelope with her fingernail and peered inside.

“What is that?” She asked quietly, as if to herself. She tipped the envelope over and the silver ring tumbled into her hand. At first, she didn’t react, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. She looked up at him, a stunned expression on her face. He was looking at her very seriously, all trace of playfulness gone.

“Goliath,” Elisa said slowly, turning the band slowly in her fingers, examining it as if it were a riddle to be solved. “This is a ring.”

Yes,” Goliath answered simply, watching her face with rising apprehension.

She looked up at him, her chest tight. “For humans, when a man gives a woman a ring, it means something.”

“Yes, I am aware of this,” Goliath replied, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ve spoken to your family. Your mother gave me this ring. To give to you.”

Elisa was finding it hard to breathe. Surely he didn’t mean… he wasn’t… “Are… are you…. Goliath, what does this mean?”

Goliath reached out his hand, and Elisa laid the ring into his open palm.

“Elisa,” he began. “When a Gargoyle chooses a mate, they pledge themselves to each other, much the same as humans do. But for our kind, it is a private matter that takes place between the two souls in love, away from prying eyes. After the pledge is made, it is acknowledged within the clan that the lovers are no longer two separate souls, but one soul that resides in two bodies, living for and within each other.

“Ceremonies and celebrations are not the Gargoyle way,” He continued. “We find gladness in the union of our friends and rejoice in their happiness, but there are no festivities to mark the occasion. That is a human custom.” Goliath looked long at the ring sitting cold and smooth in his hand. “But if I am to take a human woman as my mate, as I intend to do, I must come to accept her people’s customs and adapt to them. For her people will become my people, as mine have already become hers.”

Elisa sat staring wide-eyed at Goliath, her mouth open in shock.

“Therefore,” Goliath continued, taking a breath and reaching for Elisa’s left hand, which she offered. “I, Goliath, willingly offer to pledge my life and love to you, and ask you, Elisa Maza, if you would willingly pledge your life and love to me. Do you accept this offer?”

She seemed too stunned for speech. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. A tear spilled over her eye and down her cheek.

“Elisa?” Goliath asked in concern, brushing the tear away. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, another tear falling. She held his hand to her face and managed to find her voice, though it came out rather strangled. “I accept.”

A smile started to spread across his face. “Yes?”

“Yes,” She said, wiping her cheeks and laughing. “I accept. Nothing else on earth would make me happier.”

She took the ring from his palm and put it on her left ring finger, then pushed herself up to her knees to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. His arms encircled her waist and squeezed gently.

The kiss deepened became more urgent. Elisa fell back, pulling him with her so that he lay next to her on the blanket. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they explored each other’s kiss. She boldly flicked her tongue into his mouth and over his teeth, sharp enough to bite through steel, with no fear or apprehension. He responded in kind.

He gently caressed her face with one hand and the fingers of his other hand traced the skin up and down her spine. She had always marveled at the level of control it took for a person who could literally tear a car apart with his bare hands to touch her so tenderly. His claws were made for penetrating stone and metal, to climb and carry the immense weight of his body, yet in all the times he had touched her, he had never once left a mark.

Taking his hand from her face, she moved it downward to touch her breast. Goliath stiffened and pulled away.

“Elisa,” He started with a sigh. “We have discussed this.”

“Goliath,” She replied in a slightly exasperated voice. She sat up. “Every time I try to initiate intimacy with you, you push me away. Ever since that night we decided to stay together, you’ve brushed me off. I always figured it’s because you’re just old-fashioned, but I really think we are past the point of propriety here, don’t you?”

“It is not about that,” He said, pushing himself up into a sitting position as well. “When you first attempted to engage with me, we had just repaired our relationship. It was new and fragile, and I felt it was far too soon to be intimate with you.”

“I can understand that, Goliath, but we’ve been together for over two years now. Our relationship is more solid than it’s ever been. Besides, we are both adults, and we’ve done this before. Not with each other, obviously, but we have both had sexual partners in the past. Neither of us are exactly virgins.”

“That is not the point,” Goliath said. “Humans treat this subject with far too much indifference. There is no such thing as a casual encounter among Gargoyles.”

“Do you really think that’s what I’m trying to do?” Elisa said, mildly annoyed. “We literally just got… I don’t know… engaged? Betrothed? This isn’t exactly ‘casual’ for me.”

She folded her arms, looking away into the distance and growing quiet, as though she had suddenly realized something deeply unpleasant.

“What is it?” He asked, watching her expression shift.

“Nothing, it’s not worth mentioning,” She said dismissively, though she wouldn’t look at him.

“Tell me.”

She sighed, tilting her head in a begrudging way and refused to meet his eye, looking out over the field of flowers.

“Well,” She started slowly. “I had thought… I mean, I know Gargoyles don’t exactly find humans physically attractive. I thought, maybe… you didn’t think of me… in that…” She trailed off, visibly embarrassed.

It took a moment for Goliath to comprehend what she was saying. “Oh! No, Elisa, it isn’t like that at all. I have wanted to…” He struggled for wording that wouldn’t be vulgar. “To be with you in that way many times while we have been together.”

“Then why haven’t you?” She asked, looking at him. She was definitely upset.

“You must understand, to my kind, the act of making love is a promise in and of itself. To do so before now would not have been… appropriate.”

“So why not now?” Elisa asked him, her arms still folded. The ring he had given her noticeably glinting against the dark skin of her hand, drawing his eye.

He took her hand and held it in his, bending down to kiss her fingers. “Elisa, I love you,” He said gently. “To me, this is as miraculous a thing as seeing the sunrise with my own two eyes. After what Demona had done, after all the betrayals my clan had suffered by not only humans, but from my own kind, I had sworn that I would never trust or love again. You were the one to change that. The fact that you are human makes no difference; I desire to…” If a Gargoyle could blush, Elisa believed he might be. “To touch your body and lie with you and show you the depths of my longing.

“I wish to give you all that you desire and more, but I wish to do so the proper way. Though our methods may be different, both humans and Gargoyles set aside a time in which they make their pledge, after which they consummate the union. For my people, it is a private matter, but humans have a ceremony in which all the people they love gather to be a part of the celebration. As I understand it, the consummation takes place after the festivities have ended. ‘The wedding night,’ I believe it’s called. I want for you as normal a life as I am capable of providing. It is important to me that we observe the human ritual of marriage as well as we can, including the consummation ritual.”

Elisa had to laugh at that. “Honestly, Goliath, I hadn’t pegged you for the ‘saving myself for marriage’ type. But that part of the marriage is usually for people who are religious, and you and I both know neither of us are what you might call devout. In this day and age, it’s at most an optional aspect of the wedding.”

“Even so,” Goliath said, smiling. “I believe it is the right thing to do.”

Elisa sighed. She stood briefly and then settled in his lap, her arms around his neck. “You’re really going make me wait, aren’t you?”

Goliath returned her embrace. “I’m afraid so. But I promise you, it will be worth the wait.”

“It had better be,” She said dangerously, tracing his lips with her finger. He caught her hand and then kissed her again. She grumbled around the kiss but relented. He definitely wasn’t making it easy on her.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[thundercracer]

“Soft as Petals”

Fandom: Bandori/BanG Dream! Ship/Pairing: Ichigaya Arisa / Yamabuki Saya - Arisaya

Summary: Ichigaya Arisa wanted nothing to do with having a soulmate. It was rare. And more importantly; it was painful. So, when she starts vomiting flower petals from her lungs? She's clearly cursed. #hanahaki-disease, #soulmate-au

Available on AO3

Arisa felt cheated.

She'd read stories about worlds where soulmates simply shared pain or their names were magically shown on each other's wrists. Where someone saw in black and white until they met their soulmate. Hell, she’d even read about people who had timers on their skin, leading up to when they met their other half!

If only the world she lived in could be that easy.

No; soulmates were a cruel, difficult thing to have. They weren't super common as it were, but they existed. Not everyone had a soulmate. In fact, the vast majority of the population didn't.

Clinics existed for those who did and wanted to be rid of the problem. And many people did - many preferred to not find or love their soulmate as opposed to the sensation of vomiting flower petals every other hour on the daily. To rid themselves of the feeling of thorns in their throat.

It sounded much more romanticized and painless than it was. Who knew coughing up something as soft and pretty as flower petals tore up a person's esophagus and made them bleed? Movies made it out to be some beautiful thing and non soul-bonded folk hyped it up and fawned over the concept.

She stared into the toilet she had just hacked up into, glaring at the petals that hadn't quite made their way inside. As though they were mocking her.

Slightly curled white petals scattered about her, almost shaped like rose petals but not quite. Some of them - the most recent - were speckled with scarlet. Arisa smudged the blood dripping down her chin with the back of her hand as she glared at them with contempt.

Of course she had a soulmate.

Of course life couldn’t be easy for her. Arisa had learned early that life wasn’t an easy thing. Especially for her… Couldn’t catch a damn break, it seemed.

Arisa, of all people, wanted nothing to do with this whole soulmate thing. She’d never thought it was romantic or sweet, the way soulmates dealt with their issues. It was the worst! Most of the time soulmates didn’t even meet, since vomiting flowers wasn’t exactly a way to automatically know who your soulmate was! And most of the time people got them removed because they were disruptive and painful.

She rubbed at her throat, suddenly feeling tired and torn up.

She picked up a relatively clean petal and felt the velvety softness of it between the tips of her fingers. How odd, she thought, that something so soft and fragile could rip up my throat like that.

Kasumi and the others didn’t even know this had been going on. She wanted to keep it that way. She would rather not worry them. Especially if she was just going to get the damn buds removed in the end. Knowing them, they might even try to convince her to keep them.

They were all in a different class, anyway. It’s not like they knew how much she ran off during class to go puke flora. She greatly considered not going to school anymore, like she did before… the damn flowers only started showing up after she’d started attending again.

She was terrified that her soulmate was nearby.

The flowers didn’t start until a person met their soulmate face to face, after all.

What if it’s someone in Poppin’ Party?

She rarely allowed herself to follow that thought. Didn’t want to indulge herself in the ideas of one of her friends being her soulmate. It couldn’t be that easy. Yet… she couldn’t stop from imagining Saya’s bright, warm smile when she thought of who her soulmate could possibly be.

It didn’t make any sense though, as Saya didn’t seem to be having the same problems Arisa was having. In fact it seemed like Arisa was the only one in either class that even showed signs of having the disease.

So, instead, she opted to suffer in silence as more and more white petals fluttered from her lungs. She endured flurries of ivory as petals cascaded from her tired, ragged throat in a whirlwind; a storm. Alone and in relative silence.

Tae seemed to know something was up; she was much more observant than people gave her credit for. She seemed to just… know things, somehow. It was both odd yet endearing. But she’d been giving Arisa the side eye more and more frequently as her condition worsened.

The amount of times she’d been forced to excuse herself from their band practice sessions was increasing, she was loathe to admit. She was just glad she wasn’t the vocalist of the group! And while the others just worried she was overworking herself or getting sick, Tae seemed to be reserved with her concern.

“Arisa?” Tae voiced her thoughts one afternoon. The two of them were alone - a rare occurrence - as they waited on the others to arrive. “Are you hiding something from us?”

The girl in question grunted, trying not to let her surprise show through. She rubbed at her throat, not really thinking about it before waving off her bandmate.

“Nothing’s wrong, O-Tae. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried.” Tae’s face was stern, serious. More so than Arisa could remember it being. “And so are the others.”

“Geh…” Of course they’d been talking about it. There was no way they weren’t all concerned with her, after running off all the time. Probably didn’t help when she refused to comment on it, either. “It’s… not that big of a deal.”

Tae gave her a piercing look before allowing the conversation to deviate away from dangerous territory. Arisa just didn’t want the others to be weirded out with her… like she was some sort of diseased, condition-ridded freak.

She’d been looking into clinics that offered removal services… But she found herself hesitating every time she went to call to make an appointment. As much as she wanted to permanently rid herself of these accursed petals… she still found herself wanting that connection with someone. And thus she found herself exploring the idea of being in love. As if someone would want to be in love with a person like her.

Saya had been showing signs of weariness in the times following Arisa’s confrontation with Tae. She had unusual bags under her eyes and her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, the way they always did. The way they were supposed to.

The girl immediately confided in the band, taking comfort in the support and presence of her friends. The exact opposite of Arisa…

“I think I have a soulmate,” Saya admitted one late afternoon as everyone packed up instruments and wrapped up the evening.

Arisa felt her heart lurch towards her throat, feeling the itch that pricked her lungs every time she so much as glanced in Saya’s direction. She looked up at her, dismayed.

The others gathered around, chittering excitedly.

“Oooh!” Kasumi’s voice was bubbly and thrilled. “Do you know who they are? What flowers are you growing?”

Saya laughed lightly, a lovely sound, as she entertained Kasumi’s prodding questions. “I don’t know who they are… But I’ve been coughing up daisy petals for a few weeks now. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I needed to let you guys know.”

“How do you know they’re daisies?” Arisa found herself piping up, almost against her will. She ignored the itching at the back of her throat as Saya’s sky blue eyes met her gaze.

“Oh, that’s the easy part.” Saya offered a smile, though it seemed confused as she rubbed at her own neck. “There’s lots of sites with flower languages and soulmate flower identifiers and stuff like that.”

“Oh…” Arisa hadn’t ever thought of that… She wondered what her own white petals were and what they meant.

“Yeah,” Saya continued, “I guess daisies mean purity, innocence, and true love. It’s so cute! I really want to meet them…”

Arisa ignored Rimi and Kasumi squealing and cooing as she stared right at Saya. She felt the burbling of petals building in her chest, dying to be let free. Before she could think - before she could even consider rushing out - she found herself in a coughing fit.

The others were around her immediately as she curled in on herself, her face in the crook of her elbow as she fought against the flurry of pain that battered against her gullet. She couldn’t see the bewildered expressions the others had as she hacked up petal after alabaster petal.

Saya stared at her with open awe. She moved, resting to a stop in front of her. Arisa’s skin burned as Saya’s gentle yet calloused hand grasped her wrist.

“Arisa?”

She couldn’t answer - she couldn’t breathe - as her coughing fit only worsened with the searing touch of Saya’s skin against her own.

Hands cupped her cheeks as she was forced to look into Saya’s eyes. The other girl had begun coughing herself, a single white petal resting on the bottom of her lip. It was thinner, more narrow than Arisa’s own thick petals… Not curled, but just as white.

The other members of Poppin’ Party seemed glued to their spots, unsure of how to proceed.

“Arisa?” she heard Saya’s voice, low and gentle, murmur by her ear. She felt her heart jolt and clench at their proximity. “Do… I guess this is a silly question, but do you have a soulmate?”

Arisa tried her best to glare, not quite succeeding as her eyes were watery.

“Is it me?” Saya asked in a tone that was too hopeful for Arisa’s comfort. As though she’d love nothing more for that to be true. As though being Arisa’s soulmate was something so desirable. “Are these gardenias for me?”

“You even know these ones too?” Arisa managed to get out, her voice shaky and cracked. “How much time did you spend researching this shit?”

“Gardenias… ‘They symbolize purity and sweetness. They indicate secret love. They convey joy. They tell the receiver they are lovely’.”

Arisa felt her cheeks brighten considerably as she grumbled, “Didn’t even answer my question…”

Saya grinned at her, something smug and teasing. “Do you think I’m lovely, Arisa?”

And, in a moment of sudden boldness, Arisa said, “Who wouldn’t?”

It was rare to see Saya’s cheeks bloom with the colors of spring, but Arisa found herself being treated to it. What a lovely sight it was… Arisa felt the aching of her lungs fade with the warmth of love as she went to swipe at the tears that had sprung from the seas of Saya’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, dummy…” Arisa chided halfheartedly. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner…”

She squeaked in surprise as Saya wrapped her into her arms, slender yet strong. Saya was openly crying as she said, “You’re always trying to take everything on by yourself…” her voice warbling.

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“I love you,” Saya said, as though they were the only ones in the room.

Arisa felt the thorns in her throat, in her lungs, wither in her chest as she was brought into a kiss as soft as petals.

[thecultoffilm-blog]

IT (2017) Review.

I had been excited for the new adaptation of IT since I first saw that iconic picture of Pennywise, grinning creepily with pleasure and contempt. I couldnt wait for it. When the first trailers dropped it got me even more hyped and excited to see what Muschietti would bring to the table, as I was unimpressed with the miniseries. Today I saw IT, and have to say am fairly underwhelmed by it. What I hoped would be a thrilling, scary and atmospheric horror film was an oddly edited, cliche and predictable film. Over this review I will be talking about what works, what doesnt, what I loved and what I hated and finally, an overall score out of 10. Please remember this is all opinionated and very personal, rather than a group opinion. What I loved: Personally the best part of the film for me was the losers club. Not only were all very well performed and gave off a very real and serious vibe, the children acted like children, a rare occurrence in many modern films. The kids throughout this movie are swearing, making your mum jokes and mentioning dick size, like a kid would. Muschietti really nailed this side of the spectrum and due to the great performances by all the children and realistic and relatable behaviour, I found myself really enjoying the club, far more than I thought I would. Another thing I thoroughly enjoyed was the coming of age theme throughout. I really liked this and thought it really added to the story. In a way Pennywise could be a metaphor for all the problems and hard times these kids are facing, and them dealing with him is them working together to beat their daily problems. It may seem stereotypical but I thought it was sweet to see the club grow and learn in such a small amount of time, all of them facing their fears and issues (some more literally than others) Im glad the story wasnt just, "oh look, there's an evil clown who is hurting people, let's go beat him up," as for me this would have made the film flat and uninteresting. I'm very glad it was included and felt it really added to the film. Pennywise is a weird one. I thought he worked at points but at others I just hated him. Saying that, he definitely had far more good scenes than bad but I still just felt unimpressed at his character. It wasn't even Bill's fault, it was just the look and feel to him in general. Again, sometimes he was incredible but sometimes he felt to comedic and cartoon like. Overall though, he was a very strong character and I did enjoy when he was on screen (most of the time) The cinematography in this film in my personal opinion was beautiful. So many scenes were shot so well. Muschietti made sure to use locations and places to their full effect and it shows. The shots used also fit in with the scene. For example when outside in the day the shots were wide and vast, showing off the beauty of Derry or the quarry. However when inside a location it felt claustrophobic and cramped, adding to the intensity and fear of the scene. The lighting was also on point. When in a dark room it felt eerie and as an audience member I felt blind but at the same time little details and important features were clear and visible. When outside the lighting felt very true to life without blinding you of course. Both lighting and the cinematography were very well done and should be applauded. The sound design in the film really sold it for me. Most of my fear produced actually came from the sound rather than whatever else was going on. One scene which I will never forget is Pennywise exiting the cupboard. It really did chill me. But the main reason for doing so is him tapping his long, gloved fingers on the side of the box. It was genuinelly terrifying. The sound was perfectly managed, sounds in the foreground were loud and violent whilst little ones in the back were small and hard to pick up, but the amount it added to the atmosphere was great. I'm very glad the sound was well done and pin pointed in just the right settings and times as it really added to the film for me anyway. What I didn't like: To me, the jumpscares in this film were terrible. I hoped to every possible god that all the jumpscares would be fair and needed. Alas, this is not the case. Thankfully, IT didn't stoop to the level of the classic "it's just a ....." jumpscare but far to mamy were predictable and dull. There were pointless loud noises and violins squealing at me from the screen and a lot of the scares were cheap and commonly used in Hollywood films. There were probably 7 scares which I predicted and out of all of them in total, only a few made me jump. Which isn't great. One thing that really annoyed me was Georgie's walkie talkie screeching whenever he ran by. Stuff like that is what ruined this film. Yes, it is better than a loud bang or smash, but still. I could do better and I've never made a film. It really did upset me as I do love a good jumpscare, but there were very few to be found. As much as I did love them, the kids in the film made such stupid and contradictory decisions. It really got to me. They would constantly wonder off by themselves after all being told not to and it was so annoying to watch. Even Bill, who said to them all countless times to stick together decides to walk away from the group. You could argue that this is Pennywise luring them away with his powers but I personally believe it's a dull way to create another cheap scare. Another thing they all do is the classic, "let me go in this dark room, nothing could go wrong" This is just so pathetic. For example the library scene with Ben. No one would ever follow those eggs and go down there. It felt wrong and fake, exactly the opposite of what this film wanted and was meant to be. I do see why it was needed, but there were far better ways to lure the characters. Pennywise, as mentioned above, did work. But there were so many instances where he didn't. And what does it all come down to? CGI. What ruined him for me was the large amount of CGI that went into the film. I understand that it's nessecary and in some ways it did help, but it sucked any amount of realism out of the film. What does this result in? A lack of tension and fear. For me, the more realistic, the more scary. That's why for me, The Strangers is the scariest horror of all times. It was so real and plausible that it made it far more intimidating simply due to how it was handled and filmed. No CGI, no demons or ghosts. Just 3 insane people trying to murder a couple. It sounds basic but it is so much more scary than IT. For example, the garage scene was so poorly created it nearly made me laugh at how conical Pennywise looked. It just didn't work for me. I do understand it's hard to create a film like this without using it, but I believe that more practical effects could and should have been used. Even if that had meant making it less extravagant. One thing I enjoyed about the miniseries is that it seemed more real because there was no (or very little) special effects or features. This made it feel more real, and in turn, added to the danger and intensity. I wish this interpretation had done the same. The editing was so odd in this film. It went from happy to sad to scary in seconds. It felt misguided and oddly created. A good example is the basement scene. It goes from Pennywise screaming and trying to kill Bill to Bev sat on a staircase in the sun, content and happy. This breaks the tension with ease. Whats even weirder is that it never show the aftermath of the scene, Bill's reaction or thoughts are never shown, it just stops. It's almost like a scene was cut. It felt wrong and misplaced. I understand in some aspects why what was done but still, it felt so strange. Many scenes felt cut and half completed, some seem to short and others to long. The best word for it would have to be inconsistent. I really enjoyed some of the editing, but disliked others. The kiss scene. Is dreadful. This is not a fairy tale world. This is a world where a young boy has his arm ripped off and is pulled into a sewer. Magical kisses do not tie in well with that sort of theme. This infruriated me. Genuinelly. I don't understand. It wasn't to develop character or even a relationship, it wasn't to advance the plot, it didn't add anything to the story. It took away from it. What seemed so real was whisked away in seconds. Was it meant to show that the underdog can always succeed or help others? I for one, am clueless. It really did disappoint me. Am I supposed to believe that a kiss from a random boy can wake up a girl who has been affected by the deadlights? It was so random and wrong. It felt like it had been ripped straight from Disney and plonked straight into the film to add to it's character and charm. It didn't work. At all. And it really did spoil the film. It was cheesy, unasked for and laughable. I still can't think of any reason for including it. My final complaint is the end scene. The final fight. For a start, I'm glad it wasn't long and drawn out over 20 minutes. It would have become boring. But it felt so odd. How Pennywise just collapsed to the floor and started to deteriorate. Again, the end scene reminded me heavily of a Disney film. "We beat you out of love and teamwork." That sort of thing. I understand what they were going for, and it was a sweet ending but it felt wrong to put it in a film like this. What happened to the battery acid? That was great and it made sense. But instead we get the classic fall to his "death" scene. I'm glad they all conquered their fears and I'm glad that they could beat their common enemy but it could have been made far less lovey dovey in my personal opinion. I get that it was to make the audience feel and perhaps even relate but to me this fell very flat. Another issue regarding the scene is Bev. I do understand that sexual abuse must be a horrifying thing do deal with but the fact that Pennywise didn't scare her is dumb. He is the true manifestation of any fear, a monster, a beast. Yet she isn't afraid? Again I know that the whole overcoming her fear had to be included but it was fairly annoying to see that she wasn't bothered even in the slightest. It may seem like nitpicking, but I cared about the film a lot and some bits and pieces made little sense to me, regardless of what the general public say. Overall: IT is not a bad film. It's not incredible, but far from bad. It had it's scary moments and ideas and the film is certainly not for the weak hearted. Themes and ideas are shoehorned in nicely and darker topics are presented in a careful and appealing light. Performances all round are great from everyone, especially the losers club. Pennywise is an intimidating villain throughout and never fails to either disturb or creep you out. It does have it's flaws, but as does any film, and it is impossible to say that IT is not an entertaining film. Even if I wouldn't class it as a true horror it is very amusing and fun to watch in pretty much any situation and I would recommend it if you're ever bored or have nothing to do. Unfortunately I didn't feel it lived up to it's hype but hopefully chapter 2 may be able to improve and evolve from that. I didn't watch the film I was expecting and hoping to see, but it did work and it did achieve it's goal; to entertain, and entertain it did. Overall score: 6/10 Best shot?: The best shot of this film for me is when Georgie attempts to crawl away from Pennywise, his arm bleeding and him crying. IT's inhumanely long arm appears from the drain and we know it's all over for poor little Georgie. So harrowing, but so good.

[cyanidekissesxoxo]

Part 2

So to begin with my frustration and head noise, I need to start with things I've already worked through and rationalized...

Starting off Sunday the 7th with hearing what sounded like the FaceBook heart bubbles pop up on SO's phone across the room, and then paying attention to see if any of his text noises (was texting coworkers about work schedule) or possibly other noises sounded like it, which I hadn't noticed before. The sound didnt go off again. Realized I don't pay any attention to anything that he does on his phone, ever, which is fine - dont really need to be any level of up in anyone's business if everything is cool. But also realized how it would seem odd if I tried to glimpse now and then to see what was up because I was uneasy, because we generally sit in our own spaces, and then realized I should probably step up trying to be closer/more cuddly more. So, I started implementing it then (because if you just plan to do something later, you realistically dont and nothing changes) and trying to be more communicative because he seemed mildly frustrated that night too, due to various things I knew that hadn't super brightened his mood understandably.

However, he set his phone down and turned the screen off when I came to sit by him, after just being on it before. He seemed fidgety and weird, and would pick it up occasionally, turn it on, look at FB for a second or scroll through YouTube for a second before setting it down again. If I got up to do something for a few minutes, hed pick it up and be on it consistently and fluidly again. Sit down, phone off, fidget. After I snuggled up and settled into reading a manga, he finally settled into watching YouTube videos (with volume on), which hadn't been the scenario before. So, I settled down and let him watch his video and show me different stuff about painting models which is a big thing hes into, and made a point to interact back.

But something kept nagging, so I did some investigating the next day to put my mind at ease, and discovered a new subscription to a new porn website and a payment of $20 made on the 7th (day after the gender reveal party too!) on top of the various searches of the regular porn stars that there are private saved galleries of masses of pictures of each one, which I never addressed my discomfort of and feeling that it's different than randomly looking up/at random, varied videos, and had previously half heartedly just tried to write it off and ignore it as something I felt stronger than I needed to or should; who am I to know if that focus on specific naked women and such galleries are a common occurrence?...

Anyway, in the moment, self esteem plummets, anger builds - I'm upset thinking "Didn't we already address spending money to see other bitches naked when you dont have enough money from paycheck to paycheck and have to borrow money?"... quick flashes of feeling lied to and not good enough, about an issue that had already been discussed between us and I thought an understanding and respect for my feelings about it reached, and that it wouldn't happen again...

After debating on several possible angry or retaliatory responses (including taking anonymous sexy pictures and selling them as well, tit for tat, and the possibility of making someone feel bad, I started trying to think on a different level, and in a different light. That this was his treating himself after his paycheck to something that made him happy apparently, and aside from the regular purchases of cigarettes and monster, I understand theres probably not a lot of self-treating, and even on an extremely tight budget, I guess its healthy to spend some money to make oneself happy once in a while, and maybe instead of either addressing it and receiving another promise of change (whether I wanted or expected it), or just burying it and letting it stew and bother me and have the unaddressed/unresolved upset offer a manner of coping solutions which would probably range from useless to rash and damaging to the relationship (including the brief perhaps I could instead focus inwards and try to figure out why this all bothered me so much and so consistently, and try addressing that.

So, I mused. The multitude of hundreds of saved videos/pictures of a small group of the same girls bothered me because it felt more like cheating - "I want to consistently see this female naked, and will follow for updates and new stuff over a long time period and several websites" - than just clicking on random videos when the mood strikes does, which it never has to me if it's not excessive... and made me feel inadequate and similar to as when I found out i wasnt the only girl a guy was messaging (which in such situations in the past, I either played games or just dipped out with little explanation).. the money spent on it bothered me for the additional fact that we're both struggling and I personally dont spend money on frivolous things for myself.

After coming to this conclusion, I realized the best thing I could do was to work on myself, understanding that I don't feel as pretty and capable and confident as I used to years ago, before I stopped doing my regular and intricate make-up and quit modeling - for multiple reasons, including pacifying and reassuring jealous exes and stopping all the unwanted guys from hitting on me (which is definitely not a goal to have again... it's annoying, being treated like meat or arm candy all the time), as well as becoming more tired as I threw myself more into work. Loving myself and being proud of myself is something I've been needing to do, beyond just trying to be able to rationally evaluate if my level of being bothered by these situations was simply based out of inadequacy and the need for someone else to make me feel like *enough* because I didnt on my own... but I also understand that you cant force or expect people to do things or not do things based on your own insecurities; if that is the reason why, it will only serve to cause more issues and push them away.

So, to work on myself... I went and bought an amazing smelling body spray from Bath & Body Works, and let myself know it was okay to take a small amount of a recent paycheck to treat oneself for one's happiness. On the way out, I even cheerfully declined the booth salespeople trying to rope me into their booth to buy things, with an assertive and cheerful, "No thank you! I'm on a time schedule, but have a lovely night!" and a big smile, where normally I would have sunk into my familiar social discomfort, spluttered "No thanks!" out awkwardly and scurried away... which brings me to another resolution I had:

To improve my outlook on things and my interactions with people. If I'm uncomfortable and upset, it continually affects me, and assumably those around me. For a healthy mind, happiness must be practiced in all situations.

My third awareness to address was my anxiety with waking up and communicating over the phone (text, message, calls) with people in an orderly time. Alarm set consistently every day, and incoming contacts replied to immediately or as soon after as possible, which I started that day as well.

Final adjustment was settling back into at least a basic beauty routine to start - hair straightened and not just thrown in a bun (I dont feel pretty with my hair pulled up anyway in most styles), and just foundation to start, which has been feeling good. Next paycheck, a small portion to get my hair cut and colored to something that makes me feel like I'm taking care of myself and pretty, and then working towards eyeliner and mascara. Waking up earlier consistently, this is feasible, and definitely makes a difference. Changed FB pictures to those that are more relevant to my current hair color, and that remind me of how good I'm capable of feeling about myself, without being too "sexy", as S/O has already been immensely uncomfortable with the self-adjustments I've made simply out of understanding what I need to do to have more self love, while I ensure nothing I do comes from a place of making anyone uncomfortable, untrusting, or jealous, which would not do the situation or my self healing any good, and is not the purpose.

So far, without outside stressors or challenges, I've been feeling good about these changes. I've spent a good portion of the night engrossed in finishing this, so I will finish tomorrow with the issues that have come up, and work through how I do and should feel about them.

[anothergirlrecovering]

Lynn 35

I sat down on Lynn’s couch and stretched my arms. Lynn pointed out that I looked really tired and asked if I was sleeping OK. I jokingly said thanks Lynn I’m not tired but I appreciate the feedback. She laughed and said that it just looked like I was tired and she didn’t mean anything by it, to which I explained that I had food poisoning him yesterday. I didn’t feel like telling her that it was actually a stomach bug just because I figured that would indicate that I was contagious and I didn’t want her to be mad about me coming even though realistically I know that I don’t know whether or not it was food poisoning or a stomach virus. She asked me what had happened and I explained that my husband and I had hibachi the night before and he had gotten sick right away and I didn’t and I had thought he had gotten sick from over eating and I ended up eating ice cream after which I’m allergic to and that I woke up that morning really sick to my stomach. I told her that I was feeling better today and had actually called out sick this morning just so that I could sleep in and said that it was self-care. She said good for me I’m using that good self-care.

She asked how my week was, and I said that it was hitter mess because I have been sick all of yesterday but that The other days have been OK. I told her that I have been really frustrated with feeling that people notice how anxious I am, and I explained have a little boy that I work with had pointed out that he had drawn someone biting their nails because they were nervous like I am. I explained that I have tried everything to stop biting my nails, and that all growing up my parents always yelled at me and tried the bite no more nail polish and tried the hot sauce and nothing ever worked. I explained that I think my nailbiting is more of an OCD pattern then an anxiety thing because I bite my nails all the time, not even just when I’m anxious. She talked about using the detour EMD our technique or something like that after we have finished processing all the other stuff just to deal with the residual anxiety that’s coming out in my nailbiting. She talked about how OCD is difficult to treat and that she had learned more about that type of EMD ER during a specific training on OCD and that she would be willing to try it with me. She said how OCD is very difficult to treat in general and she wasn’t sure whether or not I had found anything that really works for it. I laughed and said that it would be a good challenge for her, and she agreed that I would definitely be a challenge but that we could absolutely go there. She pointed out that she wouldn’t have viewed me as being super anxious, though she knows that I obviously struggle with a lot of internal anxiety. She laughed and said I’m definitely not the most anxious client she has ever worked with and I jokingly said thanks Lynn. She compared it to another client of hers that was so anxious that they couldn’t pick up their kids from school and they figured out that if they took a special item with them then they weren’t as anxious but that this mother really struggled with driving in with getting her kid in that for a long time they really struggle to figure out where that anxiety was coming from but it was affecting her day-to-day functioning. I agreed that I was definitely glad that while I am a very anxious person, it doesn’t stop me from doing normal every day things that I need to do.

I told her about my trip to Ohio, i’m home my husband have been super validating when I was freaking out and crying in the airport. I explained how it seems like he is really trying and has been doing really awesome at validating me lately and I’m not really sure why. She pointed out that something must be working. And I told her how Sandy and I have been able to have a conversation in the car and that Sandy is not mad at me and hasn’t been. I told her about how we were able to talk about how we are both adults and much more mature now and that neither of us were really good at communicating about our feelings back in college and that we both struggled to talk about when things were going wrong. I explained how Sandy had said that she realized that she has been terrible with keeping in touch with people and that she didn’t really deal with her parents being crazy very well. I told her that I was really glad the bridal shower had gone over so well and then I had really clicked with autumn. I told her about the bachelorette party and how I had really felt like my mommy problems were coming out and that I was being clingy and meaty about autumn. She explained that she thinks that while that may have been my perspective, autumn probably did not think that at all. She explained that realistically autumn probably just saw it as we were all drinking and when people drink their inhibitions are lowered and they usually get more friendly and you were just a drunk person saying that you were glad to have met and wanted to be friends and drunk people say things like that and it’s not weird. She pointed out that me thinking that was my mommy issues was an echo from the past and that she thinks the more I begin to have adult experiences or I can look back and recognize that they are normal and not something that I making it out to be, it will help me to let go of some of that echo from the past. I mention that on a similar sidenote I have a hard time in general feeling like I’m an adult and I mentioned that Dixie had asked me to lead the recovery group and then I had written back and ask if she had meant to text me because I thought surely I’m not qualified or competent to lead the group even though I know it’s really not a big deal.

I told her about how the bachelorette party had gone, which was where the mommy issues came up with autumn, and how she had been so kind to me about me being anxious during that game. I told her about how I had ended up drinking more different types of alcohol that I had really planned for and that I think that was why I got so sick. I explained that I had woken up and asked the group if anyone else had a headache and then I was the only one with a headache and then I had to eat Lucky charms for breakfast and while that wasnt ideal I had thought it would be OK but when I got upstairs I had that wave of nausea head and I knew I was going to be sick. She pointed out that sometimes eating actually makes you feel a lot better, to which I said I didn’t think Lucky charms was my best option. She laughed and said it definitely would not have been her first choice but that I should’ve gone with a greasy burger because that’s what always works for her LOL and that shots will definitely make you sick and she thinks that was the culprit. I explained that when I researched it that the whole greasy food things is just a myth and she laughed and said it always works for her because it absorbs the alcohol, to which I explained that eating greasy foods can help absorb the alcohol if you eat the greasy foods while drinking, but if you’ve already slept on it the alcohol has already been absorbed so the greasy food doesn’t do anything for you and can make you feel more sick. She said whatever the case greasy foods like Burgers always makes me feel better and I laughed and said that my husband’s favorite hangover food is Chick-fil-A and he swears by it. She said she could see were Chick-fil-A would also work but that I should’ve tried something greasy LOL. I explained that greasy food on a sober stomach usually makes me sick but whatever the case I had Lucky charms and I ended up sitting on the bathroom floor in the hotel lobby crying and feeling anxious because even though I know the intention behind making myself throw up because I’m feeling sick is very different than making myself throw up to avoid my motions, it is still the same action. I explained that I was really afraid that I’ll be triggered positively in wanting to start doing it again and that I would feel that good release emotionally from doing it. I told her that I had texted my husband and also texted the group of girls I have been in treatment with that that nobody was awake or answered and so I ultimately made the decision on my own and decided to do it and thankfully wasn’t sure going in the moment because throwing up Lucky charms when you’re hung over is not nearly as good of a time as when you are purging a bowl of ice cream because you’re sad. She seemed to understand where the anxiety was coming from and said that it sounded like I had a really good weekend and that I handled it all really well. She pointed out that it was good that I didn’t really know what to do because that says that this is in a common occurrence for me, and I was like yeah I know ever since that one time in college or I drink almost 2 L worth of red wine and got so sick and was puking all over myself and all over the couch and all over the floor and drove to work tipsy and with puke in my hair and threw up all over the work sink and had to go home, I have watched my limits LOL.

She asked me where I wanted to start working this week and I said I wasn’t sure, but that the biggest thing that has bothered me was just that feeling of me being clingy and needy with autumn. She pointed out that again it was a totally normal experience and that it wasn’t like I was continuing to think about her all the time and trying to plan a way for me to move out there and go visit her all the time and continue to talk to her all the time. I laughed and said I’m not crazy like that, and she said exactly exactly so notice that you’re not crazy and you’re not trying to do anything like that. I said I guess she was right but that overwhelming feeling of I’m too needy has been bothering me. She said we would go with that and she handed me the tappers. Before actually starting she said that she had a frozen shoulder and so if she is moving slowly or weird that’s why. I told her she could try acupuncture if it doesn’t improve and she said she has thought about it and we’ll see how physical therapy goes..

I noticed that I just feel so clingy and needy and that when I was younger I hadn’t realized how clean and needy I was being and it was more like I looked back and realized that my cleaning behavior was what drove people away and that now I’m sort of taking this opposite approach where I’m so fearful of intimacy and connection and I guess realistically it feels like a control thing because I keep everyone at arms length and leave so that they can’t leave me. I noticed that it feels like being a little kid with attachment issues are and I’ll hurt you before you hurt me in that I guess I’ve kind of swung from this opposite pendulum of being overly clingy and desperate for attention to being fearful and running when people get close. I pointed out that my friend from work Andrea and I were getting close and then she got a boyfriend and I panicked and I stop talking to her because I was afraid that she was going to talk to me less because should be talking to him more and I know that that’s crazy and not helpful but it happened. I noticed that when I was younger I was very controlling and a lot of my relationships and I remembered how controlling I was over my best friend Michelle and that it was so controlling to the point where if we got into a fight or something I would never apologize first and I would wait until she came back groveling and crying and apologizing to me and how there was one time where we had a fight about the fact that she took a piece of gum from my bedroom without asking and that we used to kind of joke about how I had completely lost my shit about the stupid piece of gum but I think now I can look back and see why taking a piece of my gum made me lose my shit because of my issues with food. I noticed that when I came to relationships with people that I wanted to care about me, I had no sense of control and I did the only thing I knew how to which was become really clingy and try to be like a teachers pet and do whatever I could to make them like me. I noticed that I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t really had those desperately behaviors with my mom but that I had it with other people and I remember wanting other women to spend time with me like Michelle’s mom. I noticed that maybe it was because I’ve always known that my mom didn’t really want to spend time with me and then I always felt like I was doing something wrong, like I remembered when I had laid my Head on my mom’s lap while we were watching TV and she pushed me away and said it was too hot but then she picked up my brother who is just a toddler and cuddled with him which would’ve been just as warm if not warmer, and then I remember her being live in when I had put my brother in the dog cage which when I think about it now he was probably like five and he wasn’t crying or freaking out but that she had ripped me apart. When pointed out that it seemed like just normal kid behavior and then I have probably thought it was funny in that little kids do things like that. I noticed that I was kind of fresh as a kid and I told her about how when my dad went to spank me I had told him that kids at school said they hated their parents and right now I was one of them and how I had told my brother that I didn’t love him and he started crying after I have embarrassed him at the Home Depot in town when my mom went to spank me I remember telling her that it didn’t even hurt and of course she spent me again until it hurt and then I remember when she would make me write sentences and I remember sitting there and thinking that I actually really liked sentences and she was stupid for that and now I realize that’s probably more of that OCD repetitious type of thinking because I love any sort of mindless repetitive task even now, and I said I wasn’t sure why all of that was coming up. She said to be curious and just notice and I pointed out that maybe it was because part of me realizes that maybe I wasn’t as bad of a kid as they make me out to be and that realistically when I look back I really didn’t do anything all that bad because my report cards always said that I talked to much in class but it wasn’t anything extreme and really the worst thing that I did was that I had forged my moms name on a signature because I wanted to get an ice cream party for turning in all of my assignments for the month but that I had always tried so hard and I would always forget things and get holes punched in my card and the one month when I had finally did it, he said the only thing he needed from us was our signed agenda books and I had forge my mom signature because I was so desperate to get the ice cream party, which again throws the food issue into things. She told me to just noticed that, that I wasn’t as bad of a kid as they made me out to be. I noticed that maybe if they had disciplined me differently, then I would’ve behaved differently. She pointed out that there was always that power struggle that they were engaging in, which as a therapist I know now only further creates a power struggle. I pointed out that not only was it the power struggle as much as it was just always sending me off to my room to deal with things on my own. She pointed out that with the power struggle came me trying to fight back against them and to notice that I don’t have to fight anymore. I noticed that when I tried fighting and didn’t have a voice eventually there came a point when I wasn’t able to keep fighting and eventually I started fighting against myself in 12th grade. Then I noticed that I didn’t really start fighting myself and 12 grade, but it was in college when I remember going to the bathroom and being so so angry at myself for gaining weight my first semester and this was before my parents had even sent anything to me about my weight gain but that I have been so angry at myself for gaining weight even though I know that at 5 foot nine, 149 pounds is not fat, it felt that way at the time and I remember carving the word fat on to my stomach with a razor. I noticed that that was the point when I started to turn on myself and that before that I was more angry that I couldn’t do anything and I still felt really sad that I was hurting myself because I remember when James had written on the whiteboard that he wished his lawn was emo so it would cut itself and I remember when Jaden had jokingly, in Bible class asked if I needed to see a counselor and that I knew that everyone was just kidding because nobody really thought I had sincerely cut my wrist because they all believed the lie that I had done it on the fence at softball but that I remember feeling really sad that I was hurting myself at the time and not nearly as angry at myself as much as I was just really sad that it was the only way I knew to feel better. She asked me to notice that I’m an adult and then I don’t have to fight against my parents anymore, and I noticed that it wasn’t really fighting against them anyway because I don’t keep in touch with them enough to deal with them but that it was a fight against the things that I can’t control like how my student loans the other day charged me $800 and it was an error on their part and that the old me would have lost my fucking mind and purged but me right now just went on with my day and call the loan company and then went to the bank and had it corrected. She pointed out to notice that I don’t have to keep fighting it and with my parents to notice why I don’t have to keep fighting them and their comments about my weight or the food I eat, and I was honestly surprised because the thought that popped into my head was that I don’t have to fight against my parents anymore because I’m not fat right now and there’s a part of me that feels like if I was fat I would have to fight it and then I don’t know that I would be OK with gaining weight and that realistically I know that I weighed myself this morning after the food poisoning and saw that I had lost 3 pounds and I liked that I felt skinny even though I know that’s not a good thing and I’m not going to do anything about it and I’m not going to try to keep the weight off or lose anymore and I’m not going to start obsessively weighing myself or anything crazy, but I do have a hard time with weight gain and all of that. We were at a good stopping place, so we stopped there. She said that it was good work and we would continue that work next time but that she sees that I making so much progress in all of these connections. I asked her if she thinks it’s harder to work with people who don’t have such explicit traumas but have more of an absence of things like neglect, and she said she feels like it’s hard to answer because everyone is so different but that in general it is a little bit harder because you’re sort of always looking for a moving target that is hard to find and so you end up switching around and always looking for what the route is whereas if you know the very specific explicit trauma it’s a little bit easier to directly process it but even then, she was like you know it’s not gonna go away in those 6 to 9 sessions like they make it sound in the training. I pointed out that I think maybe the 6 to 9 sessions is a good indicator as far as alleviating the actual PTSD response but not those longer-term negative cognitions, which she said she could agree with. We scheduled for next week, and I paid her. She said maybe by next time she will be able to move her shoulder more freely and I jokingly said if she’s just doing physical therapy I kind of doubt it but I hope so for her sake and she laughed and said thanks and I said I was just trying to be honest because physical therapy is a slow process but I hope she feels better. She said it has been such a pain because they have switched insurances with her husband’s job and now they have to reach a high deductible so they are transitioning to the idea of having to pay out-of-pocket for everything until they hit that high deductible and she has been having to re-budget and sort of acknowledge that she needs to put her self first because normally she likes to put the kids first and hold off and wait for it to go away but she realized it’s not going to go away and she has realize she has become very grouchy with everybody in herhouse so she is going to finally do something about it and do physical therapy.

[diythelifeyoucrave]

Is MLK being pushed out of public consciousness?

Growing up the annual occurrence of Martin Luther King Day was a day about many things both good and bad. It was something i think that has always stuck with me because i remember when it became a holiday, something that did not exist in my first 6 years of life, and when it became a holiday it wasn’t just a celebration of Martin Luther King Jr., it was a celebration of every black person in America (at least to black and brown people of the country). It was this deep sigh, not only for the man, but for us all, because it it meant here was a point in time, an annual day to really look at who we all were, where we stood, and where our lives had come, because of this man. But in celebrating this man we celebrated everyone, black and brown, because they too lived the struggle, hate, jails, dogs, jim crow, death, but also the solidarity and pride. 

For years after MLK Jr. day as a holiday it was a day I spent watching PBS. Maybe the only day i ever really watched PBS after sesame street was no longer a part of my life. But on that day i eagerly watched PBS...ALL DAY LONG. I watched documentary after documentary about the civil rights movement, I watched with my parents until at times i could see their discomfort from re-living emotions of the past cause them to leave the room, but i continued to watch on. Thinking about my grandparents, relatives i never knew, and even strangers in pictures and horrifying video and feeling kindred to them. At a certain point that kindred sensibility gave way to the reality that we were kindred not only in skin color but that while the outward brutality and vile words/names were no longer so easily hurled in public, it remained hard even for me as a 7 year old to say that things were drastically different. For much of that time and into my teens i anticipated MLK Jr. not so much because i wanted to feel the uncomfortability of watching “Eyes on the Prize” again but because i needed to know if it felt something different year after year about how i felt about race, race in america, and in some ways about my own race. 

For a long period of time growing up especially in the late 80s race only seemed to be a subject of conversation around issues of poverty, drugs, music, and gangs. Needless to say those conversations were never cultural highlights but rather felt like “i told you so” conversations by white society. For an entire decade it felt like the only celebrated black people in the United States were Michael Jackson, Michael Jordan, Bill Cosby, and every 4 years the USA Track and Field team at the summer olympics. The 90s brought about a decade where pop culture began to bring people into a closer proximity, but nonetheless the early part of the 90s left me with more dark memories about race than anything that made me feel like a corner had been turned, especially after Rodney King and the OJ murder trial. But i must admit somewhere around the late 90′s i could say that i began to feel something different, something more real about Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream..i began to feel like maybe it wasnt just the dream of black and brown people, but increasingly might be part of the dream of people collectively. Sure it had its setbacks, and personal experiences soured my hope more than i would like to admit, but it felt less and less like a great speech by a great man who dared to dream and was killed for the audacity to say that his people mattered. That a nation built upon our backs should rightfully be a place that we too can dream. 

2008 brought forth Barack Hussein Obama II. If i think about it long enough just remembering the night he was elected will still bring me to tears. They are happy tears, tears i will share with my children someday, knowing my daughter will wipe them away and ask me why i am crying and i can tell her my experience, one i hope will embolden her to know that much more the pride and hope i have for her. Barack Obama for my generation, who have really put thought into it,  is this countries second act of the Civil Rights Movement in a way. Not because the first act of the civil rights movement had finally succeeded or is over, far from it, but because while the first made great strides in creating laws and erasing many others, the movement of Barack Obama secondarily opened up what the first had hidden away, people hearts and true attitudes towards race. The civil rights movement of the 1960′s for (me paved) the way for equality on paper, written laws, a discussion about what the laws could mean for POC’s, but the time of Barack Obama was about the sentiment that people held about that equality. In the 1960′s the segregation ,names, vitriol and condemnation were rampant, but was strengthened by a history that told white people it was right and that something was being taken from them...it was in its simplest form...how it had always been...it was the culture of the United States. Not sure how acknowledging the dignity of another human being takes away from another except to expose insecurities but so be it, your presumed wounds are for you to address. But the advent of Barack Obama as president begged the question would people really live a life that spoke to equality/opportunity/celebration of all race and would people accept that culture no longer celebrated only who they saw in the mirror. Laws existed but would men and women live by them, would they subvert them, or again would they find a way to challenge that black and brown people were not deserving of the same protection of law. Not long after his election it became clear that little had changed in the hearts of America, and while those that were exposed tried in earnest to call it something else the reality was clear. It wasn’t that Obama was black, it was that he was a man with a muslim sounding name, it wasn’t that he was black it that he wasn’t an american, it was every argument possible to say that we don’t accept a black man to be our leader. Which brings me to now and our current president, a man who in his life has never acknowledged people of color unless it played to his own ego of himself,  or any persons of color on their individual merit, who is back to men and women being judged first about color than about content, character or creed. A man who says a mexican-american judge is first and foremost just his race and not a man of knowledge of the law and/or with no conviction to his own intelligence and being, who cannot accept that the island of Puerto Rico, full of its own rich traditions and people are just as much American simply because they don’t look like him and must be part of the others. A man who can walk into the inner city and call it hell without any sense that what he perceives as hell for all its fault is still to many...home, with its own sense of culture and pride and much of that built upon people who tried to keep it from being “hell” when government policies and policing did everything to let it become “hell” so long as it was away from the heaven that spoke to the suburbs and white flight.

Getting back to my point...Martin Luther King Jr. day was an odd day for me...throughout the day, despite my efforts i only saw one documentary about the civil rights struggle, and it wasnt even on PBS. The president sent out a bullshit tweet and went to his golf course, surrounded by those that looked like him, in a place that looks eerily like a plantation. Martin Luther King Jr. , the civil rights movement and all those that were part of it, big and small mean nothing to him, because his conviction is to maintaining statues of confederate generals, and “good people” (with racist hearts). It makes me wonder has the country gotten so caught up that it cannot bother to slow down and take a long look at where we once were and truly are again not so far from? Have we moved on from teaching children that there is something still very poignant to be learned from what their grandparents knew and lived and what many seem indignant about bringing back. The man who declares himself the least racist person we all have ever met, seemingly does nothing but pick at race, each time with a new way to call his racism something else and we must stay woke, not just to the issues and crosstalk of the time but of the past that remains with us. 

Donald J. Trump was born in 1946, at the height of the civil rights movement he was a teenager, full of ideals formed by his parents, a culture of wealth, and a pervasive culture of racial inequality. You can never tell me that he never called a black man a nigger..ever. I don’t know it, i cannot prove it, but what i have ever seen of him tells me it rolls off his tongue as easy as big mac does. In the end, I don’t want to ever see MLK Jr., Malcolm X, James Baldwin, and tireless others ever be forgotten because they still speak to us all, now its in the listening.

[viralhottopics]

Why You Should Stop Reading Self-Help Books

In 2006 Rhonda Byrne published ‘, a book that sold the power of positive thinking as the cure to the woes of the modern world. That book went on to sell more than 19 million copies in 46 different translations and define an entire genre of books, DVD’s, and workshops that make up the world up of self-help.

Byrne wasnt the first person to publish a self-help book. She wasnt even the first in 2006. The self-help world had been alive for over a century and had been a billion dollar industry for over a decade. But that book became the figurehead for a genre of books and products that have become one of those most profitable and predatory industries in the world.

These books are always full of the same old buzzwords and worn out phrases like living in your authentic self” or “living your truth or any other combination of words that fill up pages but dont actually tell you anything. Nevertheless, the self-help world has grown up into a multi-billion dollar industry that lines its pockets thanks to the made up problems of millions of self-help addicts.

You probably know who Im talking about. You might even have a friend that counts as one. Theyre always reading books that talk about their truth and telling anyone that will listen about the power of positive thinking, all while talking about how much their life has changed thanks to [insert book name here].

But have you ever noticed that those same people tend to stay at the same points in their lives? Theres not much upward mobility. At least it doesnt really look that way once you start peeling back the layers.

Sure, if you look at their carefully curated social media profiles, at a first glance things may look like theyre perfect. They have it all together. Theyre constantly making moves, grinding, hustling, or any other mix of annoying internet slang for just staring at a laptop all day long.

But if you really pay attention, are they actually moving forward in life? Are there relationships improving? Are they making more money? Are they putting more into the world than theyre taking out of it? Probably not.

Theyre too busy caught in the vicious circle of problems the world of self-help has told them theyve got. Dont join those people. Quit reading so much self-help. What do I mean by self-help books? This is a surprisingly general question since quite a few books and types of books can fall under this wide umbrella.

To be clear, when Im talking about self-help, Im not talking about psychology or philosophy books. Though those could definitely be considered self-help. Those take a bit of a deeper approach and tend to leave you asking more questions by the end than you even knew existed.

Psychology and philosophy, while expanding your island of knowledge, also make you painfully aware of your ocean of ignorance. No, when I talk about self-help Im talking about the cannibalistic genre that promises to pull back the veil on your innermost problems and provide the fix overnight. The kind of book that tells you youve got a problem and the only way to solve this problem is by buying this very book. THAT is the kind of genre Im talking about here. And if youve read these books, you know it never stops at one.

Once youve read one, they probably name drop a few books that are the only cure for other problems within that you immediately add to your Amazon cart. And then you talk to a few friends who have other recommendations because they had their lives radically changed by a similar book, so you add that as well. Before you know it, youve got 12 books waiting for you to crack open. And youre only just getting started because more recommendations are flooding in. Especially because Amazon has figured out this is what youre buying, so they show you more of this kind of book.

Its like everywhere you turn youre realizing you have all these fucked up problems, and people are offering the book that holds the solution.

This process is cannibalistic. Im not saying people dont have problems. In fact, people are endlessly fucked up in a myriad of ways. We all have our trauma that we have to deal with and work through. We all have issues that impact our day to day lives, our relationships, and our careers. And this is why the self-help genre was born. Because some people did have real solutions, that if you acted on them, would actually help you.

But over the course of decades, the genre has grown into this cannibalistic entity that sustains itself on the same repeat customers buying books from the same authors, constantly searching for happiness like its this endpoint theyll magically reach. And thats fucked.

Happiness isnt an end point. Its not like your vacation where you drive for what feels like years to finally get to the beach where you can kick back and drink all day long.

Life doesnt work that way. But dont tell the world of self-help that. They sell books with the underlying message saying that once you read this book youll solve your problem and youll finally be happy. Except you wont. Because in that book youll hear about a couple of other books that address problems you didnt know you had.

So what should you do instead of reading self-help books? First things first, if youve actual problems then you need to see a professional. The world would be a better place if more of us were open and willing to see a psychiatrist or therapist. That should be the first move you make instead of self-diagnosing and trying to solve a problem with a backpack full of books.

Im not an advocate of book burning, so as much as I would like to tell you to go burn all of your self-help books, Im not going to do that. That would be folly of me. Go take them to some local library or place where you can donate them. That would be a good move on your part. Make that happen. Next, go to your local bookstore and seek out some great fiction. If you havent ever read it, read , , Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and especially read Vonnegut.

Take your time and work through some of the classics. Read things that you were told to read in high school, but your eyes glazed over. Youll have a much greater appreciation for the books now, I promise you.

All that matters is that you read fiction. Why? Because fiction offers a real road map to changing your life. A far more effective road map than any self-help or personal development book can. Which sounds crazy, right? But the truth is, we as humans have evolved to understand the world through stories. Stories are by far and away the most effective way we can understand the world, what is happening, and come to grips with reality.

Aside from the predatory nature of the self-help genre, they get this fundamental fact about humans wrong. The self-help world has done great in recognizing that one of the primary motivating factors for people is pain, and using that pain to peddle their wares.

But where theyve fucked up is they tend to hit people with loads of information and very little context. And thats the exact opposite of how we as humans have evolved to make sense of the world. We spend all day every day telling ourselves stories about our lives. Theres even a psychological phenomenon that speaks this very occurrence called the narrative bias. We unwittingly seek out stories in movies and TV. And when someone does a story well, it tends to blow up. Primarily because the story has touched on something deep inside us that can only be reached via story form.

Stories provide us with both an example of how to deal with reality and an escape from reality. They transport you into another world where the characters are dealing with problems you may not even be able to relate to, until you start to take a broad view of things and realize that each and every one of us has a dragon we have to slay, much like our favorite fictional character.

They stretch your imagination. They give you new ideas. They frame old problems in new ways, presenting solutions that may have never been available to you if your nose was buried in all this time. And that is real value. That is learning how humans were meant to learn.

Read more: http://tcat.tc/2oT70DZ

from Why You Should Stop Reading Self-Help Books