Tumgik
#john bradshaw
eaudelune · 1 day
Text
If our caretakers have a wounded inner child, their neediness will prevent them from meeting their own children’s needs. Instead, they will either be angry at their child’s neediness or will try to get their own needs met by making their child an extension of themselves.
John Bradshaw, Homecoming: Reclaiming and Healing Your Inner Child
5 notes · View notes
likeit-or-whumpit · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
JBL is less than enthusiastic with his tag team partners pre ring antics.
38 notes · View notes
Text
Denial: Still Not A River In Egypt
Ethlie Ann Vare 1994, Meet Ethlie Ann Vare 2023
As I mentioned the last time we spoke, I’ve been cleaning out old file cabinets. It takes me a while, because I can get lost in nostalgia when I open a box of memories. This is why I hired an assistant for the job; she has no emotional attachment to any of my crap. Highly recommend, if you’re planning on doing any Swedish Death Cleaning yourself.
Did you know I was actually a productive and hard-working journalist, back when they paid you money for that sort of thing? Go figure. I wasn’t bad at it, either, it appears; I have totally forgotten writing 3/4 of these articles, and have frequently surprised and delighted myself reading them. 
I was more surprised and less delighted when I unearthed a piece I wrote for Australian ELLE Magazine back in 1994 about love addiction and codependency. 1994 was about five years before I crawled into my first meeting of SLAA, and at the time I guess I thought that all this talk of “sex and romance are just like drugs and alcohol” was at best overstated, at worst a grift. A string of hopeless crushes that leave you in fetal position on the floor, that’s just the human condition, right?
So, hey, sometimes I am wrong. Rarely 😉, but it happens. Still, the article is good. Note: I think the last paragraph is missing. But we both know where it was going. I was about to say something along the lines of “Recovery. It might not help. But it couldn’t hurt.” That, I still believe. To paraphrase author John Bradshaw, whom I interviewed for the piece (I remember doing that - he was great), maybe people were yelling “House afire!” when it was just a match in the wastepaper basket. But still… hot, yes?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
bpd-me-in-my-chaos · 2 years
Text
book
I want to recommend the book to you. I want to come back to it now when I am a single and have time.
It's called Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child by John Bradshaw.
I only worked through two chapters several months ago. BUT after the first chapter and meditation, I had an amazing experience. For the first time in my life I felt something like that. I felt I had something inside that I have always missed, as I wasn’t deficient, broken. A few days after that, I still felt it.
It was beautiful. I felt I had value and I deserved to live. Even my two-year therapy a few years ago didn't do what this book did at that moment. Unfortunately, I didn't practice it and I quickly went off track, but I have the motivation to come back. Try it!
But it’s very hard, you can cry a lot or even have a panic attack. You need to face to your wounds and pain. Me during meditation with inner child often have panic attack, or feeling that I pass out or worse. And very often after a sesion like this or like in the book I need 2 days to rest and just lay on the bed.
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes
with-reverence · 1 month
Text
When Toxic Shame Becomes Who You Are ❤️‍🩹 🦋 Back From the Borderline ~ Mollie Adler
0 notes
cromwellrex2 · 9 months
Text
The Trial of the King, January 1649: ‘I tell you we will cut off his head with the crown on it,’
Revolution and Regicide
Tumblr media
Judgement of Charles I by Ladislaus Bakalowicz (c1860)
EVENTS MOVED swiftly in the January of 1649. The ordnance appointing the High Court of Justice moved rapidly to the House of Lords where it was promptly rejected with many peers doubting the judicial or constitutional grounds on which Parliament could place the monarch on trial for treason. The Earl of Northumberland highlighted the difficulty in establishing which party had first declared war on the other, given the almost accidental commencement of armed conflict in 1642. Indeed, this lack of clarity as to the authority of the High Court of Justice to bring the King to trial at all dogged the proceedings throughout and questioned the legitimacy of its ultimate ruling. The Commons however were in no mood to brook dissent: claiming that ‘the Commons in Parliament assembled, hath the force of law,’ it rejected the Lords’ arguments and swiftly passed the ordinance into law on 6th January. The Rump then appointed 135 commissioners to act as judge and jury, although only sixty eight so appointed actually took up the role. The Grandees were also disunited. Thomas Fairfax was appalled by the whole business and publicly distanced himself from the trial, whereas Henry Ireton and Oliver Cromwell remained in the capital, symbolic support to the revolutionary enterprise.
The Lord President, effectively both prosecuting counsel and senior judge, was John Bradshaw, a republican barrister from Stockport who had not seen action in the wars, but was nonetheless convinced of the righteousness of the Parliamentary cause under God, and of the need to bring an end to the monarchy that had, in his view, brought England to the brink of ruin. Charles was brought from St James’ Palace to the Westminster Hall on 20th January. The King dressed in black for the occasion, including a cloak that clearly displayed the badge of the Order of the Star and Garter. He looked regal indeed, causing a last minute drop in confidence on the part of the commissioners and Cromwell himself, witnessing Charles’ arrival. When Cromwell urged the commissioners to be clear on the authority they held to try the King, they agreed that the Commons of England gave them authority enough: no other argument was ever made.
Westminster was fashioned into the appearance of a court house, with a stage erected to seat Bradshaw and his fellow judges, a table for clerks to record the proceedings, and a seat for the King, who kept his hat on his head throughout the trial, to face his inquisitors. John Cook, one of the prosecuting barristers, read the charge, that by pursuing war with his Parliament, Charles had sought to rule as an absolute monarch and was therefore condemned as ‘a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and a public and implacable enemy of the Commonwealth of England’. Charles laughed out loud at this and asked the question the commissioners had dreaded - by what authority did this court seek to put on trial their lawful king? Throughout the proceedings Charles continued to needle his prosecutors with this demand and never received a clear or satisfactory answer. For the next three days the trial continued in this vein. The King refused to enter a plea because to do so would be to confer legitimacy on the court and therefore to collude in their right to condemn him; Bradshaw flailed when faced by the King’s demands for precedent or sources of constitutional authority. His counters focused on Charles’ behaviour and the previous removal of unworthy monarchs in medieval times. All present knew this argument was weak: the usurpations associated with, for instance, the Wars of the Roses, were essentially coups within the ruling royal family. On no previous occasion had a rival source of authority to royal power sought the removal of a monarch.
The impasse remained unresolved. With Charles refusing not only to enter a plea, but also claiming that he represented the true liberties of England, a frustrated Bradshaw ordered the clerks to enter a plea of guilty on the King’s behalf. Witnesses, who could not be heard in court due to Charles’ refusal to plead, were therefore interviewed by a sub-committee of the court and their testimony accepted. The court was adjourned on 27th January and the commissioners retired to deliberate. There was much disquiet in the Kingdoms at the way events had transpired. Even the Parliamentary-loyalist Londoners were outraged to the extent Bradshaw himself feared to walk abroad without a guard of soldiers; the Scottish government denounced the trial of a Stuart King and the commander of the Army himself, Fairfax, was known to be deeply troubled. The job of Cromwell, Bradshaw and Ireton was therefore, in this febrile atmosphere, to impress on any wavering commissioners that they must finish what they had started.
So it was that on 28th January 1649 the sentence of death was passed by the court. The death warrant was signed by Bradshaw, Cromwell, Ireton and Colonel Thomas Pride, and just 59 of the commissioners. The show trial thus ended with a mockery of Parliamentary representation sealing the fate of Charles. One wonders what John Pym would have made of it all.
Charles was brought back to court the following day to receive the judgement. He made a last ditch plea to have his case heard before Commons and Lords and despite some sympathy amongst some of the commissioners to this request, Cromwell’s will prevailed and Charles was hustled away and back to St James’ Palace. He spent his last forty eight hours receiving spiritual sustenance from his personal chaplain, donating his personal effects and saying farewell to his distressed and terrified children, Princess Elizabeth and Prince Henry. On 30th January, the King was escorted under armed guard to the hastily constructed scaffold outside Indigo Jones’ Banqueting Hall in Whitehall. Soldiers kept a disbelieving crowd at bay as the monarch mounted the scaffold. He took prayers with his chaplain and made an unrepentant speech (characterised by the phrase ‘a subject and a sovereign are clean different things’) and finally lay face down to receive the death stroke. The executioner took just one efficient blow with the axe to sever Charles’ head from his body. When the head was shown to the watching Londoners in customary fashion, the crowd, according to witnesses present, let out an audible moan.
For the first time since the two realms came into being, England and Scotland were Kingdoms without a King.
0 notes
reviews-sky · 1 year
Text
New book review!
Tumblr media
Dog Sense by John Bradshaw
Link
0 notes
asuperconfusedgirl · 10 days
Text
how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
mikelogan · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SEX AND THE CITY 1x11 THE DROUGHT
After sleeping together for many weeks, Mr. Big and I had gotten comfortable enough to really sleep together.
903 notes · View notes
princessofthemoooon · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
272 notes · View notes
lucyybradford · 3 months
Text
Bradley: I would never say my boyfriend is a bitch and I don’t like him. That is not true. My boyfriend is a bitch and I like him so much.
Bradley: He’s a dynamite, six-foot, blonde bitch and he’s the best.
353 notes · View notes
eaudelune · 1 day
Text
In reclaiming and championing your wounded inner child, you give him the positive, unconditional acceptance that he craves. That will release him to recognize and love others for who they are.
John Bradshaw, Homecoming: Reclaiming and Healing Your Inner Child
2 notes · View notes
pisupsala · 1 month
Text
✨Mila's (Early) Endless Summer Reading List ✨
Tumblr media
I'm packing my bags, so I thought I should pack my favorite stories: stuff that's been on my to-read list for too long, stuff I just enjoy re-reading and want you to know about, something to get me through the long-haul flight, something for sipping cocktails on the beach. I'm going to be updating the list with your recommendations and more stuff that I find. So:
Recommendations? 💕 YES PLEASE!
Recommend your own work? FUCK YES! ✨ minors dni, respect the author's tags, and show them some love by commenting and reblogging.
✨ TGM
mostly Bradley Bradshaw tbh lmao * This Love Came Back To Me by @beyondthesefourwalls i love these kinds of plots and it's so sweet *Remember You Even When I Don't by @beyondthesefourwalls i bizarrely never actually finished this and i will have to rectify this pronto *The Younger Kind by @roosterforme im like 20 chapters behind, soooo excited to binge this
*Leave a Light On by @sometimesanalice comfort story right here
*Hey Sailor by @sometimesanalice no notes, just yum
*Less Talk by @tongue-like-a-razor a jake story??? yes and i love this one *Faking It by @tongue-like-a-razor a classic, a must-read
*Little Wallflower by @bradshawsbitch it warms my poor heart and i feel this story on a personal level since I've been dealing with hearing loss
*Mise en Place by @bradshawsbitch hands down on my favorite AUs
*(christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse this fic influenced me so hard i bought a theragun *and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay by @gretagerwigsmuse actually just anything Jordan has ever done with the Smart Alec universe, you should read it
*Concerned Neighbor by @mothdruid this is just hot and you should enjoy it
*The Boyfriend Experience by @notroosterbradshaw i swear this is the fic that got me writing again, so if you like anything I've ever done you should go show Cass some love. *Don't Hang 'Em Till Noon by @sailor-aviator Jake western!AU? I knew I was rewatching Deadwood for a reason. Excited!! recommended by @goldenseresinretriever *Fool's Fare by @sailor-aviator A Jake pirate!AU while I'm on a beach in the Caribbean? Sign. me. up. Also recommended by @goldenseresinretriever *You Catch More Bees With Honey by @goldenseresinretriever I've seen this on my dash so much, but I shamefully never got around to it. How did you know I like hockey?
Masters of the Air
Trust by @blurredcolour yeaaaaah, im obsessed. im deceased. this is so good.
prettier than a peach by @honeyskywitch reading this on my flight, so excited!
Oblivious by @sagesolsticewrites saving this one for the airport~
64 notes · View notes
wexhappyxfew · 1 month
Text
crash landings and all
Tumblr media
(a/n): to my annie x brady girlies, here is the piece i’ve since promised and since fallen in love with!!! featuring annie, brady, coffee cups and the rising sun + some heartfelt talks about reality. and of course all those emotions annie doesn’t really need but feels instead. enjoy!
It was 0600 and she couldn't sleep.
But this had been happening far too many times in the past few weeks for her to ignore it and call it nerves, or worry, or any other bothersome symptom that would have one of the girls nudging her and asking her if she was okay.
Which she was, alright?
Or she was at least trying to tell herself that.
When there were mornings without missions, that's usually when she would come and sit out, just outside of the mess hall, and stare out towards where the B-17s sat, silhouetted against the purple and pink skyline as the sun began to appear. She'd usually sit there for about an hour, before she started seeing people moving about, and then she'd disappear inside, grab herself a coffee, avoid one of Major Egan's horrible jokes in the morning, and then be on her way to her crew, or to Silver Bullets, or to anything really - to distract herself, get her mind active, get her brain focused on something other than the worry.
This morning was no different - beautiful as the early dawn was, it was also incredibly reflective. She'd sit in the silence, the only noise the breeze in the trees and past her ears, the birds beginning to wake up and sing. It was usually a lot of her convincing herself things were fine and that everything was okay. That she was okay. But usually that didn't last very long and she was off worrying about one of the girls, or that one damn engine on Silver Bullets, or better yet if Lemmons had screwed that one bolt in enough. It kind of ate her alive at the worst of times.
"Hey." Annie looked up and found, stepping down onto the step, and nestling in beside her was Brady, an outstretched hand with a steaming mug of coffee opposite her, and a tired smile on his face.
"Hey," Annie said, trying to hide her surprise and current spiral that she thought was normally drawn across her face, "you're up early. Thanks." She took the coffee and watched as he settled beside her with a sigh, sipping at his own cup of coffee and glanced her way.
"I could say the same about you." he said back, his voice still waking up it seemed from sleep, knocking her shoulder gently. Annie watched him, the first rays of the morning son painting his face a beautiful golden with his eyes and she nodded.
"Couldn't sleep." she told him honestly, "Haven't been sleeping too well anyway, so. What's not to lose with a sunrise, you know?" Brady watched her for a moment, his lanky knees bent up to his chest, the mug resting on his kneecap and his expression quiet.
"Something worrying you?" he asked her, seemingly the first assumption of many on this base - was something worrying her? The sun would shine and she'd be worried, she'd be sat at a table and someone would cough and she'd think she'd have to get the doctor, someone would come in with a headache and she'd assume the worst. So, yeah, maybe there was something wrong, but she wasn't about to spill that to Brady at 0600 in the morning.
"I just worry about the girls, you know how it is. Making sure people are sleeping, eating, feeling okay, not feeling too homesick they're bedridden. That their letters get sent, get read, they get comforted, listened to." Annie said, "Just making sure they're keeping what smiles they can on their faces." Brady caught her gaze as she glanced his way and she found a small smile lingering on her lips.
"It's just what I have to do. Make sure things work like a well-oiled machine." she told him honestly, sipping at the coffee, "I must say, you know how to make a coffee taste good." Brady smirked slightly, a bit of a laugh escaping his mouth, before he looked at her.
"I'm glad you like it," he told her, his voice tender, "but don't try to worry yourself over your crew. They're a good group of ladies flying a B-17. And they've got a great pilot to lead 'em."
"Thanks, John."
"Just make sure you keep an eye on yourself, alright," Brady said, leaning into her side a bit, causing her to glance his way, "you're a part of that crew and just as important." He spoke with a gentle ease of tone, but equally just as serious, like he was coaxing someone to calm down.
"John Brady, you are full of compliments this morning." Annie said quietly, sipping her coffee and peering at him over the edge of coffee cup, just in time to watch his ears flame red a bit and he gulped and smiled at her.
"I don't lie." he told her and Annie grinned and held his gaze for a moment.
"Humor me then," Annie said and a brief moment of reflection passed over Brady's face, "Croz sort of let it out, about those 'mechanical failures' when he mistook France for England…..what was that about…..?" Annie watched him expectantly and Brady's ears flamed a deeper red to the point it spread to his cheeks.
"Supposedly you covered for Croz, real gentlemanly, too, I must admit." Annie said, "Lying to Major Egan of all people, John Brady, I wouldn't suspect such a thing." Brady chuckled at her words and shook his head.
"I was putting it how it was," Brady said, "God, it was embarrassing though. In front of both Buck and Bucky. Land the plane on its belly, Croz vomiting just below, the thing about to blow up but it doesn't, our first introduction to the base. You do what you gotta do for the crew. I was a bit of a shithead to Croz, but to be flying over France -Nazi-occupied France - it wasn't the most pleasant." Annie smiled, watching him as he spoke.
Knowing how he cared how he flew, how he coped. He was so fluent in what he thought and believed, right and truthful. Caring, gentle, but firm and purposeful in his speech.
"The worst was that belly-landing though," Brady said, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, "that was horrible." Annie watched as Brady seemed to relive it for a moment. She bit back her lip and then reached a hand forward and placed it on the sleeve of his wrist, the touch warm and welcoming and causing their eyes to meet.
"I crashed an AT-6 when I was doing hours for my license." Annie said - she had never dared to tell a soul such a thing, she wanted to take that to the grave, bury it, hide the humiliation. She'd jumped out of it like she was losing her mind, a lunatic sprinting across the base, with her hair ends crispy and black, her blonde hair suffering from the smoldering smoke, looking more monster than woman in that moment. Not her finest, but it had taught her a whole lot of lessons. Brady watched her for a moment, surprised.
"You?" Brady said with a nod, "Crashed not only a plane, but an AT-6? No, I don't believe you." Annie could get his joking tone pretty solid by this point and instead laughed at his words, leaning back to wrap her slightly cold fingertips around the mug and nodded.
"I did in fact crash-land it. Crazed eyes, hair-on-fire and all." Annie said and Brady watched her as if amazed.
"I must admit, it's hard for me to picture that because you're one of the best pilots I've ever met." Brady said and if she were honest, they both looked surprised as that came out of his mouth, but he was quickly talking next and she took a moment to relive those words.
"I mean, you look so calm and collected….what…what happened to warrant that?" he said, leaning a bit closer, evidently interested in the tale that had her losing her mind for weeks after.
"Truth be told, me learning to fly was like telling a fish to live in a tree," Annie said watching as Brady chuckled, "I wasn't always….this." She pointed to her face and Brady smirked.
"Oh c'mon, you're a goddamn good pilot, Annie, really." Brady said, and then smiled, "Go on though." Annie sent him a look with a playful smirk.
"You, asshole." she said and nudged his shoulder, "Don't try to get back at me with that or something in the future."
"Never, my lips are sealed." Brady said, sending her a wink - why would he do that at six am when she's somewhat still fogged with sleep and brain exhaustion.
"Anyway," Annie said, catching his smile again, "all the engines crapped out on me as I was coming in for the landing, the tower was telling me to eject, ejector was jammed, and the wheels were stuck at 45 degrees. So, I did what I could, braced myself and the thing slid across about hundreds of feet of sand before tilting to the side, me pouring out like Ma's soup for dinner. It was so bad, and horrifically embarrassing. God."
"Hey," Brady said, leaning into her peripheral, "'least you can say you know how it's done." Annie let out a laugh at his words then and there, her heart feeling warm for one of the first mornings sat out here; usually alone and now in good company.
"I mean, it wasn't the first time I even crashed landed." Brady offered with a shoulder shrug. Annie stared at him, trying to keep the smile from her lips.
"You're joking."
"Wish I was, Annie," Brady said, "back in training, went down, Croz could tell you all about it. Became pretty well-known among the base and the training groups." He smiled.
"But," he said, "'least I can say I did it." Annie let out a laugh, clasping a hand over her mouth as she glanced at him and watched him chuckle, his eyes glowing in the morning sun that was slowly peaking its way over the horizon line.
"You should join me for mornings like this more often," Annie said quietly, looking out towards the sunlight, "get some things off your chest. It's why I do well….usually alone, but it helps me think. Through things like that." She looked over and met his gaze and smiled. His expressions in the early morning were so much gentler than at dinner, and it almost made her wish he could stay like that forever in some selfish way. All of them, truth be told.
"I think I will," Brady said, "I'm glad you like the coffee. I wasn't sure what you went for, but….you seemed like a cream type of person."
"You either are really good as guessing or someone snitched." Annie said, catching Brady smirking.
"Nah, Bessie was in there the other day getting coffee for you two. I know she drinks straight black and was wondering who the hell she'd be getting a coffee full of creamer for so…." Brady admitted, glancing her way, "I hope you enjoy it." Annie looked to the cup of coffee and took another lingering sip. She wanted to stay like this for a while, freeze time maybe. But that would never be such a thing in their lives.
"We should take a spin together some time," Annie said looking towards him, a smile growing on her lips, "if you ever wanted to be in Silver Bullets when she gets going in the air. You could be my co-pilot." Brady watched her, his face still for a moment, held in a graceful balance of seriousness and surprise and then the corner of his lips ticked upwards.
"I think Francis would drop-kick me from the cockpit." Brady whispered quietly to her and Annie chuckled.
"She'd be fine with it, I swear to you," Annie said, "maybe not anytime soon, as long as we're going up, dropping bombs and all. But maybe when this whole thing ends. And we just get to be. When we get to go home." Looking over, she found Brady already watching her. Home, seemed to echo in her mind the longer she held his gaze.
"Hey! That you Brady?" Annie watched Brady turn away from her face and glance behind her, her own gaze following to find Crank coming towards them, waving an arm, "Buck's been trying to get a-hold of you!" Brady nodded and then looked back at her, a sudden shift in whatever it was that existed between them. He slowly got to his feet, brushed off his pants and then stopped to lean down towards her ear.
"I'd love to be your co-pilot," Brady whispered, sending chills up her neck, "ma'am." Then, he was up and off, sending her cheeks flaming red, her eyes going over her shoulder, as he went and caught up to Crank, shaking his hand and nodding to him, exchanging all the pleasantries. Annie caught his eyes one final time as he glanced back at her. He winked.
65 notes · View notes
mafiatsunafish · 5 months
Text
Me: * panic *I should focus on my up coming test
Also me:
* randomly dove head first back into angsty family feel top gun fanfic because why not *
* and then managed to cry my eyes out *
* outlining ghostsoap promt that I planned with my friend because those idea had stuck in my head for a good while*
99 notes · View notes
avianii · 9 months
Text
sometimes you just gotta draw a *friendly* arm wrestle between two of your favorite fighter pilots
Tumblr media
288 notes · View notes