#the growth be growin

[gent-illmatic]

Do NOT try to be the man your father would want you to be. Be the man you would like your son to be. It clearly defines your own convictions, desires, goals, and motivates you to be your best.

-K

[byanyan]

She doesn't give them a present, per set. The cake and the balloons and the streamers all seem a little tacky if she's honest, and it's easier than trying to wait for them when she knows they'll be out late. But if they end up stumbling back into the small flat and dodging the face licks from Chickadee, they'll be greeted with a few things on the table, unwrapped with a sticky note that just reads "For Byan, love Lena". A knife sharpening and oiling kit, to care for their blades, a bag of their favorite candies, and a new sketchbook with a set of sharpened, high end coloring pencils sits besides it.

ㅤthey aren't expecting anything. (expectations are dangerous. they always end in the most crushing disappointment.) even though lena did put together a small celebration for them last year, they aren't expecting anything this year. in fact, they fully anticipate that she hasn't even realized it's their birthday today — having just wanted to forget about it themself, they'd not bothered to mention it. (they hadn't mentioned it last year either, though...)

it's well past two in the morning when they slide the window closed behind themself. tired, out of it, and all around miserable, byan drops their backpack to the floor with a quiet thunk and heaves a slow exhale. claws click-clacking across the kitchen tile announce chickadee's presence and have the teen turning on their heel before they can even bend down to start unbuckling their boots. through the dim light of the moon and streetlights outside, they can tell that their arrival must have woken her up, but her tail wags as she trots over all the same.

for the first time in a week, a faint smile makes an appearance on byan's face.

only after they've given chickadee her greeting in the form of affectionate pats, ear scritches, and a few long hugs do they finally clamber back to their feet and flick the kitchen light on. —that was a mistake. squinting against the sudden and rather harsh lighting, byan grimaces and moves to undo the gesture. just before their fingertips find the switch again, however, the small display set across the table finally catches their eye and stops them in their tracks.

...oh. so, she did remember. she remembered and, same as last year, anticipated that they'd be off drowning their sorrows in solitude and substances all day. ...and instead of trying to stop them, instead of trying to make any sort of big deal of their birthday, she just... let them be. let them cope with it the way that they chose to, but made sure to leave them a show that she remembered. a show that she thought of them. a show that, despite everything and despite what they might believe, there is someone out there who cares about them.

last year, the emotion to come from such a realization was slow to hit them. this year, it wallops them all at once.

a quiet sob is choked out before they can stop it, and byan slaps a hand over their mouth, sinking into a chair. they should have just come here today. instead of sitting around, drowning in drugs and their own misery, they should have come to lena's and had a nice day. a nice dinner. a normal birthday. isn't that what they've always wanted? finally, after all these years, they could have had exactly that — lena surely would have even encouraged them to invite sol to join them — but instead, like fucking always, they'd chosen to be too damn absorbed in self pity, focusing on all the things they don't have instead of what they finally do.

...it's still new, they suppose. they aren't used to having people in their life, aren't used to trusting that those people aren't going anywhere.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤidiot.

byan isn't sure when, exactly, chickadee sat down with them, her head tucked into their lap and her big doleful eyes blinking slowly up at them. they aren't sure how long they just sit there crying. what they are sure of, however, is that they're going to express their gratitude to lena tomorrow. they're going to give her the biggest, mushiest fucking hug they've ever given to anyone, and they're going to spend the day with her, if she'll let them. maybe see if she wants to go out for breakfast and then take chickadee to the dog park, or something.

it's how they should have spent today, but... better late than never, right?

[whatacartouchebag]

Enjoy my ridiculous one and a half foot, very determined son.

(he’s getting planted soon, don’t worry)

[eebie]

freak it. up!!

[haileyjennelle]

Becoming an adult is the most confusing yet freeing, but trapping experience I have ever had

- hj

[hibiscusangel15]

I'm catching up with Adventure Time right now to watch Fionna and Cake (I literally started over from the beginning bc I stopped in the middle of S6 when it first aired and caught most of Stakes by accident).

And honestly, I really wish I never fell off this show in the first place. I really love how this show matures alongside Finn and that we get to see the show give closure to plot threads previously treated as jokes and D-list (by the show's definition) side characters' plots.

If all the miniseries leading up to the finale are this good, I'm so excited to see what Fionna and Cake holds.

[moonlits-blog]

Little things don't make me happy anymore, but it has its own perks as now I don't cry on little things too. Growing up makes you realise and it teaches you lessons that no school can teach you, and believe me you'll be get peace once you know how to handle yourself.

[createbacklink]

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[ididoktoday]

We don’t have to be the best to be doing great.

We don’t have to show up at a 10 out of 10 and put on a song and dance for others just to be allowed to exist.

If what we need to do today is swim parallel to the current until we’re free from its pull and able again to turn again for the shore, that’s pretty good too.

Let’s try it together!

[notarlene]

Departure

I bid farewell to my younger self.

The child who was outspoken, energetic, and kind.

I give her a kiss and an embrace,

One that is filled with tears and continuous goodbyes.

I bid farewell to the young girl who didn’t know the true meaning of life.

The child who viewed it with wide open, innocent eyes.

I give her new lenses and a shifted point of view,

One that allows her mirth and strength in order to survive.

I bid farewell to the teenage girl who loved with her heart on her sleeve.

The child that showed compassion to those who were cruel.

I give her a heart that is filled with a healing nature.

One that not many will get to encounter and know.

I bid farewell to the young version of I.

The young adult who was hopeful yet naive.

I give her words of wisdom that are beyond her comprehension.

Through the connection of others, she learns the lessons she couldn’t fully grasp and see.

I welcome the woman who smiles back at me through the mirror.

The woman who makes sure I’m alive everyday.

She gives me love and attentiveness that no one has ever graced me with.

And through her devotion, forevermore by her side, I vow to remain.

—a.g.

“I know you’re tired but come, this is the way.”

[thejosh1980]

Dr Kitch, it's terrible... 

It's been a while. I know that writing my thoughts and feelings down has a real positive affect on my mental well being. I learn about myself and often feel free, or freer, from the worry or concern I had before I started writing. 

I just haven't prioritised writing lately. Sometimes I don't feel motivated or, more often, I don't feel I have anything interesting to share.

I do write, but I don't share everything. I have unsent letters to friends, family, pets and myself, which I have written for the sole purpose of getting my thoughts and feelings out, and hoping in the process find a little bit of calm. 

Recently I got a new job offer. 

My current position as a community support worker is fantastic for many reasons, and not so great for a few. After finishing my studies to become a counsellor I wanted to get some experience in the real word. During the past 6+ months, I have seen improvements in the well being of the people I work with, and the influence I have had on their lives. I really enjoy the time with the people I work with, even if shifts can be challenging at times.

However, I am not excited about the company, my managers and the system of care in place. Probably the best way I can explain it is, the company can be more of a challenge to work with than the people I work one on one with.

It was never going to be a long term job, it was about getting experience, learning about myself, the people I work with, the various mental health diagnosis out there, and how the system works. After 6 months, I still put in 100% with the people I work with, but I'm not a fan of the system.

So I am changing systems.

The new job will be somewhat similar, but vastly different in other areas. I will work at one location, and people who need support will come to that location. I will no longer work in isolation, I will have colleagues to work with, and support me, during the whole shift. Shifts are longer and there's no cancellation at the last minute. I will work as a peer support worker at a suicide prevention project. I can't go into further details right now, but it'll be an exciting step for me to be able to support people in crisis daily.

I will work both jobs for a while, but eventually cut back on my old position once I settle into the new job.

Part of the new job is that I'll need to keep myself safe, prioritising my mental well being and physical well being. I am really pleased I will be part of a team, and have colleagues, who I can talk to, learn from, and share my experiences with. I'll have a daily opportunity to debrief, something that is often missing in mental health work. I'll have a chance to learn from other peer workers, one on one, as well as sharing with people who visit the project. 

Exciting times...

What isn't exciting is how I'll keep myself physically well. I need to get vaccinations. Now I don't want to go through the whole COVID vaccine debate, it is what it is, and this is about something else.

I am very scared of needles!

Prior to COVID, The last time I remember getting an injection was in late 1997, when I broke my pinky finger and needed a local injection in my elbow, in the spot we call the “funny bone”, where that nerve tingles down your arm when you bump it. I had to be gassed up, held down and I still was crying, shaking and hating every moment of the process. I remember the doctor said “stop being a baby”, which definitely didn't help the situation. I remember telling him “make sure you put in more than enough to numb me, because you won't get a second chance”. 

I was alone, he gassed me, jabbed me, re-broke my finger and set it in place.

Good times...

I have learnt a lot since the COVID vaccines became mandatory, I learnt that I could get a jab (or 3) if I had Alex with me to hold my hand and an understanding nurse who was gentle. I focused on the fact I was showing courage, even if I was reacting with tears and shaking, doing something that protected my family, and myself. 

Those jabs were the first I had had in over 20 years.

Last month I began the process of getting jabs for the new job. I calculated I'd need at least 4 seperate injections, if not more, over the coming 3 months. Initially 2 at a time and then 1 or 2 after that, not to forget the dreaded blood tests I'll need too. 

Oh boy!!! 

In December, I had the doctor, nurse and Alex lined up on Thursday morning to get the ball rolling. Except it didn't roll very far. I was amped up and before the appointment thinking “right, I'll go in, lay down, they'll jab, I'll cry and shake, and then we'll move on like nothing happened”... 

After huge anticipation, and a few sleepless nights, leading up to that appointment, it didn't happen. The appointment ended up being only a discussion with the doc and a prescription for the jabs. See, I didn't know I had to go to the chemist to get the needles and come back for the jab. So it was all rescheduled for the following Saturday morning.

I had been mentally prepared on Thursday, only to be denied, and had to prepare again for Saturday. I am so lucky the nurse and the doctor were compassionate, understanding and knowledgable on how to support folks like me. Folks who have a strong reaction to needles. They did a great job, and I don't do this very often but I'll blow my own horn here, I did a great job too. I kept my arm still, cried, shook, wiggled my toes, talked very fast, lost a little oxygen or something because my face was tingling, and I got through it, I survived. 

2 jabs down!

I could tell the nurse was pinching me (pretty hard according to Alex) to help desensitise my upper arm as I was laying down looking over Alex's shoulder, tears in my eyes, wiggling my toes. I didn't make eye contact with anyone while in the nurse's room. I could tell when the needle went in, and it didn't hurt. I should know better, I know it doesn't hurt. 

So why the reaction?

I have been thinking about this since the job (and jabs) came up. Why do I react in such a strong way, even though I know they don't hurt, they're not unsafe and I have survived them before? And why is there this strong reaction, just to the thought, of having to have an injection?

In fact the fear was so strong that about 15 years ago, while surfing in Hawaii, I cut my big toe up on a reef. I had to go to the emergency room. My partner at the time can surely remember the Jackie Chan type nurse who took care of me, and the shaking boyfriend on the bed with eyes all big and fearful. I knew that needles were going to be mentioned. Those needles could be for stitching me up or for some other thing like tetanus! 

What the hell is tetanus? 

I am sure I had whatever necessary vaccinations a child needed back in the early 80's, which might have included this tetanus the nurse mentioned, but when asked when I had my last tetanus shot, I lied. I said “oh, in my late teens”, which was within 10 years and satisfied the nurses curiosity. Secondly, thank god they decided not to stitch me up, they decided to use super glue instead. 

Crisis averted.

I was glued up and left the emergency a relatively happy man. Eventually I got a walking stick and enjoyed a rockabilly festival at our next stop, in Green Bay. Playing cricket and doin' the limbo with my rockin' cane on the dance floor. Those that were there, know, it sure was a good time to have a limp.

Back to the question of the day... So, why the reaction?

Firstly, I'd say that long gap of 20+ years between jabs hasn't helped. I got more and more scared, worried and distant from the needle. I avoided getting any blood tests, or jabs, for almost 25 years. I wouldn't travel to a country that required a jab. I wouldn't go to the doctor if I hurt myself and thought there's even a hint of a chance that the doc might consider the possibility that there's a reason he might think about using a needle even close to me. 

So lets go back, back even further than 25 years...

Many of our adult thoughts, feelings and behaviours stem from our childhood experiences and what we make of those experiences.

I have a memory of receiving a jab in 1986 in Brunswick Heads that didn't go well. I was 6 years old, and my parents had separated the year before. I don't have many memories from my childhood, this is surely the strongest. 

I know the previous jabs were all in 1980-1981, I was just a wee baby and it's in my baby booklet Mum has kept all this time. I don't remember any of these jabs. By 1986 I was more aware of the world around me, I was aware Dad wasn't around, I was no longer living in the big city. I knew there were things going on, with me, Mum, Dad and my sister, that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I'm sure it was a stressful time for us all, I am sure that stress was something I didn't know how to process.

I remember feeling very small, with the feeling of tears burning down my cheeks, fighting the doctor, shouting and crying. I may have tried to run, but didn't get far. I remember being at the door pleading with them not to do it. I remember the doctor wasn't very impressed with me. I can not remember Mum being there.

This was a traumatic event for me.

It isn't the event itself, but the stress one feels, that makes it a traumatic event. That's why two people can experience the same event, and have different reactions. One may feel fine, the other traumatised. 

So why the stress? Why the reaction?

My recent thoughts directed me to my parents having recently separated, and I was taken away from all that I had known: big city suburbia, and my family security at the only house I'd ever known. My environment, and our family, had changed and I hadn't processed all these changes. I was missing Dad, and trying to adjust. I remember I was struggling to settle in at school. Mum did her best, I have no doubt she protected us kids and made the best of the situations that arose. She definitely worked very hard to support us. I don't have memories of any other really challenging events, between the time we left Melbourne and when I had the jabs. 

Mum said as a baby I was fine with the jabs, I cried a little, but didn't react to the extent I would show a few years later that continues to this day. 

What I remember as my worst experience since my parents separated, still affects me years on. There has to be a connection there, because that experience affected me so deeply. Another way to think about it is to ask the question, if I had those jabs in Melbourne, with parents who were still together and happy, would I have developed the fear?

I am not upset with my parents for separating. I think it was what they had to do, as there was unhappiness in their relationship that they couldn't work through. I've been there too, and ending the relationship was the best way. 

Even as I type this, I can't get close to connecting the dots. Usually I do, usually as I write I find answers to questions I ask myself, because I let my thoughts wander, I let them go deeper than I have before.

So far, nada. 

I may need to go deeper, and that is becoming more challenging around this subject. I feel I may need professional help with that. It isn't always easy asking yourself the hard questions, I may need a little help.

But it did affect me, didn't it?

My fear and reaction are so ingrained that I struggle to shake it off. The fear and worry has been in my head for too long to just “get over it”, “man up”, and get it done. It takes a lot of work, it's a real journey, to change years of behaviour, thoughts and feelings. I have been reframing my thoughts, becoming more comfortable with being vulnerable in front of others, and finding small ways to see myself take whatever steps I need to get through these few moments of intense reaction.

Small steps. 

The smallest ones I could possibly do to get 'em done. I've written about this before, when a job, event or action feels too big and overwhelming, I break it down into the smallest parts possible. 

Small achievable steps.

I have thought about the steps I took to get through the COVID jabs, and that was because I saw the reasoning behind it, I made a choice to get them to support safety within my family, close friends and community. I got those jabs for someone else, not for me. I surely didn't want those jabs, I never have ever wanted to have 'em.

Alex came to all 3 of those appointments, held my hand, wiped the tears, and talked to the nurses. She showed me the compassion and support the doctor didn't showing me in 1986 and again in 1997. I did the jab for her, and she in turn showed me I could do it, I could face the fear after all these years.

When I found out I would need to get updated and new vaccinations, like this tetanus shot, I decided to work on small steps to help me. I would need the dreaded blood test too, something I have never been able to successfully do. I tried once, when I was about 20, but I didn't last long in the pathology clinic. I was out of there the moment they tried to put that strap around my arm to stem the blood flow. 

I never looked back.

Recently, I used an opportunity to experiment with exposure therapy. That is, to expose myself to small amounts of needles. 

About 6 weeks before my first injections, when a close friend needed to get an IV put in his hand from the ambulance, I stayed in the room. I didn't actually watch the thing go in, hell no!!! I was a couple of meters away, watching his face, and seeing little reaction or worry, in fact he was calm. Once it was in, I had a quick look at his hand, didn't look too bad either. OK, this was a small step, I let someone else get a “permanent” jab while I was in the same room.

Happy days...

Next step, upping the exposure....

I had the opportunity to take someone I work with to get a blood test a few weeks later. I could have looked away, I could have left the room, I could have asked him to turn away, but instead I faced my fear. I watched the whole process, and the outcome was 2 vials of blood, and he said it was the best blood test he'd experienced. I immediately took down that nurse's name and would book in with her when I needed a blood test.

I felt like I'd come a long way from the days of not being able to even be in the same room with a needle.

Now with the new job, we're back at it, getting jabbed. That Saturday's appointment was intense, I wiggled my toes to distract myself, so much so that I didn't realise I was digging my nails into my toes, and was bleeding.

I got 2 jabs in a row... I still can't believe it. 

It helped to have a strong reason to get on with these vaccinations. A new job... A new job which supports our goal to buy our own house. I figured out the overall reason too, my health. I'm not getting any younger, I'll need jabs and blood tests more and more likely as I grow older. 

But I don't think I am ready to volunteer to get a jab just because...

I need a solid reason, I need support and understanding, and I hope over time, with more growth and understanding, I'll be calm, cool and collected while the nurses and doctors do what they gotta do...

Thanks for reading,

Josh

EDIT: I re-read my blogs to make sure I cover all the detail, to go as deep as I can. As I wrote this, I was sure the issue with my fear stemmed from my parent's separation. The thought of a needle throws me back to that time of change. 

I am sure, that it does to a degree, and needs further exploration... But...

Just now, as I read through, correcting a few details, spelling mistakes and grammar, I came to realise in 1986, the biggest part of the needle fear stemmed from my feelings surrounding the doctor's attitude and lack of compassion towards me. 

I felt hurt, I felt unfairly judged, and I felt that I was treated badly. 

I was a sensitive kid, my parents weren't together and I was experiencing a lot of change. I feel that the doc didn't care about any of that, he just wanted to stick it in, no matter what the experience may have felt to me.

Now, I can work on finding calm.

[the-fool-on-the-hill-ari]

Coming to scroll on Tumblr always make me feel nostalgic. I remember when I was coming here everyday as a teenager and now that I'm 25, ten years later as to say, it has become kind of a portal to reach older times and maybe feel younger again.

As an ode to those times where I had nothing to worry about, all that time I had for myself, no work, no duties... And now it hurts a little bit to see that almost any of our teen dreams came true and we're not the persons we wanted to become.

We thought we were the bravest, the only awake ones among a sick society that live to work and work and work and loose their own being just trying to survive. We thought it wouldn't happen to us but, believe it or not, I have the feeling that society ate us all.

The 90's kids became sad adults. Again.

[floating-through-the-void]

Do y’all ever realize how much progress you’ve made in life? Like I have my own apartment now. Got myself a full time job. Got away from the abuse of my past. You listen to music and read books and watch movies and they’re all like it will get better if you work at it and you don’t believe it till it HAPPENS.

Anyways, point is don’t give up babe. It’ll get better.

[dinalynnn]

Damn making a resume makes me feel elevated... Like I'm seriously adulting!

[lylacroses]

“Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know how.”

Never have I ever understood what this meant until I grew up.