#sometimes my brain interprets it as a longer more complete seeming phrase

[blackwoolncrown]

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it.  Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

#technology #tech #text #relationships #articles #digital media #social media

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Religious Trauma Syndrome: How Some Organized Religion Leads to Mental Health Problems

By Valerie Tarico

Marlene Winell interviewed March 25, 2013

At age sixteen I began what would be a four year struggle with bulimia. When the symptoms started, I turned in desperation to adults who knew more than I did about how to stop shameful behavior—my Bible study leader and a visiting youth minister.  “If you ask anything in faith, believing,” they said. “It will be done.” I knew they were quoting [3] the Word of God. We prayed together, and I went home confident that God had heard my prayers. But my horrible compulsions didn’t go away. By the fall of my sophomore year in college, I was desperate and depressed enough that I made a suicide attempt. The problem wasn’t just the bulimia. I was convinced by then that I was a complete spiritual failure. My college counseling department had offered to get me real help (which they later did). But to my mind, at that point, such help couldn’t fix the core problem: I was a failure in the eyes of God. It would be years before I understood that my inability to heal bulimia through the mechanisms offered by biblical Christianity was not a function of my own spiritual deficiency but deficiencies in Evangelical religion itself.  

Dr. Marlene Winell is a human development consultant in the San Francisco Area. She is also the daughter of Pentecostal missionaries. This combination has given her work an unusual focus. For the past twenty years she has counseled men and women in recovery from various forms of fundamentalist religion including the Assemblies of God denomination in which she was raised. Winell is the author of Leaving the Fold – A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving their Religion [4], written during her years of private practice in psychology. Over the years, Winell has provided assistance to clients whose religious experiences were even more damaging than mine. Some of them are people whose psychological symptoms weren’t just exacerbated by their religion, but actually caused by it.  

Two years ago, Winell made waves by formally labeling what she calls “Religious Trauma Syndrome” (RTS) and beginning to write and speak on the subject for professional audiences. When the British Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Psychologists published a series of articles on the topic, members of a Christian counseling association protested what they called excessive attention to a “relatively niche topic.” One commenter said, “A religion, faith or book cannot be abuse but the people interpreting can make anything abusive.”

Is toxic religion simply misinterpretation? What is religious trauma? Why does Winell believe religious trauma merits its own diagnostic label?

Let’s start this interview with the basics. What exactly is religious trauma syndrome?

Winell: Religious trauma syndrome (RTS) is a set of symptoms and characteristics that tend to go together and which are related to harmful experiences with religion. They are the result of two things: immersion in a controlling religion and the secondary impact of leaving a religious group. The RTS label provides a name and description that affected people often recognize immediately. Many other people are surprised by the idea of RTS, because in our culture it is generally assumed that religion is benign or good for you. Just like telling kids about Santa Claus and letting them work out their beliefs later, people see no harm in teaching religion to children.

But in reality, religious teachings and practices sometimes cause serious mental health damage. The public is somewhat familiar with sexual and physical abuse in a religious context. As Journalist Janet Heimlich has documented in, Breaking Their Will, Bible-based religious groups that emphasize patriarchal authority in family structure and use harsh parenting methods can be destructive.

But the problem isn’t just physical and sexual abuse. Emotional and mental treatment in authoritarian religious groups also can be damaging because of 1) toxic teachings like eternal damnation or original sin 2) religious practices or mindset, such as punishment, black and white thinking, or sexual guilt, and 3) neglect that prevents a person from having the information or opportunities to develop normally.

Can you give me an example of RTS from your consulting practice?

Winell: I can give you many. One of the symptom clusters is around fear and anxiety. People indoctrinated into fundamentalist Christianity as small children sometimes have memories of being terrified by images of hell and apocalypse before their brains could begin to make sense of such ideas. Some survivors, who I prefer to call “reclaimers,” [8] have flashbacks, panic attacks, or nightmares in adulthood even when they intellectually no longer believe the theology. One client of mine, who during the day functioned well as a professional, struggled with intense fear many nights. She said,

“I was afraid I was going to hell. I was afraid I was doing something really wrong. I was completely out of control. I sometimes would wake up in the night and start screaming, thrashing my arms, trying to rid myself of what I was feeling. I’d walk around the house trying to think and calm myself down, in the middle of the night, trying to do some self-talk, but I felt like it was just something that – the fear and anxiety was taking over my life.” Or consider this comment, which refers to a film [9] used by evangelicals to warn about the horrors of the “end times” for nonbelievers.

“I was taken to see the film “A Thief In The Night”. WOW.  I am in shock to learn that many other people suffered the same traumas I lived with because of this film. A few days or weeks after the film viewing, I came into the house and mom wasn’t there. I stood there screaming in terror. When I stopped screaming, I began making my plan: Who my Christian neighbors were, who’s house to break into to get money and food. I was 12 years old and was preparing for Armageddon alone.”

In addition to anxiety, RTS can include depression, cognitive difficulties, and problems with social functioning. In fundamentalist Christianity, the individual is considered depraved and in need of salvation. A core message is “You are bad and wrong and deserve to die.” (The wages of sin is death [10].) This gets taught to millions of children through organizations like Child Evangelism Fellowship [11] and there is a group organized [12]  to oppose their incursion into public schools.  I’ve had clients who remember being distraught when given a vivid bloody image of Jesus paying the ultimate price for their sins. Decades later they sit telling me that they can’t manage to find any self-worth.

“After twenty-seven years of trying to live a perfect life, I failed. . . I was ashamed of myself all day long. My mind battling with itself with no relief. . . I always believed everything that I was taught but I thought that I was not approved by God. I thought that basically I, too, would die at Armageddon.

“I’ve spent literally years injuring myself, cutting and burning my arms, taking overdoses and starving myself, to punish myself so that God doesn’t have to punish me. It’s taken me years to feel deserving of anything good.”

Born-again Christianity and devout Catholicism [13] tell people they are weak and dependent, calling on phrases like “lean not unto your own understanding [14]” or “trust and obey [11].” People who internalize these messages can suffer from learned helplessness. I’ll give you an example from a client who had little decision-making ability after living his entire life devoted to following the “will of God.” The words here don’t convey the depth of his despair.

“I have an awful time making decisions in general. Like I can’t, you know, wake up in the morning, “What am I going to do today?” Like I don’t even know where to start. You know all the things I thought I might be doing are gone and I’m not sure I should even try to have a career; essentially I babysit my four-year-old all day.”

Authoritarian religious groups are subcultures where conformity is required in order to belong. Thus if you dare to leave the religion, you risk losing your entire support system as well.

“I lost all my friends. I lost my close ties to family. Now I’m losing my country. I’ve lost so much because of this malignant religion and I am angry and sad to my very core. . . I have tried hard to make new friends, but I have failed miserably. . . I am very lonely.”

Leaving a religion, after total immersion, can cause a complete upheaval of a person’s construction of reality, including the self, other people, life, and the future. People unfamiliar with this situation, including therapists, have trouble appreciating the sheer terror it can create.

“My form of religion was very strongly entrenched and anchored deeply in my heart. It is hard to describe how fully my religion informed, infused, and influenced my entire worldview. My first steps out of fundamentalism were profoundly frightening and I had frequent thoughts of suicide. Now I’m way past that but I still haven’t quite found “my place in the universe.”

Even for a person who was not so entrenched, leaving one’s religion can be a stressful and significant transition.

Many people seem to walk away from their religion easily, without really looking back. What is different about the clientele you work with?

Winell: Religious groups that are highly controlling, teach fear about the world, and keep members sheltered and ill-equipped to function in society are harder to leave easily. The difficulty seems to be greater if the person was born and raised in the religion rather than joining as an adult convert. This is because they have no frame of reference – no other “self” or way of “being in the world.” A common personality type is a person who is deeply emotional and thoughtful and who tends to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their endeavors. “True believers” who then lose their faith feel more anger and depression and grief than those who simply went to church on Sunday.

Aren’t these just people who would be depressed, anxious, or obsessive anyways?

Winell: Not at all. If my observation is correct, these are people who are intense and involved and caring. They hang on to the religion longer than those who simply “walk away” because they try to make it work even when they have doubts. Sometimes this is out of fear, but often it is out of devotion. These are people for whom ethics, integrity and compassion matter a great deal. I find that when they get better and rebuild their lives, they are wonderfully creative and energetic about new things.

In your mind, how is RTS different from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Winell: RTS is a specific set of symptoms and characteristics that are connected with harmful religious experience, not just any trauma. This is crucial to understanding the condition and any kind of self-help or treatment. (More details about this can be found on my Journey Free [15] website and discussed in my talk [16] at the Texas Freethought Convention.)

Another difference is the social context, which is extremely different from other traumas or forms of abuse. When someone is recovering from domestic abuse, for example, other people understand and support the need to leave and recover. They don’t question it as a matter of interpretation, and they don’t send the person back for more. But this is exactly what happens to many former believers who seek counseling. If a provider doesn’t understand the source of the symptoms, he or she may send a client for pastoral counseling, or to AA, or even to another church. One reclaimer expressed her frustration this way:

“Include physically-abusive parents who quote “Spare the rod and spoil the child” as literally as you can imagine and you have one fucked-up soul: an unloved, rejected, traumatized toddler in the body of an adult. I’m simply a broken spirit in an empty shell. But wait...That’s not enough!? There’s also the expectation by everyone in society that we victims should celebrate this with our perpetrators every Christmas and Easter!!”

Just like disorders such as autism or bulimia, giving RTS a real name has important advantages. People who are suffering find that having a label for their experience helps them feel less alone and guilty. Some have written to me to express their relief:

“There’s actually a name for it! I was brainwashed from birth and wasted 25 years of my life serving Him! I’ve since been out of my religion for several years now, but I cannot shake the haunting fear of hell and feel absolutely doomed. I’m now socially inept, unemployable, and the only way I can have sex is to pay for it.”

Labeling RTS encourages professionals to study it more carefully, develop treatments, and offer training. Hopefully, we can even work on prevention.

What do you see as the difference between religion that causes trauma and religion that doesn’t?

Winell: Religion causes trauma when it is highly controlling and prevents people from thinking for themselves and trusting their own feelings. Groups that demand obedience and conformity produce fear, not love and growth. With constant judgment of self and others, people become alienated from themselves, each other, and the world. Religion in its worst forms causes separation.

Conversely, groups that connect people and promote self-knowledge and personal growth can be said to be healthy. The book, Healthy Religion [17], describes these traits. Such groups put high value on respecting differences, and members feel empowered as individuals.  They provide social support, a place for events and rites of passage, exchange of ideas, inspiration, opportunities for service, and connection to social causes. They encourage spiritual practices that promote health like meditation or principles for living like the golden rule. More and more, non-theists are asking [18] how they can create similar spiritual communities without the supernaturalism. An atheist congregation [19] in London launched this year and has received over 200 inquiries from people wanting to replicate their model.

Some people say that terms like “recovery from religion” and “religious trauma syndrome” are just atheist attempts to pathologize religious belief.

Winell: Mental health professionals have enough to do without going out looking for new pathology. I never set out looking for a “niche topic,” and certainly not religious trauma syndrome. I originally wrote a paper for a conference of the American Psychological Association and thought that would be the end of it. Since then, I have tried to move on to other things several times, but this work has simply grown.

In my opinion, we are simply, as a culture, becoming aware of religious trauma. More and more people are leaving religion, as seen by polls [20] showing that the “religiously unaffiliated” have increased in the last five years from just over 15% to just under 20% of all U.S. adults. It’s no wonder the internet is exploding with websites for former believers from all religions, providing forums [21] for people to support each other. The huge population of people “leaving the fold” includes a subset at risk for RTS, and more people are talking about it and seeking help.  For example, there are thousands of former Mormons [22], and I was asked to speak about RTS at an Exmormon Foundation conference.  I facilitate an international support group online called Release and Reclaim [23]  which has monthly conference calls. An organization called Recovery from Religion, [24] helps people start self-help meet-up groups

Saying that someone is trying to pathologize authoritarian religion is like saying someone pathologized eating disorders by naming them. Before that, they were healthy? No, before that we weren’t noticing. People were suffering, thought they were alone, and blamed themselves.  Professionals had no awareness or training. This is the situation of RTS today. Authoritarian religion is already pathological, and leaving a high-control group can be traumatic. People are already suffering. They need to be recognized and helped. _______________________________

Statistics update:

Numbers of American ‘nones’ continues to rise

October 18, 2019

By David Crary – Associated Press

The portion of Americans with no religious affiliation is rising significantly, in tandem with a sharp drop in the percentage that identifies as Christians, according to new data from the Pew Research Center. …

Pew says all categories of the religiously unaffiliated population – often referred to as the “nones” grew in magnitude. Self-described atheists now account for 4% of U.S. adults, up from 2% in 2009; agnostics account for 5%, up from 3% a decade ago; and 17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,” up from 12% in 2009.

https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2019/1018/Numbers-of-American-nones-continues-to-rise

_______________________________

Marlene Winell interviewed by Valerie Tarico on recovering from religious trauma Uploaded on January 31, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIfABmbqSMA

24:12

On Moral Politics, a TV program with host Dr. Valerie Tarico, Marlene Winell describes the trauma that can result from harmful experiences with religious indoctrination. Dr. Winell explains that mental health issues are widespread and need to be understood just as we understand PTSD. There are steps to recovery, treatment modalities, and resources available as well. She now refers to this as RTS or Religious Trauma Syndrome. _______________________________

Links:
 
[3] https://www.biblestudyonjesuschrist.com/pog/ask1.htm 
[4] https://marlenewinell.net/leaving-fold-former 
[8] https://journeyfree.org/article/reclaimers/ 
[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Thief_in_the_Night_%28film%29 
[10] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+6%3A23&version=KJV 
[11] https://valerietarico.com/2011/02/04/our-public-schools-their-mission-field/ 
[12] http://www.intrinsicdignity.com/ 
[13] https://www.maryjohnson.co/an-unquenchable-thirst/ 
[14] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+3%3A5-6&version=KJV [15] https://journeyfree.org/category/uncategorized/ [16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrE4pMBlis 
[17] https://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Religion-Psychological-Guide-Mature/dp/1425924166 [18] https://www.humanistchaplaincy.org/ [19] https://www.christianpost.com/news/london-atheist-church-model-looking-to-expand-worldwide-91516 [20] https://www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/ 
[21] https://new.exchristian.net/ 
[22] https://www.exmormon.org/ 
[23] https://journeyfree.org/group-forum/ [24] https://www.recoveringfromreligion.org/

_____________________________________

Get God’s Self-Appointed Messengers Out of Your Head

Valerie Tarico Which buzz phrases from your past are stuck in your brain? “God’s messengers” were all real complicated people with biases, blind spots, favorite foods and morning breath. They were not gods and they are not you. So how can you get them out of your head or at least reduce them to muffled background noise?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElfyYA420F0

#religious trauma syndrome #Marlene Winell #Valerie Tarico

[dercolaris]

Moonlight

A new translation of one of my Scriddler stories, because @finzphoenix posted her picture to it (again, thank you!) and I thought it would be nice for everyone to have it in English. The flow is okay I think and overall working. I can live with that^^ Also a huge thank to @shin-arei for helping me with checking for some errors. 

I hope you all enjoy it! Have fun!

Edward growled in frustration. Batman had been able to solve every single one of his puzzles so far, even with little difficulty. Sometimes the black-haired man wondered whether the dark knight didn't secretly have some helpers behind him. Maybe that was why he got the answers so fast every time. There was really no other logical way to explain it. His ideas were far too brilliant and sophisticated to be resolved so quickly. A loud beep signaled that the minutes were finally over. He opened the door of the microwave and touched the plate fearlessly without thinking, then drew his fingers back immediately. The man cursed louder than planned: "Damn, it's freaking hot! Well, at least the baby is working again. You're the best, Edward. As always of course.” The Riddler grinned and put his aching fingertips in his mouth, cooling the skin with his saliva. There was probably no device that he couldn't fix somehow. After a while he let his fingers slip out of his mouth and began to tidy up the table, putting the used tools back in the right places. That action probably made no sense to an outsider, but even in this apparent chaos, there was some kind of order. As a proof, the tinkerer usually never had to search long when he needed something from his work area. Jonathan of all people had to make fun of this at regular intervals and was very amused by this situation. In principle, this was more than contradictory from his partner, as he himself had no functioning system for meaningful organization and the countless laboratory utensils in his room simply came to rest where he had just used them. Edward snorted calmly. The constant accuse of Jonathan, that he's the mess in the relationship was on the verge of ridicule. Edward quickly let go of the ludicrous thought and strolled towards the hallway, turning off the light when leaving his workshop. Fortunately, they shared a common habit of leaving the lamps on in the corridor. The tinkerer strode across the gray wood on the floor, looked carefully into the adjoining room on the left, and raised an eyebrow. To his amazement, the laboratory was empty. His lips formed a thin line. Was Jonathan going to the toilet or, to the great surprise of whole Gotham, indulging in something to eat? The Master of Riddles walked into the stuffy room and dared to take a look at all the papers on the desk. A total mess.

“One after the other, Ed. Where the fuck did I put that stupid screw now? Damn. Bugger me. It can't just have vanished into thin air! For god sake!” The tinkerer sighed in exasperation and threw several tools over his shoulder, quietly talking to himself with clenched teeth. His entire workplace was a complete mess and any attempts to control it ended with the fact that the chaos after cleaning was often worse than before. At this point, the black-haired man had to admit a bitter defeat in his life. The shambles couldn't be tamed, no matter what he tried. Edward systematically rummaged through a large pile of bolts and nuts in a metal can, occasionally cursing when touching the sharp edges of some implements. His fingers finally fished out the correct object. He grinned wider, let the iron rotate skillfully between his fingers and muttered with conviction: “Well, there we have the culprit. No one escapes Edward Nygma.” With that, he turned back to the broken microwave and inserted the missing screw into the fitting opening in the metal case. The device had surprisingly stopped working yesterday evening. It was no problem to replace it with a new purchase of course, but where was the fun in just rebuying it? The tinkerer absolutely loved taking care of defective equipment and getting things working again, that any other mechanic would probably have thrown in the trash right away. The Riddler leaned down a bit and fumbled with his fingers on the timer. The lamp inside started to glow promisingly. To confirm his suspicion, he put a porcelain plate in the microwave and turned it on. Hopefully, a few minutes would be enough to heat up the dish. The Master of Riddles crossed his arms over his chest and watched the action with observant eyes. Edward groaned slightly, tapping his upper arms impatiently with his fingers. It was absolutely incomprehensible to many other villains, why the infamous Riddler often dealt with obvious trivialities. In their eyes it was just a complete waste of time. The tinkerer grimaced a bit and stared at the slowly descending digits on the black display. Most of the criminals simply had no idea how his brilliant mind worked. He wasn’t really capable of multitasking, but doing just one thing for half an eternity plunged the black-haired man into a deep depression sooner or later. A lack of success was a poison for his soul. Foresighted, the inventor had got used to the habit of including such short works, even if there were actually more important things on the to-do list. His partner was very different in this point. Jonathan almost never made it seem like he didn't mind getting results right away. Just the permanent further development of his fear toxin and the search for confirmation of his daring theory of fear reduction in human beings would drive the Master of Riddles insane in no time. Perhaps, that was one of the main reasons, why he almost always failed in his plan to humiliate the bat brain, which was clearly underexposed and shouldn't be a huge challenge under normal circumstances.

He picked up an almost fully written sheet of paper, which somehow seemed out of place for him, and stared at the lines in pure disbelief. The former psychiatrist had a typical doctor's handwriting and it had cost the tinkerer some nerves to be able to decipher it to some extent. Even now there were still words on the piece of paper that he could only interpret with a great amount of creativity. The unknown characters and numbers between the text made it still clear, that the older man was working on some new parts of his formula. Chemistry had never been Edward's specialty. With a small sigh he put the paper back on the table and went to the window, slowly moving the dark green curtain aside. Even if the sun was staying a little longer on the sky in autumn, twilight fell surprisingly quickly over Gotham in the early evening hours. The soft red gradually gave way to an almost dripping darkness. The Riddler put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked at the surrounding area with an uneasy feeling. That they had to live near a forgotten piece of forest and that the first signs of a possible civilization were a good ten kilometers away emphasized the eerie atmosphere. Jonathan clearly enjoyed the solitude, or rather the intimate togetherness, in the Victorian house. In return, he was willing to take several miles to get to the next suburb. The brown-haired man had withdrawn more and more in recent years and finally decided to eke out his existence outside of society. Edward smiled softly. That was phrased a bit pessimistically, but hit the point quite well. He knew that his partner absolutely loathed unnecessary small talk between neighbors. He had probably worked as a psychiatrist long enough to be fed up with humanity for a lifetime and beyond. The Riddler, on the other hand, found the situation in pure isolation still extremely strange and it made him more than nervous when noises from the forest slipped through the open windows randomly. He would never admit it openly to his partner, but it was quite scary to live here in the woods. The inventor averted his gaze from the window and went back into the hallway, searching the rest of the first floor for the gaunt man. When he found no trace of Scarecrow in the living room either, the black-haired man paused for a second. Had he forgotten an appointment? Not really. Edward took out his pocket calendar and slowly flipped through the weeks, finally stopping at the current day. Nothing. He frowned. Had there been a valid reason for Jonathan to go outside and leave him?

The tinkerer went to the glass door to the veranda and dared a look out at the white, slightly shabby wooden framework. The misshapen ceiling lamps were all rusted from the constant rain. The Riddler stretched his head a bit more to be able to see better into the blurry distance and finally spotted the very narrow back at the other end of the creaking floorboards. He slowly pushed the door aside and stepped out into the cool night air. Without any hurry he walked to his partner, leaned next to him on the wooden parapet and followed the staring eyes of the former psychiatrist up in the sky. The full moon stood ominously in the center of the blackness, clearly stole the show from the great number of twinkling stars beside it. The brown-haired man was breathing heavily, almost in awe: “Isn't it a breathtaking sight, Edward? When I look at the glowing constellations in the night sky, I feel how insignificant my short existence on earth actually is. Fascinating.” The Master of Riddles was startled, but initially said nothing about this cruel statement. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. A gentle breeze caught the couple on the porch and made them both barely noticeably trembling. The black-haired man finally mumbled: “Not really, John. I find it rather scary to occupy myself too much with my own impermanence.” The other gave a muffled laugh and turned slowly to the tinkerer. Edward let his eyes slide leisurely down from the dark sky, stared into the pitch-black forest. A few crows flew out of the tree tops with a loud crack and briefly covered the moon. Distracted, the inventor didn't notice that the former psychiatrist had hold out his hand to him. A quiet throat clearing made him suddenly aware of the unexpected gesture. The Riddler looked inquiringly at his partner, then hesitantly touched the long fingers in front of him. Jonathan took a step closer to him and placed his other hand on the hip of the black-haired man, smiled meaningfully. The Master of Riddles still wasn't quite sure what the other was up to. The lean man spoke softly: "Don't be afraid, Edward. Even if your existence will not matter to many, your presence in my life will make a huge difference.” With these words he began to move, gently leading his significant other through the night in a slow dance. The Riddler blushed slightly and finally put his free hand on the older man's narrow shoulder, surrendering to the unusual moment without really questioning it. He studied the angular face of the brown-haired man, looking for the many bumps on his pale skin. The blue, icy eyes drilled deep into his soul as usual and searched successfully for all the small and bigger secrets that Edward wanted to keep to himself.

Jonathan was extremely talented at drawing out every painful detail in his life without revealing too much about himself. The tinkerer didn't even know if the older one was a Gotham native. There were clear indications that the former psychiatrist did not come from a big city, or at least had not lived in one for a long time. He was overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the main streets far too quickly and preferred the quieter suburbs to the lively center, although this only had disadvantages in his actual situation. In addition to these signs, there was also a strange accent, which the thin man tried to desperately suppress. It was only audible when he was immensely excited or visibly upset. Otherwise Scarecrow was a walking mystery. A mystery he still couldn't solved. Edward blinked two times and carefully laid his face into the crook of the other's neck, instantly enjoying the faint warmth emanating from him. The pleasant smell of roasted coffee rose to his nose. Jonathan usually drank at least one pot of the black liquid and since he often played with a few beans while working, his fingers also smelled of freshly brewed coffee. The former psychiatrist's chest rose and fell evenly. The Master of Riddles closed his eyes, simply relaxing, listening to the rhythmic beating of the heart of his counterpart. They moved in unison across the floorboards, only accompanied by the gentle glow of the moonlight, which tried to cast its shadows on the wooden facade. Edward clawed his fingers a bit deeper into the soft fabric of his partner's oversized shirt and practically held onto it. After a while he heard the hoarse voice of Jonathan's whisper: "We are immortal in moments like this, Edward." The tinkerer shuddered slightly and looked up in amazement, staring breathlessly into the blue eyes of the gaunt man. Jonathan leaned forward without a word, tenderly sealing their lips in a sensual kiss.

#DC #Batman #edward nygma #Jonathan Crane #riddler #scarecrow #scriddler #arkhamverse #finzphoenix #shin-arei #dercolaris

[fbdo1986]

so idk if you’ve done it yet but #5 on that prompt list w ot3 i think wld be beautiful 🥺💞💖

I hi yes!!! i finally got to the actual first prompts you sent!!! thank you for this lovely lovely request!! i took a few liberties with how to interpret the prompt but i really hope you like it (it’s actually quite long, whoops!) 

so here it is! prompt #5: where it doesn’t hurt with the ot3! (yes, all three this time!) which i’ve aptly titled firestarter, after the haley blais song by the same name. (which i definitely recommend listening to while reading, it fits so well.) because it’s so long it will be after the cut!

I step back from the fire

I learned to keep my distance, the path of least resistance 

Cameron’s chest aches with the feeling it always has, he guesses. Or always had. It’s hard to tell the difference, or remember, when suddenly your present reality is much more memorable than the past. It’s pretty insufferable, in some ways, and certifiably pathetic in others. He doesn’t know how long he’s been like this, but it’s not going anywhere. That he knows.

It’s a million and one unhealthy, wounding adjectives all balled into one—that’s the consistent Cameron Frye experience as of late. Harsher, in the way they seep, much further than any of the words his father could spit at him. Yet, when all your brain seems programmed to do is to wish, incessantly, that you were kissing your two best friends every moment you’re with them, a response this cruel almost seems tame. He can mind the ache, but such an animalistic urge feels particularly unsettling.

It’s unbearable. Not their company, that’s always been the saving grace of the situation, but such a need. A sensation so physical, so innate, that his body begs for it, that it distracts him when he’s right in front of them, so much that he can barely stand sitting there sometimes, is too much to handle. 

And it worsens, every day, because now he’s not just hiding his feelings from them, but he’s hiding this too. And he’s never had anyone else. That’s the catch. He has them. It either stays inside, or it goes to them. The latter is an outright impossibility, but as the weight grows and grows, what choice does he have? Until he remembers. It’s a long shot, completely, but even such a fraction of hope takes a much needed weight off of his shoulders.

“You have to swear. Look, I don’t really need these types of precautions every day, but I need your complete and total confidence.” He looks Jeanie Bueller dead in the eyes from where he sits across from her. It’s funny, in a way. Jeanie is his oldest friend, aside from Ferris. And that he needs someone to keep a secret for him. He’s lucky, he doesn’t really have use for secret keepers after Ferris and Sloane start having that magical ability on him that makes him want to share the things he only kept for himself. Nowadays, his secrets are either his or they’re theirs.

“Jesus! What’s gotten into you?” Jeanie interrogates. “Barely any hello, and suddenly you’re getting all intense on me. Are you feeling alright?” Her brows furrow. 

“Yeah, Jean, I’m alright.” He tries to make himself relax, but it’s a fruitless task. “I just… I don't really have anyone else to talk to about this, and well, I trust you.”

“It’s about my brother, isn’t it?” She lays it on him bluntly. There’s no bullshitting Jeanie.

“How did you know?” His face reddens.

“It’s pretty easy to realize that if a guy can’t turn to his childhood best friend for something, it’s gotta be about him. Besides, I can be objective.” She smiles at herself for that one.

“I mean, it’s about Ferris… and Sloane.” That confuses her. As far as Jeanie knows, he goes to them with everything. She doesn’t think that there’s anything wrong with their friendship, they seem happy, so who is she to wonder? 

“Just… don’t get ahead of yourself just yet, okay? I’m trusting you with a lot here. Like, a lot.” Cameron hangs his head, defeated. “Just swear, okay?”

“Fine, fine. I’m swearing.”

“I mean, be serious here, Jeanie!” He leans forward, hands gripping the armrests of the chair he sits in tightly.

“I am being serious!” She blows out a breath of air sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you trust me. You can trust me.”

His shoulders lower in a sigh. He’s satisfied, but that doesn’t stop the swirling pit of anxiousness that inhabits his stomach from reminding him of its presence. He thinks that maybe this is the first step to getting rid of the bullshit that’s made his life so much more difficult these past few weeks, so he’s got to be willing to let that process happen. The sooner he can let it out, the sooner he can start moving forward.

“I don’t even know where to start.” He’s already overwhelmed, and all signs really do point to abandoning ship.

“Wherever feels best,” Jeanie offers him in support. It’d be weird to try and offer a hand on his shoulder now, since there’s quite a few feet of space in between them, so she gives him a small smile instead.

A few moments pass where neither of them say anything. Quickly Cameron realizes he hasn’t even made up his mind of how much he wants to say, let alone where to begin. He doesn’t know if the beginning means the beginning, in which case the two of them will be here for a while. He thinks they might be anyway, because he’s absolutely stalling, so he just needs to say something. Anything.

“I need your help. Because… because part of this I can live with, and part of it I can’t. I’ll get to that, eventually, I guess.”

“Is everything okay? Are you guys okay?” She inquires. She means a fight, if they’ve fought. As though they need fixing up of broken pieces. He wishes it were that simple.

“Yeah, no, we’re fine. I mean, we’re not fighting or anything.” He’s awful at clarifying. “Fuck. You know what, no. I don’t want to put you through this. This is stupid.” He starts getting up from where he’s sitting.

“Come on, Cameron. You haven’t even told me what it is yet. I want to help you.” She looks at him solidly. Her eyes, the color of Ferris’s, reflect how genuine she is.

“Okay. No, you’re right.” He lowers himself back into his seat, and she does what Ferris does so well, communicating without saying anything. She’s leaning forward, her elbow propped on top of her knee, and her chin sits on top of her fist. He can hear it: ‘So…?’

A big breath in. “I’m in love with Ferris and Sloane. And I have been for months now.” He knows it’s been longer, but this is when he first started acknowledging it. “And, and I’m okay with that. I think. I’ve gotten used to sitting with it. I just… there are things that I’ve been experiencing recently… that aren’t as easy to deal with.” The same breath out. 

“So you were right. That was a lot.” Her voice raises, drawing out the phrase a bit.

Cameron covers his face out of embarrassment and dread. Jeanie flounders, trying to let him know what she means. “But that’s okay.” She breathes out a sigh, looking at him intently. She wants him to do the same. “What do you need help with?”

He follows her orders, breathing out. His pulse slows. “You don’t mind?”

She smiles at him. “Of course I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone. Even if it’s two people. So, let me in. What do you need?” 

“Basically…” He forces himself to get the words out quickly. “It’s gotten… bad. So bad that I… all I can think about is wanting to kiss them. It-it’s like I need to. Sometimes it gets hard to even just sit there. Like my body is begging me to do it. I can’t stand it.” Jeanie notices the way he’s digging at the fabric of his shirt, the way his eyes narrow in disgust as he looks inside himself.

He brings his eyes up to her finally, desperately. “I need you to help me get rid of that. That… feeling.” He clenches his fists.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but something tells me that it’s gonna stay unless you deal with it. Plus, it’s kind of romantic. To love someone that much.”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Romantic’ is what keeps me awake at night in self hatred. It feels wrong. I feel wrong.”

“Cameron, please. You’re a really sweet guy. You’re not a creep, you’re literally trying to stop yourself from doing what you’re not sure they want. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” He’s desperate for a solution. 

“Telling them.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “The only way that would be a possibility is if I do it on April Fool’s Day and back out if they don’t reciprocate.”

“You know, that’d be kind of hilarious if I didn’t know you were serious.”A smile forms on her face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came. “But also kinda fucked up.” 

Cameron looks at her, eyes full of irritation and defeat.

“Look. I think the thing you should be most concerned about is just the fact that they’re in a relationship.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying, I think you’d have a pretty good chance with either of them if they were single.”

“Even Ferris?” He’s clueless as to how she can actually believe that. 

“Hey, contrary to popular belief, I’m not exactly up to date on my brother’s personal life. Especially who he’s going out with. That is completely none of my business. He does lots of stuff I don’t know about. The guy has no moral compass. He’s completely unburdened by the weight of modern society.”

Cameron’s heart skips a beat. “So you think it’s immoral?”

“Of course not! All I’m saying is Ferris doesn’t give two shits about what other people think of him. I’m pretty sure the only opinions he cares about are yours and Sloane’s.” 

“That’s funny. He did consult me before asking her out.”

“Did that… upset you?”

“I mean, no. I’m glad that he trusts my opinion that much. I couldn’t have him say no. I knew.”

“So that means you…”

“Had feelings for Sloane then? Yeah. I loved her since the moment I met her.”

“And Ferris?”

“That took longer, but… something told me, even then, I wanted him by my side forever.” He waves his hands in front of her suddenly. “Anyway, stop. You’re supposed to be helping me, remember? Not enabling me.”

“I’m offering you a solution. And if nothing else, giving you an outlet. Clearly you needed this.” All Cam can do is laugh, because she’s completely right. He runs his hands over his face.

“So listen. Not to the voice that wants you to hurt, but to what your body is telling you. That doesn’t mean you should go up to them and kiss them without warning, but your heart wants something. Now, I don’t want you to feel like I’m not taking your concern into account, because I understand that, but I don’t want to disregard me totally because the voice inside your head speaks to you more. It knows where you’re weak, and it feeds on that. Give your heart a try. Give them a try.”

A few moments of silence. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. But I don’t want you to wallow in what’s only making you feel worse with absolutely zero hope. You deserve to love and be loved, and I know that out of anyone, you should choose it for them. You owe it to yourself. You do.”

“I’ll think about it.” Cameron fights a smile. “Thank you, Jeanie. I mean, really. Thank you.”

“Of course.” They get up from their places, and Jeanie can’t help but give Cameron a hug. It makes him laugh, and gives him a sense of stability he doesn’t realize he’s been craving.

So Cameron coasts along, the oppressive feeling his body is used to carrying is a little lighter. He jokes with himself, claiming that this is the cure, and now he has no need to worry. Yet deep inside, where little flames still lick at the embers, there’s the knowledge that this lightness has only come over him because there is something deeper inside that he’s now worried about releasing. And besides, it isn’t fool-proof. 

In fact, on a pleasant, spring day in April—he’s fully abandoned the plot for the first of the month—it burns more than ever. And honestly, anything, even the prospect of ruining everything, feels better than how mangled and wrong this feels. 

“Hi, guys.” It’s a weird way to start, but it’s all he has. He practiced lines for this, like a valiant actor who put the script to memory, but they start to slip from him, quicker and quicker, as the thrumming of his heartbeat becomes the only sensation he can really latch onto. His lips are numb, it feels as though any word could slip out loosely without paying attention, but he feels so far away from where his head is. There’s nothing holding him together, nothing tangible except for the fact that he’s still physically in one place.

“Hi, Cameron.” Sloane begins, eyes full of light like they always are.

“Hey, Cam.” Their smiles are sweet, both laughing at their same joke, and it’s excruciating not to follow through with the motions his body keeps incessantly suggesting. Oh, how little they know. It’s endearing, how lovely and innocent they look. He prays the light doesn’t fully go out of their eyes when he drops this on them. So he takes precautions where he can, as if that will cushion the blow.

“I need you-I need to talk to you about something.” Already off to a rocky start. How fitting. He huffs out a sharp breath. 

“What’s going on?” Sloane asks first, again.

“Yeah, what’s up?” They both lean forward slightly.

Cameron finds it especially cute that despite their function as a pair, they always answer him separately. He wants to push down these observations, his wandering thoughts, even now. But he shoves the shame away, because that’s not getting him closer to spitting it out.

He looks at Ferris and swallows hard, but tries to keep his voice lighthearted. “If this completely blows up in my face, blame your sister.” He doesn’t want that, but he knows that Jeanie would understand. It would take some of the sting away, and she would be okay with that. They would know, too, that it wasn’t her fault. It’s just to clear the air, to give him some comfort in the last few moments that are unburdened by confession.

Sloane’s eyebrows raise quizzically, but Ferris takes it all the same. “That can be arranged.”

“Man, I really didn’t plan this out enough.” A dry laugh escapes his lips. They look at him with curiosity.

“Okay. Basically, you two mean everything to me. It’s silly to say, I guess, but you know as well as I do how true that is. Hell, you make me feel like the main character in my own life. I don’t know how to talk about it, but I’d be pretty hopeless without you. And something inside me just, really hopes you feel the same way. I mean, I don’t want you to feel hopeless without me, but—shit. Why is this so difficult?”

Their eyes are fond, still, albeit harboring a bit of confusion. “Of course we do.” Sloane confirms, softening.

“I mean, it’s kind of fun. It’s like we’ve uncovered some secret that no one’s found out about. Cameron Frye, the key to eternal friendship.” Ferris says, gesturing dramatically. “I think at this point if I saw you hanging out with anyone else I’d have a heart attack and also never forgive you.” 

Cameron can’t help but laugh. But it fades away all too quickly, and he’s left in the same headspace that ties his stomach in knots. He’s more than just that secret. 

“See, that’s where it gets hard. For me. There’s just so much of this that I’ve been holding back. That I can’t hold back. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m tired of… I’m never going to get tired of you. But I’m so tired of feeling like I’m destroying everything that this is just by being around you. I hate that my heart wrings every time I look at you. I hate… needing you this much. I need you, in a way I’m not supposed to.” He looks up at them finally, hoping they understand. Willing them to understand. Finally, finally, it quells. The burning ends, because he feels as though he could jump out of his skin. 

“You mean…?” Ferris asks in a quiet voice.

“Mm-hm.” Cameron nods, face heating with shame. They understand, and he breaks. Tears start falling down his cheeks, his vision blurring quickly. He’s almost grateful he can’t see them, can’t tell what’s in their heads by the expression on their faces. 

“Aw, Cameron, no. It’s alright.” Ferris consoles him, and Sloane joins him immediately at his left side.

“Please, Cam. Don’t cry.” They’re wiping his tears away with their thumbs, and everything inside him wants to shake them away. Shake his head furiously, shout, tell them no. He doesn’t want to be pitied. He can’t tell what this means, but he can’t take what happens next if it starts like this. Maybe they could love him, if they felt bad enough for him, and even someone so incredibly alone and desperate to be wanted like him knows that’s not fair. But he’s already sobbing, and he’s left with no choice. Letting them.

“It shouldn’t hurt this bad. Love. It doesn’t need to hurt this much.” Sloane tells him, looking into his eyes. How badly he wants to let it out, sadly. ‘Mine does.’ She’s still holding him, solidly, and stroking his cheek. But it’s not them. He hopes they know that. It’s always been him, the source of it. They’re meant to be loved, that’s not the problem. Just not by him, not like this.

“You got all ahead of yourself, Cam.” Ferris speaks to him softly, voice warping with concern. “You didn’t even hear us out.”

There was supposed to be no response. That was strictly for dreams, for the parts that deserved to be pushed away. 

“To be needed. That isn’t so bad, is it?” Sloane smiles, asking him earnestly.

“No, no.” He musters up the strength to tell them. “You can’t. Not like this. Not because I made you do it. Not because I made you feel bad.”

“You’re not making us do anything. We made this decision, this realization, all by ourselves.” Ferris convinces him, holding onto his hands. “Before this.”

“What?” It shakes Cameron out of it, almost completely.

“When we skipped school. After everything. Even after just… a second of having to maybe be without you… it was like the world had collapsed. We couldn’t handle it. We talked about it. After you left.” Ferris says.

“We need you, too.” Sloane looks in between them for a moment, then locking eyes with Cam in certainty.

“In the way we’re not supposed to. You just, fit. You talk about us, how much we’ve done for you. How much you need us, how much we’ve helped. But you… you’re everything. You complete us, the both of us, in a way we didn’t even know needed completing. We need you as much as we need each other. Love you, as much as we love each other.” Ferris lets that sink in. 

The word can barely escape, but Cameron needs clarification. “Love… me?”

“Yep. Isn’t that how you feel?” Ferris asks.

Cameron nods.

“Fully and completely.” Sloane confirms.

Cameron starts to cry again, but there’s a release of joy in it. Pent up pain, shame, and hurt, finally washing away. He laughs, gasping for air as his eyes brighten. Within a few moments, the unthinkable happens. Ferris presses a kiss on his lips, and then retreats for Sloane to do the same. They take turns like this. They don’t care that Cameron’s still in the aftermath of tears, that there’s the occasional hiccup of breath, that there are tears that dampen their faces. The way Cameron kisses them back with a purity, with a mutual exchange of need, want, and the loss of a weight that they feel so much freer without, nothing else in the world could possibly matter.

#HEHE KISS AT THE END #i realize this ending isnt perfect nor necessarily complete but i think it works how it is #BASICALLY theyre his firestarter the match to his desire!!!! #FUN FACT I WROTE THIS FIC WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE OF THIS SONG!!! THE FIRE MOTIF WAS ALREADY IN THERE AND I WAS LIKE OH FUCK. THIS SONG IS #ABSOLUTELY PERFECT WITH THIS!!! #anyway!!! hope you like it ahh #ot3: i’m gonna miss you guys next year #ferris bueller's day off fanfiction #my writing #ferris bueller's day off #cameron frye #sloane peterson #pls listen to the song if you want to ache with me

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Just some thoughts on maturity...

This is going to get long so there’ll be more under the cut.

I saw a post the other day about how it can be tempting particularly for the older crowd on this website to judge or condescend those who seem to struggle with expressing or holding truly complex ideas and instead getting stuck in a binary mentality of good vs bad or us vs them. then the post went on to point out that its not really their fault considering that a major proportion of tumblr users are under 25 (according to this report, 39% of users are under 25 and 66% are under 35) and devopmentally this is really where we see the ability to hold complex feelings and accept the existence of multiple realities really start to develop and it was kind of an epiphany for me. 

I don’t want to come across as condescending, after all, i’m part of that 39% myself and can admit that i’m still working on this skillset. But part of emotional maturity is being able to accept and understand that the world is a complicated or gray place and morality is, if not exactly relative, at least exists on a continuum (what is acceptable and even praise-worthy in one culture might be taboo or reprehensible in another [which is why we need to avoid judging past or foreign cultures by our own cultural norms/morals]).  

Just as it is possible to do the wrong thing for the right reasons or the right thing for the wrong reasons and it be both right and wrong at the same time, there can be multiple truths and “realities” at the same time without either being more or less correct than the other. I know that might sound confusing or convoluted but let me explain. You’ve probably heard the expression that there are three truths: your truth, my truth, and the actual truth is somewhere in the middle. I agree with this to an extent. People can look at the same experience and come up with radically different narratives to explain what happened to themselves or others and generally they are both a little biased because the brain naturally works from an egocentric point of view (this isn’t necessarily the same thing as a selfish/arrogant pov, but that we tend to view things based on their relationships to ourselves even if they aren’t actually connected to us, ie a child that sees that their parent is upset about something that happened during their day but assumes that it is somehow their own fault, which gets into some theory of mind stuff that is honestly a whole other post and not really the point). 

An example from my own life, is a common argument that my mother and i rehash a lot lately. Just going off of the things actually said aloud (which is only ever half the argument), my mom likes to ask for constant progress reports on things like my thesis or grad school applications or my love life and then proceeds to tell me what she thinks i should do. Sometimes i humor her and let it go, but other times i try to explain that talking about the things that i’m anxious about actually makes my anxiety related procrastination worse and that i would appreciate it if she wouldn’t ask as often. Those are the main events that lead up to it. 

From what i can tell, she views her questions as good parenting. She has told me before that she felt hurt as a kid by how uninvolved her parents were in her own adolescence/early adulthood and doesn’t want to make same mistakes.  She then takes my request not to ask as a rejection of her parenting, and usually responds by telling me that i should stop being bothered because she’s just trying to help and i’ll feel better if i just do what she’s suggesting (and then proceeds to say “see, aren’t you glad you have a mom who pushes you to do these things” once i finish a project.)

there really is no winning because my mother has never really learned that the things you do to be helpful can still be harmful. in her mind, she can’t be in the wrong because that would make her a bad mom and she can’t be a bad mom because she loves us. sure, she might be able to accept this idea in fiction or in the abstract, but isn’t able to put it into practice because that is a learned skill that she has never known to try to learn. i think a lot of people end up stuck there. tbh its still my first instinct a lot of the time and its only through a lot of courses geared towards developing critical thinking and empathy, a lot of fiction meta analysis, and reading about a million fanfics that each interpret the same canon event differently based on the author’s personal experiences coloring what they viewed as important.

my first instinct is to view my mother’s refusal to change her behavior as a disrespect/invalidation of my feelings. I feel guilty because i know that i should do the things she’s suggesting but that is never the issue, the issue is that i have trouble actually making myself do it. For a long time that egocentric worldview (and that instinct kids have to implicitly trust hteir gaurdians) told me that both the executive dsyfunction and the fighting were my fault. It felt like she was saying that if i was better or smarter or more mature surely i would be able to do this on my own. it felt like she was saying that if i was a better daughter i wouldn’t hurt her feelings like this. 

But i’ve been learning that neither one of us were truly correct and we both were at the same time. Those feelings and concerns were real to us, even if we were both projecting our own insecurities onto the other person. Those feelings were valid and understandable but (and this is incredibly important) that did not give either one of us a free pass on how we acted on those insecurities.  It didn’t make us bad people but it did mean that we were engaging in toxic behavior that just hurt both of us.

So, the question becomes “what do i do with that?” Now that i know we were both responding from a place of trauma and insecurity in the past, how do we change how we act in the future? I think we have to get to a point where we can look at a situation and truly try to understand the internal dialogue that the other side is experiencing in the moment (why they feel the way they feel, do we really have evidence that they feel what we think they feel or are we projecting, are they acting well-intentioned/malicious or are they even considering the ramifications at all/do they have any conscious intentions) and come to a point where we can truly empathize with them, not sympathize with them, not feel sorry for them, but truly see it from their side and understand where they are coming from. we should remember that we’re all a little broken. and we should be gracious and merciful. 

That doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it. We don’t even need to think that they have a good point or that their pov is reasonable or forgivable (sometimes it just isn’t, and its important to understand that too). But it means not dehumanizing the enemy or oversimplifying their position into the general “bad guy” role. You can forgive without absolving and you can understand and show compassion without forgiving or accepting.

You need to set boundaries, and you need to accept that at the end of the day the way that they respond is not on you, not if you’ve acted based on that understanding we talked about earlier and treated them with at least the bare amount of dignity we are all entitled to as human beings. 

Returning to the previous example, with my mother, i now make a point when we disagree of first summarizing and acknowledging the validity of what i understand her intent to be, making it clear that i appreciate that she cares and is trying to be helpful. Then i explain my point of view not as what she makes me feel (because that would come across as judgement that would prompt natural, though incredibly unhelpful defensiveness) but as to how i feel based on my interpretation of the action. I try to make this sound as nonjudgemental as possible without making it anyone’s fault, including my own (which i admit can be easier said than done). Then, i give an alternative suggestion for what would actually be helpful and then it is in her hands. It is up to her whether or not to accept the boundary i have set up.  

In an ideal world she would respect my wishes and alter her behavior. after all, she is supposed to be the adult/parent in this relationship. the emotional labor isn’t supposed to be on the child, at least not the majority of it. 

(side note: this goes for relationships of equals such as significant others, friends, siblings, extended families, and peers. in a healthy relationship of equals you should be splitting the emotional labor equally. if they aren’t trying as hard as you are, you probably need to have a conversation about that and based on the outcome then evaluate how much, if any, of yourself is safe/healthy to continue to pour into the relationship)

But because many people, adults and adolescents alike, have not reached this level of emotional maturity and can’t honestly/completely accept or acknowledge their own flaws and mistakes without their sense of self taking a hit, sometimes its not enough.  My mother, no matter how respectfully i phrase my concerns and request, continues to insist on asking the same nagging questions that trigger a lot of my childhood emotional drama related to being good enough for my parents impossible standards.  I understand why she behaves the way that she does but the fact of the matter is that she still continues to hurt me and no longer has plausible deniability in those situations.  I have the right to be angry, though i do not have the right to lash out or respond in kind. 

I do, however, have the right and the responsibility to myself to do what i can to protect myself from further harm. I still want a positive relationship with my mother, we have plenty of good moments and are very similar people. But i have to be willing and able to remove myself from unsafe situations. Usually that means making it clear that i won’t be answering the questions and not calling or texting with her until the point is made (even if this leaves her surly). 

I had to lower my expectations for her as well. I had a high opinion of my mother because she can be very nurturing and compassionate, especially when we are in agreement. So i thought on some level that if i shared the information and the sources that prompted me to begin my own journey of self-actualization and personal growth in earnest that she would react similarly and understand why i needed her to at least try to do the same. Piece of advice, kiddos, it’s not your job to fix someone, no matter how much you love them nor how much potential they have. It needs to be on them, and they need to make that decision for themselves or it won’t work anyway.

I am trying to accept that unless she makes the decision on her own, she isn’t going to become the mother i want her to be. That’s an incredibly sad thing to realize about someone you love, but its true. If i don’t let that expectation go, our relationship will always be one of disappointment and eventually resentment. Instead, I've had to evaluate what conversations we are and are not able to have in a healthy manner, and just let things be what they will be.  I know my own worth (when my brain chemistry cooperates) and i have a lot of good, healthy relationships in my life that i can turn to when i need something my mom doesn’t know how to give me. 

It’s painful to grow and realize you’re leaving people behind in the process. You can offer them the tools to follow, and give them the support that they need to do so, but only if they want to. 

But i promise you its worth it.  When you accept your own worth with rather than despite your own flaws, when you learn to do the same with others, you realize that there’s a lot more hope for humanity than you thought.  we are capable of so many great things if we are in an environment that fosters our best selves. and even when we are not, we are still capable of growing past our trauma and hurt so that we don’t have to continue the cycle of pain and misery. We can’t control everyone and everything around us, they still have a measure of personal responsibility to themselves and others that you can’t absolve them from.  But you can be an example to them. You can show them through your own life and actions that things can be better, even if they weren’t aware of how much they need things to improve, or how much they deserve it. You deserve good things but you wait for someone to solve it for you. You have to fight for yourself and struggle against falling into the trap of the familiar. It is going to be scary, it is going to be confusing. there will be times when you don’t trust your own interpretations of your emotions and perceptions (especially if you weren’t taught to do so as a kid, its not your fault, but what happens next is up to you). When those times come you’re going to want to have good friends or mentors at your side or as a source of hope that things will be better and that there are people who can and will offer you the help you need along the way. No one can do it alone, and you don’t have to.  For me, my college roommates were my first clue that maybe things weren’t as good with my mother as i assumed, they fostered my confidence and my self-worth and i was constantly afraid i was going to scare them away but they had my back.  I didn’t think i deserved to be happy, i didn’t think i was worthy for anything outside what i could do or give for others and they showed me that i was worthy just as i was.  it was creators like @goldkirk and @maychorian and @cdelphiki and @sohotthateveryonedied that taught me through their works what healthy family relationships (particularly between parent and child) should look like, what unhealthy relationships can do to you, and that families of choice are just as valuable as those of law or blood. And @goldkirk especially, i want you to know that reading your blog, be it the ups, or the downs, your knowledge of things like child development and mental health, and even the things that you find helpful and reblog have meant so much to me.  I have a lot in common with your Tim and with you and you have given me so much hope and confirmation and affirmation that i’m not alone in my experiences and that i deserve to be happy, even if the road isn’t a straight line. and lately i have to say thank you to @mahpotatoequeen for just straight up deciding to be my new mom this summer. I don’t have the words for how much i appreciate you and how much it meant to me that in one of the worst crisis of my life that there was someone who saw the things i had posted just to get out of my system, things i had never said to anyone before and that came from a really broken and painful place, and reached out and stuck around rather than just continuing to scroll and go about their day.

But I digress. My point is that there are people out there that you can learn from and there are people out there who will care. And maybe we all owe it to each other to strive to become the healthiest version of ourselves, so that maybe someday we can be that for someone else.  just a thought.

(I can’t find the original post i referenced earlier but if someone knows what i’m talking about plz send me the link so i can give credit where credit is due)

#emotional maturity #tumblr meta #child development #cognitive development #cw: anxiety #cw: discussion of conflict with a parent #healthy relationships #unhealthy relationships #emotionally immature adults #on a related note #go read 'adult children of emotionally immature parents' #its a good resource for learning about emotional maturity period #warning: i caught feelings halfway through writing this #i love my friends #and i love you guys #you all deserve nice things #unsolicited advice #im an older sister its in my blood #cw: insecurity #i tell my life story for the millionth time

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 5: major character death

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Ned Leeds Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: mentions of panic attacks Words: 2.1k

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so like....i don’t really do major character death. just don’t vibe with that folks. so i sipped my ‘loosely interpreting prompts’ juice and went with a post-a4 aftermath fic. enjoy.

Peter remembers dying.

He remembers watching others start to fade first, remembers knowing exactly what was happening but still not understanding. Remembers thinking that this was not the first time he had watched someone die right in front of him and it would likely not be the last. Remembers registering that, despite barely knowing any of these people and having been held at gunpoint by one of them mere minutes ago, it did not hurt any less.

He remembers waiting. He remembers waiting, not for himself to go next, but for yet another parental figure to fade away.

He remembers his spider-sense screaming at him, remembers not being able to make it stop because wherever he looked, something was going wrong. Remembers the moment in which nothing was happening, after what seemed like the last person had gone, when he couldn’t figure out why his senses were still pinging danger danger danger. Remembers the awful, shattering realization that it was not, in fact, over.

He remembers shaking. He remembers hurting. He remembers crying, pleading, begging to be saved. He remembers Tony holding him and telling him he was was alright. He remembers trying to damn hard to believe him.

He remembers his last moments like they happened yesterday. He remembers dying like it’s the only thing he’s ever done.

The first couple weeks are actually okay.

Eleven months after the Snap, everyone who’d disappeared woke up, perfectly unharmed, in whatever spot they most considered to be home. Eleven months after the Snap, Peter came to in his own bed, and the high that came from just being alive took a while to wear off.

But when he crashes, he crashes hard.

Sixteen days, seven hours, and about thirty minutes after the Snap is reversed, Peter finds his first trigger.

He’s sitting on his living room couch, sandwiched between May and Ned, who both cling to him like they're afraid to let go. Some movie or other is playing on the TV in front of them, and Tony’s supposed to come over in time to catch whatever’s on after this. When it goes to commercial break, an advertisement for a throwback movie marathon says the word Footloose and Peter is no longer in his apartment.

(Like in Footloose? The movie?

Exactly like Footloose! Is it still the greatest movie in history?

It never was.)

He’s not in his living room. He’s not in his apartment. He’s not on Earth.

(red red dust Thanos danger danger danger fading shaking stumbling I don’t wanna go pain fear snap Thanos please I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.)

May and Ned do their best, but it takes fifteen minutes for Tony to arrive and another thirty minutes for him to talk Peter down.

Sixteen days, seven hours and thirty minutes. He lasted longer than he thought he would.

The breakdown is the first of many.

The ridiculousness of having his first post-Snap breakdown over an 80s movie is not lost on him. But it’s like a dam breaks, after.

He goes from okay to completely falling apart.

All of a sudden, it’s all he can think about. Dying. Turning to dust in Tony’s arms. Fading away on some cold, unforgiving alien planet.

All of a sudden, it’s so fucking hard.

It’s hard not to stare at his own hands whenever there’s nothing else to focus on and worry that his fingers are going to crumble any minute. It’s hard not to see the rocky surface of Titan every time his gaze catches on anything red. It’s hard not to feel like he’s living on borrowed time, wandering aimlessly in a borrowed body.

It’s hard to think. It’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to live when the weight that’s been resting on chest ever since he came back to life has gained a million pounds and is pressing directly against his heart.

It’s funny, in this sick, twisted way, that when Aunt May asks him to talk about Titan, he can recount what happened without even stuttering, but the littlest thing can set him off if he’s not prepared.

Once, it’s an advertisement of a kid on a beach with sand slipping through the palms of his hands.

(sand it’s just sand it’s just sand it’s dust it’s always dust he’s turning to dust again.)

Another time, it’s merely someone on the street saying, “God, I don’t wanna go to the store.”

(I don’t wanna go Mr. Stark please I don’t wanna go I’m sorry.)

Many times, it’s not even something that he sees or hears. Many times, the fear washes over him for seemingly no reason other than just…trauma. He’s dealt with trauma before. He’s been dealing with trauma for basically his whole life.

It feels different this time. Like his brain has been completely rewired and he doesn’t know how to fix the mess in his head.

The thing is, it’s easy to tell who was dusted and who wasn’t. The people who weren’t have this terribly haunted look about them. They all try their best not to show it, but it’s in their faces. The eleven months in which half the planet was gone show in the vacant looks, in the glazed eyes, in the clingy protectiveness the ones who stayed have for the ones who didn’t.

The ones who dusted don’t remember those eleven months. They remember dying, yes, but for most of them, it was over quick. For most of them, the whole thing was over quick.

Most of them have issues, yes, but minor ones. A place they don’t like being in, a phrase they don’t like hearing.

Because for most of them, the Snap is just this thing that happened once. This thing that caused them panic for a few moments and then, a split second later, stopped affecting them. Most of them disappeared and then reappeared in the space of what, to them, was maybe five seconds.

Most of them don’t have nightmares about it. Most of them don’t have panic attacks over it. Most of them don’t spend every waking moment of every day feeling it.

Peter is the exception, not the rule.

Peter has always been the exception.

Peter goes back to being Spider-Man before he goes back to school. Midtown High doesn’t start back up for another two weeks when he decides he’s tired of not doing anything substantial.

He’ll come to wonder, later, if maybe he just wanted to know if even Spider-Man would make him lose his grip on reality, despite Spider-Man having been the one thing that used to ground him the most.

Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter.

Fifty-one days and two hours after the Snap is reversed, Peter puts on the suit - the old one, of course, because the other one turned to dust and he’s glad of that because he’d never be able to look at it again - and feels better than he has in weeks.

He doesn’t tell May before he leaves. He knows he should, knows that she worries even more than before now, but he needs to do this without other people’s hopes hanging over his head.

This is about him and only him.

Technically, he died as Spider-Man. But in that moment (I don’t wanna go please I don’t wanna go), he’d never felt more like a kid.

Apparently, the death and resurrection of half of the planet didn’t do much for people’s morals, seeing as there’s still plenty of crime to fight. Peter sticks to small-scale issues for his first day back - muggings and street fights and cats in trees. Tosses witty one-liners around just like he used to and feels truly alive for the first time since he came back.

For the next two weeks, he spends as much time as possible being Spider-Man.

Maybe it’s because he needs to feel like he’s helping someone, even if he doesn’t know how the hell to help himself.

Maybe it’s because he’s chasing the high he’d felt for the first sixteen days post-Snap and the closest he can get is saving a girl from a man who’s threatening her behind a bar.

Maybe it’s just because, whether he died as Spider-Man or not, he still feels less vulnerable as Spider-Man. Maybe it’s because Peter Parker is not a superhero, but Spider-Man is, and the superheroes always come out on top somehow.

Most likely, it’s because he’s scared and he always feels less afraid with the suit on.

They’re all worried about him.

May, Ned, Tony. They’re no better at hiding how worried they are about him than he is at hiding how not okay he is. Even the pain in their own eyes isn’t enough to mask their concern.

They don’t push. Probably don’t know how to. But their anxiety hovers around Peter and mixes in with his own until it feels like they’re all sharing one big mutual supply of frayed nerves and hitching breaths.

He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get why they’re so concerned about him when they’re the ones who actually had to live through those eleven months. All he did was die.

Which is not something he thought he’d ever be able to say.

Even so, it’s not that big of a deal. It was thirty seconds to May and Ned and Tony’s eleven months. Thirty seconds of the worst, most bone-chilling fear he’s ever felt and probably will ever feel in his life, but thirty seconds nonetheless.

It’s so fucking stupid that he can barely get through a day without having a panic attack over something or other when it was just thirty seconds. It’s so fucking stupid that he can’t sleep through a whole night when it was just thirty seconds. It’s so fucking stupid that he still wonders, sometimes, if all of this is even real when it was just thirty seconds.

He can’t let thirty seconds define him for the rest of his goddamn life.

He’ll be fine. It might take a while, but…he’ll be fine.

He has to be fine. He has to be strong for the people he left behind, for the people who really went through hell.

As all things do, Peter’s issues come to a head eventually.

Sixty-five days after the Snap is reversed, Peter goes back to school. It takes hours of convincing to get May and Tony to let him go back when the rest of his class does - they’re doing this weird type of co-parenting thing now, and trying to convince them of anything is like trying to convince a baby to stop crying - but ultimately they let him go.

It’s not their fault that Peter handles it worse than he’s ever handled anything else in all his sixteen and a half years.

Every slam of a locker makes him jump. Every whisper has him constantly looking over his shoulder. Every unexpected touch causes his spider-sense to buzz incessantly at him (danger danger danger).

By the time the sixth period bell rings, he’s shaking so badly that he knocks his notebook and pencils off his desk when he stands. And then he just...stares at them.

He should pick it all up. He should. That’s what he’s supposed to do right now. Knock something down, pick it up. That’s the natural progression.

Except he can’t figure out how to make his hands move. Can’t convince his knees to actually bend so he can reach the floor. Can’t function properly for long enough to even pick up a fucking notebook.

Someone does it for him, offers him a sympathetic smile even as they actually have to turn him around, unzip his backpack, and put his stuff in, since he doesn’t exactly offer a hand to take any of it. They pat him on the shoulder when they turn and go, leaving Peter alone in an empty classroom.

Alone. Alone.

(he doesn’t want to die alone. he doesn’t want to die at all, but at least he can stumble to Tony and have someone hold him as he goes. he doesn’t want to die. he’s not alone, but he’s still dying.

I don’t wanna go please I don’t wanna go.)

Peter walks on autopilot to the nurse’s office and tells the nurse to call both of his emergency contacts.

May and Tony arrive at the same time. They hang out now, apparently - Peter supposes eleven months of dealing with the loss of the kid you both view as yours, one way or another, will do that.

They sit next to him on the cot the nurse had directed him to. He hasn’t moved since he was left alone again, but now he pulls his feet up onto the cot and rests his forehead on his knees.

“I need help,” he says into his knees. “I - guys, I really need help.”

His parents hold him as he finally cries for the first time in sixty-five days.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #febuwhump day 5 #whump #angst #spiderman homecoming #irondad #infinity war #post-iw #post-a4 #peter parker #tony stark #may parker #ned leeds #irondad and spiderson #spiderson #iron dad #mine #jude writes #text #long post

[whitecoatdiaries]

The Notebook

We’re seeing a patient on endocrine consults who can’t regulate his sodium following brain surgery. I’m taking care of adults this month but he’s only 20 and his Mom does most of the talking in the room. The first day I meet them we’re only a few minutes into our conversation when she pulls out a worn spiral-bound notebook that I can see from across the room is full of pages and pages of cramped, furiously-scribbled notations. I’m surprised by how viscerally I react. 

I know this notebook well. Last month I spent 6 straight weeks in the PICU. I conclude at the end of the month that there’s no place in the hospital as full of suffering as the pediatric intensive care unit. The parents are devastated: they shriek and panic and fall apart in front of me. I become adept at placing one comforting hand on a shoulder and using the other to grab the nearest chair, gently guiding the parent to seated (syncope is a common and generally avoidable occurrence here). One morning we round for hours with the steady wailing of a brand-new mother in the background. She delivered without ever attending a prenatal appointment. I find that parents’ grief is almost always flavored with anger, or guilt, or some confusing, human combination of the two.  

The parents’ suffering is unmistakable. They do not ‘give up’ on their children-- they cannot. For 6 weeks I watch the vigil one Mom keeps over her 5-year-old. Her respiratory failure is so severe that even the ventilator can’t keep up. In some cases, we offer ECMO, which uses two surgically-placed catheters to drain the blood from the body, oxygenate it using a machine, and then return it to circulation, effectively bypassing the lungs. The decision to offer ECMO is a complicated one. It is an incredibly money- and resource-intensive intervention with significant morbidity, and most critically ill patients will die on it. The prevailing logic is that it should only be offered when we anticipate patients have a ‘reversible’ injury that they will recover from in a relatively short period of time (the longer a patient remains on ECMO the more likely they are to have a stroke, or other kinds of organ failure). We don’t know the cause of this 5yo’s respiratory failure so the argument is made that it could be reversible and that ECMO should be offered. It is, and she’s on it for 6 weeks. The team is divided. She shows no signs of getting better. We order medicines and infusions that cost thousands and tens-of-thousands of dollars apiece. Statistically, no one think she will survive this. We bicker over her lab values, her treatments, her oxygen and CRRT goals. The phrase “arranging the desk chairs on the Titanic” etches itself into my skull those 6 weeks. But her mother can’t give up. She won’t. The dynamic between the family and the team becomes vaguely adversarial at times. We often feel like we are being forced to torture a child that we know is almost certainly going to die. But children are difficulty to prognosticate about, and every so often they make miraculous recoveries, and so the parents hold out hope. And we consider that there is some sliver of a chance that she recovers. And so we do as we are told. One late night on my way to the cafeteria I see the child’s mother hunched in the hallway, bolting down a hot-dog just outside the doors to our PICU (food isn’t allowed inside, and there are no bathrooms for family inside the badge-swipe-gated doors either). She looks exhausted and famished and oddly guilty when our eyes meet, mid-bite. My heart breaks. The mother suffers. The child suffers. We press on, presenting our numbers and vent settings and rattling off the mile-long list of medicines she’s on every morning, resenting the Unit and the Family but probably mostly just resenting God and this God-forsaken place. 

The parents suffer. The child suffers, in spite of but often because of us. With adults there is sometimes a moment of relief when we switch from aggressive interventions to comfort-focused care. After years of hospitalizations and side-effect-laden medicines and painful procedures, the patient rests. I get to see the family exhale. The patient opens their eyes, in a moment of lucidity, and says, softy “no more.” We listen. We are liberated from our treatment goals. 

This moment rarely comes for children. There is no exhale. There is only a white-knuckled do-everything that seems to last until the very end. 

And so I meet The Notebook. It usually sits on the bedside table, within easy reach of the parents. When we mention new medicines, changed doses, or trending lab values, the notebook comes out. My words get transcribed word-for-word often, and if there’s time I pause, spelling things and repeating phrases. Most families with chronically sick kids are well-accustomed to the frantic pace at which we conduct rounds and so their scribbles are hazy, misspelled, phonetic interpretations of the bizarre medical language we speak and only sometimes translate. 

They flip back nervously, looking for evidence that their child has been on this medicine before. They know the patience of the medical team wears thin and so the page-turning becomes frantic. Somewhere in their notebook they are sure they have an answer to whatever today’s issue is: uncontrolled secretions, vomiting with the tube feeds, flushing skin after an antibiotic. It’s hard to watch.

The parents of chronically-ill children are often the most complete medical records we have. They know this and so police our treatments carefully, quick to interject if their child has had a problem with our proposed treatments. As the medical team, we feel complicated: we rely on these parents and their exhaustive lists. They coordinate the 15 specialists, fill the meds, know how their child best tolerates their feeds, know which meds best control secretions. But like all people, they are prone to all kinds of bias. My criteria for an ‘allergic reaction’ is strictly defined by a histamine-mediated response causing a certain set of symptoms. My patients’ parents criteria often feels like anything that correlates to a bad day, a weird look on their face, or an unexplained episodes of vomiting. They collect all of the information meticulously, scribbling in their notebooks, but it’s not always clear which information is important. 

On bad, cynical days, I often think that we create monsters in the parents of chronically-ill children. They have learned that making demands, throwing tantrums, and raising their voice tends to bludgeon the team into doing what they what: prescribing antibiotics we feel are unnecessarily, keeping patients in the hospital who are ready for discharge, avoiding treatments that could be beneficial. If a patient’s safety is truly being compromised usually someone puts their foot down, but we make compromises all the time that feel ridiculous. At one rapid response, we can’t get a 7-yo neurologically devastated child’s oxygen saturation up out of the mid-80s. The primary and intensivist team quickly runs through the utility of different interventions in a medically urgent scenario-- if her oxygen saturation continues to fall, she could die in minutes. Upset that she’s not being listened to, the Mom piercingly dog-whistles at us to give us a piece of information that is irrelevant and unhelpful. We listen, calmly, placate her, and continue on with our discussion. 

Afterwards, on returning to the PICU, I get angry. I do not intend to be whistled at like a dog in my adult life: not by men, not by strangers, not by my patients. 6 weeks of being treated poorly by parents starts to wear you thin. Their frustration and poor behavior is explainable, and each time I reach inside my reservoir of patience (filled on the occasional day off and unfortunately hoarded for my patients at the expense of those I love) and smile calmly, waiting for the tirade to end, but it gets old. 

So when my patient’s mother pulls out the notebook, I both flinch and tear up. I can read her anxiety from across the door. I know intimately this impulse to record as an attempt to exercise control over the situation, control which I know will not be afforded to her this hospital stay. Her child’s short-term memory has not been the same since the surgery and he looks at her, worried, when we ask him basic questions. She rushes to answer them, trying to soothe him, promising over and over that it’s just temporary, that he’s still recovering. I don’t know that it is. I don’t know that he will. I know that there will be many, many questions that come from this notebook that we will patiently answer, and that our answers won’t change a thing. 

#PICU #Dark Nights of the Soul #Palliative Care

[eroticcannibal]

Please stop telling people to “just do CBT”

CBT, like medication, can be valuable and life-changing to an individual. And like medication, it can also be devastating if it’s not the right treatment to you. It seems a lot of people seem to think that because it’s accessible and you can get free PDFs online, that it’s safe to just hop on any post and tell complete strangers to try it.

That is dangerous and irresponsible behavior. 

CBT is suited to those who are having trouble specifically with their thought patterns around things that do not justify those kinds of thought patterns, to the point where it impacts their life. CBT is not suited to just anyone having problems with their mood or anxiety or their thought patterns. And yet it is frequently pushed on people by strangers, by doctors (because it is relatively quick and cheap, thanks capitalism!), even forced on patients who aren’t suited to the treatment, causing worsening situations, even trauma. 

I can’t link to any of the wonderful conversations I’ve witnessed in private groups by those harmed by CBT, unfortunately. To summarise, I have seen fair comparisons to ABA, gaslighting, victim blaming, brainwashing, neglectful parenting that dismisses the feelings of the child (have fun with that one if that’s the source of your problems), grooming the patient to be receptive to coercion and institutional abuses, But from my own perspective as someone who had to stop CBT before I killed myself as a result of it, HERE is some highlights of the more damaging parts of a typical CBT workbook (and there's some great contributions in the notes). For those with issues caused by abuse or oppression or other situational factors, CBT becomes gaslighting. CBT is routinely weaponized against the oppressed and the abused, when our understandable reactions make others uncomfortable. CBT is used to make us into “good victims”, who don’t hurt or cry or complain or blame anyone. CBT is a therapy that can sever the connection between a person and themselves, it can be compassionless and cold. Not to mention that CBT inherently shifts the blame for feelings and behaviors entirely onto the individual rather than acknowledging the true role of triggers. 

In addition to this, CBT and how it is implemented is not only criticized by those harmed directly by it, but by professionals too. 

“this model appears to confuse the symptoms (i.e., negative self concepts) of depression with its cognitive causes...  In many cases, clients' appraisals and reports of their negative or distressful experiences are quite rational, realistic, and accurate. For example, their experiences of sexual or physical abuse at the hands of another or the tragedies of their loved ones have left enormous scars in their life. In such circumstances, cognitive-restructuring exercises, with their emphasis on reframing reality and not on changing it, do not deal with the true problem...  research has shown that positive self-evaluations may be dysfunctional and maladaptive...  the self-focused cognitive model puts a strong emphasis on examining the association between negative thoughts and mental dysfunction, but it has not answered the question of why individuals choose to focus on their negative attributes when the positive evaluation of the self is more accurate. “

“ Opponents have frequently argued that the approach is too mechanistic and fails to address the concerns of the “whole” patient...   the specific cognitive components of CBT often fail to outperform “stripped-down” versions of the treatment that contain only the more basic behavioral strategies... patients with major depression improved just as much following a treatment that contained only the behavioral strategies and explicitly excluded techniques designed to directly modify distorted cognitions... “

“Some critics argue that because CBT only addresses current problems and focuses on specific issues, it does not address the possible underlying causes of mental health conditions, such as an unhappy childhood...  CBT focuses on the individual’s capacity to change themselves (their thoughts, feelings and behaviours), and does not address wider problems in systems or families that often have a significant impact on an individual’s health and wellbeing. “

“ Seek a therapy referral on the NHS today, and you’re much more likely to end up, not in anything resembling psychoanalysis, but in a short series of highly structured meetings with a CBT practitioner, or perhaps learning methods to interrupt your “catastrophising” thinking via a PowerPoint presentation, or online...   CBT doesn’t exactly claim that happiness is easy, but it does imply that it’s relatively simple: your distress is caused by your irrational beliefs, and it’s within your power to seize hold of those beliefs and change them...    Our conscious minds are tiny iceberg-tips on the dark ocean of the unconscious – and you can’t truly explore that ocean by means of CBT’s simple, standardised, science-tested steps...  Examining scores of earlier experimental trials, two researchers from Norway concluded that its effect size – a technical measure of its usefulness – had fallen by half since 1977...  For the most severely depressed, it concluded, 18 months of analysis worked far better – and with much longer-lasting effects – than “treatment as usual” on the NHS, which included some CBT. Two years after the various treatments ended, 44% of analysis patients no longer met the criteria for major depression, compared to one-tenth of the others. Around the same time, the Swedish press reported a finding from government auditors there: that a multimillion pound scheme to reorient mental healthcare towards CBT had proved completely ineffective in meeting its goals...

 A few years ago, after CBT had started to dominate taxpayer-funded therapy in Britain, a woman I’ll call Rachel, from Oxfordshire, sought therapy on the NHS for depression, following the birth of her first child. She was sent first to sit through a group PowerPoint presentation, promising five steps to “improve your mood”; then she received CBT from a therapist and, in between sessions, via computer. “I don’t think anything has ever made me feel as lonely and isolated as having a computer program ask me how I felt on a scale of one to five, and – after I’d clicked the sad emoticon on the screen – telling me it was ‘sorry to hear that’ in a prerecorded voice,” Rachel recalled. Completing CBT worksheets under a human therapist’s guidance wasn’t much better. “With postnatal depression,” she said, “you’ve gone from a situation in which you’ve been working, earning your own money, doing interesting things – and suddenly you’re at home on your own, mostly covered in sick, with no adult to talk to.” What she needed, she sees now, was real connection: that fundamental if hard-to-express sense of being held in the mind of another person, even if only for a short period each week.“I may be mentally ill,” Rachel said, “but I do know that a computer does not feel bad for me.”...    

In the NHS study conducted at the Tavistock clinic last year, chronically depressed patients receiving psychoanalytic therapy stood a 40% better chance of going into partial remission, during every six-month period of the research, than those receiving other treatments...  Alongside this growing body of evidence, scholars have begun to ask pointed questions about the studies that first fuelled CBT’s ascendancy. In a provocative 2004 paper, the Atlanta-based psychologist Drew Westen and his colleagues showed how researchers – motivated by the desire for an experiment with clearly interpretable results – had often excluded up to two-thirds of potential participants, typically because they had multiple psychological problems...  Moreover, some studies have sometimes seemed to unfairly stack the deck, as when CBT has been compared with “psychodynamic therapy” delivered by graduate students who’d received only a few days’ cursory training in it, from other students...  But the most incendiary charge against cognitive approaches, from the torchbearers of psychoanalysis, is that they might actually make things worse: that finding ways to manage your depressed or anxious thoughts, for example, may simply postpone the point at which you’re driven to take the plunge into self-understanding and lasting change. CBT’s implied promise is that there’s a relatively simple, step-by-step way to gain mastery over suffering. But perhaps there’s more to be gained from acknowledging how little control – over our lives, our emotions, and other people’s actions – we really have?...        

Many neuroscience experiments have indicated that the brain processes information much faster than conscious awareness can keep track of it, so that countless mental operations run, in the neuroscientist David Eagleman’s phrase, “under the hood” – unseen by the conscious mind in the driving-seat. For that reason, as Louis Cozolino writes in Why Therapy Works, “by the time we become consciously aware of an experience, it has already been processed many times, activated memories, and initiated complex patterns of behaviour.”...  This doesn’t mesh well with a basic assumption of CBT – that, with training, we can learn to catch most of our unhelpful mental responses in the act. Rather, it seems to confirm the psychoanalytic intuition that the unconscious is huge, and largely in control; and that we live, unavoidably, through lenses created in the past, which we can only hope to modify partially, slowly and with great effort.  “

“ after completing low-intensity CBT, more than one in two service users had relapsed within 12 months.”

“ the overwhelming majority of CBT still operates through Becksian principles of normalisation, fitting a governmental agenda of producing good, quiet, working subjects who contribute to the economy and shut up. “

“To make this analysis, let’s imagine you are a therapist who is given the task of providing therapy for Ariel Castro (the recent accused kidnapper and rapist) to help him deal with suicidal thoughts over being universally hated and most likely condemned to a life sentence or the death penalty. Now think about the absurdity of doing CBT in this situation; that is, analyzing his negative thought patterns to help him deal with his one-sided thinking so he can better adjust himself to his (not so nice) life conditions.

Even better, imagine you’re given the task of providing therapy for Dr. Joseph Biederman (the key promoter of children’s Bipolar diagnoses) who perhaps is dealing with a severe depression related to negative public opinion regarding the enormous damage his work has done to tens of thousands of children (unfortunately his depression is a made-up scenario). Again you have the assigned responsibility to use CBT to help him see beyond the “negatives” in his thought patterns to find the “positives” in his career in order to help relieve his depression so he can get on with his work with great enthusiasm.

And even more controversial, let’s say you have the task of providing therapy using CBT for President George Bush several months after he launched the Iraq war; imagine for a moment that he has become quite depressed related to the growing mass demonstrations and the grief displayed by the parents of dead American soldiers coming home in coffins on a daily basis. Your job is to help him overcome his depression so he can get back to being The Commander In Chief...

CBT, being part of the “idealist” school of thought, tends to sever the relationship between the specific nature of the material conditions in the environment that gives rise to a person’s thoughts, and leaves it up to the interpretation of the listener (often a therapist) to determine whether or not the environmental source of those thoughts was actually traumatic or oppressive or more positive and humane. “

[Let me be clear, this is not me saying that CBT is bad, should never be used, or that it can’t be helpful to you. If it works for you, use it. It is the attitude that damn near everyone has, laypeople and professionals alike, that it’s a magic fix it that works for everyone, that I am challenging here. I’ve had issues with professionals not believing me recently when I expressed that I was unwilling to go through CBT again because it is a danger to me, because “oh it’s just changing how you think, that can’t be dangerous!”. Recommending particular treatments without a complete understanding of someone’s situation and without the proper clinical knowledge is dangerous, and when it comes to CBT it happens all the time. Recommending CBT without considering situational factors is dangerous, and it happens all the time.]

#Word of God #long post

[littleroma]

Exasperation is thy Name - Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One

I’m going on holiday for a week, so there probably won’t be a chapter, just in case you get overly disappointed.  Galway here I come!

Jyn sighed and leaned back from the computer; she was not sure whether or not they had learned anything. She could see that most of what Romanova had chosen to tell them had been nothing than obfuscation and attempted hiding from the truth.  Jyn had to wonder whether or not she was likely to get any answers from the woman, to use a crude turn of phrase, the woman had her head to far up either her own or Steve Rogers’ arse to see the wood from the trees.  It was possible that Jyn had gotten some of her terminology mixed up, that still happened, much at it might be able to annoy her friends.

 Sighing as she pushed back her hair from her face, she wondered to herself what steps they were going to take next.  They had after all done all that they had set out to do; namely, capture the former Avengers.  Shaking the dour thoughts from her head as she wondered whether or not they still had a purpose, it was time for her to contact Ms Potts or Ms Hill, they might have something else they would like done.  She knew that Cassian nursed thoughts in his head of going back home, she agreed with him and had overheard him talking with Dacia about concerning reports.

 It might have the man a long amount of time, but Cassian had been able to receive reports from back home.  It was only disappointing that they could not send any reports.  At least Jyn reckoned that it was disappointing for the others, she felt as if she no longer had any connection with her home Universe. After she had watched her Mama, and later her Papa die, she had struggled with any connection.  She often mused that it would not trouble her if they all ripped themselves apart, she felt that she had no stake in this play.

 Cassian though was more patriotic and longed for home; he wanted to make sure that his home had not been screwed up too much, he longed to enter into a game where he understood all the rules again.  For too long he had failed to understand every player in this new Universe completely, he had poured out books and the internet to try to understand what he was doing.  After a time, he had concluded that it was unlikely he would ever understand, he had fallen back into the mindset of doing as he was told and only living for the next mission.

 Jyn had worried about him; she had resolved to keep a closer eye on the man’s actions, not wanting to believe that the man could do anything stupid to himself.  She might not suspect that the man was suicidal, but along with Dacia, she suspected that the man was plagued with depression and frustration.  They both kept a close eye on Cassian, or at least when they could spare them.  All too often their attention was diverted to making sure that the Avengers they had locked in their cells were behaving, and in attempting to make sure that they were kept safe.

 Cassian was a big boy; he could no doubt handle himself, if he ran into trouble, it was interesting though, to wonder whether or not he would remember that he could lean on them.  Jyn wondered from time to time whether or not the man had got it through his thick skull that now he had people he could rely upon, friends that he could count on in a pinch. She thought that the man now understood that he had people around him, but she sensed that the man would sometimes struggle with running off half-cocked.  All she knew, was that it annoyed Dacia to no end that she had to keep an eye on the man running off to do whatever he wanted to do, damn the consequences.

 Jyn felt so relieved that they hadn’t had to rein in the man, she had not felt as if she would be equipped with fighting against a man she now considered a friend.  She was curious about what could happen if she pursued those feelings even further, would her friend feel the same for her?  Shaking her head, she decided that it was better if she left the man to his own devices, if there was ever a time for her to consider putting her personal feelings on the back burner, it was now.  She did not want to embarrass herself by forcing her feelings on the man.  Dacia could say all she wanted that she suspected that the man might share those feelings but Jyn felt as if she could not trust those feelings, she did not want to humiliate herself even more.

Cursing herself softly, she knew that now was not the time for her to start searching her feelings, not when there were other things for her to be getting on with.  Having compiled a transcript of all that had been said in that interview, there were a few things that she should like to explore even more.  Scanning through the words and grumbling to herself as she wondered why on earth the woman had felt that the need for her to couch every word behind yet more secrets.  Jyn felt certain that there had been something that she had missed, even if for now it eluded her like a trail of smoke on the air, the more that she tried to extract meaning, the more it danced away from her.

 Frowning at the screen in front of her, she couldn’t see any readily apparent; it would take her some time to work through.  She knew that it would be a long and possibly hard time before she found meaning, but for now, she was going to look.  Becoming rapidly more and more frustrated, she continued to look through some of the transcripts. It was not before long that both Cassian and Jyn walked, both looking as frustrated as the next.

 “Jyn did you notice anything further that we may have missed in that interview?  I dare say that you did because we struggled with completely understanding anything that the woman had to say in there.” Dacia spoke, sounding suspiciously formal.

 Jyn looked over at Cassian, raising a questioning eyebrow at the man.  Looking back at the woman in amusement, Cassian mouthed the word ‘Poldark’.  Jyn smirked and looked down at the page shaking her head, not understanding what Dacia loved so much about that show.  It wasn’t her type of show; she did not particularly enjoy period drama, she liked to turn her brain off when she watched the TV.  Apart from her watching shows like Game of Thrones, which she found much to the bemusement of both Cassian and Dacia.  The two of them pretended to get worried that Jyn was now going to get ideas from the incredibly violent show.

 Jyn might have forgotten to let them know that sometimes she felt like she was watching the show to find out whether or not Bron got his castle!

 “No, I couldn’t see anything immediately apparent about the woman’s reactions to you guys.  At least not when I was watching it live, but I was starting to notice that the woman would arch her back slightly when you guys were close to catching her out in a lie. It was only a minute movement, which might explain why I missed the tell the first time around, but I did have a feeling that it was potentially going to be interesting watching the feeds from the cells after you guys left her back.  She seemed to lose her temper with Designation: (Former) Captain America, at least as much as the woman lost her temper.  I bring it up because Designation: Scarlet Witch seems to have lost any interest in pretending to be innocent and sweetness and light, Designation: Black Widow was very quick to call her on it, Maximoff will not get away her faux innocence. If anything it was interesting to watch.” Jyn shrugged, after having told her friends what she had spotted during the interview.

 “That we can work with, did she lose her temper with anyone else back in the cells?  Is Designation: Black Widow even capable of losing her temper, when I reviewed some of the earlier stuff of the woman, I noticed a woman who did not easily lose her temper with anyone?” Cassian asked doubtfully.

 “Not in the way that you are thinking, the woman is still incredibly stoic at times, but a niggling voice in the back of my head tells me that if we keep on the same path that we are currently looking at, we will find proof that Romanova has feelings!  More importantly, though we will work out how to interpret them because I feel like that information might be helpful to us.” Jyn cautioned the other two, not wanting to build up their hopes unnecessarily.

 “Okay, so don’t leave us hanging, can you answer the question or not?” Dacia prompted becoming annoyed when the woman did not answer her.

 “Before I start with telling you guys exactly what happened, especially because her conclusion seems to be coming on too suddenly for comfort.  She did seem to lose her temper with Designation: Ant-Man for going into a situation with Stark with some pre-conceived notions of how the man would likely act.  I misdoubt some of the actions of the woman because, for one thing, she was guilty of the same thing.  For pities sake, she had decided that it was a good thing for her to go into writing a report about the man, with a firm notion in her head of what she was going to find!” Jyn reminded the other two.

 “Well, that is fair enough, but do we have any thoughts on what the woman might have been thinking.  She could not be seeing that anything has not changed, but it does not sit right with me, you know that right?  Do we think that it might not have been an honest change?” Cassian frowned, looking confused and pensive.

 “No, I doubt that would be a real decision for the woman, for now, I think she is more interested in appearing as if she was still playing for Dr Stark.  At the very least, she would possibly take the enforced glass plating on each cell; nobody would easily be able to take their tempers out on her.  She might be thinking, (correctly I might add) that anything she says would be reported back to Stark Industries.  It might be a good idea to consider whether or not she is doing this simply so she might garner any goodwill.  We know that for definite we are reporting back, so we should work on the knowledge that the woman might be able to guess at this.” Jyn explained further some of her thinking processes.

 “Can we rely on the woman though and what her being able to guess correctly could have the potential to make our jobs more difficult.  At the very least we should keep a proper eye on her, just in case she should pick up on something that we do not particularly want the woman to even guess at.” Cassian muttered, judging by the look of him he had not counted on speaking aloud.

 Both Dacia and Jyn exchanged looks of surprise with one another as what the man was saying was only occurring to them.  It was entirely possible that it had not occurred to them, something that served to make Cassian roll his eyes at his friend naivety.  He had felt more than a little surprised at Jyn; he had long since thought that the woman was not the type to show any form of weakness, he found it oddly comforting that some things would never change.  He did occasionally wish that Jyn and Dacia would realise sooner rather than later that he was known to have the odd good idea.

 It might be worth their while to listen to him, after all, who knows what they might learn!

 “That does bear further consideration, but as per usual we cannot simply march on, who knows how many games we could give away if we did that.  We need to think about this intelligently; I do not need to point out what could happen if we should allow time to be stolen from us again?  We do not need to overplay our cards, not when we are so close to the finish line.” Dacia mused with a nod.

 “Okay, so if we approach this with the idea in mind that she may be attempting to run some con against us, how can we disappoint her?  I do so hate disappointing people though.” Jyn sarcastically muttered.

 Dacia snorted when she heard Jyn’s words, knowing just by listening to her friend that Jyn was wearing a devilish smirk.  Groaning to herself that this was going to be a long day, especially when one considered that Jyn liked to play with her food before she should eat it.  It was for this reason that neither she nor Cassian liked to allow her to speak to what passed as hunters on this planet.  Jyn still struggled with the idea that for some people they hunted simply because they liked the feeling of adrenaline coursing through their veins. Jyn could be remarkably assured that the only reasonable way that someone would choose to hunt would be because they needed to eat, she did not feel comfortable with choosing to kill simply because they wanted a cool story.

 Shaking his head, Cassian decided that maybe he should answer the woman before they got too distracted from what they were trying to do, namely work out their jobs.

 “We should treat her the same way we do like the rest of the Avengers in the cells.  Namely that we don’t tell them anything, it is far too amusing to watch them scramble while they try to understand why they are in the position they are currently in.  Have any of them realised yet that they might have done anything to indicate that they might understand where they went wrong?” Cassian snorted.

 “Not yet, at least there hasn’t been any that have been able to say one way or another completely, they seem more interested in feeling sorry for themselves.  Designation: Hawkeye for one seems to be more frustrated with the idea that he left behind his children behind.  Designation: Ant-Man is also conflicted with the same idea.  The only one of them that doesn’t seem to be willing to make a change is Designation: Scarlet Witch, in fact, I am a bit alarmed to report that the woman seems dare I say it but annoyed that Designation: (Former) Captain America failed to take the final step and kill Dr Stark.  She, however, was relieved that she will now be able to take the final steps and kill the man who has caused her so grief.  She doesn’t seem to be the doubt that would move away from her belief that the man is the root of all evil.” K-2SO’s voice told the three calmly.

 “Well, we could not hope for any change when it comes to THAT woman, she seems the type to cling onto her feelings for far too long.  Past the point of it becoming uncomfortable for everyone involved.” Jyn sighed rapidly becoming frustrated with what she was hearing.

 “Okay, well that figures, is there anything else that you can tell us about K?  There has got to be something that we can use.” Dacia tried, attempting to get the meeting back on track.

 “Designation: Falcon had shown some misgivings about his part in the whole thing, he is starting to doubt the actions of Designation: (Former) Captain America at least with regards to his wild march to save Barnes. He has started to wake up, and he looks like thoughts of wondering what exactly is happening because he can not exactly explain to himself exactly what is happening to him.  I may not be able to hear exactly is going through his mind, at this point, it is all simply conjecture.” K-2SO sounded pissed.

 Cassian looked amused; he understood that K-2SO did not like being questioned or doubted.  It had been the same way when he was still operating like a robot, Cassian could well remember just how irritating he had become when Jyn had walked into their lives.  Mostly, because, Cassian thought that it was the fact that Jyn had ties to the organisation that K-2SO had come from.  In fact, if Cassian did not know any better, he would assume that it was because he did not like being reminded that at one stage he operated as part of a meaning part in an even large tyrannical organisation. Though given that he liked to remind anyone that he came into contact with that he was a robot and therefore free of the pesky feelings that plagued humans.

 Maybe though, it was simply some strange kind of over-protective feelings towards the man he was working with for so long.  Though, that thought served only to frustrate Cassian, because he wondered why anyone had decided that he needed protection from his demons.

 Man, but feelings could be so confusing at times!

 “Alright, but for now we need to start working on our next angle. Do we start working on bringing the criminals back to New York?  Or to the Avengers Compound?” Cassian prevaricated, not completely sure of what their next few steps should be.

 “I was already planning on compiling an email to Ms Potts; we need to know what we should do next.  I’m interested in knowing where they want the Prisoners kept?” Jyn mused, thinking through some of the things that she would need to include in the email.

 Especially if she fully intended to find some answers, whether or not she would like to find these answers she was looking for.  Though right now it was more imperative that they should find answers and what they were supposed to do next.  Cracking her hands together as she thought through some of the things she would have to put in an email.  Jyn knew that right now she had to make sure that she did not forget anything, because who knew how important it could be in the long run!

 “Do that, for now, we need to understand where we should head to next.  Cassian I the spaceship going to be okay for any length of time?” Dacia directed nodding, feelings as if things would become more open and honest if she had a task to complete.

 “We should still be okay for a small amount of time; I trust the safety of this craft that much at least. But I am having some troubles that I want to look at before we have to perform any long distance runs.  There are some things that I want to have a look at before we begin to fall into trouble and we start to rely on the spaceship’s ability to go far.”  Cassian sighed running a hand through his hair.

 Dacia nodded at the man, taking in the information and running through some quick problems in her head.  She thought for a while longer, wondering to herself about whether or not they had a lot of time left to play with.  It could prove to be troubling if they should need to make a quick getaway.  At one stage this might have been Dacia’s spaceship, but she was used to allowing Cassian free reign to look after the spaceship however he wanted.  Some days she felt that it was the only way that they were guaranteed to get any peace.

 An antsy Cassian was no one's friend.

 He could be so much of a pain to deal with at times!

 “I’ll get right on that, if you guys want to go take a shower or anything, writing this email will take me some time.” Jyn sighed, wondering how exactly she was going to format the email.

 Not even wanting to look up from the computer just in case she should get distracted by what she was about to do.  Though, she did wonder if it was even possible for her to get distracted from something that she had not even had a chance to get started on.  Jyn knew though from personal experience, that when it came to her, it was incredibly easy to get distracted.

 Humming to herself as she prepared to begin the email, she briefly licked her lips before bending over the computer and beginning to type in her standard fashion.  Namely, slowly, as she pecked at the keys, trying to work out how she could sound polite and not completely fed up.  Shaking her head once again, she began to type quickly.

 TO:    Potts, V., Hill M.

 FROM:          Erso, J.

 CC:    Lewis, D, Andor, C

 ATTACHED: Transcripts of the final interviews + footage of interviews

  I should inform you that now that we have the old Avengers that absconded with Designation: (Former) Captain America and more recently Designation: Black Widow. For now, we need to know where you want us to bring these people.

 We are happy to bring them wherever you want, as long as you can promise to hold onto these people.  We do not want for them to be able to slip free of their bonds, leading us on another wild goose chase.

 Sighing when she realised that her email was a little sharper than she had originally intended it to be. Deciding that she could easily see herself spending all day attempting to write the email, she hit the send button; she knew enough about herself to know that she could easily spend a long time procrastinating over the email she needed to send. Running a hand through her hair, Jyn wondered if she could ever have foreseen herself taking part in a venture that involved politics, something which she had always tried to avoid.

 Pressing another button to recall her friends to the room, it was time for them to get back to the business that until now they found too easy to blow off, they needed to make some plans.  Jyn had always found it helpful to have multiple plans in place, just in case something some fall through the cracks.  Cassian might like to tease her that Jyn could be incredibly paranoid, something which she thought was a strange choice for the uber paranoid Cassian to tease anyone about.

 WHOOSH

 Cassian rolled his eyes while he waited for Jyn to finish writing the email that he knew had been plaguing the woman.  He wondered why the woman was so worried about the possibility of her meaning and words being tangled up.  Cassian was confident enough to assume that Jyn knew exactly what the stakes could be if she made a mistake now. He trusted Jyn enough to know that she would not let them down, because she still had too many parts to play, too many balls in the air to willingly let any of them falter.

 Sighing to himself and wondering what the hell had ever made him think that it was a good idea to fall for one of the women he travelled with, he found himself briefly missing K-2SO.  When that ornery robot had been around it had been hard for him to fall for anyone, K managed to keep anyone and everyone away through his nitpicky ways. He had been spared ever having to pretend that he held an interest in someone else, simply because K had always managed to get in the way.

 Was it curious though that K-2SO would choose only to work with Cassian?

 It was a thought that Cassian sometimes had but frequently tossed aside as he wondered whether or not because only Cassian seemed able to put up with the robot.

 Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Cassian breathed in deeply in relief as he washed his face, having sweat over your face was not a particularly comfortable sensation.  They must have dropped into Ireland during one of the odd days with the exceptionally good weather; he made a mental note to double-check the air-con on the spaceship.  He had listened to the room, and he could not detect any sounds of cold (or warm) air entering the bathroom he was stood in.

 Briefly touching the wall, and leaving the room when he heard the small beeping sound of the device he had left in his bedroom.  Now it was time for him to go and talk to Jyn, the woman had finished the email, and it was no doubt time for him to find out what their next few moves were going to be.

 WHOOSH

 Catching up with Dacia just as the woman entered the room ahead of him, Cassian felt a sickening feeling deep in his belly, was he beginning to feel uncomfortable thoughts again?  Was it his instinct warning him that things were about to change, allowing him time to be on his guard?

 “Okay, so what do we have?” Cassian impatiently asked.

 “They want us to bring the prisoners to the upstate compound, from there they have been able to assure me that they can keep the prisoners under control.  Their thinking goes that at least if we are there, it’s less likely that someone will notice, and I’m paraphrasing here a great dirty spaceship popping up.  From there, I figure we will be able to focus on repairing the ship before striking out on our own.  Is there anything else that you want me to keep an eye on?” Jyn calmly replied.

 “No, for now, that’s good, if we need to move on, then I figure that at least from there we shall be able to.  Ready to go and make a difference Cassian?  I feel as if our part of this tale is ending, we can start to bring up some of the other things on the back burner.” Dacia quietly instructed.

 Cassian nodded at the two other woman and stepped towards the monitor beside Jyn.  He wanted to make sure that he had the co-ordinates of their destination, the last thing he wanted was to waste time flying around.  He had a feeling that whatever was happening with the spaceship might be more important than he initially suspected.  He didn’t want for them to get caught out, simply because he wasn’t able to carry out a complete fix to repair the problems that they faced.

 Plugging in a smaller tablet that was more of a similar size to a Samsung Note phone, he made sure to transfer over the details of where he was expected to fly too; he didn’t want to run the risk of him over-shooting the runway.  Idly looking at the screen while he waited for the phone to process the data for him.  He unplugged the device and made his way from the room.

 WHOOSH

 Whistling softly to himself as he thought through some of the things that he wanted to do, he slipped into the pilot’s seat.  After having sent a sad look towards the empty co-pilot seat beside as he wondered whether or not it was likely it would ever get filled, he shook his head and ran his hands over some of the buttons in front of him.  Making sure that the computer knew where to take him, he took in a deep breath and pulled the lever towards him.  Looking out of the window as he took in the sight of the stars and other things out there beginning to turn blue as they raced past them at hyper speed.

 WHOOSH

 Natasha felt worried about the cells, as she felt the craft begin to move.  She still wasn’t sure exactly where she was, or who these people were. She did not like feeling this way, because there was nothing worse in her mind than not knowing where she is going or what she was doing.

 She had thought that in joining SHIELD, she would be moving away from the frequently barbaric and often bloody missions that both the Red Room and later the KGB liked her to work.  It had disappointed her that she had not been able to move away completely from the things which she did not like doing.  She still operated as the knife in the dark, the enemy in the shadows. For a time she had been pleased to continue to operate in this manner.

 After all, she was used to it, and it would be a bit rich if she suddenly objected to what she was so good at.  She was able to reconcile herself with the knowledge that it was not always clear what she is doing, but at least she was able to sleep easy knowing that her actions had some kind of purpose, a guiding light for her to follow.

 It was hard for her, but she had eventually made her peace with not always immediately understanding what she was doing, it was what she was good at after all.  She would take occasionally long for the knowledge that she was doing completely good work, she was not always completely comfortable operating in the shadows.

 The one she regretted that HYDRA unveiling, was wondering how often she sent out on missions on the word of HYDRA.  She wasn’t like Steve, she wasn’t completely naïve, but it had not taken her a great amount of introspection to conclude that SHIELD was not completely overrun with the enemy organisation.

 She could not regret having leaked all those files; sometimes she wondered what would happen to her if she were ever arrested and not under the safety of Stark.  She had seen what had happened to the likes of Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden.  She might not be able to follow in the footsteps of Snowden; she was strong in her assumption that if she returned to Russia, she would not enjoy a pleasant stay. Even before she had leaked those files, she felt comfortable enough to know that she had burned (and salted) too many bridges in her mother country to ever run the risk of returning.  Unless she had the protection of a large organisation like SHIELD or SI, she would not risk it unless she was otherwise at risk otherwise.

 She now felt herself wondering exactly what mess she was heading towards now.

#Exasperation is Thy Name #Darcy Lewis #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso

[symmetrica]

Being Vulnerable About BPD: An Update

Almost 4 years ago, at the beginning of 2014, I wrote about the way that Borderline Personality Disorder affects me. Despite being a fairly open person by nature, it was difficult for me to post publicly about something so stigmatized and personal. I felt nerve-wracking anxiety due to opening up about my weaknesses, fear of being challenged or doubted as I have been in the past, annoyance at sympathetic responses, embarrassment and reticence when others brought up the topic in social situations, frustration and anger at the few people who dismissed my disorder or used the information to build a negative caricature of me. In other words, I had a completely normal reaction to opening up... for someone with a Borderline personality. But the emotion I felt strongest in the following months was relief. After two decades of being at the mercy of my emotions, without knowing how or why -- and one false diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder, which never explained my symptoms well -- I finally had an answer. Not only an answer, but an answer I’d shared with family, friends, ex-lovers, and acquaintances that I’d puzzled, frustrated, angered, or hurt over the years with my emotional instability. Or perhaps some of them had never noticed it, but now understood me a bit better. I embraced my new identity. But I faltered at every attempt to sit down and write about BPD again. Each time I reached a new plateau through therapy, my relationships, or finding an internal balance, I focused on the negativity I felt after the original post rather than the relief, and I declined to share updates -- except occasionally with those closest to me. Additionally, I didn’t want to exploit BPD for attention, and I felt like I’d communicated myself clearly. But last November, I discovered that someone close to me had continued to vastly misinterpret and misunderstand me despite my initial blogpost. I realized in a flash that this can’t be a one-time conversation. I need to continually talk about and write about BPD, for the benefit of those around me, for my own benefit, and even for the benefit of others with emotional disorders. Just like gay marriage and marijuana, the more we talk about it, the more we normalize it, minimize the stigmas, and help people who are suffering to live better lives. So I want to write more about BPD. I’m going to approach the subject with a much longer post than my initial one. If it’s too long for you, or if you want to read it in chunks over months, I understand -- the only thing I’d ask is that you not skim it and falsely believe that you understand me better. This has been a very, very difficult post. It’s taken me months not only to write it but to build up the bravery to post it publicly. Every section, every paragraph, every sentence is carefully considered and chosen. So if you’re going to read it, please read it slowly and thoroughly, and don’t skim. This is the most vulnerable and honest thing I’ve ever written, and it deserves your complete attention. The first section is a quick summary of BPD, a summary of other mental issues I deal with, and a correction from my first post. The second section is about the current research around BPD and the current scientific understanding of BPD, which I try to track regularly. The third section is about my experience with therapy, the way that I experience the symptoms of BPD, and where I am now.

1. A Summary

I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder in 2013. BPD is “characterized by unstable relationships with other people, unstable sense of self, and unstable emotions." Symptoms include intense reactions that seem disproportionate or overreactive to others, frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, extreme black-and-white thinking about others, impulsivity, identity disturbance, negative self-image often accompanied by self-harm, and dissociation during times of stress (I will talk at length about how I experience symptoms in the third section). BPD does not respond to medication, although certain symptoms can be treated individually, and the primary form of treatment is Dialectical Behavior Therapy. At a high level, DBT primarily involves increasing self-awareness and mindfulness in an accepting and non-self-judgmental way, and then applying those internal processes to interpersonal relationships. BPD has a very high incidence rate of comorbidities -- the presence of additional disorders that may be related in some way to the first disorder. The primary one I deal with is probably obvious to anyone who has spent an hour around me -- I’ve been diagnosed with a “severe case” of ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. This is one of the most common comorbidities of BPD, and it affects my life on a daily basis, just like BPD. In fact, I will unequivocally state that ADHD inhibits me more than BPD, especially in my professional life. I’ll talk about it more in another post sometime, but this post will focus on BPD. I’ve also dealt with intermittent depression since I was a teenager, which I now believe is mostly caused by BPD. And ever since college, I’ve dealt with high anxiety, both generalized anxiety and social anxiety. As well as being a symptom of BPD, I believe this is the result of a traumatic event in college that shattered my social worldview, which I may or may not discuss on this blog in the future. Fortunately, both my depression and my anxiety are under control, more or less, these days. I treat the former with yoga, exercise, mindfulness, marijuana, and more. I treat the latter with those same processes, plus an herbal supplement called Ashwagandha, which I highly recommend to anyone dealing with extreme anxiety. Feel free to message me or run your own Google searches if you’re curious about it. Finally, to wrap up this first section, I wanted to make a note on the term EUPD, or Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder. I wrote about the ongoing debate between that term and “BPD” in my original post, and stressed that EUPD is the more accurate terminology. However, for various reasons, I’ve settled on using the term “BPD” to describe my condition. Personally, I don’t feel that the word “Borderline” stigmatizes me, especially considering the modern understanding of BPD... which leads me to my next section.

2. Understanding BPD

Over the last few years, it’s not the word “Borderline” that has concerned me. It’s the phrase “Personality Disorder.” This phrase, along with the two others typically used to summarize BPD -- “mental illness” and “long-term pattern of abnormal behavior” -- all seem to spawn inaccurate interpretations of what BPD actually is. “Personality Disorder” and “abnormal behavior” both imply that BPD is primarily based in the way a person functions in regard to interpersonal relationships, which of course suggests that those with BPD can overcome their nature by changing the way they handle interactions and relationships, and thereby “get better.” “Mental illness,” meanwhile, adds the implication that BPD is a sickness that can be cured, as well as the stigma that BPD is primarily psychological in nature. But seeing BPD as a disorder of personality, behavior, or psychology is exactly what studies, brain imaging, and my personal experiences increasingly contradict: BPD is not a mental disorder; it is a physical brain disorder, also called a neurobiological disorder.

I briefly touched on this in my original post with a few sentences about the physiology of BPD: “Because of a smaller hippocampus, smaller yet more active amygdala, and heightened cortisol production, people with EUPD feel emotions more strongly and for longer periods of time than a normal person.” (Unfortunately, this part seemed to be widely ignored or misunderstood by most people who read my post, when it was probably the most important sentence for understanding BPD.) Because those primary physiological differences can occur in people without BPD as well, they’ve never been considered the “cause” of BPD by the medical community. The prevailing view has long been that BPD is caused by a mish-mash of environmental, physical, and genetic factors. While technically correct, that in itself is a severely limited understanding of BPD. And the general population, of course, has only been exposed to terms like “personality disorder” and “mental illness,” so the stigma of BPD as a psychological disorder has remained prevalent. But every year, we understand BPD better. A few months ago, I found a wonderful article from MDedge attempting to summarize the current scientific and psychological understanding of BPD. I think the introduction explains it perfectly:

The prevailing view ... is that borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a “psychological” condition. BPD often is conceptualized as a behav­ioral consequence of childhood trauma ... You might not be aware that a large body of research over the past decade provides strong evidence that BPD is a neuro­biological illness—a finding that would drastically alter how the disorder should be conceptualized and managed. Foremost, BPD must be regarded as a serious, disabling brain disorder, not simply an aberration of personality ... No wonder that 42 published stud­ies report that, compared with healthy controls, people who have BPD display extensive cortical and subcortical abnor­malities in brain structure and function. 

The article goes on to cite 28 physical and chemical differences in the brains of those with BPD detected with MRI, fMRI, MRS, and DTI. Twenty-eight. Let that sink in for a minute. My brain is as different from yours on a physical level as your blood is different from a person with sickle-cell anaemia, or as different as your heart is from someone with angina. My brain may even be as different from yours as yours is from someone with Down Syndrome. And the primary differences are in the parts of my brain that allow me to regulate emotion, impulsivity, compulsivity, response to stress, and interpretation of others’ actions or emotions. Researchers using MRI at Mount Sinai Medical Center found that:

... when people with BPD attempted to control and reduce their reactions to disturbing emotional scenes, the areas of the brain that are active in healthy people under the same conditions remained inactive in the BPD patients. This research shows that BPD patients are not able to use those parts of the brain that healthy people use to help regulate their emotions.

As far as the causes go, rather than the mish-mash of factors I referred to earlier, with the primary cause being attributed to childhood trauma by most psychiatrists, researchers are increasingly using gene-environment (G.E.) models to understand the causes of BPD. These models suggest that the “ex­pression of plasticity genes is modified by childhood experiences and environ­ment, such as physical or sexual abuse.” In other words, certain people genetically inherit the propensity for it, and a chronically stressful environment or extreme trauma can activate and enhance these biological factors through the phenomenon of gene plasticity, resulting in BPD. So what’s the TL;DR (Too Long; Didn’t Read)? Rather than a psychological behavioral disorder that occurs because of a self-protective reaction to trauma, BPD is more accurately seen as a neurobiological disorder comprising physical and chemical brain differences that occurs when someone with a genetic predisposition is exposed to a chronically stressful environment or extreme traumatic event that triggers changes in the brain, usually at an early age. These changes produce more intense emotions and an inability to regulate emotion on a neural level, which is the root cause of most of the symptoms of BPD. So when therapy, treatments, and remission are discussed in relation to BPD, the goal is not to eventually feel emotions normally. I will always experience emotions in harsher ways than most people, I will always have difficulty regulating them, and many of the symptoms of BPD will never cease. Rather, the goal is to mitigate the negative effects of those emotions on myself and people close to me. The goal is to learn to be aware of those emotions, that disregulation, all of those symptoms, to regard them with patience and acceptance, to experience them rather than having a secondary reaction to them, and to discuss them with others instead of showing them to others.

3. My experience

This part has been difficult to write. I finished the first two sections of this post by the beginning of July, and it’s taken me months to do what is usually easiest for me -- to talk about myself. A lot of my procrastination has been because I simply didn’t know what to say. There’s far too much, and words are such clumsy things, even when one is trained to use them well. But I’m finally sitting down and getting it out, whatever way I can.

Therapy

After my self-diagnosis of BPD, it seemed natural to seek out a psychotherapist, both for validation of my diagnosis and for long-term help. Fortunately, my intuition served me well, and the first and only therapist I contacted was a perfect match for me. Our rapport grew steadily over the three years that I saw her, and she helped me sort through my life, my feelings, and my understanding of myself. We engaged in DBT to a degree, though my case was different from normal BPD treatment because of my high levels of self-awareness, self-knowledge, and willingness to change myself, which my therapist said were unprecedented in her experience with personality disorders. We primarily focused on two things: Coming to terms with the guilt and shame I felt over many parts of my life, and translating my inner experience to the outer world in a healthier manner.

While therapy helped me in many ways, I reached a point last autumn where I felt that I needed to continue walking the road by myself, at least for awhile. It had become more of a way to vent about troubles each week than a way to move forward holistically. Additionally, Edie and I wanted to focus on each other and the way BPD affects our relationship, which is something we can do better by ourselves. The decision was the right one, and while the last year has been very difficult at times, I’ve built the confidence that Edie and I can handle whatever comes our way. She is my rock, and I am her river.

My Symptoms

This is the specific section that’s taken months to write, but it’s probably the most important section. I’m nervous. Very nervous. But let’s dive right in.

There are two ways to outline the symptoms of BPD. A few years ago, the DSM, the primary psychological diagnostic manual, revised its diagnostic criteria for BPD when moving from the DSM-IV to the DSM-V. Instead of a simple list of 9 symptoms, from which a person needed to display 6 for diagnosis (I displayed 8), the criteria are now 2 significant personality impairments and 3 pathological traits, all of which have subheadings and definitions. The new list contains all 9 original symptoms, but reorganized, with more specific definitions and one or two additions.

First, here’s the DSM-IV list:

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. 2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation. 3. Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self image or sense of self. 4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., excessive spending, substances of abuse, sex, reckless driving, binge eating). 5. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior 6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g. intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days). 7. Chronic feelings of emptiness. 8. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g. frequent displays of temper tantrums, constant anger and reoccurring fights). 9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

And here’s the DSM-V list in italics, with my symptoms, my definitions, and my comments on my experiences in regular font:

1. Impairments in self functioning:

a. Identity: Markedly impoverished, poorly developed, or unstable self-image, often associated with excessive self-criticism; chronic feelings of emptiness; dissociative states under stress.

Hoo boy. Right into the good stuff. Yes, this is a big part of my life experience. Most people who know me would probably say that I have a strong identity, one that I’m not afraid to push at people. I believe that comes from a combination of strong willpower and my supportive, validating, individualist upbringing. But deeper inside, my identity is often prey to instability. Somewhere in the background, for my entire life, I’ve felt as if I don’t have a real personality, that it’s constructed based on everyone’s expectations of me and based on imitating others. And I’ve seen this “identity slippage” in action over and over: my likes and dislikes, my desires, my interests, even my general demeanor can be influenced by a character I read in a book, or something I saw in a movie, or spending time with a person that I admire -- for example, I always adapted to whatever clique I spent time around, taking on their mannerisms and interests. Reading about Holden Caulfield made me act cynical for days, while watching Inside Out made me want to hug the entire world. If I read a particularly good travelogue, I envy the writer, sometimes to the extent of feeling an existential sense of loss or anger that I haven’t experienced that particular place. Without a stable sense of self, my self-image fluctuates too, usually between very positive and very negative views of myself, often accompanied by that excessive self-criticism I discussed at length in my original post. Perhaps the most pernicious part of that paragraph, however, is “dissociative states under stress.” Everyone’s felt so stressed about an upcoming exam or annual review or party that they freeze up, not getting anything done and falling back into a simple repetitive task that allows the brain to try to come to terms with those strong emotions. Taken to an extreme, this coping mechanism is dissociation. You may not know the term, or you may understand it through imprecise portrayals in media, where dissociation is usually an extreme catatonic state (like in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or American Beauty). But dissociation is a continuum, from mild detachment from surroundings to a complete physical and emotional separation from the world. Mine presents fairly mildly, though I’ve had episodes of more intense dissociation during extreme stress. When my thoughts start to loop because I can’t find a satisfactory solution to a problem, or because I feel trapped into something that I want to avoid (or vice versa), or for another reason, I will often sit on the computer, clicking back and forth between the same few webpages without actually seeing anything. For hours. Sometimes I look at the clock and realize 2 hours have passed by... when I thought it’d been 2 minutes. It usually happens in private, but I experience mild dissociation at least once a month around Edie, and there have been a few scary times where I completely stopped responding to her or the outside world. During one argument years ago, I went nearly catatonic for half an hour, and there were other similar incidents when I was younger -- some of which I probably don’t even realize happened. It was also a major reason that I cut as a teen -- to stop myself from dissociating from my life. Fortunately, my identity is much more solid these days, for a variety of reasons. While I still experience “identity slippage,” abusive self-criticism, and mild dissociation, these symptoms have all eased with increasing self-awareness and self-love, external validation and support, and my efforts to be true to myself. Edie’s been great at alerting me to signs that I’m dissociating, and I’m starting to recognize it even when I’m by myself. It’s still difficult to control my dissociation even when I’m aware of it, but it’s getting better all the time.

1. Impairments in self functioning: 

b) Self-direction: Instability in goals, aspirations, values, or career plans.

Well, seeing as I’ve received a great deal of criticism during my life for this symptom, I don’t think it’s a mystery to others, so I won’t spend much time on this one. Despite entertaining career paths as diverse as a baseball player, writer, Jedi, and lawyer, I’ve never had many professional goals. My career -- and money as a whole -- mean very little to me (although I do like to work hard... as long as the goal isn’t financial and my work is varied, flexible, and interesting to me). I settled on my LEGO business as a combination of an excuse to spend time on a hobby that I particularly enjoy, one of the only “jobs” that’s compatible with severe ADHD, and a way to appease the capitalists in my life. But still, I constantly challenge and doubt my chosen path as an entrepreneur.

Likewise, my personal goals and aspirations shift continuously... although the two core ones are everpresent: having children and raising them well, and steadily finding more peace in life. But those close to me have seen my flings, where I’m briefly interested in coin tricks or audio engineering or paintball or a thousand other things, then drop them within weeks and never look back. (Contrary to popular misunderstanding, this has nothing to do with ADHD and is solely a symptom of BPD.) However, I don’t believe this symptom is a fault or a vice. When I attempted to resist the instability and find a “normal” career path and stable goals for myself in the few years after college, it led to deep depression and was very harmful to my mental health. So I’m happy to have unstable goals and career plans, and I reject the idea that I’m irresponsible by accepting this instability and refusing to fight it.

2. Impairments in interpersonal functioning.

a) Empathy: Compromised ability to recognize the feelings and needs of others, associated with interpersonal hypersensitivity (i.e. prone to feeling slighted or insulted), and perceptions of others selectively biased toward negative attributes or vulnerabilities.

And for the first time, here’s a symptom -- or at least half of one -- that I don’t experience to a great extent. I can have problems with empathy in the moment, usually because I’m too far into my own head to pay attention to the feelings of those around me. Also, it seems to be difficult for me to read others’ physiognomy in real-time, as I can only do it reliably in my short-term or long-term memory. But given time to reflect, I’m generally an empathetic person. Likewise, while my initial reactions are often cynical, upon reflection I believe strongly that everyone is simply doing their best with what they’re given.

I do experience issues with interpersonal hypersensitivity, but with an interesting dynamic: Because of having such a strong analytic-deductive-intuitive mind, I tend to be correct in my deductions more often than not -- more often than most people I’ve met, in fact. So while “hypersensitive” might imply inaccurate impressions of others, that’s not the case for me: I may be very sensitive to others, but my intuition is often spot-on, whether in factual or emotional situations. It’s difficult to give a brief concrete example, since most require extensive context, but sometimes my intuition is based on a single word -- last year, someone used the word “tantrum” to refer to a relatively mild emotional reaction that I controlled quickly and for which I promptly apologized. I focused on that single word for months, correctly interpreting it as evidence of a negative interpretation of my character as a whole, which manifested itself months later. I do this every day, both in interpersonal situations and in factual situations, such as the most recent example -- based on different traffic patterns, I figured out that someone had stolen a few of the signs for our LEGO garage sale last Saturday within an hour of the theft. I’m the God of Educated Guesses.

Lastly, I do tend to see others’ vices and vulnerabilities more easily than their virtues or strengths, and that process assists splitting, one of the most destructive symptoms of BPD, which I will discuss in the next section.

2. Impairments in interpersonal functioning. 

 b) Intimacy: Intense, unstable, and conflicted close relationships, marked by mistrust, neediness, and anxious preoccupation with real or imagined abandonment; close relationships often viewed in extremes of idealization and devaluation and alternating between over-involvement and withdrawal.

This is another of the symptoms that has affected my life the most. As an introduction and qualification, there’s some interesting interplay between this symptom of BPD and my upbringing. I was raised in a loving, emotionally open family, and my mom taught a class on how to have healthy relationships as part of my homeschooling curriculum. We read and discussed books on interpersonal relationships and the psychology of love, and applied them not just to future romantic relationships but also to familial relationships and friendships. This gave me many of the tools I needed to balance out this symptom of BPD.

Yet many of my relationships, romantic and otherwise, have been intense and unstable. I’ve had lifelong trust issues, especially with men and romantic partners. Many of my decisions and actions are influenced by an overwhelming fear of abandonment or rejection, probably the core symptom of BPD, which, to my displeasure, has been minimized in the DSM-V. And, unfortunately, viewing others in bipolar extremes of idealization and devaluation, also called splitting, is a primary symptom of BPD for me.

So let’s take this one part at a time. First, “intense” intimate relationships. Nothing has ever mattered to me as much as my intimate relationships, particularly romantic ones -- not work, not school, not hobbies, not friends, not even family. I put an incredible amount of energy, mostly mental and spiritual, into my relationships, and have always expected that in return. And because BPD constantly magnifies my emotional reactions, my relationships are fairly emotionally intense as well. But though I’ve experienced instability because of this in the past, my relationship with Edie is and has always been stable. I credit this to the communication, honesty, conflict management, and many other healthy relationship strategies that my mom taught me. I would, however, describe many of my past platonic friendships as unstable, as I find it difficult to employ the same healthy approaches as I do in my romantic relationships, partially because I have little desire to invest myself into non-familial platonic friendships. But that’s a conversation for another time.

“Conflicted close relationships”? I’m not entirely sure what the DSM means by this sentence, but I’ll interpret it as feeling internally conflicted about my friendships and relationships, often due to splitting, which happens to me constantly. I’ll discuss that further in the section about splitting below.

As far as trust goes, I find it very difficult to trust people, including those close to me. The only things that positively affect my trust are time and repetition, as I tend to pay attention to others’ actions rather than their words. Even with Edie, the most trustworthy person I’ve met, it took me 4 years to trust that she wouldn’t suddenly abandon or reject me every time she was upset with me. The less I trust someone, the less I act like myself around them and the more I put on a charade. It makes me profoundly uncomfortable to act like that for very long, which is why I don’t enjoy parties with strangers, long periods in public, or spending time with mere acquaintances. So my introversion partly comes from my trust issues. And at the core, many of the symptoms of BPD arise from these problems with trusting others.

“Anxious preoccupation with real or imagined abandonment,” or, as the DSM-IV put it, “frantic efforts” to avoid that abandonment, is the primary result of these trust issues. It was at the top of the symptoms list for BPD in the DSM-IV, and through my discussions with my therapist and others with BPD, I’ve come to believe that the preoccupation with and frantic efforts to avoid abandonment and rejection -- and the trust issues that spawn it -- are the root cause of many of the other symptoms of BPD. For example, this precipitates or strongly influences separation insecurity, impulsivity in interpersonal relationships, hostility, and sudden emotional changes. For many with BPD, the ultimate fear is being rejected by people they trust, which would validate the core anxiety that they’re unlovable. I could spend an entire blogpost on the ways this fear affects my life, but this one’s already long enough, so I’ll leave it high-level for now.

Lastly, the big one: Splitting. The Wikipedia definition is: “the failure in a person's thinking to bring together the dichotomy of both positive and negative qualities of the self and others into a cohesive, realistic whole. It is a common defense mechanism used by many people.” For example, I meet someone. With the titillation and excitement of swiftly getting to know someone new and interesting, I become enamored of them, seeing their positive qualities strongly and dismissing any obvious negative qualities as unimportant. Then they do something that hurts my feelings. I analyze the reasons, deduce one or two of their faults, and then -- particularly if the person continues to hurt my feelings or is not self-aware enough to see their own faults -- I start to view those faults as the major parts of their personality, and interpret nearly every negative occurrence as a result of those faults. It becomes difficult for me to even be near the person. But then we have a heart-to-heart and they show self-awareness and a desire to improve, and perhaps do something that impresses me, and I switch back to seeing them as respectable and even wonderful. If we don’t have a heart-to-heart, or the person doesn’t apologize or shows no desire to improve themselves, I tend to force them out of my life, mostly for self-protection, since I can no longer trust them. This cycle occurs constantly with everyone in my life, including my family, my friends, and my wife (although the better I know her and trust her, the less splitting affects our relationship).

And, worst of all, I split with myself. I talked about this to an extent in my first post about BPD, about how I’ve talked down to myself and seen myself as an asshole for a lot of my life. On a near-daily basis, I go from seeing myself as an amazing person, one of the most interesting and intelligent and talented people I’ve known, to seeing myself as a piece of shit that is boring, stupid, whiny, and prone to failure. Usually this occurs in response to a small failure or a small success -- the big stuff doesn’t faze me as much. It causes regular depression and anxiety, and led to an abusive relationship with myself (the way I talk to myself and treat myself internally) for much of my life. It was only through therapy that I was finally able to address internal splitting, and I’m still working hard every day on understanding and controlling how I split with others.

3. Negative affectivity, characterized by:

a) Emotional lability: Unstable emotional experiences and frequent mood changes; emotions that are easily aroused, intense, and/or out of proportion to events and circumstances.

This is the most common and easily-recognizable symptom of BPD, and it’s also a symptom of other disorders. Anyone who’s spent significant time around me knows that I struggle to control my emotions and that I often react out of proportion to the circumstances. But I spent most of the original post discussing it, and my brother mentioned that he’d like to better understand my thought process during an emotional reaction. So instead of trying to describe those intense emotions from a high level, I’ll zoom in and detail one specific example. But first, one point:

Mood changes can occur any time for any reason. Even at 30 years old, I’m still not entirely sure how other people experience mood changes, but for me they’re sudden. They often change in reaction to a single stimulus -- one look, one sentence, one action, one mistake, one failure. Perhaps my deep analysis might give you the idea that I understand what’s happening in the moment, but I generally don’t -- it’s subconscious, even when my mood shift seems loud and obvious to everyone in the room. Sure, in retrospect, I can analyze it and understand it, and sometimes I’m aware in the moment. But as I described in Understanding BPD (section 2), I simply cannot access the parts of my brain that would allow a normal person to regulate the emotion, to self-soothe, to affect it in any way whatsoever. My emotional filter is missing, the filter that allows most people to separate feeling something from reacting to it. The feeling has to come out of me, into the outside world, before I can understand it or deal with it.

That being said, there’s a good example I can use to describe what an emotional reaction is like for me. One of the things I’m most sensitive about, which often arouses strong emotions in me, is... food. Yeah, food and eating. I have a rocky relationship with nearly everything about food, and even moreso since I discovered that my lifelong digestive issues were due to a wheat allergy.

Storytime: In 2016, I visited my family in Maryland and we went car-camping in the Shenandoah National Park. When we arrived, I was already stressed about 3 hours of driving, my back pain, the potential for sleeping poorly that night due to the hard ground and the nearby toddlers, and a few other things... which all made me more susceptible to an emotional reaction. We set up camp, and I began to play my brother Spence at chess. I beat him in the first game, and took his queen for a solid lead in the second game... but then, a few moves later, I slightly removed my hand from a piece after moving it, noticed danger, and tried to take back the move. Spence reluctantly consented. Even though the bent rules benefited me, it ruined the game for me -- it was no longer sporting, because one debatable event might change the outcome (incidentally, this sentence is the exact reason I’ve come to dislike American Football for its constant and debatable penalties that have an undue influence on the outcome of the game). I’m also particularly sensitive to my family giving in to unreasonable or unfair demands on my part, as I’ve carried lifelong shame for how often my emotions pushed them to give me my way when I was younger. So in my head, I was panicking, judging and condemning myself as an immature cheater and projecting the fear that Spence felt the same way -- when I’d obviously prefer that my brothers respect me. Partly because the strong emotions hurt my strategy, and partly as a conscious effort to make amends for cheating and bring the competition back into parity, I made a foolish mistake and lost my own queen. But instead of helping me, that only made every outcome of the game unacceptable to me. If I won, I’d feel guilty over taking back the move. If I lost, I’d feel upset that I’d sabotaged myself. Neither was a “fair” outcome. The only solution, my brain told me, was to stop playing. In the past, this feeling has led to me rage-quitting, flipping gameboards over, throwing baseballs into the woods, etc. While these are not acceptable ways to behave, I’ve often been misunderstood as a “poor loser,” when in reality I’ve usually been reacting to a perceived imbalance in the equity of the competition, which causes me to feel that no result is satisfactory or fair. This time, fortunately, I didn’t rage-quit. But while we were playing chess, others had been starting to prepare dinner.

As I mentioned, I have a rocky relationship with food: I hate the act of swallowing, I dislike spending time on eating, and the idea of eating as a whole kind of grosses me out. I’ve also had lifelong IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome), compounded by the wheat allergy, which has resulted in regular problems with nausea, cramps, and bloating. When my stomach is acting up, the idea of eating makes me nauseated, even foods I normally love, sometimes literally every edible item I can imagine -- but I’m sensitive to low blood sugar, so I need to eat very soon after becoming hungry, regardless of my nausea. As you can imagine, needing to eat yet not feeling physically able to eat is very upsetting, and when I get upset my stomach cramps us and makes me even more nauseated. This has been compounded by discovering my wheat allergy, since that eliminated about 75% of the normal culinary options that other people offer me. Now I’m restricted to certain foods, most of which are difficult when I’m nauseated. And unfortunately, many of the people in my life have handled my gluten intolerance poorly, treating me unequally because of something I can’t control. Hosts have refused to provide “expensive substitutes” for wheat items (read: $8 instead of $4, or $5 instead of $2). My allergy has been neglected, even when we reminded hosts 24 hours ahead of time. I’ve been forced to scrounge for snack food instead of having a hot meal at dinner, because it’s oddly difficult for some people to make one single hot meal without wheat in it (no wonder the country’s so fat). And worst of all, I’ve been guilt-tripped for mentioning my dissatisfaction with or inability to eat the food that was provided. All of this has combined to make me sensitive about food.

So just as my emotions concerning the chess game were escalating, I became aware that I had misunderstood the victuals for the evening. Without going too far into the details, there weren’t as many options as I’d thought there’d be, and the wheat substitute was the exact brand I’d said I disliked and asked them not to buy. As my attention shifted from the chess game to the dinner, my blood sugar was low and I felt grumpy and nauseated. I became anxious at the thought of there not being enough palatable food for me, and that made me feel upset and annoyed. But I was aware that I hadn’t gone to the grocery store, or made sure to bring food I wanted, so I also felt guilty for not helping procure my own food, which made me ashamed of my annoyance. In combination with the chess game, I suddenly felt that I was on the verge of losing my temper, so I walked away as quickly as I could out of fear of shaming myself. On the way out of the campsite, I kicked a log and said “FUCK!” fairly loudly -- but it wasn’t a “tantrum.” It was a cry for help, a way to let everyone know I was feeling very emotional and that I needed time and help and love to calm down. I often lash out physically at inanimate objects when I’m angry, and this is usually the reason -- it’s me asking for generosity, love, and kindness in a fairly fucked-up way because I’m panicking and afraid that I’ll be rejected for panicking.

I took a short walk and tried to get my thoughts in order. But once I’ve had an emotional reaction, it becomes difficult to think in a straight line. My thoughts bounce around in my head, with every thought generating a reactionary emotion. Usually I feel overwhelmingly that I want this to stop, to cease feeling strongly. This need for my emotions to stop is very painful; it’s more difficult to tolerate than any scrape, cut, or bruise I’ve ever received. I would put the pain on the same level with the worst back pain or migraines I’ve ever had. And it happens to me on a regular basis. It happened as I walked, and after 10 or 15 minutes I still hadn’t calmed down. So I walked back to the cars, within view of the camp, feeling intense shame that prevented me from going back to apologize. Edie walked over almost immediately, and we began to sort through why I’d reacted and what my feelings were. After a few minutes, my mom came over too, and I was able to explain myself to her as well. Even after another 15 minutes, it was still difficult to walk back and apologize for my actions, but I did.

This is what life with an emotional disorder is like. I could easily spend four more paragraphs on each one of hundreds of example from my life, recent events as well as memories burned into my mind from decades ago. I hope that the detailed explanation of a single event helps people to understand my internal processes that generate the external actions that they see.

3. Negative affectivity, characterized by: 

 b) Anxiousness: Intense feelings of nervousness, tenseness, or panic, often in reaction to interpersonal stresses; worry about the negative effects of past unpleasant experiences and future negative possibilities; feeling fearful, apprehensive, or threatened by uncertainty; fears of falling apart or losing control.

This is basically just GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder). It’s a big part of BPD, and seems to influence many of the other symptoms. But I preferred the DSM-IV criteria, where anxiety was not listed as a distinct symptom. Instead, like depression, it seems to be a common comorbidity of BPD that isn’t present in every case. I don’t mind talking about how I deal with anxiety, but the definition and my examples of my anxieties from the last section are sufficient for now.

3. Negative affectivity, characterized by: 

 c) Separation insecurity: Fears of rejection by – and/or separation from – significant others, associated with fears of excessive dependency and complete loss of autonomy.

I pretty much covered this one when discussing rejection and abandonment a few paragraphs back. The only important thing to note is that the fear of abandonment is juxtaposed strongly, at all times, with a fear of showing that fear of abandonment. I’m constantly afraid that my fears will drive people away from me, or that acting on my fears means I’m not a respectably autonomous person. That creates a negative feedback loop where I simultaneously feel that I must share my fears and must not share my fears. I had to deal with this symptom strongly during the summer this year. Polyamory isn’t always easy.

3. Negative affectivity, characterized by: 

 d) Depressivity: Frequent feelings of being down, miserable, and/or hopeless; difficulty recovering from such moods; pessimism about the future; pervasive shame; feeling of inferior self-worth; thoughts of suicide and suicidal behavior.

Mmm, yes, depression. You’re familiar with it. I’m very familiar with it. There’s probably not much that I need to explain about it, especially since, like anxiety, it seems to be more of a comorbidity of BPD that interacts with it, rather than a core symptom. However, in the context of BPD, the keyword here is “shame.” Pervasive feelings of shame -- about everything -- is one of the hallmarks of BPD, and I experience constant intense shame. It’s part of the reason I have such trouble with eye contact. It’s generally the reason I become quiet or leave social gatherings. It’s why I apologize freely and often. It’s why I avoid discussing my strong feelings before I become upset. It’s frequently the reason that I lose my temper -- because I’m already feeling ashamed for my desires or needs, and that shame is compounded by another person’s facial expressions, tone, words, or actions that seem to judge and condemn me. After I’ve lost my temper, shame about losing it often drives me to loudly leave the situation, or to attempt to turn the blame towards someone or something else. Shame is also the primary reason I’ve procrastinated on writing and posting this blog. It’s probably the most difficult symptom of BPD to confront and control. But fortunately, I am not suicidal. Sometimes the thought of not existing, of nothingness, seems more desirable than constant physical and emotional pain... but I’ve never truly considered taking my life, and I’ve never come close to attempting it. I decided a long time ago that life is worth the pain.

4. Disinhibition, characterized by:

a) Impulsivity: Acting on the spur of the moment in response to immediate stimuli; acting on a momentary basis without a plan or consideration of outcomes; difficulty establishing or following plans; a sense of urgency and self-harming behavior under emotional distress.

When most people hear the word “impulsive,” they seem to think of someone randomly deciding to go fishing in the middle of the night, or something like that. I don’t have that problem. In fact, I like to plan ahead. Even in the past, when I agreed to do impulsive things, they were nearly always suggested by someone else. However, acting or speaking in response to immediate stimuli is a big part of my life, and it seems to be enhanced by ADHD (the core of ADHD is that focus slips between whatever “seems most important” moment-to-moment). But unlike other BPD symptoms, I’m not sure I can really describe why this happens, or the mental process involved. The very nature of impulsivity is that there is no mental process -- decisions are made based on intuition, desire, or perceived need, usually on an instinctual level.

My impulsivity isn’t as problematic as it could be due to my INTJ tendency to overanalyze things and delay making impulsive decisions in many circumstances. In fact, my limited impulsivity can be very useful, such as when I reacted immediately to leave and jog 3 miles on the Vegas Strip in order to grab forgotten tickets and ensure that my group could all see a Cirque du Soleil show on time. The most problematic area for me is verbal impulsivity, as my reactionary responses at times of strong emotion can be poorly considered, hurtful, or misrepresentative of my true feelings. But overall, I become less impulsive as I age.

4. Disinhibition, characterized by: 

 b) Risk taking: Engagement in dangerous, risky, and potentially self-damaging activities, unnecessarily and without regard to consequences; lack of concern for one’s limitations and denial of the reality of personal danger.

This is a symptom that I’ve never particularly struggled with. I haven’t always been completely safe, especially concerning drugs, unprotected sex, and driving recklessly, but I’ve never shown a pattern of risky or self-destructive behavior. And I’m very, very aware of the reality of mortality, especially as an adult.

5. Antagonism, characterized by:

a) Hostility: Persistent or frequent angry feelings; anger or irritability in response to minor slights and insults.

Similar to anxiety and depression, I believe hostility doesn’t usually occur in a vacuum and is generally the result of one of the core symptoms of BPD. Shame, fear of rejection or abandonment, anxiety, splitting, and especially emotional lability lead to hostility, both through methods that I’ve already mentioned as well as others. I can’t speak for everyone with BPD, but for me, antagonism is almost always a result of trying and failing to manage my internal thoughts and feelings, not a direct response to the external actions of others. It’s generally self-protective in nature.

Day-to-Day Life

So where am I now? What’s my life like, living with BPD?

Internally, I spend a lot of time trying to differentiate between what I term “reactive emotions” and “true emotions.” Reactive emotions happen all the time, every day, about anything you can imagine -- Edie once asked me to tell her each time I had a strong feeling, and most of our dialogue that Sunday was my explanations of any I noticed and our discussions of them. In other words, if I tried to recognize, validate, and process every emotion I feel, I would literally do nothing else with my life. And that would be pointless, since many of those emotions would have faded or disappeared by the time I finished processing them. So by necessity, I must suppress, control, and dismiss many of my emotions. But I try to recognize when I’m feeling something based in reality, based in a long-term response that will not fade when the electrical signals in my brain change. These are what I call “true emotions.” And the primary process that allows me to differentiate between them is rationality.

I’ve long struggled to mediate between the two sides of myself, what I think of as the principal duality of my existence: Emotion vs. logic. I have both in copious amounts. Over the past decade, I’ve come to understand the emotional side of myself much more thoroughly, but the logical side -- which is generally socially acceptable and much easier to deal with -- hasn’t seemed as important to comprehend. Lately, though, I’ve started exploring the Myers-Briggs structure for understanding personality -- not simply taking the quiz, but rather reading about and understanding the intricacies of the method, and then discussing them in the context of my self with some of my closest friends. I am very clearly an INTJ, the Mastermind/Architect personality. I could delve deeply into a tangent about this aspect of my personality, but I’ll leave that for a later post. For now, suffice it to say that this duality has defined me since I was young.

Also internally, another of my principal processes is what I term “reframing.” It is the long-term process of better understanding myself, the people around me, the events that happen, and humanity as a whole through discovering or deducing new information about a subject, and then adding that information to everything I already know and generating a different -- sometimes only slightly different -- way of understanding the subject. I’m constantly deconstructing and reconstructing my opinions on everything, from the reasons for a minor disagreement with Edie to the way I pursue my Lego business to the reasons Trump won. And by constantly, I truly mean constantly. I’m doing it today while I write. I do it while working, relaxing, playing music, having sex... yeah, even then. I’ve probably done it to some extent during every interaction you’ve ever had with me. This is the primary instigator of change in my life, and the primary lens through which I understand my internal world as well as the external world.

But these logical processes falter when the chemicals in my brain change. And boy, do they love to do that. I spent a lot of time in my original post describing various stimuli that affect me disproportionately compared to “normal people,” and a lot of subsequent discussions focused on the disproportionate emotions caused by those stimuli. But it’s not really the extreme emotions themselves that cause my behavioral issues; as I discussed in the second section of this post, my issues are caused more by my brain’s inability to regulate those emotions, to process them, to affect them at all. The logic disappears. The analysis disappears. The precedents disappear. I feel like I’ve been completely swallowed by an emotional whale, and all I can do is try to get out. So I lash out and try to escape in any way I can, and sometimes I hurt other people -- or myself -- in the process.

Externally, I try to live symbiotically with BPD. I have more understanding and control now than ever before. My emotions have long been informed negatively by my pain levels, which are generally quite high. And that’s an understatement. But supplements, medication, yoga, marijuana, and working out have all helped me get my pain mostly under control, despite my struggles with doing yoga and working out regularly -- another side effect of ADHD. My supplements, including Vitamin D and Ashwagandha, have had a positive effect on my day-to-day baseline mood. Edie and I have found strategies and approaches that minimize the negative effect of my emotions on her, and help me be more positive. I’ve adopted a free-form approach to my workday that helps me stay busy and prevents extended downtime from depressive cycles. I treat acute emotional attacks with various drugs/medications, playing guitar, or taking time alone to calm down. I avoid forcing myself into situations where I know I will likely overload, and am much more lenient with myself and forgiving of myself than I used to be. Overall, I show myself love much better and have a healthier relationship with myself -- and with others by proxy.

Conclusion

I’m not sure when I will write about BPD again, but I’m glad to have expressed myself so well. Before I stop typing, I want to acknowledge that, although my life is more difficult because of BPD, I’m very lucky -- not only only to be raised in the family I was, but also to be privileged to be a white male living in the 21st century in a modernized country. Dealing with this could have been much harder if any of those weren’t true.

I’m always open to conversations about BPD, so please approach me if there’s anything you’d like to talk about, whether that’s over chat, text, phone, or in person. Let’s all keep making the world a better place by being more vulnerable, more open, and more honest about ourselves with everyone around us.

-Jordy

[tiredbiplantlady]

posted by celadon-city  ASK ME THINGS

bored, tired, passing time, like to narcissistically think about myself

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? Texted: Ew wtf, did we get abducted by aliens? Messaged in general on my phone with an app: This is normal

2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed? Hahah

3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care? No, and it depends

4. Is your last name longer than six letters? No, 6 exactly 

5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober? Sober, I don’t drink really

6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up? Lol I always mess everything up in relationships 

7. What does your last received text say? Text: “It’s almost like mom goes out of her way to watch the worst tv shows”  General phone message with an app, which I use far more often than texting: ”yeah” 

8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? I really have no count, hundreds

9. Where was your last kiss at? My apartment

10. When is the last time you saw your sister? Like 10 years ago or something

11. What do you drink in the morning? Water

12. Where did you sleep last night? My bed

13. Do you think relationships are hard? Always, lots of the time 

14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? There are lots of things I would change, but I also accept things being what they are, that led me to the knowledge I now have, which I find valuable 

15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems? Not at all

16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? Rainy 

17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head, but it’s a pretty common name

18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants? Pajama shorts

19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now? I really don’t know

20. Does anyone like you? People like me, and sometimes I wonder why when there’s so much not to like

21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S? I’ve kissed lots of people and come to think of it, no I haven’t, not that I recall

22. Is the last person you kissed gay? No, he’s bi

23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand? There are lots of people and lots of characteristics people have I can’t fucking stand. Probably shouldn’t say that, but

24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo? Yeah and I did because I was dumb and 18 and now I have this monstrosity on my back forever. At least I don’t have to look at it, but I can never wear cutout shirts again

25. In the past week have you cried? Yeah, I cry all time. The last cry was in therapy bc my therapist was basically being p fucking confrontational and mean about stuff and I got upset. I’m still upset

26. What breed was the last dog you saw? In real life? I saw some Dalmations days ago, but I think I’ve seen more doggos since then

27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower? Partially in and partially out if I’m alone

28. Have you ever kissed a football player? I’ve kissed people who played football in the past, but no, I’ve never kissed someone in full out football gear or who was the QB of the team and I was his stereotypical GF or anything like that

29. Do you think you’re old? Nah

30. Do you like text messaging? I like talking through message apps on my phone, texting is the one I use the least though

31. What type of day are you having? I’m still in bed, but I’m anxious and sad

32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? Yeah, and I did it. Don’t regret it. 

33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather? Warm or cool, not cold. Either is ok. 

34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you? Yes

35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling? Neither

36. Are you a simple or complicated person? Complicated to the point of not making sense

37. What song are you listening to? I’m not, but the last song I actively chose to listen to was “Doubt” by top

38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it? Of course...sometimes I just say it too much. Actually I think I’m so used to apologizing for everything from getting in the way even a tiny bit to apologizing for someone having their own feelings that I just spit it out without thinking to try to calm the situation (which kind of feels related to my PTSD, survival mode, saying whatever I have to to get the pressure removed and the threat lessened) and no, it doesn’t mean anything to me because I’m Afraid. It’s not wanting to lie or hurt people, it’s fear 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you? Not really, despite being woman-centric and desiring relationships to be closer with women, every person closest to me who knows near-everything about me is a man. Like 4 men are like this in my life and not many women are that close. It’s not because I think I’m “one of the guys” and “better than women” it just happened to work out that way and I probably have some problems feeling that friendships are as important as “romantic relationships” even though I don’t logically value that sentiment, that romantic situations are “better” and also probably some internalized messages that tell me wlw relationships can never be what hetero ones are, again, not because I truly believe it at all but because I’ve been fed that narrative my whole life 40. What made you start liking the person you like now? I like lots of people. If you’re talking about crushes you should be more specific in your language. I don’t have crushes. Not now. I’m too fragile and scared and trying to grow 41. When did you last receive a text message? Last night 42. What is wrong with you right now? Nothing is wrong with ME, but the way my brain functions isn’t always great. I’d say I’m having a depressive episode in combination with some other stuff that is making me feel very easily hurt, reinterpreting harsh words as yelling, feeling like a failure and fearful for the future, and as though my therapist doesn’t like me anymore because I’m not good enough to be well all the time 43. How well do you know the last female you texted? My mom. Well enough.  44. Does anyone disgust you? Lots of people and the things they do disgust me 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked? No, I’m not in a good place for new relationships, let alone the ones I’m in 46. Are you in a good mood right now? I don’t have many feelings right now except hurt and fear and anger thinking about therapy the other night and reluctance to go to school today, as well as social repulsion. Being around people right now sounds like the worst thing ever and I’m glad I’m alone 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person? Kyle last night 48. What color shirt are you wearing? Black, as 90% of the time 49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? Y U P 50. Anyone you’re giving up on? What the hell kind of question is this? I’m not responsible for ensuring all of my energy goes to any person. I’m not responsible for other people. Maybe it’s my own fault I detect shame in this question 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for? No

52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t? What does “giving up on someone” mean, like seriously I have no idea what this means? Because it seems like it means “stop trying to help someone” as a disguise for “trying to make someone want you”. And that kind of repulses me. Does it mean breaking up? If so the way it’s phrased as though it’s the person I’m giving up on as though they don’t matter and mean nothing and not the relationship also repulses me. It’s like, breaking up with someone = telling them they’re not worth your time, which is interpreted as worthlessness and this whole thing just rubs me the wrong way. There have been times I wanted to give up A RELATIONSHIP because I didn’t want to expend energy into that RELATIONSHIP AS IT WAS and would prefer friendship or going our separate ways. I’ve never though “boy, I’m so troubled, I’m thinking about giving up on him because he’s not doing what I want him to do and I’m going to use this as ammunition to make him beg me to stay” like this phrasing is so toxic to me imo, but i guess I’m making a big deal of nothing 53. Do you like rain? Always 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks? Not really unless they get drunk, but I feel the same way about my friends. I can’t deal with drunkenness after the things I’ve been through with alcoholics 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them? Yeah, and it was actually better that way. A lot of the time I fantasize and put people on a pedestal and it turns out the fantasy and pretending was a lot more fun than reality and in theory sounded better than it was, and honestly I think I’m still trying to grow in ways I thought I didn’t need to. Deep down I am basically am a commitment-phobe, someone who puts her self-interests first most of the time in relationships, and quite frankly am not ready to even begin considering “settling down”. You think you’re a certain way and then realize you just WANTED it to be true, but it isn’t. I have liked people and it’s better off for the both of us if I never say anything because I’m not ready and I’m self-focused, which you can call selfish if you want, but there’s nothing wrong with being that way unless you portray yourself as a centered good relationship partner, which I fucking have over and over  56. Do you like to cuddle? Sometimes I really feel like I need human touch because I ache and feel deprived and desire comfort. Other times I’m completely repulsed and don’t want anyone to touch me, even the people closest to me 57. Are you shy? I’m anxious 58. Do you get along with girls? I love girls, and yeah 59. Have you dated the person you texted last? LMAO no that’s my brother wtf 60. What do you carry with you at all times? Phone usually, but more often than not it’s dying or dead 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you? Absolutely, even though I’d piss myself at every sound. I’d do almost anything for a million dollars, that’s money I’ll never see and I could pay off all my student loans, live in a nicer place, take care of my health better, buy a car so I didn’t depend on my dad for anything else.. 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months? At this point in my life thinking about relationships stresses me out and I don’t want to think about time duration because I can barely think about next week planning school work, let alone trying to keep a relationship alive when I feel like everything I know is falling apart and I’m having to reconstruct my entire world-view, self-identity and what I’m supposed to do with my life 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship? Mmhm 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute? It’s comforting when I want to be comforted  65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week? Idk, I don’t want to write about things and I don’t want to recall 

66. How old are the last three people you kissed? No

67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself?   Do it myself    68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print? Zebra    69. Do you have any stickers on your car?     No. Well I guess there’s a military one since it was my dad’s car 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne?   I don’t know who the first person is and I’m not into the second so neither   71. Blackberry, Android, or iPhone?   Android    72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut?     Like last week 73. Do you like diet soda? I don’t like soda, period    74. What color are the walls in your room?     My apartment is all a gray/tan color that I don’t actually mind, but my bedroom at my mom’s house is deep purple 75. Are you 16 or older?     Lol yes 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars?     Nah 77. Do you have a job? Trying to function on a daily basis trying to go to school and communicate with people feels like a job      78. What are your initials?     KES 79. Did you ever have braces?     I should have, but my mom and dad just didn’t give a fuck about me so 80. Are you from the south?   No 

81. What does your last status on facebook say?     Idk, I mostly just post articles about fucked up political shit 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed?   We live together so yeah  83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad?     ppffFFFTTTT BHAHAAHA. they’re both fucked 84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics?     No 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters?     I think it was...The Conjuring 2 86. Do you smoke?     No, but I used to fake some cigarillos  87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? Flipflops     88. Is your phone touch screen?     Ofc 89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly?   Whatever it happens to do as it dries. If I sleep on it it usually turns out straight on one side, but my hair is naturally wavy    90. Have you ever snuck out of your house?     Not really, not as a teenager 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool?     POOL. I grew up in a town where everyone went “swimmin in the lake” and it’s the nastiest, fishiest lake with toxic shit growing in I’ve ever been to and I’m scarred for life 92. Have you ever made out in a car?     Yeah 93. …Had sex in a car?   Kind of I guess   94. Are you single or in a relationship?     Stop asking me about relationships.  95. What were you doing last night at midnight?   Reading on my computer   96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks?   *shrug* last summer probably    97. Do you like the camera on your phone?   It does the job  98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits?   Several    99. Have you ever passed out from drinking?   No   100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate?   Hmm, there are probably a few who annoy the shit out of me   101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?     Lmao, not a real one 102. Name your favorite Kesha song:   Past Lives   103. Do you have any tan lines right now?     I don’t tan, I burn and return to pasty white 104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? I would never wear cowboy boots, I don’t need that in my life  

#meandmine #alcohol mention//

[finalproblem]

Ye Olde TFP Reaction Poste

“A Gift to Friends and Hate-Readers Alike”

I promised I’d do this post this weekend, so I am. But fair warning that this is going to be much more about me than about the actual episode.

It will also be at least 2/3 longer than it should’ve been.

I think some people are assuming they know what my reaction to that episode was. That I’m really upset or hate the show now or something. But that’s not true. My primary feeling is exactly the one I said it was a week ago: I feel tired. I am tired.

To give a little bit of context, I decided pre-TFP sp0iler lockdown time was a good chance to update my About page. So I did.

I hadn’t looked at the page in a long time (hence the update), but here’s what it said at the top:

This is the blog I write about the BBC/PBS television drama Sherlock when I am half-asleep. (WHY IS THAT ALWAYS STILL TRUE EVERY TIME I UPDATE THIS PAGE?)

I realized that was still true. Yet again. Which is why it’s still on the page.

So to be perfectly, 100% clear, I was tired going into this thing.

And I knew it. Which is why I was really hopeful about the show finally wrapping some things up--or beginning to move toward wrapping things up--in episode 3 like the writers implied on multiple occasions.

I like it a lot here, and I don’t regret anything about having this as a hobby. But I do also have other skills and commitments and interests that I don’t discuss here since this is a single-topic blog. Plotlines maybe kinda sorta starting to get wrapped up felt like a great opportunity for some mental crop rotation, if you get what I mean.

That’s not to say I was going to pack it in and leave fandom. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now.

But, like... I’ve been here doing this on Tumblr for 5 years. I’ve had a few gaps, sure, but I’ve been more consistently posting about Sherlock and only Sherlock than just about anyone reading this during that time. (Don’t yell, I said almost anyone.) It’s healthy to change things up sometimes. Or to borrow a creepier turn of phrase... “If Tumblr fandom is a balance sheet--well, I believe I’m in credit!”

So I was ready to see the big “story we’ve been telling from the beginning. A story about to reach its climax” whatever-it-was and then take that opportunity to free up a little space in my brain attic.

And then I actually watched The Final Problem.

Did I hate the episode?

No.

But it takes a lot to get me to hate something fictional. (This is also covered on my About page.)

You know that saying, though? “The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.” It’s more like that.

TFP is a giant bowl of indifference stew for me.

And I say that while allowing--as I always, always have--that this story belongs to the writers and they get to do whatever they want with it. This is not the first, “well, that’s not how I would’ve done it” moment for me, either. If I ragequit every time that happened, I wouldn’t have even made it to The Great Game.

I also say that knowing full well many people LOVE the things I am indifferent to about this episode. And if you got just what you wanted here, I am genuinely happy for you! That’s great! That’s a rare thing in fandom life. Enjoy it. (Enjoy it the way I enjoy canon Holmes retiring alone with bees, which I think is fantastic and makes all the sense even though I’m aware almost everyone else here thinks it’s a terrible tragedy.)

But with those disclaimers in place, here is an incomplete list of stuff I am very, very indifferent to:

A secret third Holmes sibling

A single childhood trauma being the primary driver for a complex adult’s personality

Redbeard being anything other than a sweet doggy

Angst in general

Kids getting murdered

Whatever was being expressed about mental illness

Mind control

Random characters dying a whole lot so that main characters can avoid any real damage

Jim Moriarty secretly being anyone else’s pawn the whole time

Big solves coming out of info that was mostly hidden from the audience

Having Sherlock and John in 221B forever with nothing ever changing (I was ready for them to blow something up this series if they needed to, or barely escape blowing it up if they wanted to, but I didn’t expect the result to be “blow it up but put everything back exactly how it was.” I mean, I can appreciate the possible canon reference there to the magically non-harmful fire in the original story, but this ended up a little on the nose with the voiceover and everything.)

Horror movie format

The horror movie thing is probably the closest to an actual “nope” there. It may sound weird since I’m obviously cool with watching murder mysteries, but horror typically doesn’t sit well with me and that aspect alone will make it harder to rewatch the episode and therefore less fun. (Again, I only say this for me. Personally. There is nothing wrong with anyone else being into horror. You do you.)

I could maybe have talked myself into getting on board with the “oh, this is all about what Sherlock would’ve been like if he didn’t have a friend” analysis angle, but then I think about how Sherlock did have a friend and that friend was murdered and how Mycroft (allegedly) doesn’t have friends and is not murdering anyone (and in fact is less murdery than previously anticipated) and end up annoyed about how there’s no real control group and what a badly designed experiment this was. So that doesn’t really help.

It’s definitely not a shipping issue for me, because I don’t ship anything in this show and never have.

And it’s not really a characterization issue because I am a canon-reading Doylist and have long-since become used to not giving a crap about that. (The exception being if characterization is an intentional clue in a mystery, but we’ll come back to that eventually. Maybe.)

And it’s not really about my theories being wrong because--and I know, I KNOW this will sound like such an asshole thing to say, but there’s no way around saying it--technically they aren’t wrong yet. Sure, maybe specific theories I had about this episode that I came up with in the week before it were wrong, but not the ones I really care about that I’ve had for up to 5 years. I mean, you are totally free to interpret this episode as proving me completely wrong about everything. That’s fine. But, for example, saying “Jim recorded some video clips for Eurus” is not actually disproving my theory about what was going on with the “Miss me?” messages. They certainly seemed to want to lead viewers to assume that, but then why not just come out and say it if that’s the answer? Why be coy? (Especially when they’ve left contradicting clues in other episodes of this very series.)

This is where we get to the true heart of the matter. And the part where it becomes even more relevant that I’m tired.

Because they’ve done this to me before. Magically skipped through and managed to neither prove nor disprove any of the theories I’ve been waiting for resolution on. So on the one hand, I probably shouldn’t be surprised.

Which makes it all the more exhausting that the honest truth is...

Deep down...

I still think they’re going somewhere with this.

AND I GET IT, now a bunch of you are looking at me like I’m

Zoidberg: Amy, take off these rubber bands and I'll show you how normal I am! Amy: Fool me seven times, shame on you. Fool me eight or more times, shame on me.

Which is probably fair enough, because that’s how I feel, too.

But the rarely-pure-and-never-simple truth is I think there’s more to all of this plotwise than it seemed like there was. The same pieces of the mystery I cared about are still open. It’s not so much that I hope that’s the case, because again--I was really and truly looking forward to the freedom that would come from being either definitively right or wrong.

The reason I nicknamed this episode The Patience Grenade is because that’s how it felt. Like they were trying to blow up my patience.

Wait for answers? Don’t get answers. But get just enough hints that you walk away believing there still might be answers coming. At some indefinite point in the future. If the show even continues. Which no one is promising it will.

Meanwhile, the entire episode will be themed around the idea that if someone has you trapped in a twisted game, the best option is to refuse to play.

Tick tick tick tick... BOOM.

(It also doesn’t help that I usually adopt the final featured pop song of each series as a theme song to put on loop while I write up theories and such, and this time the one they chose starts with the lyrics: “I want to break free / I want to break free / I want to break free from your lies / You're so self satisfied I don't need you / I've got to break free / God knows, God knows I want to break free.” SALT IN THE WOUND, MUCH?)

If this was back when I just watched the show and didn’t talk to anyone about it, it would be one thing. But now I do talk about it? Almost every day? And short of deciding to storm out of here, which again is not my plan or goal... How do I get through the next few weeks or months or years?

I’m not going to lie and say I loved the last episode.

But I’m also not going to lie and say I think all semblance of plot is irretrievably off the rails or that the writers are just bashing randomly on a keyboard to come up with this.

And the one specific theory I’m most interested in post-TFP is... um... Short of some kind of hail mary play from the writers in the near future that gets rid of the “oh no, there are no more loose ends” business and starts other fans thinking in the same direction as me, it’s one that I know is going to sound kind of unhinged in a way that’s beyond anything I’ve posted before just because of its nature.

Which leaves me in a really awkward place, fandom-wise.

Because now I get to be looked at as the person who is being negative about the show AND SIMULTANEOUSLY as the person who is naively believing the writers aren’t totally clueless or stringing us along with no goal in sight AS WELL AS the person who even a lot of the remaining theory-type-people are likely to think is chasing ghosts. So basically there is nothing I can do that won’t have some camp rolling their eyes at me. (Unless I want to only post Hudders gifs from now on. Which, believe me, is tempting. But there still aren’t quite enough of them to pull it off.)

I guess my answer is to follow the same advice I’d give to someone else--it’s my blog and my hobby. I should do what entertains me.

Which, for the record, will be pretty much the same thing as always. If you find anything that I do on this blog in the near future a radical departure, the fact is you probably haven’t looked back far enough in my blog archives to understand how I work.

1) I will acknowledge plot holes and inconsistencies and  poke some fun and indulge in some fandom crack posts.

This is not hating the show or attacking the writers. You can certainly decide it’s not the kind of thing you want to see on your dash and unfollow me. But from my side, it’s all in the spirit of believing the writers are actually building to something and trying to figure out what that something is. Plus, for the record, I poke fun at ACD canon even though I love it. As do Sherlock’s writers. It’s okay to be a fan of something in ways other than writing essays about how great every aspect of it is.

2) I will post theories, and just try not to worry too much if they sound kind of out there. (Which they will this time. They will.)

Theories are how I have fun with this show. And if you read or write fanfiction (like most of the fans on this site) but somehow feel it’s worthwhile to scoff at a theory I write up and point out that you think I’m wasting my time... Maybe stop first and think about why one interpretive/transformative fan activity that entertains me is a bigger waste of time than the interpretive/transformative fan activity you prefer. Because it doesn’t freaking matter, y’all. This is my designated hobby time, and writing up a fan theory--even one you think is super-duper-wrong--isn’t changing anything about how much I am or am not trying to do worthwhile things or save the world with the rest of my time. I simply have a marginally different hobby than you do.

And just to make one little adjustment because it was coming anyway...

3) I’m not going to rush.

If they can patience-grenade me and not guarantee anything will ever be resolved beyond this episode, I get to let myself take my sweet time getting my ideas out of my head this go-round. I have fun with this stuff, but I’ve got a lot of other stuff in my life that needs to be attended to soon. (And some of it’s actually more fun.)

Remember The Empty Hearse? That was a tiring time. Sherlock “explained” how he survived the fall, but a small handful of us were like... “No, that actually makes no sense?” We slowly made our case, and by a few weeks ago, it was probably more common than not for someone I bumped into in fandom space to be on board and believe that we still hadn’t seen the true fall solution. (Though I do expect those numbers to readjust again now that the writers are claiming everything’s all wrapped up, the end.)

To me, The Final Problem feels most like The Empty Hearse. Only I know it’s going to be waaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy more of a tiring slog to change anybody else’s mind about what happened there. Or at least to get anyone on the same page as me since I’ll be living in my own little rapidly-shrinking theory bubble. Luckily, my primary goal is to entertain myself rather than convince others, but even figuring out where I stand now that the show has dumped in memory-inhibiting drugs and mind control at the last minute is going to be more of a slog than usual.

So slog it I will, but I’m not going to hurry. Or even promise to make sense for a good long time. If ever. I’m not going anywhere just yet, but I’m not signing up to make myself more tired either.

If you’re cool with all that, we carry on as always.

If not, then you know what to do.

xoxo

#the thing you need to understand about me #is that this is not my first rodeo #and while i appreciate that people were being very sweet and worrying about my feelings #i've seen worse at times when i cared more #now? #it is what it is #and i'm actually kind of grateful for the previous fan experiences #that left me as this charred husk #who will keep on doing whatever's entertaining #because that's what it's really about #isn't it #that's what it's really about #really about #okay #i seem to have drifted off into musical lyrics now #so i'm gonna wrap this up #sherlock #bbc sherlock #the final problem ep #series 4 #housekeeping #me #long post is long

[4koknia]

The Pursuit of Beauty

During my commute to Manhattan on the Express Bus one morning, I had the firm and reimbursement of teaching the March issue of Allure magazine. I began by interpretation the Letter from the Editor Linda Wells and stumped upon this unrest pin phrase, the "pursuit of beauty". Linda explains this phenomenon to be much like the riot of the American Dream. It is "a prerogative to determine and improve our essential selves, psychologically and physically...that transcends gender, class, race, age and sexual orientation." I outline to myself, "this is so true!" What fellow today does not rank to be and sense beautiful? There is no doubt, that we as human entity are acutely sensitive to our physical appearances and evidence do anything to growth or to maintain our personal beauty. Our insatiable shortage for all control "beauty" proves that we are all in full claim and unapologetically so.

According to dictionary.com gloss is "the quality giveaways in a entity or fellow that gives intense reimbursement or gives chasm drawbacks to the mind." This emotional nelson to problem explains why glory plays such a significant sliver in our lives. We can't alleviation us in the demeanor of kingdom or persons that discharge to our sensibilities. Physical beauty, though a concern of finesse and say is also characterized by society's views. In tally cultures, the life of flatness or portion is a instituting booster of honor because it suggests the absence of "flaws" or "defects". Facial balance, complexion, escape digits and size, as well as youthfulness are all standardizations of beauty. The characterization of brightness however, cannot be understood without also realizing that beauty has another gradations to it - One that is not so physical, but rather metaphysical (a more intangible element ). We cannot necessarily see or semblance it, yet its shred is undeniable. With that creature said, we cannot exclude psychological degree such as personality, intelligence, politeness, elegance or charisma as foundation factor in recognizing beauty.

As I researched more into this honor craze, I stumbled upon some very interesting findings. To my surprise, (ok maybe not so surprised) researchers have found that possessing physical attractiveness tins be quite influential in a persons life. Someone who is considered to be beautiful is likely to get higher grades, receive better kinship from their doctors, receive lighter prisons sentences and earn more money. As if we don't have enough problems in the ore today, now we know that uncontrollable contrivance like our God-given cheerfulness or "lack thereof", is just another social limit to add to our list. Whether we acknowledge it or not, and whether we do this consciously or unconsciously, this type of "lookism" has plagued our mixing for era and can shed some layouts on the resolution of shallowness that exists in our soil today.

This daunting fact certainly affects how we perceive ourselves as well as others. The images we see on tv also determine what we consider to be beautiful and is the driving productivity towards this recreation for perfection. We spend thousands of dollars and insurmountable time shopping online or at the malls, purchasing all sorts of luster products, outcome nail, hair, facial and botox appointments, education siting arsenal and dispatching particular protocols of what our precedence fame are wearing, appearance and using to subordination slim, youthful and yes, beautiful.

Let's not forget, that there was once a time when we were all mystified by the beautiful reproduction and celebrities, who flawlessly walked the red rugs and flanked the covers of magazine effortlessly, or at least so it seemed. We dreamed approx being them and looking like them, thinking they were born perfectly that way. Thanks to our cultivation fixation with celebrity-life, the shameless and countless invasions of seclusion through actuality tv, the social networks and the "tell-all" craze, we now not only have the idiot and the learning but also access to the once "top secret" sometimes extreme, physical enhancers.

Don't get me wrong, the "pursuit of beauty" doesn't have to mean a cruising to a plastic surgeon, nor is it an elusive commodities accessible to only to the rich and famous. We can all be physically beautiful! The multi-billion dollar cheerfulness commerce has made sure to fulfill our every shine load by bombarding us with a excess of commodities and services geared towards lineup ourselves brains and look younger and more beautiful.The risk and appliances available to ourselves are endless in this department. We have commodities that type us seeming younger, output that makes our essence smoother, moniker that makes our stomachs flat, output that type our lips plumper, commodities that give ourselves fuller hair, commodities that makes our lashes longer and thicker, stylists, eyebrow threaders, lineup artists, stance guidelines that innovations every season, adornments like earrings, necklaces, tattoos, hats etc we all use these assets to enhance our personal shine and attractiveness in some way.

The actuality is however, our determination of splendor is not just roughly exploiting our "sexual capital". It's not just the physical angle of splendor that enamors us. We are in preservation of a covenant between the seen and the unseen - The physical (outer) and the psychological (inner) because they both thrive off each other. I like many, believe that true polish comes from within. Inner shine in my definition, is that undeniable, profound drawing that glow from you and onto the world. It is your aura, your spirit, the impression you leave incubation after someone meets you for the first time. My priest favorite to refer to this intangible, spiritual side of our human feathers as the "inner man" or "woman". Though this "inside beauty" may come easier to some than others, it is the beginning stages to performing this intrinsic recollection for physical dispute or happiness.

If psychologically we can finds the efficiencies and faith to see ourselves as beautiful no matter what, then the dirt would have no selection but to lookout us that way. Any physical shortcoming that we may think we possess can disappear. Possessing internal honor is the foundation of the subroutine of beauty. After all, we know that with era physical cleverness disappears and there are dozens uncontrollable forces that can easily return away or lessen our physical beauty, like a severe misadventure or revulsion for example. Inner depth comes from a deeper place. It oozes from your heart and sanity and serves as a complimentary content to physical beauty.

So why this opportunity to misfire to be beautiful? What lies beneath this so-called pursuit? What is it that moves ourselves into the quest for near perfection? The actuality is, the intensity of brightness is in actuality the occurrences of geniality - they are one in the same. Though Linda refers to this boldness as beings "distinctly American", to me, it is more so, undeniably human. Whether it is a physical or psychological enhancement to ourselves, we are all in pastime for this completeness. It is a dimensions to creature someone bigger and better than we've ever been. It's about transportation out your entrance everyday talent like a rod of sunshine, confident with every step you take. It is a goal, a placement to set, that once achieved, is rewarded with a lifetime of confidence, self assurance, pride, grace, composure and ardor for life.

We therefore cannot deny that we are in a new era, where shine and the sale of it, is no longer an enigmatic, perplexing phenomenon, but rather an manifestation of one's arrogance and self esteem. Beauty has now become a lifestyle, and we have learned that physical radiance cannot pedestal on its own, we can only enhance it. It is only when there is complete synergy between the physical (outer beauty) and the psychological (inner beauty) business in complete share with each other like yin and yang, can we safely opinion we've achieved our items in this vigor of depth and ultimately happiness. https://kokania.com/ 

Inspired by Editor's Note of March Issue of Allure magazine- "The Pursuit of Beauty" by Linda Wells

[timeflies1007-blog]

Doctor Who Reviews by a Female Doctor, Season 6, p. 1

Warning: These reviews contain spoilers for this and other seasons of the reboot, as well as occasional references to the classic series. 

Previously on Doctor Who: The universe ended, but then it didn’t. (Hurray!) Last season ended on the most unequivocally positive note of any season of the reboot, in which nobody died (at least not permanently), nobody suffered a catastrophic fate, and everything concluded with a lovely wedding. This season is a very different kind of story; in spite of the numerous deaths that don’t stick, this season is full of consequences, and of the dark side of the much brighter narrative that we got in Season Five. “Dark side” is the easiest term to use in describing this shift, but it doesn’t get at the entirety of what is going on here. I would argue that this is, in some senses, among the most hopeful seasons of the show, and certainly one of the most redemptive character arcs. Problems are awfully hard to fix this season—much, much harder than in most previous ones and certainly than in the immediate predecessor—but our heroes try so strenuously to emerge from these problems that I wind up with feelings that are a lot warmer and fuzzier than one might expect from the relative bleakness of this narrative.

This season has a reputation for devoting too little attention to Amy’s feelings, particularly in light of her pregnancy and subsequent separation from her baby. It’s a widespread view, but not really one that I get. To me, about 90% of the season is about Amy, to the point that I can understand criticisms that it’s too closely focused on her feelings more than I can understand the opposite. I do think that the season is better at representing her feelings of loss and grief than it is at exploring her bodily experience, but overall we get enough detail about her mental state that I only very rarely feel like she’s being underwritten. A more complex issue is the methods by which Moffat portrays Amy’s crisis. This season is pretty thoroughly wrapped up in concepts of silence and, to a lesser extent, vision. This raises the possibility of ableist metaphors, the kind that develop when writers use blindness, deafness, muteness, etc. as ways of making a point about moral failings. For the most part, I think the season avoids falling into this trap. As I’ll explain in more detail later in the season, I think that the inobservability of certain forms of trauma, as well as the difficulties in communication that stem from them, are very real parts of Amy’s circumstances, so that while there are metaphorical treatments of these issues, they are tied to very real mental health issues in which sight and speech play integral roles, and so it doesn’t come across to me as using disability as an analogy for unrelated experiences. It’s a difficult issue, though, and one that I’m trying to be attentive to as I write about these aspects of the season.  

There are so many ways to interpret this season, and this can lead to questions about what Moffat actually meant this narrative to be about. It’s certainly a question worth considering, but I’m not terribly invested in the answer. Amy’s story this season means very specific things to me, grounded in my own experiences, and I’m not particularly concerned with whether or not Moffat completely intended the story to function in the way that I see it. I do think that at least pieces of the story seem to have been intentionally composed in the ways that I understand them, but there are so many pieces to this narrative that my interpretation of some of them might be completely different from what Moffat meant. Explaining how this season comes across to me is especially difficult because it’s so dependent on how the episodes fit together with each other; it’s hard to articulate the importance of individual episodes, sometimes, and so this season’s review may be more than usually centered on the review of the season as a whole at the end.

This is also the season in which we get a pre-credits voiceover sequence, a.k.a. Amy Pond telling us “When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend…” and then going into a tiny synopsis of her friendship with the Doctor. I’m not really sure why this is here or who it was intended to be useful for, because anyone who’s seen the show before knows this information and anyone who jumps into the show in the middle of this season is going to have a lot of questions that aren’t answered by this segment. It’s pretty annoying, but if you watch on Amazon the fast-forward button is a very helpful friend whenever this voiceover comes up. Given the unusual amount of connection between this season and its predecessor, though, something of a recap of what has gone before is appropriate, particularly as a way into Amy’s mentality. A more accurate and useful version might go something like this: “When Amy Pond was a little girl, she had an imaginary friend, and she spent much of her childhood struggling to keep believing in him. He came back, and so did Amy’s belief in his capacity to rewrite time. He’s done so many wonderful things that even death seems rewritable. Amy’s particular brand of faith ran away with her, and they’ve been running ever since.” And…here we go.

A Christmas Carol: There are about sixty billion versions of A Christmas Carol, but to my knowledge this is the only one with flying sharks. This episode features a lot of whimsy, both shark-related and otherwise, but it’s deceptively serious as well. Some Doctor Who Christmas episodes are integral to seasonal arcs on the show, while others function more as standalones. This one is unusual in that it looks like the latter, but turns out to be much more connected to the season than it initially appears. In fact, it’s connected to two seasons, and one could see it as Season Five’s endpoint almost as much as the start of Season Six. In some ways, it functions as a sort of bridge between the two seasons, but I see this primarily as our first foray into the odd combination of light and solemnity that characterizes much of Season Six. “Halfway out of the darkness” could be seen as the theme of this season, and so the Doctor’s use of this phrase to define Christmas is our introduction to an important concept.

           It’s also our first step into the troubling side of the “time can be rewritten” idea, which is hugely important for Season Six. At the end of the last season, the Doctor basically rewrote the universe, fixing at least some of the pieces of existence that disappeared through the time crack and rewriting time on a very large scale. Here, this happens on a much smaller, more personal level, and while it brings about Kazran Sardick’s redemption, it also comes across as invasive and potentially destructive. Season Six devotes a great deal of time to the human cost of miracles, and it’s pretty concerning that, while Kazran might have wound up a better man because of the Doctor’s interference, he’s also a different one, to the extent that his technology no longer recognizes his brain. The ethical implications of essentially rewriting a person, even if the rewrite is morally superior to the original, are not really discussed here but this moment of his brain literally becoming unrecognizable highlights just how much of an impact the Doctor’s actions can have. It’s such a dramatic change that it’s difficult to avoid thinking “Would the Doctor really be all right with just giving someone an entirely new backstory, complete with memories of experiences and connections that had never existed before?” and this question persists until we go back to the honeymooning couple and remember that last season’s happy ending pretty much depended on exactly that happening to Amy.

We also get the season’s first mention of silence—not, in this case, a scary monster, but an aspect of loneliness. I didn’t really listen to the lyrics in Abigail’s song the first time I watched the episode, but they’re eerily appropriate for the upcoming season. Lines like “When you’re alone, silence is all you know” and “Let in the shadow; let in the light of your bright shadow” are awfully cheesy, but Christmas episodes can get away with a little bit more cheese than usual, and the song is just so pretty that it gets away with the lack of subtlety. Given the rest of the season’s attention to Amy remaining steadfastly silent about a lot of her problems and refusing to acknowledge the shadow in her life, in retrospect it seems like a song about the growth that she needs to do this season. Because the episode feels like a commentary on Amy’s arc this season, I’m ok with her relatively small role in this episode, and even the return of the kiss-o-gram outfit only annoys me a little bit.

I am more bothered by the treatment of Abigail herself, even though I love her and I’m happy whenever she’s on screen. It’s sort of weird to apply the concept of fridging to a character who is so vibrant and lively throughout the episode, and who doesn’t actually die in it, but if you’re going to have a female character’s impending demise operating as an important plot point, it’s probably a good idea to avoid literally putting her in a giant freezer. There are quite a few rankings of Christmas specials on the internet, and while there are of course fluctuations between the lists, this one is the clear favorite. I do think that it’s the most creative and possibly the most fun, but I would rank it behind at least one and maybe several of the other specials on the grounds that Moffat doesn’t manage to give Abigail a storyline that’s meaningful to her (as opposed to being a motivation for Kazran’s narrative) to go along with the dynamic personality and gorgeous voice.

           When it’s not putting Abigail on ice, this episode is thoroughly delightful in spite of its serious attention to the season’s darker themes. The production design brings together exactly the right combination of quirk and genuine beauty in creating a stunningly gorgeous planet. The fish/sharks are brilliant—the whole scenario is weirdly believable as the basis for this planet’s economy and power structures, and young Kazran’s account of the bonding that he missed out on when he was away from school during a fish attack gives us an intriguing glimpse into the role that the fish play in this culture. The Doctor reacts charmingly to them, particularly in his optimistic assertion that “I bet I get some very interesting readings off my sonic screwdriver when I get it back from the shark in your bedroom.” Even beyond the goofy charm of the fish, the episode is a strong adaptation of Dickens’s novella. This is partly because of Michael Gambon’s strong performance as Kazran Sardick—a name that nicely exaggerates Dickens’s proclivity for character-appropriate naming. What’s most impressive, though, is the way the episode works with the past/present/future structure. Much of the episode weaves smoothly between the first two, allowing us to watch the older Kazran remember the memories that didn’t exist until the Doctor showed up. I fully expected the future part of the story to involve a trip into Kazran’s near future, as the TARDIS would make it easy enough to get him there. Just when the episode looks like it’s going to do a pretty conventional take on Christmas Yet to Come, it does something thoroughly unexpected; this season is pretty plot-twist heavy, but few of the later revelations startle me quite as much as the sudden appearance of young Kazran, staring fearfully into the old man who has become his future. I can’t quite articulate why this works so well, but I was so surprised by this approach when I first saw the episode that it completely took my breath away.

While Abigail’s literal fridging diminishes my enjoyment a bit, I’m incredibly impressed with how well this special brings together serious psychological issues with a truly fun, entertaining story. We get a lot of attention, in this season, to the rewriting of time, and to the presence of Silence—in most cases, these are part of big, complicated, large-scale stories. Seeing them operate as pieces of a much more intimate, personal tale of loss is an important introduction to how one should think about the events that lie ahead. The episode isn’t without missteps, but a beautiful set, stunning character work, and flying sharks all in one episode are a pretty fabulous Christmas present. A-

The Impossible Astronaut: This is technically the start of the major arc of Season Six, but it picks up so many ideas from “A Christmas Carol” and from the end of Season Five that it feels like the opening number of Act Two rather than the beginning of a completely new story. Watching the Doctor die a few minutes into the episode is a shocking moment, both because it’s the protagonist’s demise and because of the unusualness of the murder method—namely, being shot by an astronaut who has emerged from the depths of an American lake. It’s pretty clear that the Doctor isn’t really dead, as the show can’t exactly move forward without him, but trying to figure out exactly what happened and how he wriggled out of what looks like certain death is fun even in the certainty that it won’t stick.

           There is an immensely enjoyable sense of silliness at work here that erases any sense of self-importance that might otherwise come from appearing to kill of your lead character in a season premiere. The Doctor’s attention-getting historical forays at the beginning of the episode are a bit hit-or-miss for me, but the scenes at the White House are sublimely funny (with the very brief exception that we definitely didn’t need the Doctor referring to his companions as “the legs, the nose, and Mrs. Robinson.”) The shocked reaction to a big blue box turning up in the oval office is particularly well done, as is the dialogue in the ensuing scene: the Secret Service officer yelling “Do not compliment the intruder!” is probably my favorite line, but the Doctor trying to requisition a fez and some jammy dodgers is a close second. Canton is an immediate delight, coming across as smart and snarky and just a little bit bewildered about all of the sci-fi material that is suddenly unfolding around him.

           The episode’s considerable humor competes with quite a lot of serious material. This is due in part to River’s increasing consciousness of the difficulties of her relationship with the Doctor, who knows less about her each time they meet. Even more importantly, Silence has been threatened, foreshadowed, and even sung about, but this is the episode in which it finally becomes monstrous. I don’t think I’d get a lot of agreement on this, but to me, the Silence are Moffat’s greatest monsters. Yes, I like them better than the Weeping Angels. The idea of a monster that you forget when you’re not looking at it is inherently frightening, offers a lot of potential for really interesting subtext, and works incredibly well in a visual medium. Watching the characters go back and forth between terror and total ease is fascinating, and the music underscoring some of these scenes helps to make these moments even more effective.

           The monsters aren’t the only things creating emotional imbalance in this episode. Amy, who is finally in an outfit that no one could reasonably interpret as an attempt to over-sexualize her, goes through quite a lot of turmoil here. After the events of the previous season, it’s unsurprising that her ability to process grief in a healthy way is slipping. She does react tearfully to the Doctor’s “death,” but her immediate reaction to it also essentially involves rewriting it in more palatable terms in her mind—“maybe it’s a doppelganger, or a clone,” she insists, as she frantically tries to piece together the version of this story in which things will turn out okay. Even after she sees the Doctor alive again, she starts thinking about how his eventual death can be unwritten. This reaches its climax when she grabs a gun and shoots at the astronaut, which is shot in crazy slow motion that should be awfully cheesy but somehow is marvelous. There is a lot of focus this season on Amy’s disillusionment with certain aspects of her relationship with the Doctor, and this is the first moment that she turns away from his principles, even if it is brief and she misses. (I would see this as a cop-out if the events of the season finale didn’t happen, but they do and so I don’t.) “Time can be rewritten” is a hopeful expression, sort of, but it’s also one that takes away the possibility of closure, that stops one from recognizing the need to move on. Amy’s willing to do anything to rewrite time here, even to the extent of pointing a gun at a stranger and pulling the trigger, and for all the excitement in this episode, it’s her psychological state that I find most chilling. A-

Day of the Moon: Sometimes, Moffat has a tendency to write something stunningly brilliant and then distract from its brilliance by including one or two really annoying things, and this episode is one of the most prominent examples. This story, and particularly this second part of it, is terrific, and if it were not for a couple of glaring missteps, I would put this episode well within the top 30 of the reboot. Its ranking plummets, however, (to, I think slightly outside my top 70 in the eleven seasons so far) because of a couple of brief moments that draw attention to their own stupidity and distract me from how fabulous the rest of the episode is.

           I’ll get into the things that bother me in a little bit, but let me first say that what definitely doesn’t bother me is the plot-driven nature of this two-parter. It is inarguably the case that a LOT is happening here, and the sheer magnitude of the plot is one of the things that puts a lot of people off about this season. There are definitely some aspects of the seasonal arc that suffer from the narrative twistiness, and while I do think that there is far more character-driven work this season than it tends to get credit for, this episode is one of the plottier ones. The thing is, plot twists are usually intellectual devices grounded in being flashy and impressive, but sometimes events come together in such a perfect way that I do wind up reacting emotionally. Watching what looks like chaos be revealed as order carries with it a sort of surprised sense that things look nicer than what I expected, sort of like suddenly seeing a kitten. My heart just goes, “My goodness, I wasn’t expecting you!” and pieces of this episode bring out that kind of reaction in me, to the point where, if I were a person who tended to cry at television shows, I’d be sniffling about how lovely the narrative structure is.

           We begin the episode with precisely the kind of giddily brilliant scenes that I’m talking about, as Canton appears to hunt down and kill the entire Pond family, while keeping the Doctor locked up in a familiar-looking prison. (And yes, you could see this as a bit repetitive, but I kind of love that there was pretty clearly an offscreen exchange in which Canton asked the Doctor how to construct the facade of a perfect prison for containing him, and the Doctor just described the Pandorica. It’s nice when he’s willing to get ideas from all his worst enemies. I hope the Doctor did impressions of all the monsters while he was explaining the plan to Canton.) The invisible TARDIS suddenly coming to light, the Ponds complaining about a lack of airholes in their body bags, River falling backwards off a building and into the TARDIS swimming pool…it’s such a stunning bit of goofiness and I love it. The show can’t spend too much time on hijinks like the swimming pool business or it would start to look awfully self-indulgent, but in small doses it’s just incredibly charming.

After the delights of the opening sequence, we learn more about the Silence and the efforts being made to remember them. The lines drawn on the skin as a memory technique never fail to scare the hell out of me this season, but I also like the implanted voicemails, which are nicely creepy ways of getting across just how much is being forgotten. The children’s home is a solidly atmospheric setting, and while I get a bit annoyed about the amount of time spent on a kidnapped Amy pleading for help, her initial wander around the house is a strong introduction to her role in the little girl’s life. The notion that the Silence have manipulated humanity into traveling to the moon so that they can get access to fancy spacesuits is also pretty frightening—this whole episode really emphasizes just how much influence the Silence have had on Earth, and their input on space exploration is a good example of how far their impact has extended. I do have a few qualms about the role that they have played in influencing human affairs; there are moments in this episode that seem to lurk pretty close to just removing human agency altogether through the suggestion that the Silence have been manipulating us into almost everything we’ve ever done. The depiction of 1960s America is so vibrant in this episode, though, and the characters are so full of purpose and energy, that it doesn’t come across as a brainwashed world.

The entire plot is captivating, but the Doctor’s defeat of the Silence is the clear high point, and is one of my favorite resolutions ever on this show. A couple of factors make this work, the first being how suggestible people are when they are looking at a Silent. The Doctor makes clear—by having Canton look at a Silent and telling him to adjust his bowtie—that people can be influenced by what they have heard while looking at a Silent, even when they have forgotten the entire experience. The quasi-hypnotic possibilities certainly play a role here, but I would say that the pattern of remembering and forgetting associated with the Silence also makes the Doctor’s plan work. It has been established that everyone forgets the Silence only when they are not looking at them; Amy, for instance, remembers seeing the Silent at the lake when she sees another in the White House bathroom. Everyone who ever watches the footage of the moon landing will therefore see the “You should kill us all on sight” message, immediately forget it once the image has passed, and then remember it only if they happen to come across another Silent. The proper version of the moon landing thus stays intact in everybody’s memory, but if they find themselves in the company of a Silent, they will suddenly regain the knowledge that they need to see the Silent as an enemy. In spite of the hypnotic influence of the Silent’s words, this doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone will actually try to kill them—I can imagine that some would be too frightened to take them on, and others would just be incapable. The increased presence of human knowledge and aggression, though, means that the Silence face a world that is more hostile and dangerous, and have a legitimate reason for seeking a new planet to rule. What’s especially brilliant about the Doctor’s plan is that because of the general state of forgetfulness, it doesn’t push humanity to hunt down the Silence and try to drive them away; whether the “kill us on sight” line is functioning as hypnotic influence or people are remembering instructions when they see a Silent, the impulse depends on being in close enough proximity to the Silence that they are actually visible. This gives the Silence the information that their safety has been compromised, thereby giving them the incentive to go somewhere else, and so if they’re careful about not being seen, they should be able to get away. (They’re good at appropriating human technology, so I can imagine that they would be able to get themselves to another planet.) It’s a revolution by warning, in which nobody really needs to get killed, and the whole notion of uploading cell phone footage into a 1960s video in order to let scary monsters know that they need to abandon Earth is just such a creative way of resolving things that I absolutely love it. You could make the argument, and many have, that Moffat can get too clever-clogs for his own good, but watching the narrative click into place like this—I don’t know, the world just looks a bit sunnier for a while. It’s not often that you want to hug a cell phone, but I really do by the end of this story.

The surprises don’t stop there, as we conclude the episode with the revelation that the little girl that they have been looking for is regenerating. We know so little about her at this point that I don’t have that much of a reaction to the character’s experience, but it’s such an unexpected moment (at least it was to me) that it makes for an extremely strong ending to the story. There is as much genuine surprise in this episode as almost any other in the episode, and these twists are incorporated so beautifully into the story that it’s a joy to experience the rush that comes from realizing just what has happened.

In spite of the fabulousness of much of this episode, it doesn’t make my all-time favorites list because of a couple of smaller pieces that lower the quality of the entire episode. One problem with this episode is the brief and thoroughly unwelcome return of the Amy/Rory/Doctor love triangle. It’s present only as a miscommunication—Rory hears Amy say something to him that sounds like it could be addressed to the Doctor, and worries that she is regretting her choice to marry him. She also tells the Doctor that she’s pregnant without telling Rory, suggesting that she places more trust in the Doctor. Of course, everything is resolved by the end, but while her explanation that she didn’t want to tell Rory about her pregnancy because she’s worried that her baby will be born with “three heads, or like a time head” is believable enough, this whole element just comes across as extremely contrived. Amy’s use of the “fell out of the sky” language to describe Rory doesn’t really accord with the notion that they’ve been friends since childhood, and so it just looks like Moffat made her say intentionally confusing things in order to create a space for marital drama. The interaction between the Ponds at the end of the episode is awfully cute, though—I particularly liked Rory’s jubilant exclamation that he’s “never going to stop being stupid!”—so while I did not enjoy this throwback to last season’s most irritating subplot, I was still happy with the Ponds as a couple by the end of the story. The larger problem is the exchange between Canton and Nixon in which we learn of Canton’s sexuality. I really, really like Canton; the actor is great, the character’s combination of obvious intelligence and befuddlement about what on earth is happening is endearing, and he’s a solid source of support for the Doctor and Ponds in this story. I’m glad that the show is making more of an effort to include LGBT characters this season, after not doing at all well in this regard in Season Five, and Canton was, I think, at this point the second-most screentime for an LGBT character, after Captain Jack. Given that for both Captain Jack and the soon-to-debut Vastra and Jenny, their sexuality is a defining element of their characterization, it’s sort of a nice bit of variation to have a character who is primarily known for his work in the monster-fighting plot, and whose sexuality emerges as a minor part of his background. However, while getting across Canton’s sexuality in just a line or two is a reasonable move on those grounds, the actual lines are completely misguided and deeply problematic. Nixon’s reaction that the moon is “far enough for now” just comes across as laughing at the sixties for being a homophobic time period, which is blatantly unfunny both because of the tremendous discrimination facing gay couples in the 1960s and because in many ways that discrimination hasn’t stopped. Nixon’s inability to accept such a relationship is the punchline here more than Canton himself is, but it’s a completely inappropriate piece of humor. Even the soundtrack emphasizes the jokey nature of the exchange, making this even more grating.

If you took out the five seconds devoted to Nixon’s reaction to Canton’s sexuality, you would have a very, very strong episode; I would put up with the brief return to the Pond Relationship Drama in exchange for all of the fascinating stuff that happens to them here. There’s just enough that annoys me, though, that I don’t love the episode as much as its stellar plot warrants. In a way, this makes this two-parter a fitting opener to the regular season, as Season Six is, in general, a giant mass of brilliance that wanders off into total stupidity at intervals. Overall, this two-parter is a mostly glorious, intermittently frustrating opening to a season that is full of both wonderful and terrible things. B+

The Curse of the Black Spot: It’s a shame that this utterly boring episode happens here, in what is otherwise a terrific string of episodes. A few questionable things in “Day of the Moon” aside, the string of eight episodes that starts with “Vincent and the Doctor” and ends with “The Doctor’s Wife” is full of glory—except for this episode, which manages to make pirates dull. I do like the setting for the episode, which is what keeps it out of my bottom five episodes of the reboot—watching the characters run around on a pirate ship is entertaining enough to lift the episode above the slog of unimaginative plotting that otherwise characterizes this story. Still, for an episode that has the automatic fun of featuring pirates on a pirate ship, this is a huge disappointment.

           There are some decent moments here; the beginning of the episode, in which pirates react with terror to extremely minor injuries, is relatively intriguing, and Lord Grantham from Downton Abbey does a good job as the lead pirate suddenly forced to take responsibility for the son he abandoned. The whole Siren story is just so inane, though, that the poignancy of the father/son narrative gets completely overshadowed. The Doctor interprets events incorrectly over and over again, which is an approach that appears to good effect in a number of other stories but is mostly just annoying here. The usually delightful Ponds are reduced to yet another silly love triangle, this time with the mysterious Siren: Rory spends a significant amount of time being spellbound by her beauty, leading to extremely tiresome jealousy on Amy’s part. The Siren herself is sort of a fragmented version of the sexy nurse cliché; she spends part of the episode nurturing sick and injured pirates, and the rest of it trying to sensually lure men to their deaths, or at least so it seems. Nothing makes me quite as angry as Ursula the paving slab in “Love and Monsters,” but this episode probably spends a larger amount of time on sexist nonsense than any other in the reboot.

           There are some nice pieces of continuity here with the rest of the season; I like that a season in which magic eye patches are a major plot point has a pirate episode in it, and the episode provides one of several installments in the season’s thematic focus on the inseparability of parents and their children. Otherwise, though, this is an awfully pointless episode. C-

#doctor who #reviews #season 6 #matt smith #karen gillan #arthur darvill #steven moffat #eleventh doctor #amy pond #rory williams #female doctor

[jansegers]

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virgin visit vitamin vocabulary voice vol. volume vowel vs. wale wall want war warm warmer wash waste water wave way we weak wealth wear weather web website weight well what when where whether which while white who whole whom whose why wide widely wild wilderness will window wisdom wise witch witchcraft with within without witness woman word work worker world worship would write writer writing wrong yam year yellow you young your

China, March and May made this list because china, march and may are on it and I didn't want to decide in favor of the common noun or the proper noun; all other proper nouns have been omitted (even the ten other months that met the criterium of appearing more then 6 times). #SimpleWikipedia #SimpleEnglish #wordlist #English #words #level1540 #Inli #nimi #selo1540

#SimpleWikipedia SimpleEnglish wordlist English words level1540 Inli nimi selo1540

[learnspanishfans]

Is “Learning from Mistakes” Really a Thing? Here’s What the Science Says…

“Did I really just say that?” That’s the question I was asking myself as I was chatting to my future Italian mother-in-law over dinner. I had meant to say è palese, “it’s obvious”, but I actually said è palloso, which means “it’s effing boring”. If you’ve been learning a language for long enough, you’ve probably made your fair share of gaffes like these. Most seasoned language learners have come to accept the idea of learning from mistakes. After all, you can’t learn a language without practising speaking, and you can’t practise speaking without dropping a few clangers along the way. Language learners often see mistakes as a necessary evil: something they’d rather avoid, but can learn to live with if they really have to. A bit like Italian mother-in-laws. But what if this is backwards? A look at the science of learning reveals there’s nothing evil about mistakes. Au contraire. Studies show that mistakes actually help us learn faster. It turns out that hazarding a guess significantly increases your chances of remembering something next time, even if you get it wrong. The question to ask, then, is not “how can I stop making mistakes?” but “how can I make more mistakes?” So let’s take a look at the science of mistakes and how they can boost our long-term memory. You’ll also learn how to make more mistakes so you can speed up your language learning. But first…

Why Are Language Learners So Afraid of Mistakes?

Remember that feeling of getting your school work back from your teacher, covered in red pen markings? If you feel anxious about making mistakes, you’re not alone. Right from our school days, most of us had it drilled into us that mistakes are bad and should be avoided at all costs. Many children learn to feel embarrassed about getting things wrong and carry this fear with them into their adult lives. Maybe this is you too? It’s human nature to interpret situations that test our abilities as black and white: if you get it right, it means you’re good at something and you feel pleased with yourself. If you make a mistake, it means you’re bad at something, and you feel ashamed. This is why language learning causes so much anxiety in adults. Many of us prefer to avoid situations where we risk getting things wrong: learning a language, where mistakes are part of the process, can make us feel like a complete idiot, or worse, a complete failure. I’ve come across so many language learners who dislike doing things that put our knowledge to the test, like talking to native speakers. When you speak with a native speaker, you’ll almost certainly make mistakes. But is it really better to keep your mouth shut to avoid embarrassment? This feeling of shame about mistakes is something I can relate to - and maybe you can too. But if you avoid situations where you know you’ll make mistakes, you’re missing out on a key strategy that’ll speed up your language learning.

The Science of Mistakes - and Why They Matter

Scientists have known for years that being tested on what you’ve been learning boosts long-term memory. Tons of studies show that people who test themselves remember information better compared to people who spend the same amount of time simply learning stuff. This effect, known as the testing effect, shows that trying to retrieve something you’ve learned - that feeling of racking your brain for a word or an answer - helps you commit it to long-term memory. In one study, a group who got tested on what they’d learned remembered 21% more than a group who simply read the same information lots of times. This difference occurred despite the fact that the reading group had seen the information over four times more than the group who were tested: the readers had seen the information 14.2 times, while the testers had only seen it 3.4 times. This means that by putting yourself in situations where you have to try and bring to mind what you’ve learned, you can dramatically reduce the number of times you need to repeat something before it sinks in. If the word “test” brings to mind dusty grammar books or stressful language exams, know that it doesn’t have to be this way. Think about the process of learning a language for a moment. It provides tons of natural opportunities to test yourself. The most important - for the majority of us - is speaking. When you practise speaking, you’re constantly trying to recall what you’ve learned. Every time you rack your brain for a word, or a bit of grammar, the act of trying to bring it to mind will help you remember it better next time. But what happens when you get it wrong? Turns out you get a memory boost for mistakes. A study by Potts and Shanks (2014) shows that when people hazard a guess, make a mistake and get feedback on the right answer, they’re significantly more likely to remember the information compared to when they don’t guess. And what about those times when you literally have no idea? This is where it gets interesting. The same study showed that even if you make a random guess that you know is wrong, you still remember the right answer better next time. This means that learning by making mistakes, right from the beginning, can help you remember more. It doesn’t matter if you get it right or wrong. If you want to speed up learning, all you have to do is give it a go.

Why “Feel the Burn!” is Good Advice

Even more surprising is that people don’t realise how much they’re learning from their mistakes. Studies show that the people who learned by reading information several times felt more confident about their knowledge, compared to the people who were tested on what they’d learned. In other words, mistakes can make you feel like you're learning less, when you're actually learning more. Which leads to a funny paradox: avoid situations where you’re likely to make mistakes, and you’ll feel more confident but perform worse. By contrast, put yourself out there and risk screwing up, and you’ll feel less confident, but perform better in the long run. Most language learners want to study more before they have real conversations. That way, they believe, they won’t make as many mistakes. But science shows us that the best way to stop making mistakes is to get out there and make more of them.

Learning from Mistakes: How to Make More Mistakes - and Feel Good About Them

I hope you’re feeling ready to dive in and start learning from mistakes. Here’s a step-by-step process you can follow to do that, and have fun at the same time.

Step 1: Change Your Goal

Most of us judge our success with the question: “how much am I doing right?” But the key to learning doesn’t lie in getting stuff right, it lies in giving it a go. So change your goal. Stop asking yourself “did I get that right?” and instead ask yourself “did I give it a go?” If your answer to the latter question is yes, you’ve just learned something and taken another small step towards fluency. You’ve already won, whether you got it right or not.

Step 2: Aim to Fail

America’s youngest self-made female billionaire, Sara Blakely explains how over dinner, her father would ask “what did you fail at today?”. By encouraging failure, her father helped her associate a lack of mistakes with a lack of trying: if you’re always getting it right, you’re not pushing yourself enough. Start asking yourself “did I make enough mistakes today?”. If you aim to make as many mistakes as possible, you’ll appreciate them for what they are: a sign that you’re pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and making progress. By framing mistakes in a positive way, you’ll stop being afraid of them. When you’re no longer afraid of mistakes, you’ll be unstoppable.

Step 3: Start Guessing!

When you’re not 100% sure about a word or a grammatical structure, do you guess anyway? You should! You’ll be right (or very close) more often than you think. When it comes to talking to native speakers, you might worry that it could confuse matters if you just start throwing out stuff that you’re not sure about. To keep communication running smoothly, I find it handy to learn a “disclaimer phrase” like: I’m not sure if you say it like this but…. Then you can get feedback by asking: Is that right? Do you say it like that?”

Step 4: Ask Native Speakers to Correct You

Native speakers usually prefer not to correct your mistakes as they’re worried about seeming rude. But if you’re going to make mistakes, it’s important to get feedback from native speakers so that you can learn from them. Ask natives to correct you, and do everything you can to make sure they feel comfortable doing so. Show them you appreciate it: smile, say thank you, and keep telling them how useful their corrections are so they don’t have to worry about offending you.

Step 5: Bring Your Mistakes Home

Embracing failure doesn’t just apply when you’re speaking. It applies to studying at home too. When you’re writing something or answering questions in apps/textbooks/audio courses, it’s easy to worry about getting it wrong. But remember why you’re doing these activities in the first place. It’s not to prove that you’re awesome by getting everything right. The idea is to learn from your mistakes. If you’re not making enough, it means the activities you’re choosing are way too easy. Instead of getting down on yourself, see each mistake as a little win. You just found a gap in your knowledge, and you’re now more likely to get it right next time.

Step 6: Don’t Be Afraid to Laugh!

So you like the idea of seeing mistakes in a positive light, but you’re still scared of making a fool of yourself with native speakers. The truth is, sometimes you will make silly mistakes and people will laugh. But 99% of people are laughing with you, not at you. And no one will think you’re an idiot because of it! The other 1% aren’t worth your time anyway. Think about it, when you speak to a non-native speaker in your own language, how do you feel when they make a mistake? You might find it funny or endearing, but do you judge them because of it? Of course not. You understand that it’s all part of the learning process. On the flip side, when it’s you who’s the learner, others will understand that too. I've brightened up a lot of people's days with some brilliant mistakes over the years. Here are a couple of my favourites:

While talking to Italian friends about British food, I tried to explain "mushy peas" - a sort of pea puree that we Brits eat with fish and chips. But I accidentally said "penis purée" (purè di pisello) instead of "pea purée" (purè di piselli). We all laughed until we cried.

When a French guy - a friend of a friend I'd just met - asked me where I was from, I tried to say "I was born in London" (je suis née à Londres), but what I actually said was "I am naked in London" (je suis nue à Londres). Despite my initial embarrassment, it turned out to be a brilliant ice-breaker. We had a good laugh about it and carried on chatting.

When you can laugh at yourself, mistakes are a great opportunity to have fun with native speakers. And having fun with native speakers is always good for your language skills. Even when you say the f-word to your mother-in-law.

Your Turn

What's the most embarrassing mistake you've made in your language learning? Let me know in the comments.

The post Is “Learning from Mistakes” Really a Thing? Here’s What the Science Says… appeared first on Fluent in 3 months - Language Hacking and Travel Tips.

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