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#parental love
awriterbyinstinct · 2 days ago
We’re all human
Sometimes, your parents were loving and did their best and tried so hard to do what they were taught and told was good for their kids. But maybe they weren’t informed themselves about mental health and certain damaging things that we know about now.
It’s okay to recognize the things that hurt you or caused issues later in life, in fact, unless you acknowledge them, it’s hard to know where to break the cycle. And yes, even If you love your parents and they love you, and they tried their best with what they knew, there can still be damaging cycles to break!
The world is ever-evolving and maybe someday down the road when your kids are grown, you’re going to find out that not everything you did was perfect. 
And I grant you, sometimes the ignorance was willful. Sometimes the damage was intentional. That is another topic and and a very important conversation. 
However, I think sometimes there are those who have experienced damaging things in their lives growing up but feel ashamed to admit it, because they know their parents really did care and didn’t intend any harm.
The reality is that it happened. Just like we make mistakes and will make mistakes, so do our parents. If things need to be made known, and you know you are safe and welcome to make those things made known to your parents, do it. Find the closure if it’s necessary.
Most of all, don’t feel ashamed for recognizing it! 
Learn, grow, adapt. 
Break the cycle. 
Disclaimer that I should always make: I am obviously not a doctor, I have no training in mental health. I merely observe and try to write these observations out. If there’s anything to add, criticism to make, I’d love to hear it out!
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noanysstuff · 9 days ago
Dear father
I found myself feeling nostalgic, feeling a love for you that I reminisce from all the times I've lived with you in my head.
The times I dreamt of feeding you and doing all father daughter stuff, dreamt of you standing next to me through every struggle. Each time I got reminded of how mom told me about your resilience and how you climbed the ladder with all your hard work.
Every time I recall how she told me about you, I remember the respect written on her face for you, I beam with pride because I saw she was telling the truth through her gleaming eyes.
Maybe the fact that I came out of my loneliest and most unbearable times is because you were over there, miles apart, praying for my happiness and safety.
And I hope that each time I prayed for your happiness and peace, God granted them and sent my love to you.
I know I'm not physically with you and mom, but I know nothing on earth can defy the love you both have for me. I sometimes amaze myself by looking back at how resilient I've been at times, maybe I got it from the both of you.
I've been pouring my love on everyone close to me, wearing my heart out on my sleeves. I wonder if I got that from you too. When I came home, I thought of you because I would love to pour all of my love on you, too. Only if you saw how I've taken care of you in my head, you'd probably be the happiest father alive.
I hope you're proud of me, and I hope that in this life time, I get the opportunity to pour all my love on you. Regardless of the lack of memories we got to make, I've never loved you less and I never will.
I remember seeing you thrice, and each time, I saw what I meant to you through your teary eyes and the way you sobbed. Maybe it frustrated you that you lost your voice but I didn't need to hear it from you to know you loved me to death.
With love,
Your baby.
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bamauthor · 24 days ago
THE BOOK OF YOU: Raising Happy Kids Book Collection Written by Prof. Tiptoe This is a short rhyming book in which parents are reading to a small child. The parents are giving the many reasons why their child is so important. In the short rhymes, the developmental stages of a child are presented. The book ends with the child as a adult ready to write her own book for her own children. Nothing…
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hxneyandespressx · 3 months ago
little red string of fate
vi - storge 
Aaron Hotchner could be found sound asleep in his king-sized bed. Half the blanket was off the bed and one of the pillows was on the floor. The early morning rays created a soft golden filter on his skin. With his eyes closed, hair sprung all over the place, the older Hotchner looked young and innocent, like he didn’t have a care in the world. 
Agile footsteps could be heard from down the hall. The sound got louder as the person in question approached the bedroom door. The door creaked as it slowly opened and a young child entered the room. The young boy ran up to the bed and jumped onto his father, disturbing his peaceful sleep.
“Daddy! Today is the day!” Jack said. Aaron rubbed his face to get rid of the Sandman’s golden dust. 
“Yeah. It is, buddy. Ready to spend the day with fun?” Aaron asked his son. Jack nodded gleefully. The little boy slid off the bed and grabbed his father’s large hand, tugging him in an attempt to get a head start on the day. Aaron chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm and slowly crawled out of bed. He picked his six-year-old son, Jack making airplane sounds, and speed-walked to the bathroom to get ready. 
Both the Hotchners got ready, ate breakfast, and head for the apartment complex garage. Aaron strapped Jack into his car seat, closed the door, and got into the driver seat. He put in the address for a zoo in Washington, DC. 
“Ready, kiddo?” Aaron asked as he looked at the rearview mirror to see Jack. The little boy smiled and nodded his head in excitement. Aaron smiled softly and proceeded to start their journey. Driving for an hour, the Hotchners have arrived at their destination. The Small Mammal House. 
Aaron got Jack out of the car and they both head toward the entrance to start their father-son day. The brunet man picked up a paper-made map and opened it while taking a seat at a bench. Jack peered over his father’s hairy arm, trying to understand the map. The boy pointed his finger at a random exhibit.
“You want to see the Southern two-toed sloths first?” Aaron asked his son. Jack nodded in agreement. Smiling for a brief second, the brunette folded and carefully put the map in his back jean pocket. Taking his son’s hand, Aaron led the way to the sloth exhibit. Once arrived, Jack broke the hold his father had on his hand and walked briskly toward the sloths. 
“Wow.” Jack stared at the slow movements of the sloths. Aaron stood a little behind his son, trusting Jack that he wouldn’t runoff. Jack tugged on his father’s arm to read the palate that held information about sloths. Aaron read off the long paragraph to Jack, who’s soaking up the new information like a sponge. Getting bored with the sloths, Jack told his father he wanted to see something else. 
“Where do you want to go next, bud?” Aaron asked his son.
“Skunks.” Jack said. Aaron blinked at his son in astonishment. 
“You… want to see the skunks?” Aaron asked. The little blonde boy nodded his head “yes”, establishing their next destination. 
“Alright then.” Aaron picked up his son and made his way over to the skunk exhibit. Once they arrived, Jack squealed in happiness as he saw the skunks roaming around their secured environment. As he placed the young boy on the ground, Aaron thought for himself about why Jack liked skunks. Why does he like skunks now? What is it about them? The brunette man shook his head in acceptance that his little man liked skunks.
Jack watched the skunks playing around their home. Then, all of a sudden, one of the skunks got spooked by the other and sprayed its repulsive scent. The young blonde boy laughed at the scene while everyone else covered their noses from the stench. Covering his nose from the accident, Aaron picked his son up and walked out of the exhibit. He did not want to wash Jack after the skunk incident. 
“Daddy. The skunk farted.” Jack said while giggling. 
“Yes, it did. Now, I hope you don’t stink too bad.” Both Aaron and Jack laughed at the little mishap of the day. For the rest of their day together, both the Hotchners went around to the different exhibits. There were a plethora of mammals: Black-footed ferrets, Dwarf mongooses, Screaming hairy armadillos, to name a few. As a break, both the Hotchner boys went to their favorite diner in the city. They sent some time there before heading back to the miniature zoo that belonged to the Smithsonian’s National Zoo. 
Both the Hotchners arrived at the red panda exhibit. Jack ran up to the exhibit and placed his hands against the glass window. The young blonde boy stared in awe at the furry creature, who was sleeping on the large tree branch. 
“That’s you when you’re sleeping, Jack.” Aaron said. Jack gasped and made an attempt at an angry face. The brunet man chuckled at his son’s actions and both watched the second red panda in the enclosure playing with its toys. 
It was nearing evening and Jack Hotchner yawned, signifying he got tired from exploring the different animals. 
“You tired, Jack?” Aaron asked. The young blonde nodded his head tiredly. The brunet man picked up his son, carrying him in his arms. Jack snuggled his face into his father’s neck, letting his warmth comfort him. Aaron smiled at his tired son. 
“Buddy, you mean the whole wide world to me.”
taglist: @queer-rambling / @voidreid / @homosexualyearning / @babey-jj / @ssaemxlyprentxss / @pumpkin-goob / @iconicc / @drinkingcroissants / @abbyprentiss / @lizziechase / @purelyprentiss / @heavenlydevil / @haleymalaffey
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tvdtovahppj · 4 months ago
And, all the time they fell, I felt so emotionless. Like time slowed down. Everything was suddenly clearer, and I could understand everything so easily. 
All the times before that I cried, I wanted him to slow down, lower his voice a bit and just hold me. But now that he actually did that, I felt weird. I still want him to hold me, at least, some part of me does. But when he held me, I felt so empty, like I could no longer enjoy his hug. The protection and warmth that they used to provide was no longer there. It felt hypocritical. 
And ironic, all this time, all I wanted was a hug, but now that I got it, I couldn't wait for it to get over.
- excerpt from my journal
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writtenfoxscreams · 4 months ago
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This is what it means to be a good parent.
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soapthejedi · 5 months ago
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This is long overdue... I wanted to do this to show how much Han and Leia loved there son... and how much ben still loved them... and in a weird way show how much I love my parents and thankful I am to them... so go give you’re parents a hug while there still here and for those who are more like Rey and never had that go give someone else you live a hug weather a freind or someone special love and cherish them while there still u guys and thank u all...may the force be with you all, bye guys x
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abitofparentallove · 10 months ago
Wow! Look at you child! You’re awake! Doing things! I’m so proud of you my child. Look at you go!!
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abitofparentallove · 10 months ago
Hi everyone! This is just a quick introduction to state what this is about and why.
This blog is for those who need, well, just a bit of parental-type love. That can be anything from asking for advice, simply wanting someone to talk to or even just if you have something you want to say. Get a good grade but don’t have someone to tell? Send a message! Don’t know how to tie a tie or sew a button? I can provide videos and links for that! Want someone to vent to? I’m here as well. No matter the age, belief, sexuality, gender identity or race of a person, I just wish to give a bit of love. Even if your parents/guardians are great, it’s always nice to have another person to talk to!
If anyone has any questions I would be happy to answer them, just send an ask or message.
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obviouscaptain · 11 months ago
I can recognize how lucky I am to have two parents that try their best to support me because I know not everyone has a family who loves and supports them, but at the same time I just....don't feel like parental love counts in the same way that other types of (romantic or otherwise) do. My parents are proud of my achievements and upset by my failures because they see them, at least in part, as their own. They love me because I belong to them and that's not nothing but it's not enough. I need to feel like people love me as me, not as an extension of themselves and that feeling is just so hard to find.
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ellisvinkle · 11 months ago
If they weren’t your dads, do you think you would want to fuck Billy or Matt?
Neither, but if they weren’t my dads I’d love to throw a baseball ball at @roscbud‘s balls, that would be real funny to watch
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vagabondprophet · a year ago
“What does succumb mean?”
She asked with clear eyes and honest voice
Tilted head and open ears.
Oh my darling, my tenderest of shoots
It means to wither before
That which is greater
That which defeats you with 
A commanding might.
I succumb to your affection
When I arrive and you run to me,
I succumb to weariness
When the cloak grows too heavy.
I fall under the weather
For how could I ever be above,
I fall for your mothers glances
That puts me in trances.
I succumb to many things
For I am weaker than you will be,
And with my scars I do have lessons.
Daughter life will hurt you
You will learn to fight
And the secret it is this,
Precious stone as you are
To be sculpted never broken
By the blows you will be dealt
Is to know what to master
And be mastered by.
Let it be to the one 
That made you shine brighter
Than every summer solstice,
The one who hung the stars 
You stare at in the lens.
 This is not what you asked
Rather the tale I must tell,
I know the gold standard
Lives on in your eyes
So when you succumb
Let it be to something perfect.
- Vagabond Prophet
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nerdygaymormon · a year ago
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natflash · a year ago
You ever just sit someplace minding your own business and realize how much you love and appreciate your mom or dad and how much they’ve done for you and you just. Start crying because you’re so overwhelmed with love for them.
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awindylife · a year ago
I don't have an imaginary friend I have an imaginary dad who loves me and listens to me
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vagabondprophet · a year ago
Beauty has never greeted the earth 
Quite like it did the day of your birth.
Vagabond Prophet
On my girl's birthday. @inky-child
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vagabondprophet · a year ago
Pushing Feathers
Fold the laundry realize 
These clothes are the wrong size,
Like the flowers on this dress 
She is blooming and growing 
Stretching for both light and height.
Not flown the nest
Only testing other branches 
Still in the same willow,
Still sleeps on the same pillow.
Yet this lie it claws at me
With rasping nails and ragged breath,
That every step she takes
Is one away from me
That her growth
Means my decrease of stature
In her most precious of eyes.
It’s all frantic fever dream of course
This love that begot skin,
This explosion of beauty
This mess of joy ferocious.
Was so small and helpless
Like a fire not yet strong
That even the hint of wind 
Could snuff it out for good
Never to have left a trace 
Of smoke upon this earth.
Now stands bright and tall
Quiver on her back
And tutu on her waist
Fearing nothing except
The idea of my absence.
So it must be true
That she steps boldly
For she knows I’m right behind,
But please my sweet one
Let your father stroke your down
Just a little longer
Before pushing feathers 
And flying far away.
 Vagabond Prophet
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mattved · 4 years ago
On Bedtime Fables
Let's go for a little more relaxed story today.
One of the numerous things my favorite extrovert has taught me is the magic hidden behind bedtime fables. And by fables, I don't mean fairy tales read from a book or billion times retold classics. I mean fables in the sense that you actively contribute to the way they evolve and make them up on the go.
You simply sit or lay yourself down next to a kid or anyone, really, close your eyes and go on a journey. Take off and explore the entirety of your imagination, forcing each and every neuron you have into producing words that have a plot. It is essentially simple in the sense of what happens, but it is important for the world to be relatively intact. But not too intact. Because there has to be something strange, uncommon, extra-ordinary to it that draws an attention. But not too much attention. Because you don't want to induce too many thoughts that reach outside the frame of what you are saying. The story has to be somewhat boring and slow in order to make someone fall asleep in calm and nurturing environment.
I could go on and make a handbook on how to fabulate a bedtime fable. But honestly, there is a lot more feeling to it than science. You have to know the person you are saying it to very well and choose words that will make them calm. Avoid bad memories, complicated phrases, bad language, current political issues, school, job, the money market... I could go on. The main wish of the storyteller is to induce dreams as sweet as those of character Cupcake from the Rise of the Guardians. You want to play Sandman.
When the person you are telling the story falls asleep, the second, almost just as important part of the total effect of such deed, suddenly kicks in. You have exercised your imagination and your brain to the point that you have cleared it from all the issues you were busy thinking about before. You delved into an artificial world, where it was just you, your listener(s) and everything and anything that you want to be there. But most importantly, nothing else.
While dealing with all the issues I had over the first year of living and studying in the UK, I have been given the chance (or rather forced to, if you want to put it that way) to become the storyteller. And soon enough, I found out that it really helps. And no matter how tired I was before telling my little fable, I managed to fall asleep within minutes myself.
What I am trying to point out here is the importance of fantasy and creativity in today's massively task and number oriented society. In order to get there, though, let's go to a practical example.
Kids have been known to lie. To make up stories featuring themselves and telling them to others as if they were true. What they get from their parents is mostly a look of disbelief and, in the worst case, a 45 minute lecture on the negative aspects of lying. Now, don't get me wrong, lying your way through every day of your life is bad for you and basically only you. But by this forced prevention, the kids become afraid or even unable to use the full potential of their creativity and sense for detail.
If the story does not relate to any real-life issue, for example when the child's story is about how they drove a car at night only to bring an interesting floppy to their grandparent's house, and then refilled the car's tank to the exact same level as before they left so that nobody finds out, it should be perfectly fine to let them go about it.
When you are an adult, you lose these options. Nobody is going to believe you that you went hunting snakes in Indonesian jungle and then sold their scales for a quarter apiece to American tourists in Japan. But you can make yourself a little space in order to tell the story anyway, to someone who may not exactly believe, but definitely will not laugh at you for being a weirdo.
Tell your kids stories, people. Because that way, you will will gain just as much as the child. The kid will appreciate the presence and effort of their parent beyond the good-night kiss after a long and stressful brushing of their teeth that involved a lot of screaming. You, you will have the chance to recharge and become regaining the power, which the current world seems to be losing. The power of innocent creativity.
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bashfyl · a year ago
Heartwarming applause makes Calum Scott emotional | No Matter What
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