#mental stability is a lie made up by the government

[thevoidbutwithselfesteemissues]

Am I doing better because I'm back to reading angst and crying?

Or

Am I doing worse because I'm back to reading angst and crying?

Who knows!

Certainly not me.

#to be fair #its probably both #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #mental stability is a lie made up by the government #to make people believe that such things as normal exists #we are all mentally unstable #it just depends on how good you are at suppressing yourself #or yknow having healthy coping mechanisms #whatever those are #i say like i dont have healthy coping mechanisms #lmao vent songs and art who? #but it took me majority of my childhood to learn #yippee for depression #honestly my posts are #10% an actual post #and 100% tags #because tags are the superior communication method #i truely wonder how many people who stumble upon my posts would even read my tags #if you read my tags please let me know #ill decide you're my favourite person #for #atleast a day #sorry my sister has priority #even tho i also hate her #the bitch #fav person yippee #dont tell my parents that i like my sister better then them #its a secret #probably not a well kept secret #but a secret

[recluseactivist]

sometimes the search for closure does not lie in the end, but in the journey itself.

David sat hunched over his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. It had been two years since his divorce, but the wounds were still fresh, raw, and bleeding. He clutched his pen tightly, the pressure punctuating the ache in his heart. The title of his book, "The Last Word," mocked him, as if taunting his inability to find closure in his own life.

Growing up in a small town with conservative values, David had always felt like an outsider. His parents, strict and unyielding, had hammered into him the importance of conformity and societal expectations. Endless rules and unspoken laws governed his every thought and action. The scars of his upbringing ran deep, manifesting themselves in the form of crippling self-doubt.

As he delved deep into the recesses of his mind, David realized that his troubles extended far beyond his failed marriage. He was grappling with a lifetime of suppressed desires and stifled dreams. The characters in his book became extensions of his own fractured existence. Each word he painstakingly wrote was a release, an attempt to untangle the twisted threads of his existence.

The protagonist of his novel, Daniel, mirrored David in many ways. Daniel, too, struggled with the weight of societal expectations and the burden of his own past. As David crafted the narrative, he found himself asking the same questions that haunted him in his own life. What is morality? Is it a set of rules imposed upon us, or is it something we create for ourselves? Can love truly exist amidst chaos? And how does one express love when they've never experienced it themselves?

The exploration of these themes began to take a toll on David's mental stability. He found himself living a fragmented existence, unsure of where reality ended and his book began. Sleepless nights and troubling nightmares became his constant companions. His yearning for the perfect book consumed him, overshadowing all else.

In his search for authenticity, David began to blur the lines between reality and fiction. The pain of his past became fuel for his creativity. He sought out experiences that would break him, push him to the edge and beyond. His love life became a series of reckless encounters, a desperate attempt to fill the void within him. But love, as he soon discovered, was not something that could be manufactured or simulated.

As David's mental state deteriorated, he became obsessed with the notion of having the last word. To him, suicide seemed like the ultimate act of courage, the final punctuation mark to his existence. The idea of leaving a lasting impact on the world intrigued him, convincing him that death was the only way to truly complete his narrative.

On a cold, wintry night, David took one last look at the book that had consumed his life. He saw in it his triumphs and his failures, his hopes and his despair. And with a heavy heart, he made his final decision.

In his small, sparsely furnished apartment, David wrote his last words. He poured his anguish, his longing, and his farewell onto the page. With a steady hand, he placed the pen down, closed his eyes, and let go.

His story, unfinished and untold, would forever remain a mystery, lost in the annals of time. But as the news of David's suicide spread, his book gained a newfound significance. Readers delved into his words, searching for the answers that eluded him in life. And in their interpretations, David's last words sparked countless conversations and debates, each reader finding their own truth within the pages.

David had found his closure and, in a way, the last word he so desperately sought. It was not the act of suicide that defined him, but the impact he had on the lives of those who read his book. Through his final act, he had created a narrative that resonated beyond his death, leaving an indelible mark on the world.

As readers closed the pages of "The Last Word," they were left with a bittersweet understanding. David had found his voice, his courage, and his final act of defiance. The echoes of his struggles lingered, a reminder that sometimes the search for closure does not lie in the end, but in the journey itself.

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #last words

[dontlistentomother]

safety is a lie; stability, a sham

Back in 2016, I was recovering from a mental health breakdown - caused by a terrible boss I had while working at a non-profit (more to come on that) - and getting back into the job market after six months of leave.

I did four interviews in four weeks: oil and gas, education, start up, and government.

I knocked most out of the park, and got offers with the Oil and Gas and Government.

Oil and Gas: $60k/yr, plus benefits. Government: $40k/yr, plus benefits. I took two days to think, and thought to myself “I can’t work Oil and Gas, I don’t want to contribute to the death of my planet!”. 

I thought some more, and asked my parents for their opinions. My dad, who’s been with the government for fifteen years, of course recommended the gov’t. Security, he said. Stability, he said. Steady pay increases, he said. I thought some more, and figured my “environmentalism” and the long-term stability of government was going to be worth the $20k/yr pay cut.

IT FUCKING WASNT

DON’T LISTEN TO MOTHER: 

Never take a paycut. The way the job market is, taking even a $5k pay cut - even for a higher position - will kill your earning potential. Employers will either only want employees who can offer them more skills for less (the COVID job market is saturated with highly-qualified, over-leveraged, desperate people willing to work for peanuts), or have policies that account for previous compensation. The higher your previous salaries, the more you seem to be worth - always, always seek a pay increase.

Job Safety is a thing of the past. COVID made this worse, but we were already headed here to begin with. With automation and machine learning becoming more and more accessible, less and less jobs will be human-necessary. Which means competition for human-held jobs will become more and more fierce. And as AI and tech improves, fewer and fewer humans will be needed. Think we need humans to program or maintain machines? Think again. We’re already teaching automation programs to program simple machine learning algorithms, and we’re already seeing 3D printing make construction workers a thing of the past.

Stability is a sham. My parents pushed me to take the government job because “it’s going to be stable” - even if I did start Contract. False. Any job that starts you on probation or contract will never want to keep you around. Always assume this. Work your ass off and your bones out of your body and you might keep it. But better yet, skip on any offer that isn’t permanent, or won’t meet you at permanent. If they won’t guarantee you a job, don’t give them your dignity. Take it if you must, but KEEP FUCKING LOOKING AS SOON AS YOU START WORKING.

Employers are never your friends. As a former HR person, always always remember: as an employee, you are nothing more than a flesh, bone, and blood battery. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only one who knows how to do something - that doesn’t make you an asset, it makes losing you a liability. Which means they’re gonna find someone to learn your skill - and maybe force you to train them - so the company’s ass is covered. Take your company for everything you can (obviously, if you work for a mom-and-pop, don’t fuck them over - but if you work corpo? Take them. Take everything. Including creamer).

Systemic environmentalism is for the rich. Something like 7 companies the world over contribute 80% of climate change. Whatever - look it up. Basically, that Oil and Gas company? That was like a single car’s emissions compared to what Nestle is doing to the world water supply. That $60k? If I’d have taken that, I would’ve made $40k more over the two years I worked for that gov’t job. That could’ve bought me a home, a shit ton of GME, a fuckin’ TESLA. Push your governments to hold the rich and the corporations accountable for the destruction they’ve wrecked for generations without consequence. Your measly $20k extra a year isn’t going to change the world - holding multinationals accountable? That will.

Anyways.

Welcome to don’t listen to mother, where I try to share some of the painful lessons of my failed career in HR, my transition into IT, and all the things I wish I’d done differently.

It won’t help me now, but maybe it’ll help you.

And worst case, hopefully it entertains you.

Signing off, pissed and about to head out for a smoke as always,

- Mother

#career #career advice #human resources #hr #job search #job seekers #job search tips #opinion #working life #work life #office life

[prodicalmenace]

okay so i'm a simp for jouno so how about a thing where reader used to be part of the hunting dogs but left and is a member of the ada now and they meet again while the agency is on the run? doesn't matter if hcs or scenario, pls and ty 😗✌🏼

i would do anything for a fellow dazai simp thats how stupid i am akjdf also throwback to when i thought juono was fem and had him on my list of top bsd lesbians

;;

before

your family was subject to the authority of the japanese government for generations. your parents were high agents despite lacking real combative abilities as their parents before them, but when your own ability proved explosively dangerous you seemed to only have one option: hunt or be hunted

you always passed all the tests and seemed to prove your worth without even trying, but your almost unnecessary will and dedication to prove yourself caught fukuchi’s eye

you caught jouno’s eye (metaphorically of course) in the silence of your dedication, your natural will power something that wasn’t stinking of desperation or a need to prove yourself or your existence. you simply existed like an innocent bystander on the street, and it made you easy to sneak up on him in your first meeting

very edward cullen in that he was fascinated in the inability to read you but you still stood out from the rest of the team in your non-existential demeanor. everyone there was so concerned with their abilities in one way or another, for some they were petulant children and others bordering on their true power, but you were well aware of yourself from a young age which was attractively refreshing and made your conversations longer, interesting, fresh at every word even when they seemed to be dry

there was no reason for him to gush his adoration, no reason for him to go out of his way and remind you of feelings on a regular basis. you knew, he knew, and you would work together for the rest of your lives. forever, basically, was ensured, what did he gain when questioning its stability with a silly thing like weighing stench of feelings?

during

he thought you were dead for the longest of time. thats what they said, right? an accident, a mistake, caught in the crossfires of hells occupation despite being an angel that could fly above the rubble. he was trained not to question it but he always did until years passed and he decided he would only see your face in the seconds before waking from a dream

he thinks he’s dreaming when he sees you on the streets, bloodied, arm cradling a dislocated joint after securing an escape for the agency outlaws. his nightmares have gotten in the way of his work, you’ve been dead and there’s no reason for him to see you here and now where he needs to finish a job. your flesh is fake, and he can prove it when he moved forward to attack

you step back, your breath hitches, the scent of a revolting fear replaces all mystery he associated with you and like a rush from open floodgates he finds himself mentally admitting the inevitable: he truly feels for you, and right now its an overwhelming relief that you are alive

he drops his weapon in shock. you seem to be relieved,  and you stand still staring at one another for a few seconds before the static com in your ear rings and your body goes rigid. you have to respond to your team, you have to meet them on the edge of the highway and recon where to go from here, you have to get back to the people you actually wanted to dedicate your life to

he’s not sure if he regrets letting you go because you were a target or because he was in love with you

after

“what took you so long?” kunikida is understandably worried but you only grunt in response like that could explain the doe look in your eye while pushing your arm back in its socket. no one pesters you though, the team has more things to worry about at the moment and you try to remind yourself you do too. you knew working in law enforcement meant that it would be harder to solidify the whole fake-your-death thing, but never in a million years did you think the people you once called your team, your family, would track you down and send the once person that could actually cripple you

you don’t say a word about anything, and you never did about your past. dazai had his suspicions but you never let him even think close enough, your identity was airtight and should never be touched, but theres a crack in the mirror you look in now where it was once smooth, a tear from the lie that tore you from the hunting dogs in the first place

you absolve to… you have no idea. what could you say? you couldn’t explain yourself without sounding stupid, you couldn’t prove your strength without admitting to weakness, there was absolutely no winning with or without the truth and you settled on one fact: jouno was going to take all of you out at a moments notice

its exactly what runs though his head when he comes back empty handed, when he also remains too frazzled to speak with the team in discussing next steps

he’s going to stuff out your scent for real, and he ignores the pang in his chest when the words do leave his mouth

#jouno bsd #jouno saigiku #bsd headcanons #prodicalmenace requests

[aerialflight]

For the writing prompt number 99 with Ichigo :)

99. “I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!” 

(Man, I laughed when I saw this prompt, it fits him so well lol)(also, this became way longer than I expected)

There were rumors, of course, what the ryoka was like. The lowest positioned shinigami in all squads kept their ears on the ground whenever something new popped up. It was a matter of survival you see. Not keeping up with whatever shenanigans occur in Soul Society could get you killed, especially since such disasters usually originated from their shithole of a government. Aizen was just the tip of the iceburg when it came to birthing evil megalomaniacs hellbent on piling mountains of paperwork and bodies for others to clean up. It’s debatable which one was worse.

The ryoka visited the afterlife, or more likely charged into battle, many times over the years. Yet for some reason, spotting the still living man was like trying to catch a unicorn. A spiky haired, scowling unicorn who was usually busy cussing out nobles and captains who were lifetimes more experienced than him.

Like now, for example.

“I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!” 

Captain Kuchiki from the noble Kuchiki house did not sigh.

He also, notably, did not berate the ryoka for pacing around like a caged lion, the ryoka’s wild hair puffing out like it was exclaiming in indignation just as hard as the owner was.

“The vote for Kuchiki Rukia’s captaincy was decided by her lack of experience and her need of more preparation before claiming a leadership position she is not ready for.”

Kurosaki snorted at the noble and rolled his eyes hard. “She knows bankai, she’s fought in multiple battles and wars, and she’s aware of her own limitations. As for the leadership thing, that’s a fucking lie and you know it. Like hell she doesn’t have leadership skills. She’s the bossiest midget to ever midget, you’ve seen what she’s like when she yells at people. She’s fucking terrifying.”

“That is not a sign of emotional stability-”

The ryoka scoffed.

He scoffed so loudly that it echoed the entire compound.

“Yeah, sure. The Gotei 13 are the pinnacle of mental health and are the best examples of people who know how to deal with trauma. Okay, that’s believable. Not. Tell me with a straight face that bold-faced lie- fuck. Actually, ignore that. You always have a straight face, it won’t work.”

“She is my sister.” Kuchiki Byakuya’s voice was harder than steel and it made the shinigami shiver hearing that tone. “You’re asking me to put her in a position where she’s more likely to get killed.”

“Rukia can handle it.” The orange haired man said firmly, belief pouring out of him in waves. It was almost remarkable to see so much faith being placed in a person, inspiring and knee-buckling in turn.

The two shinigami who were at their own level with the sky being the limit stared each other down, one standing with a stubborn set to his chin and the other kneeling with a cooling cup of tea in his hand yet looking no less dangerous than usual. Like a tranquil lake threatening to create tsunamis if disturbed.

Astonishingly, it was the Kuchiki who turned away first, finishing his tea and decisively placing the cup on the wooden floor. He gracefully stood up, gave the ryoka one last long look, then turned to walk away.

“In the next meeting, I will recount your words to the other captains.” His tone took a dry turn. “Including our need of a therapist.”

The grin the ryoka sported at his words was vicious and triumphal.

“Fucking finally.”

#Ask #Writing #Prompt #aerial snippet #Bleach #Anonymous

[transcriptroopers]

If military is so bad for your mental health, why do recruiters seem so happy about joining the military? I think you explained before that recruiters are under a contract or something, but couldn’t they subtly discourage kids from joining if they were really unhappy about it?

Short answer: Because a recruiting assignment isn’t something you’re forced into. In fact, becoming a recruiter for any branch is competitive. If you want to keep getting promoted as an NCO, you have to perform a “broadening assignment” such as recruiting or becoming a drill sergeant. You have to submit applications and go to school and outperform the other hopefuls who also want those positions. No one wants to let an NCO who shit talks the army become a recruiter when there are so many others who don’t.

Long answer: 

While doing some research for this post, I happened to find this reddit thread of a lamenting recruiter. In between his whining that civilians are fat and stupid and parents are too protective, he talks about his recruiting reality. Pressures from deadlines and quotas from his boss, the cutthroat competition with other recruiters, the lying and manipulation they use to coerce results, and the army working him so long and hard that his marriage ended, leaving him broken.

Once you join the military, you understand. Everyone shit talks their recruiter because everyone was lied to in some way. Recruiters talk of enlisting people they knew would probably fail out, but that makes no difference to them because they got the signature. I’ve shared many times before that recruiters tell us to lie on the Military Entrance Processing paperwork to avoid disqualification. If they want us to lie to the government about whether or not we have asthma, how do you expect them to truthfully admit that the army is destroying their lives?

In this article, the army talks about not being able to meet their recruiting quota for 2018, and they point the finger at 1,100 schools who’ve banned recruiting on campus.

The high schools are trying to protect students from recruiters instead of seeing them as a benefit in giving students an option to serve their country and embrace a worthwhile career.... Adm. William Moran, vice chief of naval operations said, “Any time you have an unemployment rate below 4.1 percent, historically, trouble looms on the horizon for both recruiting and retention. It’s at about 3.8 percent, I think, now, so we are all expecting this market to get more difficult than easier.” 

Aside from calling high school students a “market,” this man is also saying that when unemployment is low, recruiting and retaining military personnel becomes harder. He acts as though it’s a problem because to them, it is a problem -- they rely on people being desperate and out of options, or else the “free college” schtick doesn’t land well. (also, the real unemployment rate is actually much higher...but that’s not relevant rn) 

We’ve known that recruiters are predatory for years, and purposely concentrate their efforts in cities with marginalized communities -- here’s an article from 2010, one from 2011, here’s one from 2012. The U.N. recognized in 1989 the “Rights of the Child,” which among other things includes under Article 38:“States Parties shall refrain from recruiting any person who has not attained the age of fifteen years into their armed forces. In recruiting among those persons who have attained the age of fifteen years but who have not attained the age of eighteen years, States Parties shall endeavour to give priority to those who are oldest.”Regrettably, only two nations have refused to ratify these rights: Somalia and the United States. The U.N. condemns countries who indoctrinate their children with the desire to join the armed forces, but the U.S. calls it “an option to serve your country.”  

Something I think should also seriously be considered is the lifestyle that recruiters lead you to believe is standard for a service member. What a lot of poor, disenfranchised, hopeless youth are seeing -- what anon is seeing -- in recruiters isn’t merely happiness, but overwhelming stability.

My recruiters drove nice, clean cars and offered to drive me places for free because they didn’t need the gas money. They ate out for lunch (and sometimes breakfast) every day, and sometimes they got lunch for me too while we discussed enlisting. One of my recruiters was using the Basic Housing Allowance (BAH) for his assignment to live permanently in a hotel, where could eat breakfast free and have house keeping clean up after him every day. They had gold watches and wore $300 athletic shoes to the PT they led for recruits. In civvies they wore Brand™ clothing and spent their weekends at 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫. No soldier will admit it, but in a world where the national minimum wage is still $7.25 an hour, we are very well paid. 

These things are very appealing to a kid who thinks there aren’t any other options, which is why recruiters target them in the first place. Probably at least some of those recruiters were drawn in by the same performance. Add free college, free medical care, and a fat paycheck every month, and I don’t blame anyone for buying into it. But I think it’s a very important distinction to consider if we call a recruiter well-off only because they have access to housing, medical care, food, and education, things that should be a given right to everyone.

Finally, in a previous post I alluded to the concept that soldiers aren’t always aware of their many problems until they’ve left the army, the same way some people don’t realize childhood trauma until years later when the symptoms start appearing, or how you don’t realize you were in an abusive relationship until you finally break up. In fact, hiding or masking trauma for decades is a known phenomenon, made worse in the Army by its voracious culture of culling the weak, shaming emotions, and discouraging dissent. Victims often can’t fully grasp the extent of abuse until after it’s over. Even when your contract is ending, the army leans on soldiers very hard to reenlist by telling us that there are no jobs out there and no one wants us and we’ve got it easy here and we’re making a mistake, keeping veterans codependent. 

Society has two versions of soldiers: the active duty ones who are always conditioned, dedicated, and strong, and the veterans who are poor, desperate, and despondent. There has to be something in the middle that caused us to get one from the other, something that all soldiers share even if they don’t finish basic training, get deployed, or enter combat. From my perspective, the only common element is being in the military. 

I actually found a very insightful paragraph in a research paper from Iran published in 2014 that is also trying to address the high correlation between armed service and poorer health.

The high number of suicides committed among soldiers in all countries including Iran can be evidence to support the need to be concerned about soldiers’ mental health. For in-stance, committing suicide is one of the major causes of death in US military (30, 31) and it had a sharp increase from 10.3 to 11.3 per 100,000 persons in 2005 to 16.3 per 100,000 persons in 2008 and has been 18 per 100,000 since 2009 (32). ...An interesting observation was made regarding the subscale of social dysfunction. It was observed that individuals serving longer in the army suffered from social dysfunction. In other words, they were dissatisfied with the social role they played and the activities in which they were in-volved in the society. As the length of service increases, the detachment from the family and society becomes more severe. These individuals will find it very difficult to go back to the society and integrate with others after they finish their military service (33).

“Detachment from family and society” should be the headline of any military recruiting poster imo

-Kingsley

#united states army #recruitment #Anonymous

[drainflyclub]

The Limp of Corrupted Feet

I’m sitting on a wall. There is birdshit right next to me, cigarettes and gum stains all over the ground. A pigeon is at my feet, ignoring me, pecking for food. It’s feet are covered in yellow, twisting tumours, and it pathetically hops on its stumps, flapping its wings for stability, eyes wide looking for something to eat. I have just been told I didn’t get the job.

There is this warped idealism that cities seem to bring, those big cities, those creative cities. Did we all learn too much from movies and books? Was there ever really a chance your Dreams could come true by simply being somewhere different, or was it a big lie, like Cinderella or spiritual contentment? The idea is basic - live in The City, do things in The City, experience The City, love The City, let The City provide for you. A cultural and economic hub so you can live a life beyond anything your small town friends could ever imagine or comprehend. Funny, how most the people I’ve met have expressed distaste or outright white hot hate for this place. But they still live here, they still live here. 

My white shirt is now stained with sweat from sitting in a hot office all day, and from nervousness. I stink of worried energy and adrenaline. “You’ve obviously got talent…” they said. I replied all smiles and confidence and stupid fucking finger guns like some sort of 80’s movie character, moustache and all. I washed this shirt last night, soaking a pasta stain on the front and hoping it would be clean. I woke up and it was creased and damp, I hoped my body heat would unwrinkle the fabric. I can’t afford an iron. “You’ve obviously got talent but…” I was meant to come in for another day, but they made a decision in seven and a half hours and two articles. I’m relieved in a way. I only own one good shirt.

I think my own ego has brought me here, but now I’m older and my head has hardened. If I can’t do something, I hate it. There are many things I can’t do. “You just don’t have enough writing experience.” and I think, ‘I do’, but not your kind of writing. Though maybe I haven’t let my writing be judged before. Maybe I am bad. I want to write an article out of spite. I want to prove to them how wrong they are. I smile and wink and die inside. 

I find out that the job would have paid a touch over minimum wage. I factor in food and transport on the ticking calculator that runs in my head, keeping a check on my bank balance. I would probably be on minimum wage before tax and loan repayments. I have trained for 3 years and worked for 3-maybe 4 years in this industry. “You just don’t have the experience.” I think about the value of my education. I think about The City and how it was meant to make my dreams come true. I think about minimum wage. Rent. Food. Bills. Tax. I think about fighting someone, or killing myself, or buying a plane ticket and fleeing. Instead I scratch my sweat covered nose. 

I have secured myself a new job. It also pays a touch over minimum wage. I am a freelancer. In theory this means I choose my own pay and choose my own hours. I am told that they pay this rate and this rate only. I get emails at strange hours demanding I come in. I am on a zero-hours contract, but by law I am a freelancer. I earn less than my colleagues, and have less security. There are no benefits to what I do. I consider how I will end it when I reach 55 years old and can bear to work no more with no pension and no house. I consider trying to work out a higher rate of pay, but I know there are a million broken souls queueing behind me to take my place and work more for less. Last time I tried to do so I took a pay cut. I fuck up my own finances and my sanity for the sake of a job I’m told I should be lucky to have. I don’t feel lucky. 

As I walk back to my flat, I watch a woman stare at me and smile through my sunglasses. I don’t acknowledge her. She must think that I have my shit together. She doesn’t realise that this shining statuesque version of me is made of cheap marble and wood, that I’m wearing my one good shirt and wondering what it’s like to be evicted or made bankrupt. I wonder how soon I’ll experience it. I wonder how many people here are in the same boat. One has a bag from Whole Foods and steps into a brand new Jaguar. I wonder no more. In my head, I claw around trying to figure out how many days of work I need to do to make rent next month. I start to feel sick so I stop. 

I know I have to go to the Benefits Office and ask for help paying my bills, but I don’t want to. I feel like the provider. My mother once told me that what caused my dad to break down was always feeling like he had to provide. I let that thought stick for a while. What did the early tribes do when one of their hunters became lame or blind or deaf? Did they care for them or let them die in the wilderness? My rent has gone up this year. House prices are falling in my area but my landlord has a mortgage and the agency has commission to make so it goes up anyway. I can’t afford another deposit or letting fees so I let them fuck me. My contract says they won’t allow any tenants who use benefits, so I hope I can get the money put directly into my account and hide my shame. 

I look at my bank statement and feel like crying when I realise my mental calculations were off. I am poorer than I thought. I go into a shop and buy the cheapest beer I can find there, because I feel like shit and want to feel better. I look at the £1 bottles of piss-quality cider and work out how long it’ll be before I start drinking that. I pick up two four-packs of regular beer. There were times in the early days of The City where I would buy craft beers and bottles of wine like there was a shortage approaching, where I would go to bars on my day off and sit supping cold expensive pints. I’m not sure if I genuinely believed and experienced The Dream then, or if the fun has ruined my memories.

I walk and walk and walk and consider dropping everything and moving elsewhere. Maybe somewhere cheaper? Maybe a foreign country? I know I can’t. I owe the Government so much money in back taxes. I was seduced by a startup who hadn’t been corrupted by ideals like profit who actually paid me a fair wage for The City. I used my money to live like a human being. The company went bust. Now I’m poorer than ever. Now I have the burden of my past sitting forever on my back, my punishment for committing the sin of thinking I could breathe easy. I have to be in The City to earn enough to be poor. I am Prometheus, but the eagle will find no more liver.

I realise how cliche my experience is. We’re all dreamers who got hammered down by society again and again. I’m not clever or creative. I’m average. I walk through my front door and the chain is still on. The cheap door frame buckles and spits plaster everywhere. I would be worried about my deposit if I knew the several tea stains and cracked paint hadn’t already cost me over a thousand pounds of it. If I leave here I know I won’t be able to afford securing another place. I want to tear the rest of the wood off the frame and break something. Instead I work out which white lies to tell my landlord’s agency so they come and fix it without blaming me. I try to work out if I care whether they know or not anymore. 

I try to write. “You’re just not good enough.” Maybe they’re right. I’m so full of vinegar and spite and drink, I want to show them they’re wrong. I look at my half finished projects and ideas laying in the gutter. I look at my bank balance. I look at the broken door frame. I look at the dark bags under my eyes. I look at the tea stains. I look at my half empty beer. Maybe they’re right. 

I’m sitting on a wall. There is birdshit right next to me, cigarettes and gum stains all over the ground. A pigeon is at my feet. It’s feet are covered in yellow, twisting tumours. It pecks at a plastic bag filled with breadcrumbs. It’s eyes are wide as it tries and tries to get them. The breadcrumbs are inside the bag, teasing the bird through clear plastic. It can’t get to them. It tries again anyway. 

- M. M. Sheridan (2017)

#essay #writing #dreamer #adult life #depressing #work #creative industries #freelance #old writing #writer

[thesickpanda]

Where is My Mind?

Stress can make you feel like you're going crazy.

I cannot emphasize this enough. Long-term, persistent and intense stress well above your baseline levels can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Life is stressful and when I think back to when the intense periods of stress started in mine it gets a bit ridiculous because I grew up in a domestically violent household with severely mentally ill parents in a country on the brink of civil war with one of the highest crime rates in the world. So I have been kinda stressed for a very long time. However, in more recent months, the level of acute stress I've been experiencing has made me feel disconnected from reality. I've experienced derealisation a number of times due to Lyrica withdrawal and accidental cannabis highs. But this one is different. The depersonalisation I’ve been experiencing is from pure, unrelenting stress. I really did question my sanity more than once.

 In July, I saw my psychologist to describe this feeling to her. She very helpfully drew a diagram which explained the neuroscience of why we feel this way when we've experienced high levels of stress for a long time. It was really helpful to see that because it reassured me that what I was feeling was, as much as this can be said, "normal", given the amount of strain I was under. But the stress hasn’t let up since then and I have been well above my baseline for much too long.

 Long story short, I haven't really recovered since my family visited me last year. 2018 was a year from hell. 2019 hasn’t been much better but for different reasons. Basically, the hardships I’ve endured being the leader of a non-profit all these years reached critical mass and finally, at long last, broke me. After 8 years of pouring all my heart, soul and every last spoon I had into it, I quit last month…and to very little fanfare at that. 3 people turned up for our final meeting, and only because we needed to hand them the organization’s physical assets. We had a little unplanned dinner out and that was that.

I'm grateful to the handful of people who have reassured me they will continue its legacy beyond my departure, genuinely I am, but overall I think I stayed in that position at least a year longer than I should have. I feel incredibly jaded and cynical about the whole thing.

 And I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but screw Sydney’s activists. The vast majority of them can barely call themselves that. I have never been in such an apathetic, vain, self-centered and lazy city when it comes to political activism. This migrant has had enough of trying to get Australians to care about their own issues. (And yeah, the people I handed the non-profit over to? Also migrants).

It is telling that the final meeting was also the night before we moved house (because we always had to wrap our own lives around the goings on of that organisation, not the other way around, which is another major reason we quit). So after an hour and a half’s drive into the city, we had to get home late to get up early the next day to start that fun process.

 But I am getting ahead of myself. Before we ever got to moving day, we first had to find a house. If you haven’t done it before, let me tell you, the process of house hunting on a tight budget in a hostile market is disgustingly stressful.

We were looking from June. The property market in Sydney is unbelievably expensive and even though it experienced a so-called "correction" for a year, (meaning that house prices stabilized instead of continuing to rise), that ended just as we entered into the property hunt. I am extremely grateful that we got the house we did at the price we did, but my God, getting to that point nearly killed me. I keep explaining to people that it felt as if my partner and I ran full blast over broken glass to the edge of a dock, leapt several metres and grabbed onto the barnacles of a departing ship by our fingernails. I really do think we may have been among the last millennials that got on that “property” ship, and it was only because, at long last, we had help from my partner's extremely wealthy parents. After shaming us for a decade for not being able to afford impossible house prices (“ok boomer…”), he finally relented and helped us out. Again, I'm grateful, but also disgusted that this is the world we live in. Housing should be a human right and we shouldn't have this intergenerational greed and infighting over something so basic. Forgive my inner socialist. 

Finding the house was only the first part of the equation; moving into it was the next step.

 The moving process was incredibly arduous. At the time we should have been packing up the house, my partner's work decided to send him interstate for business on multiple occasions. By the time moving day came round, we were not ready and we couldn't afford to pay removalists. We enlisted the help of two amazing friends and Joe's brother-in-law. Again, super grateful that I had their help, but my God, was it intense. It took the better part of four days to move everything. We had to pay off the mortgage and the rent for the previous place for a two-week period, putting considerable strain on our savings. At the same time, we needed to get some work done in the new house so that was being done while we were trying to sort out the old house. The rental laws in this country are a joke and are widely considered to be abusive to renters, including by many of my American friends who now live here. I doubt we will ever see our bond returned, even though we were treated like crap living there for three years in a house that was not sealed, had no insulation or air conditioning, leaked and was draughty, didn't have proper doors et cetera et cetera. I mean, we had maggots falling from the ceiling… twice. The place was rotting and rotten but because my partner couldn't completely colour match the paint when he tried to cover up what was absolutely reasonable wear and tear on one of the walls, I'm sure we will lose all that. As usual, the landlord will claim it costs our entire $1800 bond to get a $50 an hour painter in to patch up one wall.  They always do this. In your contract it says reasonable wear and tear are a few knocks and dings on the wall and that the tenant is not expected to pay for that. In reality, in every rental we have ever lived in,  the landlord has refused to refund the bond when there’s been even the slightest bit of damage, even if we had a record of being model tenants. It was almost comical how hard my partner was trying in the middle of the move to cover up a few scrapes on the walls from moving furniture in and out. It all came to nothing because for love nor money he couldn't find the correct match of paint. And then of course he had to mow the entire grounds of the last rental when he really wanted to be using his weekends to sort out and unpack the new house. Good God, it was awful.

 My partner and I barely spent any quality time together during this period and he was extremely stressed out and distant from me. I totally understand why but the whole thing flared every single one of my conditions and I needed him as my carer. But he couldn’t really do that, as he was trying to do literally everything else. Moving house is hard on a healthy body, never mind one with two chronic pain disorders, irritable bowel and generalised anxiety disorder. And then (because of course), a family member of mine (one of the abusers) picked that moment in time to start harassing me, thereby triggering my PTSD which led to a nervous breakdown which led to intense depersonalisation, insomnia and nausea. Everyone and everything seemed unfamiliar to me, even my partner. I started to doubt whether or not I loved myself or anyone else anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly disconnected from the world. I began to lie awake at night terrified that I was fading away, that I could no longer feel anything other than fear. All the time, people kept saying, “congratulations on the new house! You must be so excited!” But all I could feel was sickness and dread.

 Two weeks after moving in, I had to drop my Lyrica one more time. This drop has been very difficult. All of the stress has led to some dark thoughts in the back of my mind which of course Lyrica then co-opts and exaggerates. I have had a more than a few moments of suicidal ideation. Everything in my life on paper has improved. We are now homeowners, we live in a beautiful part of the world, we've made some new friends lately, things are settling down et cetera et cetera. But I feel like I'm in shell shock after this year and last year. I haven't even had time to process that I am no longer the president of the not-for-profit I founded and formulated an identity around. I just haven't had the time to process literally anything. I've been more exhausted that I have ever felt. Oh, I'm sure everyone will say, “this too shall pass”. But I do not believe that bullshit. Yes, this individual stressor will pass but more horror will come and I know that makes me sound super negative but I just cannot remember a period of time when things were calm for… I can't remember. I just feel like I've been in a hurricane forever.

 So yeah, I'm writing this post while experiencing Lyrica withdrawal which makes me depressed and anxious. It's probably colouring my vision on everything. Fine. But I have been going through Lyrica withdrawal for two years, so it’s kinda become my normal. My final drop is on 26 December after which I will experience two more months of withdrawal and hopefully, after that, some semblance of sanity again. In the midst of all this I have to study for my citizenship test which is at the end of this month. I don't get any government support for my disability until I have been a citizen of this country for eight years, and as I’d like to survive my 40s, I need to get citizenship now. But yeah… studying an eighty-page textbook with an addled brain is just so much fun.

 Of course, during this time we haven’t have Internet because we had to disconnect the old place and it takes an age for it to get reconnected at the new place. We only recently acquired it at the new house. So there are piles of emails waiting for me. Many of them are from friends and I'm glad for that. But there is also a lot of life admin I now need to do. I have to change my address on every account I hold, which is really tedious. We have also had to organise time with family. Because my partner's family helped us get this house, we feel especially obliged to go to every single one of the family events, of which there are many. He comes from a big Catholic family so every relative who comes to visit, every party that's being held, every birthday, wedding, funeral and religious holiday, we’re now expect to attend. We have several in the next few weekends, taking up most of the time we *needed* to be unpacking the house. We’re obligated now.

 In all this negativity, though, I want to say that I am genuinely grateful to be one of the lucky ones to have a house. I know it sounds like I am whining about a good thing. It's not that I'm not glad for this (I know how ridiculously privileged we are). I just haven't been able to really feel it yet. I think that regardless of what happened this year, I’d be feeling this way. Something broke in me last year and just hasn't really come back. I feel shattered.

 And all my chronic pain conditions have been wearing me down too. I found out this year that the operation that cost me and my friends so much money (to remove that nerve in my foot) had failed. Or rather, the surgeon had completely botched it up. I have PTSD from that surgery. Just the thought of going back to have it done again fills me with heart racing terror and cold sweats. I’ve had numerous surgeries before that one and been fine, but the reaction I had from the anesthetic last time was so severe, and the recovery so long, that I genuinely fear it more than almost anything else. And yet I need to go in for that nightmare all over again in 2020. I'm going to be asked to trust a different surgeon to do the same so-called “simple operation” to restore some functionality to my left foot. My right knee is probably also going to need surgery since it has been resistant to any physiotherapy rehabilitation. And on top of all this, my poor partner's health has also taken a hit this year from the stress which is worrying me. Because I can always do with some more worry…

 But hey! This too shall pass! You should be happy! Life is great now! Yay yay yay!

Fuck, sometimes it just want to be allowed to feel shit and to have other people say “okay you can feel shit now. Yes, some good things have happened but right now you need to process the bad and that's okay too”. My lord, if people could just do that for me. If they could just let me feel what the fuck I need to feel.

 What I feel is exhausted, scared, freaked out, traumatized, weird, sick, angry, overwhelmed and fed up. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else.

#rant #Fibromylagia #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronic stress #stress #overwhelmed #personal catharsis

[a-woman-apart]

Hope

Remember, if you are having thoughts of hurting yourself, please get help.

Crisis Text (U.S.): 741 741

National Suicide Hotline: [phone]

You know what I said a couple weeks ago about waiting a couple of weeks before you make a Drastic, Negative, Irreversible Decision?

Well, I have confirmed evidence that it is true. It sounds cliché as hell, but when you are staring down a dark tunnel you really cannot see the light at the end of it. It feels like the pain will never end, and that nothing will ever be different. This is definitely a lie, because things will get better.

They will, because you are going to make them better.

How?

Well, first of all, you need to realize that depression is not just caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. Even if that is true, that chemical imbalance can be exacerbated by external circumstances. I am talking about real people, places, or things that generally contribute to your feelings of despair.

Here’s a list of questions to ask yourself.

·        Are you in a romantic relationship that is sexually, physically, or emotionally abusive?

·        Have you experienced childhood trauma?

·        Are most of the people in your circle people who belittle, undermine, pressure, and/or demean you?

·        Are you in a codependent relationship with a family member or significant other?

·        Do you work at a job that has become unsatisfying, unfulfilling, or unbearable?

·        Are you under lots of pressure to perform academically?

·        Are you homeless, living in poverty, facing financial insecurity, or living paycheck to paycheck?

·        Do you live in a war zone or a country where your basic safety and freedoms are constantly threatened?

·        Do you have a chronic physical illness in addition to your mental illness?

·        Do you spend most of your time alone and/or feel that you cannot depend on other people?

·        Do you feel that you have to perform or put on a show in order for others to respect your needs, wants, or desires? (This includes having to pretend to be cis or straight in order to be respected or cared for)

·        Do you base your self-worth on your money or achievements, only to have that self-worth come crashing down when you ask yourself “what’s next?”

·        Are you afraid that others will “discover” that you are a fraud and do not deserve the status or position that you have?

·        Do you constantly feel bored or unchallenged, like you are simply moving through the motions of life with no purpose or meaning?

I am aware that the author Johann Hari is a controversial figure, but so much changed for me when I read his book, “Lost Connections”. He looked at causes of depression—some of the things I just mentioned—and possible cures. These cures were not based primarily in treating patients with medicine. Lots of people claim that Hari discouraged or undermined the use of antidepressants in his book, but that was not the interpretation that I got.

My understanding is that he posited that the medicine is kind of a “jump-start” for the brain. I have experienced severe bipolar depression before. I was listless, monosyllabic, barely able to get out of bed or take care of my daily hygiene. I was under the care of my parents. The medicine did not “cure” me, but it gave me enough motivation to begin attending groups, psychiatrist appointments, and therapy sessions.

For most people, medicine is a part of a holistic treatment plan. In my case, it isn’t even the primary ingredient—especially since I no longer take antidepressants at all (A/N: I stopped under the supervision of a psychiatrist; never, never, never stop taking antidepressants or any other psychiatric medication cold turkey).

You see, once I got my manic symptoms under control with mood stabilizers, I thought I was in the clear, but I started to experience symptoms of depression again. However, this was the “good”, or “high-functioning” kind of depression. When you’re “high-functioning”, you can go through the day wishing you could die but you’re still alert, efficient, and outwardly cheerful. Unfortunately, this “less debilitating” depression kills more people. When you are in this state, if your goal is to die, you often have the energy and motivation to follow through. It is extremely isolating because most often, you have created the perfect illusion that everything is fine, and so others often don’t think to reach out to you to make sure you are okay. You also have created walls that you yourself may struggle to break through.

I knew that I wasn’t okay, so I reached out for help. My experience was similar to Johann Hari’s. I was put on antidepressants that would work for a while, and then they would stop, and I would be switched to another.  My weight fluctuated wildly, and I experienced a variety of other unpleasant side effects. I was finally removed permanently from antidepressants when the antidepressant drug, Effexor, contributed to me having a mixed episode (mania + depression), which, like high-functioning depression, carries a high suicide risk. I have written extensively about the horrible withdrawal I experienced from Effexor.

This is not to say that my negative experiences are universal to all. Bipolar depression is often resistant to antidepressants, and most antidepressants carry the risk of pushing us into mania. People with Major Depressive Disorder/Unipolar Depression often respond better to antidepressants. My best friend has been on the same high dosage of an antidepressant for years and it helped to increase his motivation and pull him out of a rut. He, like me, though has attended therapy and changed key things in his life that were keeping him stuck.

My point—after saying all that—is to say that drugs alone won’t solve your problems.

Also, you have a real reason to be depressed.

This is not to say that neurons misfiring in your brain don’t contribute to your depression, or that there is no such thing as a chemical imbalance. However, often there are things in our lives that make us feel small, trapped, or powerless, and these are often things that we can physically point to if we ask ourselves the right questions.

E N V I R O N M E N T A L

One big thing is work. You may work in a job you actually despise because you want to support your family. Most of us spend a third—or more—of our day at some kind of job. Maybe school is your job, and you’re drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines.

Maybe there is no feasible way to leave that job or school (yet), but Johann Hari gives tips on how to hate it less. You could rearrange your schedule, change departments or majors, request different kinds of work, or otherwise try to find meaning in an outwardly shitty situation.

F I N A N C I A L

If you are in financial trouble, you could begin utilizing your community resources more. This includes getting local or government help with food and bills, but it also involves things like attending free job training and educational workshops or going to your local library so that they can connect you with employment resources. Libraries and colleges also often host hiring events and have bulletin boards where you can see the latest job postings for your area.

You could stop also depending on people financially who belittle you or make you feel guilty for receiving their help. Some people do nothing but give off unproductive energy—it isn’t worth it to receive assistance from these kinds of people, because you will never be able to do enough to pay them back. Even if you pay them back the physical resources, they will constantly try to violate your boundaries by saying, “Look at everything I did for you and you can’t even do X”. Run, do not walk, from these kinds of people.

A B U S E

As for abusive situations, these can be incredibly isolating. Your abuser has probably already driven wedges between you and your friends and family. You can however call the National Domestic Abuse Hotline and get help. If you feel like you are in danger—even if that person has never physically attacked you—you should still call and get help and advice. They can connect you with shelters and other resources. They also provide help for people who are suffering from spiritual abuse, an overlooked but often devastating form of abuse.

You can also call Day One Services and get help if you are dealing with emotional abuse.

I S O L A T I O N

It takes a community. It takes us leaning on each other and working together. The lie is that you do this thing called life alone. You don’t. In disaster zones or war-torn areas, depending on the community can mean the difference between life and death.  

I know many of us don’t live in a disaster zone, but we still need community support. A lot of us don’t have friends—and struggle to make them—but if the Friendship Goal is too lofty, then you should start by just spending more time with people in general. You could start by just sitting in a coffee shop or going to a park and people watching. Or you could try to join online groups where you can speak freely about your hobbies. When it comes to taking the bigger steps, like joining an offline group or volunteering, set the bar super low.

I had been using Meet Up to try to find groups in my area, and I made this absurdly low goal of “attend one Meet Up this year”. Not five, three, or even two. Just one. I was terrified, but I did it. I still haven’t gone to another one, but it was a starting point. It helped my brain see that I could do it. Loneliness and isolation are dangerous; any small action you can take towards reducing those two factors will be incredibly helpful.

P E R S P E C T I V E

Sometimes our issue can be with the way we see the world; Johann Hari described some of these as “Disconnection from meaningful values”. If your fundamental view of the world is that you need to just continually climb the ladder of achievement—hording material wealth along the way— until you die, you lack meaningful values. If you have physical comfort, but your life lacks purpose or meaning, it can feel incredibly bleak. We need to both change our outward circumstances, and our behavior and way of thinking in order to see improvement. We need to stop thinking we deserve less, and instead start cutting out toxic people and working on moving out of toxic environments.

S U M M A R Y

At first, when I dropped out of my university, broke up with my boyfriend, and started planning to quit my job (and leave my overpriced apartment) I felt like I was going to lose my mind. Most therapists and psychiatric professionals would not recommend that someone with a mental health condition make that many changes at once. I overhauled everything within a six-month period, and the stress of it all made me need to go to inpatient. I was very ill physically for a while, lost tons of weight, racked up medical bills, etc.

In the end, though, what do I have? I can say that I am truly happy for the first time in ages. My tears are now happy tears. Everything worked out. I’m going to go to a much smaller, more accessible college for my Bachelor’s. I’m moving in with friends to save money and deal with the loneliness issue. I have a new job that is currently a much better fit than the old one was. My ex and I continue to be close friends, but it did take a period of adjustment. I was in big financial trouble, but now, with support, I am getting back on my feet. I was even able to sell my piano keyboard to make a few more simoleons.

Of course, sometimes I still feel very anxious because This Is A Lot, but my anxiety crisis is over. All these new life events are teaching me something that I severely lacked: flexibility. I am also now more resilient, knowing that having made it through this, I can make it through anything.

You are going to make it, too.

I understand that it is important to make sure you keep an internal locus of control. This means that certain things in your life are your responsibility and yours alone, and that you have power to change those things. You can’t make someone love you, but you can ask that they treat you with kindness, dignity, and respect, and remove yourself from the relationship with them if they do not acknowledge your request.  You can’t singlehandedly change the world, but you can volunteer and do other things that make a difference in your local community. These changes often have a ripple effect that alter the surrounding areas for the better.

It is going to be hard to change your environment, improve your financial situation, and discover your purpose in life. You could think you have it all figured out, and everything can change. If you feel overwhelmed, please reach out for help. Trust me, tons of resources are just a Google search away. If you’re stumped, go to your local library and ask for advice or books on the subject you’re struggling with.

For those of you who can’t leave home, even here on Tumblr there are users who have compiled tons and tons of “master posts” for things like “How to Get a Job”, “How to Be Frugal” or “How to Make Friends.” Even if you can’t make it to your local library, there are often links to databases in the library catalog that have a wealth of information on every subject. I know a huge amount of you struggle with executive dysfunction so starting and completing tasks can be really hard, but there’s posts for that, too. Even if all you do is get out of bed today and eat something instead of laying in bed and constantly scrolling through here, that is a start.

I know this has gotten incredibly wordy, but the point of it all is please, please, PLEASE don’t give up! You really can make positive changes, but it takes time. Don’t throw all the time you might have left away.

#hope master post #how to have hope #suicide prevention #using community resources #removing toxic people #living with mental illness #living with anxiety #living with depression #changing your environment #getting rid of bad friends #leaving abusive relationships #spiritual abuse help #domestic abuse help #emotional abuse help #use your local library #places to find job help #reducing stress #johann hari #lost connections book

[observenature]

Acceptance

“Is everything ok?” said the young grasshopper.

The lily turned its petals down and said “Can I share something real with you?”

“Yes.” said the young grasshopper.

I believe that words have the power to resonate in a mind, and that when a mind senses that resonance in another, a community is born.  These thoughts are my tuning fork; trio tones of joy, fear, and excitement, jointly holding the baton that conducts the cacophony. All of what follows are my anecdotal impressions, nothing more – I’m sorry that this is the truth (an indictment as I see it).  

The world is full of so much possibility and beauty, and so much ugliness and petty squabbling. It’s sad to think that with our collective resources, intellect, and technology there is so much we might have accomplished – cured most of the major diseases, understood the brain, reinvented ourselves physically and mentally, left our home rock and explored the wild and humbling beauty of the Cosmos.  I suppose that those things might still happen, but it also seems that we are peaking too early, using up too much of our resources, and we have a will to destroy ourselves and irreparably alter our planet long before we grasp our uniqueness, all because we are fundamentally enslaved to our amygdala. I dream of a world where we put aside our very minor differences and realize that not so deep down, we are all very similar. We all feel the pain of living, the emptiness of loss, the longing for love and connection, the joy of friendship, the satisfaction of accomplishment, and the power of Nature. Our evolutionary legacy leaves us beholden to a set of brain chemistries and circuitries that reinforce selfish behavior, that bias our perception toward continual scarcity, amplify apophenia until we see diety and monster in the mist, and intoxicate us with power and greed – we have all those things in common too. We posture, pivot and pontificate to project an image of certitude, because to stare directly at the random and uncertain complexity of it all would crush anyone. Hunter S. Thompson said:  Life is beautiful, and living is pain.  

It amazes me that we are all here on this small planet, burning the most abundant energy source any life form on it has ever known, to go about our daily lives, to build large screen TVs that suck up our precious time and sell us a lie of happiness we don’t need. Consider for a moment that we can now instantly know where we are on Earth and we can instantly communicate with a single person or group. On a whim we have access to nearly the entire sum of all human knowledge. We know the age of the Sun and when it will die. We have seen the edges of the Universe and clocked its growth by the afterglow. We created machines to whisk us from one end of the planet to another, we harness the power of the atom, and we are in labor to give birth to powerful and unmoored digital intelligences, that will, in their own right, soon see us as the tools, rather than vice versa.  All of this in the name of technological, economic, and geopolitical ‘progress.’

“But to what end?” said the young grasshopper.

So that we can surf the world addicted to data and dogma that we believe will finally answer the questions that nothing and no one can -- the intangible and ineffable “why’s” of existence. We spend our communal energy – our most valuable asset – believing that other people we call gods have wisdom that we don’t, that paradise is earned by obedience and unlocked by death rather than by expressing gratitude for the only and greatest paradise we will ever inhabit -- our home, this world, the Cosmos expressing itself. The nebulous notion that technology, whose mindless implementation and adoption accelerated these trends, will save us is tantamount to thinking that the best way to put out a fire is to make sure that there is nothing left to burn. We have opened Pandora’s box and confused raw technical capabilities with informed stewardship. And the belief that supernatural forces will guide us through these, the most challenging of times, is a fairytale born of justifiable ignorance and confusion, it warps our objectives and dangerously disconnects us from the here, the now, and the other. It attempts to define virtue by what we should not be, and gives lip service to the formative actions of compassion, patience, and thoughtfulness. Both worldviews wrestle to make sense of, and find security within, the master dynamical system whose chaotic trajectory is, fundamentally, unpredictable. Both believe that it can be understood and guided to a place of certain security, rather than accepting and reveling in the undeniable links that chain freedom to security, and suffering to autonomy.

“But to what end?” said the young grasshopper.

So that 100 or 1000 or 1,000,000 years from now we will have selected against the curiosity that leads to real progress and spent the resources that could have enabled the transformation in our species and our quality of life that we imagine lies just outside our reach. This is the greatest and saddest generation of which to be a part, and I can’t help but look at the long arc of history and see that we have been struggling, time and again, with the same problems.  We still have not figured out how to equitably steward our resources with collective action, we still have not figured out how to live in a degree of harmony with the Natural world on which every aspect of our survival depends. We still have not learned to cherish and protect the diversity that defines and stabilizes all living systems. We still have not learned that whatever our circumstance, our forms have needs that require care and balance. We still have not learned that the magic of Life stands on feet of mystery and knowledge – we were not intended to, nor are capable of, dealing with the full sensory and information experience of existence. And yet there are those that vigorously call for us to fight the other, to amplify our differences so that we no longer see other humans as humans, to pass observable truth through a lens of distortion, to disfigure and sharpen our discourse until the barb can pierce dignity, and they rape our world at any expense with no consideration for our own future nor the future of those that come after us.  We place too much value on pleasure to risk progress. And much as I would like to say that I am part of the solution, which I suppose in some areas I am, I know well that I, we are all the problem. In little choices every day we waste and use and think only of our pleasures and progress now – almost no one is playing the long game. We are essentially never willing to sacrifice a momentary and clearly visible personal gain for a potential but uncertain greater good -- that is the fundamental issue.

What will be left when we have used all the fossil fuels, and there is no energy source abundant enough to propel us into the next “greener” technological era of our existence? What will happen when we have devalued and destroyed objective physical truth and hard-earned expertise to the point when no one has the knowledge or will to tackle the problems of governance and environment that loom supremely large on the stage of civilization? What will happen when our specters convince us that creativity, non-conformity, and any observable difference are threats?

I don’t know, but I do know that things will look very different, that the world population as such will not be able to continue at its current size and state.  I know that Nature will eventually force us to pay Her heed, when the forests burn, the farm land is depleted, and the medical advancements of the last 200 years are for not because we misused our discoveries and forgot our methods.  It’s tempting to think that we’ll just start over, but that surely cannot be.  We will have spent all the abundant energy, the solar panels will be long cracked and inefficient, the cars will be planters, the nuclear power plants dark forests, and this thing we call civilization will have died back to a scraggly weed of its former self.  It’s not a question of ‘if’, it’s a question of ‘when’.

I want to find the silver lining in all of this.  Will our descendants look back and marvel at what we accomplished?  Yes.  Will they ponder incessantly as to why we didn’t or couldn’t take the steps to avoid decline? Yes.  Will they learn from our mistakes and embrace a wider view of humanity and commitment to each other? Maybe.  Will they build a new civilization that respects natural limitations and recognizes that dogma has no place in a free society?  I don’t know.

The system has made us weak and we are knowingly cultivating a culture that values only the most vapid pursuits of momentary validation and material wealth, while discouraging the introspection that asks – If more people behaved as I do, would that move us toward a more tolerant and sustainable world?  I no longer seek to blame any one person, organization, or government -- we were all bestowed these brains with systematic faults that we sum to “human nature”.  I think the point might be that we are here together, and like every thinker and leader of thought on the right side of history has tried to tell us – we need to look out for each other, we are all we have in the vast pointless emptiness.  I look around and see unavoidable failures in our system – choice structures like the Tragedy of the Commons – that have no solution because we are incapable of shifting our view from short to long, from me to us. The world is falling apart because we all see it happening, and we all feel like we’re on this sinking ship, most of us can’t figure out where the water is coming from, but there are gushing leaks all around us.  I believe we are living at the peak of civilization on Earth.  The juggernaut of civilization, really, the billions of choices made by the masses and the few pivotal decisions made by the powerful for their own benefit, all sadly make sense.  We have created a system that constantly shows us the material wealth we should strive for, while empowering no one to act beyond their own needs and desires.  Sometimes, I wish there was a God or a galactic super race that would come to save us from ourselves, but I have no faith in either.  

So here we are, the third wet rock from an average star, on the out skirts of a typical galaxy, and no one will hear our laughing or screaming or pleading or self-expressions through music, no will see our art, or take satisfaction in our discoveries, no one will sit on our mountains and in our forests to find peace and wholeness among the spontaneous and awesome self-organization of this world, no one will come to say ‘hey, here’s a better way.’  It’s all on us and if that reality cannot motivate us to be better people and a better civilization, if that does not thrust us into a period of deep self-examination, then nothing will.  So maybe it’s ok, given those realities, that we continue with business as usual, that we recognize that inequity is as natural as gravity, that we chant the mantra of maximization, and everyone suffers in a life punctuated by moments of love and joy and we whiz through space and search for meaning as strange and animate assemblies of the same atoms that are found throughout the Universe.

The only actions to take are to marvel at the continually unfolding beauty and dance when we can to the harmony and natural structure that permeates everything. And our greatest ideal – altruism – manifests as our desire to enable others to take those actions. The same struggle for existence, the master algorithm of Evolution that shaped us from molecules into ephemeral sentient forms will disintegrate us back into molecules. And one day, when time has lost its meaning and space has grown inanimate and cold, there will be peace. I don’t know how many times the Universe has tried or will try this experiment, but I do know that it will keep trying.  And maybe this is the best yet, in the incomprehensible complexity of it all, this is the truest expression of the natural order, this is the Cosmos in all its uncoordinated omniscience and omnipotence learning, flowing, evolving, making mistakes, this is the only way it can be.

I articulate this all in the hope that I can move on and live my life blissfully aware of what almost surely lies ahead, that this too shall pass.

They sat in silence for a time, swaying with the breeze, sunlight moving in dappled patterns over their forms.

“I hope that in other labs of the Cosmos, the experiments are yielding different results.” said the young grasshopper.

“Me too,” said the lily. “Me too.”

[megarahmoon]

It’s no one’s business how you support yourself. Period. But the government technically supports you due to your mental health. Wording that your disorders support you is cringeworthy. The thing about being on disability is it’s because you have to be in order to survive and be able to support yourself in all ways. This includes trying to maintain a stability in your health or hopefully get better in whatever way you can. Saying it the way you did perpetuates negative stereotypes.

Actually I’ve been trying to be more open about how I live without having a job bc obviously people are going to ask me how I’m able to afford the stuff I get when I don’t work (not everyone asks me bc it’s obviously personal and can taken something rude to say to someone) I don’t want to lie and make up something EVERY single year when it’s been obvious I haven’t got a job or do any adult thing. And yes, I am very ashamed to get disability bc it means I may NEVER be able to attempt my dreams of becoming a primatologist or wildlife rehabilator, it’s a wakeup call to me that reminds me that I’m a very mentally person who can’t work normally and be around people like a normal person, and it’s such a shitty thing to feel. People will FOREVER look down upon me for “getting it easy” and getting “life handed to me for free” it’s the total fucking opposite.Lol people like you are the reason I’m ashamed letting people know how I support myself. I didn’t want to be specific about WHAT I get to support myself bc IT EMBARRASSES ME. I almost just deleted the message I got about asking me if it was me or my mother who supports me because, yeah it is no ones business!!! And I HAVE deleted many anons who’s asked me this. But, I know eventually I’m going to have to be open about that part of myself BECAUSE I’m not going to be able to lie every time someone asks me “oh do you plan on going to college?” or “are you going to get your driver’s license?” And I DO give people excuses in real life to why I haven’t done those things bc AGAIN i’m ashamed that I have horrible anxiety and bipolar that makes it so I can’t lead a normal life. People are going to catch on eventually that I haven’t been doing those things I lie and tell them I’m going to do and I don’t want people to think I’m just lazy or being a parasite since they don’t know I get my own money which they prob think I mooch off of the people I live with. That is why I just answered with bipolar and anxiety “supports me” Because it’s people like you who make me feel ashamed to admit about myself. YOU’RE the one stereotyping by being a fucking asshole because I didn’t word my answer the way you think I should have. And for the record it took me years to agree to apply for disability bc I didn’t want to be like those people who really do take advantage of the sysytem. My grandma is the one who made it all happen for me. And I’m not blaming her, I actually do now appreciate the support I can give myself bc it’s made me feel less of a burden and makes me feel like I can do SOME adult things by buying myself the shit I need like clothes, food, and be able to take my own damn dog to the vet and not have to rely on people to help me do these things. I’m ashamed but also grateful for the disability I get. It has helped me tremendously and even helped a but with my mental illness but on the other hand it’s hard to talk about this shit bc it’s such a cliche that if you get paid from the government you take advantage from the system bc there’s so many people out there that do it and everyone knows it. I don’t want to be seen as those kinds of people, because I’m NOT. You think I”perpetuate negative stereotypes” because I worded my answer low key and simple? I knew this was going to happen once I mentioned it and I was sooo close not to answer but I wanted to try to be open and normalize that some people just can’t make it on their own and I want to show I’m not those people who take advantage of the money they get. And I know it can be VERY HARD to get disability, my mother had tried for YEARS because of her fibromyalgia and they don’t seem to help people with a medical problem as much as they do with people who have mental problems like myself. And if I do get better enough in the future and can get a job most likely where I don’t need people contact but something with animals, I don’t want that check in the mail anymore. I want to feel normal and WORK for my money and not be called a damn stereotype. But for now, my mental health is constantly a ship wreck so that won’t be possible for now. When people ask me if I plan on going to college or when I’m going to be the next “jane goodall” I literally want to die because I know I won’t ever be that person and no one knows that and it kills me that they think I’m motivated because I know I’m not because, I literally CAN’T. My mental illnesses are the whole reason I have this money. As soon as I was diagnosed with bipolar, I was instantly accepted and at that time made me realize, damn I really am a fucking loon. SO YES, MY MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE THE REASON I CAN SUPPORT MYSELF. Who would of thought my suicidal backgrounds of being in the hospital having to force drink this black nasty goo to get the pills out of my system and being sent to a mental hospital for 2 weeks at age 17 would actually be good for my future because I can support my needs as a sad ill spirited person. Did I word my fucking words better this time? 

#Anonymous

[movieexpert1978]

Supernatural Nightmare

I got inspired by a dream I had the other night. 

Blofeld is not my character . 

No matter what she does she can’t see to get away from him. He seemed to even be in her dreams. She couldn’t escape him. You would think it would be the opposite with her being a vampire hunter and him being the vampire and all, but he had a lot of power. So much so that he could bend governments to his will and they didn’t even know he was a vampire. She knew the truth. She had to stop him. She tried to stop him for several years now and she barely made any progress. He had torn her to shreds mentally and nearly tried to physically of course.

But now he was trying a different tactic.

He worked this new angle very well and now in a way he was driving her mad. Vampires didn’t hypnotize people, but she wished that was an excuse as she thought about the feelings he revealed inside her over and over again as taunts and teases. One night she went to one of his social gatherings, under cover of course, but he spotted her easily.

“Hello my little hunter.” He rasped behind her making her nearly drop the glass of champagne she had in her hand.

“Ernst.” She stated as she turned around unamused. He looked her up and down and gave her a small smile.

“You look lovely in that dress. I don’t think I’ve never seen you in one before now.” He said calmly.

“This is the only time you’ll see me in one.” She nearly spat as she finished her drink and set it down hard.

“Come, dance with me.” He smirks. Before she can protest he takes her hand and pulls her onto the dance floor. His hands stay in their respectful places for dancing and never wonder.

“I hate you.” She whispered.

“Oh hush Elisa.” He chuckles. “I have an interesting proposition for you.” He says.

“No.” She answers.

“I’m going to tell you anyway.” He shoots right back. She frowns as he keeps going. “You could work for me. You can have some many things. I can give you power, money, stability.” He says.

“No.” She repeats firmly.

“Or I could take you and make you a miserable feeder.” He growls darkly with his grip tightening slightly.

“I’m not going to join you.”

“Think about it though. Give it time.” He says calmly again.

“My answer will be no.” He doesn’t say anything as they finish the dance and go separate ways. She hurries to a quiet corner to get her breathing under control. She’s always nervous being around him and he could have easily snapped her wrist like a twig back there.

“It always surprises me that your heart is always racing when you see me.” Ernst chuckles as he appears out of nowhere again. She doesn’t jump this time, but grumble.

“Go away.” She says frustrated.

“I thought the same way about you for the longest time. Now I feel like a fool for wasting time.” He says inching closer and backing her into the wall. She nearly flinches when he caresses her face. She thought he would feel cold but he feels gently and…inviting. “Stay with me, be my feeder. I could give you the world.” He rasps.

“I don’t want it.” She shivers.

“Aren’t you tired Elisa? Tired of all the fighting, the injuries, and the failures. You don’t have to go through that anymore. If you stay with me we could have peace. You would be safe and taken care of. I can give you anything you desire.” He says. No more fighting is a tempting idea though and she was tired. She was beyond tired. She was exhausted. She was exhausted of this cat and mouse game they had.

“Ernst…” She sighs looking at him. His eyes are a nice hazel and she realized she was staring too long at him so she turned away. She nearly let out a cry when he leaned into her neck. She closed her eyes tightly fearing he was going to bite her, but nothing happened. Instead he lightly kissed her skin. She let out a gasp at the contact and he continued his soft kisses. He gently turned her back towards him and she practically melted when he kissed her. It had been so long since she had basic human contact. She clung to him as the kiss deepened and she ended up moaning in his mouth. When he pulled away she understood his message or rather his offer and it frightened her.

“Think about it.” He whispered before he turned and left.

That had been months ago and here she was at a new place trying to escape him yet again. She was at a safe house all armored up in case someone came to attack her and she was prepared to see him just in case. A storm was moving in and thunder rumbled in the distance. She rolled her eyes as it reminded her of a horror movie. She had the TV on as background noise as she looked over files on the computer. Her two guns were holstered at her waist filled with ultra violet rounds that made vampires disintegrate on contact. The rain was coming now and the wind rattled with window frames. A harsh flash and a sharp crack made her jump and on cue the power went out.

“Fuck!” She snapped getting up and pulling out one of her guns with a flashlight in her other hand. She walked carefully to the basement and despite her fears the circuit box wasn’t sabotaged. The fuses were old and covered in dust so she went back upstairs feeling a little more relief as she grabbed the new fuses and fixed it. When she turned the lights on they did indeed go back on and she grumbled as she went back upstairs. When she reached the upstairs hallways she heard growling. She pointed her gun and advanced slowly. When she turned she started firing as vampire agents charged at her. She shot down two when one grabbed her from behind. She grunted as she ran backwards and slammed the agent into the wall. He grunted and literally tossed her down the hallway. She barely got up when her gun was knocked out of her hand and the punches started. She tried to keep up but vampires had super speed so he kept getting in punches and she could slowly feel her bones start to crack and break. He grabbed her neck and slammed her into the floor making her gasp as she coughed for air. He smiled to reveal his fangs as he wrapped his hands around her neck. She was losing her breath fast so she grabbed her second gun and shot point blank into his body. His body crumbled into dust as she curled in and coughed hard.

She slowly got up and started heading towards her room when another agent appeared and kicked her hard in the rips. She shouted in pain as the agent fought dirty and had her fallen on the floor groaning in pain with bloody lips. She reached into her boot and pulled out her knife as she was turned around. As she stabbed the agent right smack dab in the forehead he stabbed her as he screamed in pain and fell over twitching. She sat up and grunted with every step as she grabbed her gun and shot him making him disintegrate. The blade was stuck in her side and she kept it in there as she got her first aid kit. She stumbled into her room as she ripped her shirt off and saw her battered body along with the bloody wound. She got the clotting fluid ready as she stared at the blade with hands shaking.

“Elisa.”

“Fuck off Ernst!” She screamed nearly tearing the blade out and throwing it at him. He held his hands up and remained calm.

“They weren’t mine.” He stated.

“You’re a fucking liar.” She snapped.

“I am being honest Elisa.” He said coming close to her. She glared at him as he approached. “They weren’t my agents Elisa. I can prove it.” He repeated. He pulled out a phone and showed her some files. “There’s a coven here. See this symbol, it’s on the blade.” He said pointing to the hilt.

“No squid.” She smirked bitterly.

“You’re a hunter. This house is basically a death trap because it was abandoned a long time ago. The previous occupants slaughtered by the vampires to expand territory.” He explained.

“Are you going to kill them?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged.

“You have been watching me though?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Here, lie back. Let me help you.” He said gently. She didn’t have much of a choice as she stared at the ceiling. He pulled out a scalpel from the kit and put it aside. “This will hurt.”

“I know.” She nodded for him to get going. He was quick about it as he grabbed the hilt and yanked it out with one swift pull. She screamed in pain and it brought tears to her eyes as she moaned and started bleeding. He didn’t use the clotting fluid, instead he cut his palm and let his blood drip on her wound. She whimpered and squirmed in pain as he blood healed her.

“I know…I’m sorry, I know.” He whispered as he rubbed her arm helping her through the pain. When the wound was healed he cleaned it off and cleaned her up as much as she would allow. He even retrieved a new shirt for her, which she promptly put on despite her body protesting otherwise. She collapsed on the bed breathing hard and in pain. “Elisa…” Ernst said leaning in and brushing the hair from her face. She looked at him and tears fell down her face.

“I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore.” She cried.

“It’s alright.” He said brushing her tears away.

“I’m so scared.” She whimpered.

“I know. It’s ok to be scared.” He says leaning in closer. He kissed her neck again as he rubbed her body. “It’s ok to be scared…but don’t worry I’ll take care of you. You have my word.” He says taking her hand and kissing it. She closes her eyes and whimpers as he leans into her neck. She cries out when he bites and lets out a moan when he starts to drink from her. It feels weird and frightening which makes more tears come as she whimpers. He only drinks briefly and bandages the wound. She flinches when something goes into her arm and she looks to see he stuck her with a needle.

“What did you do?”

“Rest now, you’ll be safe when you wake up.”

Xxxxxxxxx

When she woke up she let out a groan as she sat up.

“Easy.” Ernst said going right to her.

“Where am I?”

“I told you, you’re safe.”

“I’m still scared Ernst.” She said looking at him.

“I know and as I said before it’s ok to be scared.” He helped her back down on the bed and he caressed her face. He let out a smirk and she stared at him.

“What?”

“Your heart isn’t racing.”

“Oh.” He smiled at her as he continued to caress her.

“Do you need anything?”

“I don’t know. I’m still really tired.”

“I can help you heal with my blood. It will help, but not right now. I know you need time.”

“Like eternity.” She muttered bitterly.

“I have eternity. You don’t.” He smirked.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to stay.” He said. “Once you’re healed you can go. I will never bother you again.” He said honestly.

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you. I mean that. I can’t do this anymore and I don’t want to be alone.” She said almost pleading.

“Neither do I.”

He gently kissed her and watched her fall back to sleep. He decided to stay and watch her for a while and listen to the pleasant sound of her calm heartbeat

#christoph waltz #fanfiction #blofeld #ernst stavro blofeld #vampires #vampire #blood #violence #hints of romance #dream inspired #injuries #vampire bites #finally writing again

[sanjuno]

from the tone of ur mcu/got fic it seemed like u really hate or at least disiked steve, how come?

Woo boy, okay. So first things first. Let’s clarify the statement. Steve Rogers, aka Captain America is a character that has been re-imaged several times dependant on the universe he’s in. Classic and Silver Age Steve is okay. I’m kind ‘meh’ about Steve in 616 and Ultimates.

MCU Steve is everything wrong about American superheroes distilled into one storyline. And it’s not just one thing, it’s many things that build up until I want to set him on fire for the good of the world and all the poor, impressionable fanboys in it.

My issues with Steve in the First Avenger are:

MCU Steve refuses to accept any dissenting opinions and his first resort is always violence instead of debate. He’s manipulative in that he verbally antagonizes people so that they “throw the first punch” so he can feel justified in “standing up to bullies”.

MCU Steve glorifies active military service to the point of outright refusing to support the army in a way he’s actually capable of succeeding at and instead commits treason (lying on the enlistment forms) rather that applying for a support role. To say nothing of the danger Steve’s fellow servicemen would be in covering his ass if he did actually manage to lie his way to the warfront. Plus he completely ignores the fact that Bucky was drafted, which means that Bucky did not willingly enlist.

MCU Steve took steroids that had the proven, recorded side effects of increased aggression, sociopathy, and psychosis in every known survival case.

MCU Steve never finished basic training, and thus never even made it to the rank of Private. He’s never been employed by the US Army. “Captain America” is a stage name, not a real rank. If anything, Steve was a consultant employed by the SSR to deal with Hydra and only Hydra.

My issues with Steve in The Avengers are:

MCU Steve is isolating himself and refuses to take care of his own mental health and stability. He expresses obsessive behaviours and rigid thought processes that make it easy for the Hydra agents embedded in SHIELD to gaslight him about people and the operation of modern society. In short, Steve is ignorant and uneducated in a way that he could easily change but refuses to despite have unrestricted access to the resources he needs, and so any failures or bad judgement calls on his part as a result of his ignorance are on his head. Self-education is the responsibility of every thinking person who wants to interact with the wider world.

MCU Steve doesn’t know how to accept specialist opinions, as proven by his distain for Tony and Bruce’s work in the lab so they can track down the cube. Again, distain for cerebral pursuits such as engineering or computer sciences because there’s no visible effort to show for it aside from the results that are produced once the actually work is over.

More attempts to provoke people into violence when MCU Steve is losing an argument because he doesn’t have the facts to back up his statement.

Takes off on a road trip, but when the hell did MCU Steve have the time to get a motorcycle certification or driver’s license? Does he even have a source of income? Second instance of lawbreaking confirmed.

My issues with Steve in The Winter Soldier are:

MCU Steve has no proof that Sam isn’t a Hydra plant when he goes for help, just a gut feeling. Sorry, but background checks are a thing you need to do before sharing classified information for a reason. Operational security is nothing but a dream at this point.

Doesn’t call Tony to get the Helicarriers shut down. Why? Tony has made multiple public statements that Stark tech in the hands of terrorists goes boom!

Yes, there were Hydra agents in SHIELD but dumping the database just meant that all the good, actually SHIELD agents are the ones who got burned. How many active or retired agents and their families got killed because of that info leak? That’s like burning down your house because you saw a spider.

MCU Steve fucks off and doesn’t go to the hearing, and he never actually gets debriefed about what went down. Once again Steve disrespects governing authority and the due process of laws put in place to protect the public. (Because Bucky, and I’m so sick of that mentality.)

My issues with Steve in Age of Ultron are:

MCU Steve hasn’t told Tony that his parents death was a murder but accuses Tony of lying to them. Tony never lies, he doesn’t have enough of a self preservation instinct to bother lying. But Steve is covering up a murder and still somehow thinks he’s a moral authority.

Blames Tony for Ultron when it’s obvious that (a) Bruce was helping and (b) alien magi-tech bullshit was at fault. Plus JARVIS is dead and Steve doesn’t care despite the fact that it’s obvious Tony is grieving.

Identifies with Wanda, known Hydra volunteer who only switched sides because she was going to get killed by Ultron otherwise. Trusts Wanda’s word over Tony’s, when Wanda’s goal has always been to messily murder Tony and she set an enraged Hulk on a city full of civilians with the intent to kill everyone there. 

Throws the shield when he gets to Tony’s lab while Vision is being born, so yet again violence is the chosen option instead of debate.

My issues with Steve in Civil War are:

MCU Steve is still so ignorant of modern politics that he thinks the UN is a government. Also refuses to respect the right of sovereign nations to say “no” to having the Avengers cross their borders. If Steve wants to operate against human organizations instead of just the random alien invasion then he needs to have oversight and a proper command structure. Otherwise he’s just another extremist pushing his personal agenda on the populace. And that’s the definition of terrorism.

MCU Steve fucks up Bucky Barnes’ chances of being acquitted of Hydra’s crimes when they escape custody by blowing through the anti-terrorist task force and collapse a transit tunnel on civilians during the midday commute. Until that point everything Bucky did was could be filed under Bucky being non copus menti as a result of the Winter Soldier programming and the deliberately, maliciously cultivated PTSD triggers implanted by Hydra. But that chance is gone now because Bucky Barnes was the one “in control” when they fucked up the airport and beat up Tony.

MCU Steve lies to Clint and Scott about the reason they’re fighting. Steve says they needs to stop the other Winter Soldiers from being set loose and that the Accords will stop them from acting, but in reality it all boils down to saving Bucky. Meanwhile everyone on Team Cap gets labelled an international criminal in the end and chances are they aren’t going to be able to go home for years even if they’re very, very lucky.

Bad laws are argued in court and amendments get made if a law infringes on the civil rights of the people it impacts. But MCU Steve doesn’t obey the laws, he has never obeyed the laws, and so he has no fucking goddamned clue about how to work inside the system to get what he wants peacefully. Cue more punching his problems.

LYING OR WITHHOLDING INFORMATION ABOUT A MURDER CASE IS OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE AND IT’S A CRIME, STEVE.

Breaking people out of prison when they have, in point of fact, broken the law, IS A CRIME, STEVE.

So in summary, MCU Steve is a violent, delusional bully who likes to be the centre of attention and has never believed that the laws apply to him. It’s especially grating because the script writers keep trying to make him a sympathetic character but all I can see is some jacked up white boy on steroids whining because it’s not fair that he needs to be a decent, law-abiding human being. Due Process, Workplace Health and Safety Regulations, Harassment Policies, things like that. Also, Steve and Wanda are actually close to the same age in life experience according to the MCU storylines but he marginalizes her and denies her agency by saying she’ “just a kid”, which is the most bullshit patronizing expression of a superiority complex I’ve even seen in media. And that’s why I don’t like MCU’s version of Steve Rogers.

#Sanjuno Answers #MCU meta #MCU Steve Rogers #Character Analysis #Let me tell you my issues with bad character reimaging with bullet points

[your-dietician]

Psychotherapy Is Safer and Less Expensive Than Drug Treatment

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/psychotherapy-is-safer-and-less-expensive-than-drug-treatment/

Psychotherapy Is Safer and Less Expensive Than Drug Treatment

There has been a popular notion that drug treatment of behavioral health problems is less expensive than psychotherapy by behavioral health specialists. But in 1991, I conducted an (unpublished) study to test this idea in a 5,000-member health plan—and found that psychotherapy actually saved money compared with drug treatment.

My company at the time, Preferred Mental Health Management (PMHM), provided the cost and utilization numbers of behavioral treatment, while a company called National Prescription Administrators provided the psychiatric drug treatment costs.

At PMHM, our philosophy was unique in the industry. Those who wanted mental health treatment called PMHM and had a ten- to twenty-minute telephone assessment with a senior level psychologist, who then referred the caller to a BH specialist in the caller’s community.

PMHM’s behavioral treatment philosophy was to focus on and help resolve the patient’s current life factor problems, which were giving rise to the patient’s distressing symptoms. PMHM never recommended medication for callers complaining of depression or anxiety.

The following are some of the major findings from the study:

Psychiatric drug treatment was found to cost $4.21 per member per month, which included the physician charges for prescribing and monitoring the drug treatment.

Psychotherapy was found to cost only $0.85 per member per month—80% less than psychiatric drug treatment costs!

For psychiatric drug therapy, the average cost per treated patient was $315.72.

For psychotherapy, the average cost per treated patient was $204.56—35% less than the cost for the average drug treated patient.

Eighty percent of the psychiatric drugs in the plan were prescribed by non-psychiatric physicians.

Eighty-one percent of the plan members receiving psychiatric drugs were on antidepressants, which amounted to 62% of the total behavioral drug costs.

In the year following the collection of this data there was a 25% increase in the plan’s psychiatric drug expenditures.

There seems to have been a polypharmacy or “shotgun” approach in which prescribers may have been chasing symptom and or side effects. Thirty-three percent of those receiving psychiatric drugs had prescriptions from two or more psychiatric drug classes, which of course exposes these patients to increasing side effects.

Patients on antianxiety drugs were prescribed, on average, 1.4 antianxiety drugs. This statistic suggests that the primary drug may not have been effective, so a second (and in some cases a third or fourth) drug was prescribed.

The average number of psychiatric prescriptions per patient was 2.06.

Thirty-eight children were on psychiatric drugs that are not approved by the FDA for use with children.

Those on Multiple Classes of Drugs

The data on antidepressant prescriptions may indicate that there may be a search by the physician to find the right drug for the patient’s depression and anxiety:

For depression, 101 patients (63%) were taking one antidepressant, 41 (25%) were taking two different antidepressants, 14 patients had been prescribed three different antidepressants, two were on four antidepressants and two were on five antidepressants!

Psychiatry and the pharmaceutical industry have been promoting the belief that depression is a brain disease affecting one or more neurotransmitters in the brain, so I suspect that the prescribers might have been looking for the right drug to reach the right source of this patient’s depression.

I suspect that when one observes multiple prescriptions (both within and between drug classes, as in the above) it is likely that the patient is not improving, causing the prescriber to search for another drug to help the patient.

I remember a psychiatrist saying, when his patient had not responded to multiple antidepressant drugs, that his patient’s only hope was for the drug industry to come up with a new antidepressant to successfully treat his patient’s particular depression!

However, when multiple drugs fail to treat depression, is it possible that drugs may not be an effective treatment for depression? Fifty years ago, psychiatrists used to do psychotherapy, but now in psychiatry, drug treatment is seen as the only possibility!

I had a consulting board-certified psychiatrist review 16 of what I thought were the worst examples of inappropriate psychiatric drug prescribing. Here are four of the most egregious examples:

Patient A was prescribed a stimulant, two antidepressants, and a third, sedating antidepressant.

Patient B was prescribed three mood stabilizers, an anticonvulsant, four benzodiazepines, two antipsychotics, three antidepressants, and one sedating antidepressant.

Patient C was prescribed a short-acting benzodiazepine and four different antidepressants of different strengths, one with sedative qualities.

Patient D was prescribed three mood stabilizers, four benzodiazepines, an anticonvulsant, an antipsychotic, and two antidepressants.

One can only imagine the adverse side effect profile of these patients on multiple psychiatric drugs, and with such egregious examples of polypharmacy, one cannot hope for a good treatment outcome.

I have no reason to believe that the inappropriate and egregious prescribing patterns found in this study are unique compared to other health plans. In the intervening years since this study, it is likely that the psychiatric drug prescribing has become worse rather than better.

What can we learn from this case study?

Prior to the appearance of Prozac in 1987, primary care and other non-psychiatric physicians rarely tried to diagnose their patients with mental health problems. Instead, medical professionals referred these patients to psychiatrists and, to a lesser extent, to psychologists. Prozac was hailed in many quarters as a breakthrough mental health drug, a wonder drug that cured depression and even made emotionally normal people better that normal!

Beginning in the 1950s, psychiatry, the pharmaceutical industry, and the mental health associations began a movement that might be called the medicalization of mental health problems, a movement that was said to reduce the stigma of those with mental health problems. The message was that mental health problems were just like any other medical problems.

This “theory” or “little white lie” would enable more patients with these problems to come forward for treatment. In the late 1960s, when this “theory” was becoming rampant, my colleagues and I knew this message had absolutely no validity. But the psychiatrists argued for the message (read: bold-faced lie) because of the anticipated good result! I, for one, had too much of a belief in science and truth to get on the bandwagon of this movement.

What are a few of the unintended consequences of this “little white lie”?

1. Primary care and other non-psychiatric physicians have become the largest “behavioral health” profession in the U.S. and prescribe 80% of all psychiatric drugs. General physicians have dominated the field of mental health treatment based only on a six-week rotation in psychiatry during their clinical internship. This movement was fueled by psychiatry’s and the pharmaceutical industry’s propaganda that depression and the other mental disorders are brain diseases.

Because they were considered brain diseases, the cure would come from pharmaceuticals or other biophysical treatments to address various putative neurotransmitter-related causes, such as serotonin and dopamine, among others. This message appealed very much to general physicians who were trained in the biophysical sciences.

2. General physicians were ripe to take on this message as their very own, which is apparent in the psychiatric drug prescribing patterns found in the case study under discussion. Many of these prescribing patterns are atrocious and reveal a search for the right drug to effectively treat a mythical brain disease that will cure the patient, a search fueled by the fact that the patient is not improving on the primary drug!

I have news for those who have bought into the brain disease notion of the origin of mental illness. Despite many claimed drug and other biophysical “breakthroughs” in treating the mental disorders to alter brain chemistry, why do the incidences of mental disorders and suicides continue to rise? The path that psychiatry has chosen does not seem to be working. Might it be time to once again broaden our understanding of the origin of the mental disorders?

3. In the 1950s, and even for some time afterward, psychiatric residency programs saw mental disorders as arising both from biophysical and psychosocial antecedents and prepared residents for comprehensive treatment, namely drugs when appropriate and psychotherapy. Since then, though, the psychiatrist believers in the biophysical origins of the mental disorders have become ascendant. They now dominate the profession as a whole and provide the principal training of the next generation of psychiatrists.

4. This “scientific” organic view of the mental disorders has taken hold in almost every section of U.S. healthcare because the medical profession controls and shapes U.S. healthcare as we know it. The medical profession dominates and puts its mark on the health insurance industry as a whole, the current Managed Care Organizations, the FDA approval process, and even the health plans of private and government funded health programs.

An invitation to employer sponsored health plans to review their mental health plan for both quality and cost

I invite employer-sponsored health plans to have their pharmacy management firm replicate and expand the above study to review the quality and cost of the mental health treatment in the plan. PMHM’s system of arranging and managing the employer’s care was unique, and it only contracted with the traditional behavioral health professionals, psychologists, clinical social workers, and psychiatrists who conducted CBT.

Current behavioral health plans, unlike PMHM’s system, do not have psychologists triage those calling for mental health services, and current behavioral health plans authorize payment to several groups of professionals providing services, several with only one or two years of graduate training.

In such a new study, it would be useful to see a breakdown of prescribing by psychiatrists, as well as prescribing by non-psychiatric physicians, physician assistants, and nurse practitioners.  I cannot vouch for the quality of the services in any current plan being studied, but, for comparison purposes, the utilization and cost data of the behavioral treatment side of the plan should be included.

The study I conducted was confined to only data on psychiatric drug utilization and costs, but since then there are new costs in addition to drugs and psychotherapy—namely six or more FDA-cleared biomechanical treatments that zap the brain to address those patients whose depression does not respond to psychiatric medications. In my recent book, What’s Wrong With Much of U.S. Healthcare and How to Fix It, I have reviewed several of these biomechanical treatments, whose results I find are less than impressive.

When the pharmacy management firm has gathered the costs for both psychiatric drug prescribing and psychotherapy for a one or two year period, I would suggest retaining a psychologist and a psychiatrist (the latter an expert in psychiatric drug treatment) to review the data and to write a report and their recommendations for any changes these professionals would make to reduce and eliminate any inappropriate prescribing of these drugs, which would be a very good beginning to improve the quality and cost of providing mental health services.

Such a behavioral drug- and biomechanical-treatment study would be very enlightening, and would likely show that the present system of non-psychiatric physician responsibility for the diagnosis and treatment of the mental disorders leaves much to be desired and a new and improved system must be created.

My 1991 study found a great deal of inappropriate and dangerous polypharmacy prescribing, and I suspect that the deplorable prescribing of these drugs through the intervening years has gotten worse rather than better.

***

Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.

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#personal

Things have definitely changed the last year.  It’s officially one year since I was let go.  The good news about that is that’s a fair amount of time to see how it all “really is.”  It isn’t too bad.  Most of the last year was going through personal guilt and failure.  Life seems to be one hundred percent about rejection.  I guess maybe acceptance is in there somewhere.  I got turned down for a job again.  You have to look on the bright side.  At least they looked at your resume this time.  And this time I’ve been pretty much legally working for myself since December.  Nobody in my life seems to care or think any differently.  It feels sometimes like people left me alone for a year waiting for it all to wash and reset.  What are they going to do now?  Wait another year?  Time passing is something you have to face about life.  I do this all the time.  I can’t say I haven’t worried about money the last year.  But I have more of it than I did.  So it maybe pays to stop worrying so much about the immediate future.  I got through a year of this pretty much under a radar nobody could limbo past.  I’m pretty sure I’ll get through another one if I have to keep doing the exact same shit.  So why is it that the things that I do aren’t enough to change things?  I have done a lot this year that maybe I haven’t previous.  I live by a budget.  It’s not extravagant and it’s not terrible either.  The biggest fear I have is that somehow my twenty years of work experience will become invalid at some point.  Which is why it’s nice to have a resume submitted for a famous fashion house at least acknowledge you made some changes.  None of my professional contacts have kept up with me and yet I still am out there.  It’s mostly that people choose to ignore me for whatever reason.  I’m not friendly.  I’m not funny.  I’m not creative enough.  I haven’t ever done anything that you could say added to the culture.  It goes on.  And it probably could start just by acknowledging I have a name and am not like everyone else.  This I have learned in the last year is an uphill battle.  And sometimes it’s nuanced.  You don’t want people showing up at your door trying to reconnect and be friends.  You don’t want people who have a skewed perception of you from what other people tell them trying to have a say in your life.  And that’s living in a city in America.  People are nosy.   People think they can help.  People think they should help.  And people are incredibly half assed at their attempts in everything.  To be mad at that is to not understand you shouldn’t have been bothered in the first place.  They can’t help it.  We live in a country where people are free to be themselves but can’t stop judging everyone else.  It gets worse when people perceive they have your best interests involved.  That we’re all on the same team.  Chicago is a little like everybody on the field but no coach or umpire.  The scoreboard is there.  And I’ve seen a whole mess of errors the entire last year I’ve had to save myself from.  If we’re talking about starts and endings of things, a year is a good place to fork away or towards the things that are or aren’t working.  It was total instinct to get the passport shit done before the holiday.  Mine expires in September.  The city has been closed so long it’s been my main source of identification.  I had to tuck it in a fed ex envelope and send it away.  But now I’m good for another ten years.  Barely anyone acknowledges I traveled so much of it other than my parents and people I barely know around the world.  I’ve been stuck in America the last three years enough to know.  Rejected enough to think I’m stuck here and not good enough to be remembered.

I think a lot of people would relish the opportunity to finally cut loose from the past.  Especially the parts that acted more like Poltergeists in your life than actually breathing friendships.  I’ve had a lot of things bumped around the last year.  The most painful part of letting go is understanding the gates you’ve put between you and the past are working.  People rattled my cage more often than not this last year.  The abandonment felt a little like their definition of tough love.  A year later there’s not much for the past to take credit for.  My health insurance premiums are paid through the next six months.  Part of that is my doing and the other is the federal government.  For me to talk tough and say America itself was not there for me the last year would be a complete lie.  It’s the door between me and the rest of the world.  It’s the very crackling floor of my apartment where I can talk shit and yell menacingly and walk out the door and act like I don’t know you.  I can walk to the grocery and eat sushi in the food court by myself.  I can reinvest my money and put it back to work.  I can survive a catastrophic situation and move forward without flinching.  I know there is a lot ahead of me but I’m too used to failure to expect or hope for anything.  I spent a good portion of my life in debt.  A year later it’s totally different.  And nobody seems to care unless it’s to get me to spend more money.  The version of me stuck in people’s minds is someone completely different from who I have become.  And a year between you and your feelings lets you see what’s worth moving forward with and what’s not.  The terrain has been weird.  Nothing I’m not used to.  But I’m definitely not aware of half the agendas and plots around me.  And I don’t know that I really care.  You spend twenty years thinking you are part of an arts and music community only to be forgotten.  That should tell you something.  A lot of those agendas sound really great in execution but they only ever seem to benefit a chosen few.  I’ve seen it.  I’ve argued it.  I’ve been seeing arguing about it.  I’ve looked scrunched up and mad for too long about things that won’t ever change.  Sometimes the only other solution left is to live it.  I survived a year of some bullshit.  Everybody knows it.  Nobody really wants to admit to the extent of it.  And everybody forgets me just the same.  Am I okay?  Sure I am.  I listen to music all day.  Tweak my computer.  Occasionally fix websites for people for small sums of money.  Track my spending in a spreadsheet.  Read the news.  Continue on living responsibly under my own supervision.  And yet it doesn’t seem like enough to people.  Like I still need to perform for people who are sleepwalking half the time.  People ask a lot from people in society without anything in return.  The last year if anything was my time of need.  And generally people were there for me on the internet in their own way more than the people six feet away from me in public.  For all the chants of coming together and fighting injustice, I’ve lived through some bullshit of my own nobody seems to care about.  I like going unnoticed at times.  It’s not a bad thing.  For as much as people want to be seen around me, nobody really ever interacts.  When they do, it’s becoming more taboo.  You get to a point where people leave you alone because they’re intimidated.  And there’s less time wasted.  It’s like people start to think it’s your thing to be forgotten.  I asked for it.  I asked for a lot I guess that I wasn’t clear about.  You take the good with the bad.  So saying bon voyage to the past for the sake of a great future isn’t really a problem for me.  Especially in my situation.

If anybody knows anything, it’s that I excelled in a lot of things being left alone this last year.  I am not particularly self destructive.  I took a lot of time this last year reflecting on how to be better than a bad situation.  It won’t always be bad.  Financially nothing really has changed for me since September.  It’s been a roller coaster but I set hard goals for myself.  I have a lot to show for it and nobody particularly in proximity to show it to.  But one thing I do know is that I am mentally more healthy than I was.  I would like to continue that trend.  And the pressure to work just for the sake of working is just not there.  People can think whatever they want about that.  I honestly don’t feel like people have been thinking about me much at all.  Besides the people I love.  Which for all the bullshit that happened in the last year, I never felt unloved.  Maybe untouched and un-phased but not unloved.  Which is why I still attempt to process this all and show I’m at least aware of the reality.  Life doesn’t get easier.  Neither does finding people who really care.  I look back at the stability I had and realize it is nowhere near as rock solid as the present.  And I definitely know how it feels to go to bed alone at night.  My cat does not count.  But I really couldn’t imagine upsetting this tranquility with the wrong person.  In that I will always be better than the bad decision making at work out there.  You sacrifice things and there are consequences.  Some of those consequences turn out to bloom into things so amazing you forget about watering the seeds.  I do believe I’m inching closer to something that honors who I try to be.  I can look back a year ago quite vividly.  I’m sure you could read the entry from last year.  I don’t do that.  I just write.  Journals.  Love letters.  Both.  I’ve grown a lot.  And yes I have gotten a little older.  Still out of touch with everything just the same.  I’m weird.  I’ve always thrived in that chaos because I like to make order out of everything.  Chicago is never going to stop being weird for me and vice versa.  I’ve been weird around the world.  I’ve been shunned and I’ve been accepted and it is a mixed bag for everyone.  The idea of freedom is bigger than America and yet we theoretically know what it’s supposed to feel like.  I’m free as anyone else to stay the fuck out of it.  I have a lot more things to balance these days than just my unflinching scene credibility.  Honestly I would rather focus on the things that inspire me regardless of what stands in my way.  It’s what got me here to begin with.  Nothing in my dreams has really changed.  The responsibilities grow.  Which is a clear set of expectations for the future.  We don’t need to look back.  Just make the next twenty years better than the last.  Which I have a lot of failure to reference.  Maybe the future has to catch up to me.  Maybe there’s nothing much left to say or explain.  Maybe it’s just seeing how it really is and acting accordingly.  Creating a way and a world that works for us instead of talking about it.  In that I think it’s more important to trust the people making the future rather than what’s already happened.  So I will probably retire any talk about my past unless it’s still relevant.  Which jobs right now aren’t really relevant for me when I work for myself.  America isn’t going anywhere.  Neither is China.  I would like to go back to visiting both.  Until I get my passport back I’m going to stick to the sovereignty of my apartment.  If anything hasn’t changed, it’s the color pink.  And it’s here to stay.  <3 Tim

[calacuspr]

Calacus Weekly Hit & Miss – Premiership Rugby & Premier League TV Deal

Every Monday we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the previous week.

HIT – PREMIERSHIP RUGBY

Rugby Union is often criticised for embedding a deep-rooted masculine culture, but one thing the sport consistently comes together to raise awareness for is talking out about mental health.

Following the conclusion of Mental Health Awareness Week 2021, it’s important to reflect on why the stigma attached to mental health impacts so many across the men’s game. According to the charity Brave Mind around 25% of those playing rugby across all levels experience some form of poor mental health.

Seeing people at the top of the game raise awareness and speak out about their own experiences is helping to break the taboo attached to speaking out about mental health and wellbeing. Just over a week ago, we saw England’s Kyle Sinckler give an emotional post-match interview following Bristol Bears’ victory over Bath, referring to his omission from the upcoming British and Irish Lions tour to South Africa.

Speaking to BT Sport, he said: “I’m not going to lie, I’m quite emotional right now. It’s been tough, it means so much to me. I’m just lucky I’ve got my mentor at Saviour World and we broke it down. I know and understand the reasons why.”

For Sinckler, a key player in the 2017 Lions tour to New Zealand, he could have been expressed his frustration in a completely different fashion. It speaks volumes of his character that he acknowledged the work he’s been doing with the all-male mentoring club Saviour World to manage his emotional state following the snub.

By recognising the importance to lead by example and seek help, Sinckler showed younger players the right way to act in times of personal distress and why it is important to talk to other about these kind of situations.

Elsewhere, we heard from Harlequins and England prop Joe Marler last week as he opened up about the battles he has faced with mental health. His new documentary, Big Boys Don’t Cry, aired on Sky Sports last Wednesday, which saw Marler shine a light on his own struggles, while discussing new techniques he’s using to manage his wellbeing.

“I wanted to meet people who, like me, had gone down their own mental health ‘rabbit holes’,” says Marler, when asked about what brought him to make the documentary. “I wanted to hear about how they found their own ways of getting out of them and gain a better understanding of how mental health issues affect us all. I hope that talking about my own mental health will get others talking about their and help to normalise it, especially in an alpha male-dominated sport like rugby.”

Marler, regarded as one of rugby’s more charismatic characters, has often spoken publicly about his depression and has been praised for his openness on the subject, especially having pulled out of the England Six Nations squad in order to spend more time with his family earlier this year.

Like Sinckler, Marler missed out on a place in Warren Gatland’s Lions squad for this summer. He now wants to see a psychiatrist included among the coaching staff for the tour to help manage the wellbeing of the players who travel.

Marler said: “If I was part of it, I would definitely recommend they get someone with that particular set of skills [psychiatry] to be there.

“Lions tours are tough enough as they are, being away from your families, but this one in particular [amid the pandemic].”

Covid-19 has made the past year an extremely difficult period for so many people, including all involved in rugby. But with the grassroots game now starting to restart and fans being able to return to stadiums from this week, there is hope for a return to some form of normality within the game.

With the help of Restart, the official charity of the Rugby Players Association dedicated to supporting professional players suffering from injury, illness or other hardships, players can be reassured that there is support available to them should they need it.

Moreover, with Premiership Rugby announced a new partnership last week with mental wellbeing charity the Looseheadz Foundation, English rugby is dedicating resources to ensure the mental health and wellbeing of all those involved in the sport is properly supported.

On that, Wayne Morris, Director of Community and Corporate Social Responsibility at Premiership Rugby said:

“Rugby is a very tight knit community and it’s important for us, as Premiership Rugby, to lead from the front and tackle the stigma around this issue. We want to encourage everyone in the game, the players, fans, staff, our community clubs and our sponsors to all support others and encourage open conversations about mental health.”

The deep understanding and shared experiences shown by players, governing bodies and other organisations at the top-tier of the sport in England, highlight the leading role that rugby is playing in mental health awareness. Engagement sessions across the rugby pyramid really do help and we’ve also heard from other players and ex-professionals this week, including the likes of the reigning Gallagher Premiership ‘Player of the Year’ Jack Willis, Sale’s Marland Yarde and ex-England international turned pundit Ugo Monye.

There are many other stories and initiatives that haven’t been mentioned here, which goes to show the breadth of engagement and recognition of mental health issues that takes place across the rugby community, not just in England.

The impact that this can have on younger players, who look up and aspire to be their role models, should not be underestimated. Rugby union is playing a significant role in encouraging people to speak out, seek help and tackle the stigma that is attached to mental health.

MISS – PREMIER LEAGUE TV DEAL

On the face of it, a new English Premier League television deal is good news for the game.

The new deal is essentially an extension of the existing television deal with Sky Sports, BT Sport, Amazon Prime Video and BBC Sport and will run until 2025 with a value of around £4.7bn.

It’s only a few weeks ago, remember, that the breakaway Super League threatened to destroy the football pyramid as we know it, leading to protests by fans and underlining their importance to the fabric of the game.

Premier League Chief Executive, Richard Masters, said: "We are hugely appreciative of the Government agreeing in principle to allow this arrangement and for their continued support for the Premier League and the English game. COVID-19 has had a significant impact on football, and renewals with our UK broadcast partners will reduce uncertainty, generate stability and promote confidence within the football pyramid.” 

But when BT Sport announced that it would move its lunchtime kick-off slot on Saturdays to the evening to allow Champions League teams more time to recover, it appeared to disregard the stadium-attending fans once more.

Given the already limited weekend services some railway services provide, it means that fans are again faced with impossible journeys late at night that may mean leaving games early or even not attending because of the timetables.

The news caused an outcry on social media, with fans complaining about the lack of consideration for their journeys, particularly after the year or more of games being played in empty stadia with little or no atmosphere.

This was an opportunity for BT Sport and other broadcasters to show that they had learnt lessons from the ESL drama and pay heed to the importance of attending fans when deciding the match schedule.

The EFL were also unhappy with the new deal, which they believe will continue to distort the football pyramid with clubs relegated from the Premier League receiving parachute payments for up to three seasons.

The new deal will not include payments to the Championship but will provide funding to women’s and girls’ football, League One and Two and also to non-league clubs for the first time.

In a statement the ELF said: “It is important to acknowledge that the current media rights deal will preserve the status quo of an unbalanced, unsustainable, and unfair financial distribution model across English football which continues to cause serious financial issues throughout the football pyramid, while continuing to distort competition between Clubs and threaten the long-term viability of EFL competitions and Clubs in the Championship, League One and League Two.”

The EFL statement went further, providing a practical and viable alternative to the existing proposals that would ensure a fairer distribution of broadcast monies.

It continued: “The EFL maintains that sustainability can be achieved with 25% of English football’s pooled net media revenues distributed to the EFL, alongside the abolition of the outdated parachute payment system and introduction of appropriate cost controls.

“It is our strong view that parachute payments are not a form of solidarity and instead provide a reward for relegation while distorting competition. They should be halted with the money instead reinvested for the ultimate benefit of the pool and our 72 members.

“These changes alone would provide the EFL with the platform it requires to significantly reduce the financial chasm between the Premier League and Championship and provide fairer distribution throughout our leagues to help achieve sustainability in the professional game.”

One of the consequences of the ESL drama in April was the creation of a UK government fan review, led by former sports Minister Tracey Crouch.

The review will look at the ways fans are treated by clubs, including late night scheduling, club ownership models and funding distribution - which may see some of these initial broadcast arrangements reviewed or amended if football is to thrive for both the match-attending fan and those clubs below the top flight.

#European Super League #Premier League #BT Sport #Tracey Crouch #Sky Sports #BBC #sports broadcasting #Football League #EFL #Richard Masters #Mental Health #Rugby #Joe Marler #Kyle Sinckler #Premiership Rugby