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albertasunrise · 3 years

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Chance - Chapter 5

Warnings: Angst, talk of drug use, overdose.

Pairings: Frankie Morales/ Reader

The trip seems to fly by, every day filled with a different activity that seemed to fill little Sophia with complete joy. You and Frankie couldn’t get enough of each other, discovering each other’s bodies and discovering exactly what makes the two of you sing. It was your last night at the cabin and the four of you decided the best way to spend it was sitting around the fire with a beer in hand, reminiscing about your youth or in their case, their days serving.

‘So what made you quit?’ You ask them all, noting that they’re all still young enough to serve.

‘When they kicked Fish out for his Coke habit... We're a team so we quit.’ States Benny, taking a swig of his beer.

‘Coke habit?’ Your expression drops as you pull yourself away from the man in question ‘What Coke habit?’

‘It wasn’t really a habit-’

‘Benny shut the fuck up.’ Spits Will ‘You’ve done enough damage.’

‘Frankie?’

‘I went through a pretty low patch a little while back.’ He confesses, scrubbing a hand over his face ‘My ex was into it and promised it would take the edge off my PTSD and it did... for a little while. Then I got busted and they revoked my licence and I realised that I needed to get my life on track. I told her that she needed to quit it, finding out we were pregnant kinda helped with that. When Fia was born and Lexi left I had to man up and so I got my licence back and I haven’t touched the shit since.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’

‘I didn’t want you to think less of me.’ He looks at you with a sad expression as he forms his next words carefully ‘You’ve been the best thing to happen to me since Fia was born. If I lost you I don’t think I’d be able to cope.’

‘Don’t put that sort of pressure on my Francisco.’ You snap, standing and swiftly entering the kitchen.

You could feel your tears threatening to spill as you fought hard not to panic. You’d not been completely honest to the boys when you’d said that you had no backstories. You had one. One that still haunted you to this day. Stepping outside with a fresh beer in hand the boys all look at you but you look at Frankie, his expression breaking your heart and you know you need to come clean. You sit down on one of the free chairs and stare into the fire, carefully constructing your story in the hopes it would bring the boys clarity regarding your reaction to Frankie’s confession.

‘I was in a serious relationship about 10 years ago.’ You start, already feeling your voice wobbling as you speak ‘He was everything to me. We were happily planning our wedding, excited for the future. He worked in insurance which was a demanding job but he always seemed to be full of energy. Turns out he had a secret coping mechanism that he had managed to keep hidden from me. So well hidden in fact that I didn’t know about it until he was having a fit on the floor as he suffered from a cocaine overdose.’

You paused for a few moments as you take a long swig of your beer, noting the new tension in the air as they waited for you to finish your story.

‘I did everything I could for him but he had a heart attack. They weren’t able to revive him.’ You let out a sob then, catching the way Frankie is looking at you and so you return his gaze ‘I can’t go through that again.’ You shake your head as you let out a shaky breath ‘I just can’t Frankie.’

‘You won’t.’ He promises, his eyes pleading for you to believe him ‘I never did it heavily. It was just an occasional fix when things got bad. Now I have Sophia I don’t need it. Now I have you.’

‘He’s been clean for over a year Doc.’ Will pipes up, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze ‘You were brave to tell us about this. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through but it won’t happen with Frankie.’

‘It won’t Hermosa.’ He confirms ‘I love you too much to ever risk hurting you like that.’

Your mouth drops open as you process what he’d just said to you. He loves you. Until now, those words had not been uttered by either of you, even if you both felt that way about each other. You both figured it was too soon. You’d only been together a few months but you couldn’t deny that you’d fallen head over heels for this man.

‘Shit... Sorry, I-’

‘I love you too.’ You reply, smiling at him as you watch the anxiety in his face melt away.

That night was the most passionate sex the two of you ever had. He worshipped every inch of you as he tried to make you feel how much he loved you. You don’t think anyone has ever made love to you like that and with every kiss and thrust of his hips, you felt your worries fade into nothing. The drive back home was a long one, you still had a few days off so Frankie asked you to stay a few more days, not wanting your time together to end and of course you agreed.

‘Can you get that baby?’ Asks Frankie upon hearing the doorbell go.

Carrying Sophia in your arms you make your way to the front door, chuckling when she tries to tug on your bottom lip. Opening the door you are greeted by a face that you recognise from group pictures but never expected to see in person.

‘Is Frankie here?’ She asks, her voices dripping in spite.

‘He is.’ You reply.

Sophia starts to get fussy and you turn your attention to her, rocking her in your arms as her eyes start to fill with tears.

‘Here give her to me.’

‘No.’ You suddenly feel very protective of the infant in your arms.

‘Who is it, baby?’ Frankie asks as he comes up beside you, his jaw dropping at who he sees ‘What are you doing here Lexi?’

‘I came for my daughter.’ She replies, eyes burning holes into you.

‘You what?’

‘She’s my daughter Frankie.’ She starts, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

‘You gave up the right to call her that when you walked out on us.’ He spits, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you and his baby closer.

‘Who’s this bitch?’ She growls, pointing to you with her chin ‘Found a replacement quickly.’

‘A replacement?’ You yell, feeling your anger bubbling inside you.

‘Lexi please go.’ He says as he gives your waist a small squeeze.

‘Fine.’ She spits, glaring at you both ‘You haven’t seen the last of me. I will get her back.’

It had been two weeks since Frankie’s ex had turned up at his door. Since then you’d not heard or seen from her but there was always a worry bubbling in the background about what she was planning. You had promised Frankie that if she tried to fight for custody you would do whatever you could to help him, the boys also vowing the same thing. Your shift today had been relatively uneventful, the most serious injury being a sex-related one that you’d rather forget about. You can’t help but watch the clock, excited to see Frankie and the baby. After coming back from your trip you’d more or less ended up staying permanently, he’d gifted you a key the day before you’d gone back to work and gradually your stuff had migrated.

‘Any plans tonight with lover boy?’ Ask Sophie as she gives you a friendly nudge with her elbow and a wink.

‘We both have the day off tomorrow so we were planning on take-out and a Star Wars marathon.’

‘You two are so perfect for each other.’ She chuckles ‘Well have fun!’

You finish up your paperwork and slip into your casual clothes. You practically sprint to your car, not wanting to wait any longer than you had to to get back to your perfect little family waiting for you at home. The universe is obviously on your side as you drive, every light turning green as you approach it and before long you’re pulling up onto Frankie’s drive. Your expression becomes confused as you see that the front door is open but you shrug and grab your bag, stepping quickly towards the house.

‘Baby I’m home.’ You announce.

Looking around you see two mugs on the coffee table and you try and remember if you had left yours out this morning.

‘Frankie?’ You raise your voice a little louder as you walk into the kitchen and find that he’s not there ‘Baby you here?’

You look in the garden but he’s still nowhere to be seen. A gnawing feeling starts to form in the pit of your stomach as you head towards the bedrooms, checking his room and seeing that that room is empty also.

‘Frankie?’

That’s when you hear it. A faint groaning coming from Sophia’s bedroom. Pushing the door open you are hit with a sense of Deja Vu when you see Frankie laying on the ground, his eyes rolling around in their sockets as his body wriggled on the floor. You knew exactly what this was.

‘Frankie?’ You drop to his side, taking his pulse and finding it racing beneath your fingertips ‘Frankie how much did you take?’

‘Lexi.’ Was his reply, his eyes growing wider as his heart rate picked up more.

‘What about her?’ It comes out angrier than you meant it to.

‘She... she...’

‘She what?’

He doesn’t answer, just starts to look around the room in a daze. You pull out your phone, dialling for an ambulance whilst trying to keep your anger at bay. He’s promised. Once you’d gotten off of the phone with the emergency services you ring Will, the fight to keep your anger at bay becoming harder by the second.

'Hey Doc, what's up?'

‘Frankie’s OD’d.’

‘He’s what?’ Comes the older Miller’s voice down the phone.

‘I found him on the floor of Sophia’s room.’

‘Shit. Is the baby okay?’

‘Yeah she’s-’ You stop dead when you notice her cot is empty, your heart starts to race as you start to put the pieces together.

‘You still there Doc?’

‘She’s gone, Will.’ You sob ‘Fuck he said Lexi’s name, I think he was trying to tell me she’d taken her.’ You pause and then it hits you ‘Shit I think she drugged him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I found two mugs on the coffee table when I walked in. She must have come round to try and sweet talk him and slipped some coke into his coffee.’ You look down at Frankie whose whole body has gone rigid ‘No... no no shit no!.’

He lets out a scream as his body starts to convulse. Eye’s rolling back into his skull. You can hear Will shouting at you down the phone but you can’t reply. You can’t move. You sit there frozen to the spot as you watch history repeat itself with Frankie. This couldn’t be happening again.

Chapter 6

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #ben miller #garrett hedlund fanfiction #garrett hedlund #will miller #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam

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marvelousbirthdays · 6 years

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March 3 - Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis or Victor Creed/Darcy Lewis, something fluffy/smutty maybe with prompt "What a nice little sound, I think I'll bite there again." for sionnachoiche3

Written by @meilan-firaga

Darcy hadn’t exactly planned for impromptu, middle-of-the-woods ravishment when she’d picked out her underwear that morning. And by “picked out,” of course, she actually meant “summoned from the depths of the drawer where panties that should have been tossed years ago lived.” Actually, she wasn’t even sure she’d brought the kind of panties one would pick out with her when she’d packed for Jane’s little “research excursion”--also known as Operation Get Over Thor By the Power of SCIENCE!

Seriously, the town they were in was so remote that you had a better chance of running into a rampaging moose than an eligible bachelor. The good panties didn’t deserve to be brought so far only to suffer that kind of neglect. Which was a damn shame because back home she had quite the killer collection for a perpetual intern with pop tarts for a salary.

“I feel as though I might not have your complete attention, soulmate.”

Right. That guy. The woods and the ravishing.

There had been a bit of an incident.

Bad guys came for Jane and the Research. Darcy made a smartass remark. One bad guy pretty much instantly turned on the other bad guys with brutal efficiency, snarked out some words that just so happened to be the ones printed across her entire underboob, and promptly stole Darcy away to the romantic undergrowth of the conveniently nearby forest. They’d been thoroughly making out (which she was absolutely not going to be ashamed about because “Go, Universe!” her soulmate was a fox) and had just started to make with the neck kissing and wandering of hands beneath clothing when the Underwear Conundrum began to gnaw at the back of her mind.

“I had thought that your sharp tongue and forceful delivery during the fight might mean my soulmate wasn’t some empty-headed wilting flower, but I’m starting to think I got my hopes up.” His voice had been deep and rumbling from the get-go, but it suddenly held the beginnings of an angry growl. She didn’t know whether to quake with fear or an awkwardly timed giggle. “I’ll ask again: Where are your thoughts, Darcy?”

“First off, you didn’t actually ask that,” she snorted, reaching up to run one hand over his short crop of hair before pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “Take a chill pill, my dude.” She shifted beneath him until she managed to dislodge the pinecone that was becoming intimately acquainted with the lower portion of her spine. “I’m not ignoring you or anything. Well, not on purpose, anyway. My anxiety brain is just picking a bad time to say hello.”

Her soulmate sat back on his heels and quirked his head to one side in a way that was surprisingly reminiscent of a cocker spaniel. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he absently ran his hand from her knee to her hip, squeezing gently when he reached the top of her thigh. The tips of his--nails? Claws? Whatever.--caught just slightly on the fabric of her leggings. “Are you anxious because I arrived with men who probably would have killed you?” he asked with a frown. His hand made the trip back to her knee and up to her hip once more, and Darcy started to suspect that the action might become a nervous habit. “Because I thought I took care of that problem.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow and let out another snort. Rapid murder of would-be kidnappers had definitely solved the immediate problem when they met, but she really hoped he wasn’t going to try that tactic for every issue they encountered. “No, we’re cool on that,” she assured him, tugging on his shirt until he leaned down enough for her to drape her wrists over his shoulders. He was watching her intently--a predator focused on his prey even outside of a fight--and another thought popped into her head and out of her mouth before she could stop it. “You know my name, but I never got yours.”

Surprise briefly lit his hazel eyes before he folded down over her like a cat settling into a particularly warm patch of sunlight. “It’s Victor,” he rumbled against her lips. “Victor Creed.”

“Victor,” Darcy breathed, testing the sound just before he fused his mouth to hers once more. The name was familiar in a way that said she’d probably read it in all those S.H.I.E.L.D. files that had hit the web, but she had better things to focus on. Like the way he’d already learned that tugging her bottom lip between his teeth would make her hips rock against his own. Or how she’d already figured out that dragging her nails across his shoulder blades even over his shirt would pull a hungry growl from his throat.

“Does that resolve the anxiety?” he inquired in a throaty rasp as he started to nibble his way from her jaw to her shoulder.

In spite of her efforts to focus on the effect his teeth, tongue, and stubble were having on her lady parts, an image of threadbare cotton with useless elastic rudely shoved itself to the forefront of her mind. There might have been holes. Possibly a faded My Little Pony print.

“No,” she whined, “this bitch doesn’t go away that easily.” With a frustrated groan she dropped her arms from around him, pushed her glasses into her hair, and scrubbed both hands over her eyes. She felt him push away from her, possibly sitting back on his heels again. “Look, this has nothing to do with you and who you are and the things you’ve done because, I mean, look at you! You’re gorgeous and growly and made of muscles, which is pretty much exactly the type of soulmate I always wanted to have and yeah it might be weird that I’m ready to jump on that pony right out of the gate when we met under weird ass circumstances but I’ve never been the type to think I was going to make my soulmate wait because Hello! Sex is awesome and again with the you being a pretty batch of sexy beast in a Darcy-approved package and I’ve always had this thing for bad boys and that’s definitely a bonus but here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure I’m wearing panties I’ve had since high school that definitely don’t match the two sports bras I’ve got on to tame the girls--one’s pink and the other’s about the same color as a yellow highlighter--and I don’t think I’ve shaved in a month and my brain keeps insisting that the second you get me naked you’re going to run away screaming.” Darcy finished on a deep, ragged breath with her hands pressed to her eyes. If she didn’t look at him she wouldn’t actively see him reject her.

“Is that all?” Victor asked mildly, shifting again to lie more fully against her. Darcy flung her hands away in surprise as his hips settled between her thighs and definitive evidence that her little freak out hadn’t diminished his interest in the slightest pressed against her. He was propped up with his elbows resting on either side of her head, muscular arms holding the majority of his weight so the rest of his body could lie flush against her own. He brushed one hand over her hair and settled her glasses back on her nose before he continued, a soft smile on his face that she suspected might not be a familiar expression.

“First of all, I don’t care about what you wear or if anything matches.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m told I’m a bit old fashioned when it comes to body hair, so as long as you’re comfortable with it I’m not going to care about shaving either.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I will always remember the day you were born and your words appeared on my skin because it was the day I realized that I might not be meant to spend my life alone.” The other cheek now.. “I promised myself that the life I’ve been living would end the day I met you, and I intend to keep that promise. I’m yours until you’re through with me.”

The kiss Victor placed on her lips next was gentle--almost chaste, even--and didn’t last more than a few heartbeats before he raised his head. “Now,” he insisted, winking at her before he continued. “The way I see it we’ve got two options. We can go back to town and wait for all this until you’ve had time to pamper yourself to your heart’s content. I’ll even buy you whatever undergarments you want. Or…” He trailed off and flashed her a grin that pretty much convinced her that he was going to be trouble. “Or I can promise not to look while I rip the panties you’re so worried about off and toss them in the bushes. Then we can get back to business.” To cap off the whole wonderful speech he bit his bottom lip and gave her a once over that could have melted those panties off her completely.

“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” Darcy asked, internally doing a victory dance at the sultry tone she could hear in her own voice.

Victor huffed a laugh and gave her a quick, teasing kiss. “I always keep my promises.” He rocked his hips against hers again, providing the most delicious type of friction.

“Option 2, then, but don’t ruin my leggings. I like these.”

“Excellent,” he purred. He delivered another kiss--this one anything but chaste--then made his way across her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear. “Hold down your top,” he rumbled, pausing to gently nip her earlobe before sitting back on his haunches once more. He pulled off her boots and socks before peeling the leggings down, his eyes never once leaving hers.

This was not the first time that a man had gotten it into his head to rip off Darcy’s panties--or a woman, actually; there was that interesting night with a lady firefighter that she was never going to forget--so she’d prepared herself for the pain of having cloth pulled tight over particularly sensitive places. Instead, both of Victor’s hands slid up her thighs (knee to hips, totally some type of tic), worked their way beneath the bottom hem of her panties, and shredded the fabric. His nails sliced cleanly through what remained of the cotton and elastic in seconds. He tugged them off her and tossed them over his shoulder without a glance, then set about letting his lips follow that knee-to-hip path but along the inside of her thigh. There was no anxiety left in Darcy’s mind when his teeth sank into her skin just short of the spot where her leg met her torso and she let out a sound that couldn’t be called anything but a mewl of want.

“What a nice little sound,” Victor growled, his breath ghosting over the spot where she really wanted him to put that sinful mouth. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

And he did.

And by the time they’d picked themselves off the forest floor to head back into town--hand in hand--Darcy didn’t even care if he saw the scrap of cotton she swiped out of the bushes so they wouldn’t litter.

#tasertooth #fuckyeahdarcylewis

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chocolate-brownies · 5 years

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There’s a difference between a period of bad days, which we’ve all encountered, and serious burnout. Burnout is something that creeps up on you. Imagine a leak in your bathroom pipe that has been dripping unassumingly behind the walls for months or even years. One day, the pressure becomes too much, the pipe ruptures, and that water comes bursting through the walls with devastating results.

It’s when every day seems riddled with strife and anxiety until you reach that tipping point where all things seem futile and you find yourself at the point of giving up. To put it in simpler terms: Burnout is a bad day every day.

Look, bad days happen to everyone, and they can certainly snowball. A bad day can become a bad week. A few bad weeks can lead to a bad month. What makes a bad day (or collection of days) differ from burnout, however, is that you know in your heart you can bounce back. Even in these tough patches, you can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, and you can resume (albeit not always easily) your life and still derive enjoyment from it.

Genuine burnout leads to an inability to successfully function on a personal, social and professional level. It steals hope. It squashes motivation. It, quite literally, sucks the life out of you.

Burnout is not so kind. Genuine burnout leads to an inability to successfully function on a personal, social and professional level. It steals hope. It squashes motivation. It, quite literally, sucks the life out of you.

So, how do you know if you’re totally burnt or, perhaps, getting close? There are three telltale symptoms that almost all burnout sufferers find themselves facing:

Three Telltale Signs of Burnout

1. Emotional and physical exhaustion: People with burnout usually describe experiencing a complete lack of energy that manifests itself physically. Some are even diagnosed by their doctors with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Regardless, this troubled state results in a debilitating feeling of dread for what the day will bring, even on days when no major work or personal responsibilities loom. Basic tasks and, sadly, even things that would normally provide joy become chores. Surprisingly, though exhausted, people with burnout often have trouble sleeping to the point they develop chronic insomnia. This inability to rest and recharge makes it harder to concentrate and focus, which eventually shows up in physical forms, such as panic attacks, chest pain, trouble breathing, migraines and stomach pains. These symptoms become so severe and disruptive that it becomes impossible to cope with the challenges (and even pleasures) of daily life.

2. Detachment and cynicism: Those suffering from burnout tend to become perpetual pessimists. They go well beyond seeing the glass as half empty. For them, the glass is totally empty and there’s zero reason to try and fill it. Feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and an inability to accept consolation from others or connect to the empathy offered by others is commonplace. They retreat into themselves and resist socializing. Eventually, fueled by a desire to shut everyone out, they move to a state of total isolation and justify their retreat with a cynical approach to life, family, friends, work, you name it. The feeling of hopelessness transitions into one of helplessness and creates a default response to every suggestion in the vein of “what’s the damn point anyway”.

3. Feelings of self-doubt and ineffectiveness, lack of accomplishment: Sometimes people experiencing burnout are still capable of going through the motions. They still make it to the office. They still get the job done. They still join the family for dinner and handle the household duties. However, they do it in an almost robotic manner. There is no zest, no pleasure, and, therefore, performance suffers. They find ordinary tasks take longer. They procrastinate and invent excuses as to why they’re less effective. They get frustrated at things that were once easy and now seem overwhelming. Sure, they’re physically present and on some level functioning. But emotionally and mentally, they’re a shell of their former selves and are keenly aware of their inadequacy. This, as you can imagine, only perpetuates those feelings of exhaustion and detachment.

Now before you freak out and come to the immediate conclusion that you’re suffering from all the above, relax and take a breath.

We have all experienced one or more of the signs of burnout in our lives. In fact, they seem so darn familiar to us because in various degrees they are simply a part of dealing with everyday life and its stresses. Remember, the difference between a difficult period and burnout is a matter of a few degrees, a few drops from that leaky pipe behind the wall.

Maybe you’re having a bad stretch right now? That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re burnt out. I’d like to share a few stories from my own life that might resonate and offer up a few tips that can help you recognize and even avoid serious burnout.

A Personal Story About Burnout

My first experience with the creeping onset of burnout happened during the separation period in my first marriage. My ex-husband and I were still cohabitating with my toddler son while the divorce was being finalized. I was working full-time, active in my community, weathering a long commute to work and handling a pretty high-stress job. On top of this, I was trying to keep some sense of normalcy and civility in the home so my son would enjoy a healthy and nurturing environment. As you can imagine, this wasn’t easy while going through such a tense and uncomfortable situation. I found myself not eating right. I stopped meditating (something I swore I’d never do). I was going at an unsustainable pace and began cutting myself off from the friends and family who once filled me with so much joy.

Well, one morning I woke up to find that I could not see. I was completely blind in both eyes. My entire field of vision was nothing more than piercing white. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was experiencing what’s called a “white out”. What I did know in that moment was abject fear of never seeing my son again. After many exams, diagnostic tests and doctor visits, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune condition called Uveitis. My doctors were eventually able to treat the symptoms and I regained my vision.

Still, it took losing my eyesight for me to finally acknowledge the fact that I was burning out.

However, here is what I learned since my diagnosis 13 years ago and as I’ve undergone continuous treatment: the onset of the disease was likely triggered by a prolonged period of stress (and eventual burnout). Autoimmune conditions are prone to flaring up with stress. In fact, in the years immediately following my diagnosis, every time I stressed out I would flare up and partially lose my eyesight again. It got to a point where I knew I needed to regain control of my lifestyle, diet, mindset, and surroundings if I wanted to ensure I could gaze upon my son’s beautiful face as he grew up. Fortunately, with the support of great friends and family and a return to my meditation practice, I was able to make real changes in my life. Still, it took losing my eyesight for me to finally acknowledge the fact that I was burning out.

Recognizing Early Signs of Burnout

If you learn to recognize the onset of burnout, you can minimize the effects and possibly prevent it: The second experience of burnout I’ll share happened in 2016 when I was the president of a mid-sized private firm with a few thousand employees. I was commuting close to three hours per day, was very involved in my son’s school and extracurricular activities, plus I had ramped up my political activism to campaign for the candidates and causes I held dear. Fortunately for me, unlike my brush with burnout over a decade earlier, this time I was in a wonderful marriage that was supportive and loving. I had a daily meditation practice bolstered by an expansive and caring meditation community. I was far more in tune with my body and mindful of what it was trying to tell me. I first noticed the change at work. I began feeling unmotivated and tasks that used to take me a few hours were suddenly difficult to complete. At the end of each day, I left the office feeling as though I’d accomplished nothing significant.

I started to dread Sunday evenings and began to feel physically ill driving into the office on Monday morning thinking of the week ahead of me.

During evenings at home and on weekends, I would feel zapped of energy and any desire to do the things that once gave me joy. I started to dread Sunday evenings and began to feel physically ill driving into the office on Monday morning thinking of the week ahead of me. I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to take a two-week vacation in the summer with my family and head deep into nature. On the evening before my flight back to reality, after two-weeks of decompression, deep thought and spending the week reconnecting with myself and my family, I got so violently ill that I spent the entire night in the hotel bathroom just thinking about having to go back to my “old life.” I recognized that I was on the fringe of experiencing burnout and that my priorities in life were taking a backseat to a well-paying job.

I was ready to make a change, and, with the support of family and friends, decided to resign from my position, take a chance at fulfilling my dream of being a mindfulness teacher, and relish in the last few years that my son would still be at home before heading off to college. I resisted the black hole of burnout by recognizing it, knowing what the consequences would be if I got sucked in, and averting them by listening to my heart, my body and my mind.

How to Navigate Your Way out of Burnout

Speaking from my own experience, I highly recommend two things.

Commit to a daily meditation practice of at least 10 minutes, twice per day. This will help you reduce daily stress, become more in tune with your emotions, and hear what your heart, mind and body are telling you. Second, if you notice the signs of burnout are particularly persistent and troublesome, take at least two consecutive days off to detach from work, family and other stressors (FYI, this is where your self-care community can step up to help you make that happen!). One of my non-negotiable habits is my meditation practice. When I get quiet, everything gets really loud – my mind, my body, my gut, intuition. Each part of me begins to give me feedback in these moments of silence and solitude. I would strongly recommend making meditation a cornerstone practice in your life, one that you can lean on in difficult and overwhelming times.

Take time for yourself when you can. This was my saving grace. If possible, find a place where you can’t do any work, take work-related calls or even check emails or texts. If being in nature brings you peace, immerse yourself in it. If you need a break from your family, find a way to make it happen. Sleep, nourish yourself with healthy food, read books or listen to podcasts, or maybe, don’t do a damn thing. If after those few days you don’t feel the weight lifted and are still dreading what lies ahead the next day, you very well might be suffering from burnout. If so, ask yourself if you’ve ever felt this way before; see if you can understand what led you to this point, and try to determine how long you’ve been feeling this way. Look to the past to understand if it’s just stress or if it may be more than that. If you think it may be burnout, or, even if you aren’t quite sure, it may be time to seek professional help, or, at the very least reach out to discuss your concerns with your inner circle.

It’s also important to remember that communities of care work both ways. There are others in your group who may be experiencing burnout. This is where you can step up. Check-in and connect with a friend you haven’t seen around in a while. Who knows, you just might be the one able to help fix that leaky pipe before it bursts.

And if I can offer one take-away, it’s this: Burnout doesn’t make you weak. It is possible to bounce back from burnout but you will need the help of others. You will need to commit to big changes but change, as you know, only needs to be begin with one step.

The post Is It a Bad Day or Is it Burnout ? appeared first on Mindful.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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stuffminusthings · 6 years

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A Prologue:

“So when it feels like you're on PCP or whatever”

“LSD or Mushrooms” I correct her. A warning light goes off in my head. You don't confuse PCP with anything, especially if you work in a NeuroPsych Unit.

I mistake the lack of expression through most of our conversation as professionalism. The other Doctors smile or frown depending on how they feel about what I say. Doctors aren't supposed to share their personal opinions with you, so I let the narcotic mistake slide. Months after this, I begin to recognize that people hide their confusion by keeping a blank face. But I'm not processing blank faces very well yet.

I'm talking to Dr.(NAME) about my experiences after severing my brain into pieces in a car accident a few months before, and I am trying to explain that I'm sick of doctors, but also that I need to work. I'm describing my experience with psilocybin to illustrate my over reactions to situations. My biggest problems in life come from dealing with my employer, an overly assertive midwestern-mother-type woman who currently is in the act of embezzling the community to pay her children. She has no idea how to do her actual job and needs my advice for every move, but she can't admit to that because then she might get caught. She's spent months talking poorly about me in preparation for her preservation and people have been saying things.

Eventually I tell Dr.(NAME) I don't look like myself, my hair, my dress, everything is a product of being forced into it at work. I hate myself. I hate the way I look.

She tells me she can't tell me to quit my job, but my boss sounds difficult to work for.

I quit my job the next week and when I tell Dr. (NAME) I did, therapy is over. I feel relieved. My insurance case manager is there and when she hear's I quit my job she gives me a hug. All of this just sounds crazy and doesn't directly impact anyone I tell, so it isn't actually happening. This is going on at around the same time as the Nassar case, and I'm starting to wonder if just sweeping things under the rug is a Michigan thing.

I have some toys I made for fun, and they're really good, so my family encourages me to give it the old college try.

I jump full force into it contacting every person I've ever met regardless of the time elapsed between our last meeting and void of context. Less than six months after separating the loaves of your brain, you're incredibly liable to act like a crazy person. Especially when you are told that you've had a miraculous recovery and should seize the day.

I'm tired of starting my story and not finishing it. I'm tired of only being the clips and phrases people know of me at best. As if I remain in every act the same as the last, as if because for a moment our perspectives ran parallel it's possible to predict my path. But if I've learned anything it's that people are at their furthest standing next to each other, where skin gets in the way of shared ideas.

When I started it didn't matter where I finished as long as I was starting something else. At the advice of my parents I started out by getting ready for both college and the olympics in the fourth grade. In a world of child televangelist superstars, capri suns, and Little Big League, you immediately separate yourself from the people sitting next to you just by trying to get to anything more than recess. The other fourth graders might not understand your goals, but they just aren't gonna be ready for college or the Olympics. The other kids didn't have goals as good as mine, I was told, so I was justified in being different.

By the time we left the only remnants of the farm fields were the irrigation ditches running through the desert, watering something, somewhere. I only see them now in flashes interrupting my day.

“You put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle. You put into a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow, or it can crash.

Be water, my friend.”

And then a grin.

The grin Bruce Lee made in grainy monochrome video after that statement instantly became my goal. Well, my goal was to be the best, and at the time I thought his grin was because he knew he could beat anybody in combat. A sure sign of being the best. I was watching him on home video at the time because I wanted to be an olympic wrestler. A gold medalist at that. The best. I used to wear a hat that said “Future 5X Olympic Champ” with dozens of Safety Pins, one for each time I pinned an opponent in a match. I was a tween proudly displaying war headdress, with a future reign of dominance spanning two decades at least.

Lee didn't say be the best. He said be water.

At half the size of adults, children use megalomania to climb to eye-level. All Bruce Lee meant to me was victory, at the time, I didn't even know if he was alive or dead. I did know that I was a wrestler, and beating all of my opponents, I thought, would also give me that smile.

That smile was confidence. As a new kid in an ocean of new kids in Arizona, confidence is all any of us were looking for. I was sure anybody who was the best had confidence.

It was the '90's and cross-training was just being introduced into the mainstream vocabulary. For me cross-training meant learning how to kick people's asses in any sport. Not getting my ass kicked meant a lot of confidence. Wrestling was supposed to be the best sport, or that's what every wrestling coach kept saying. Being the best at the best sport meant all the confidence in the world. Too busy to meet anybody that didn't wrestle, I didn't get a lot of variety. As a kid all I had to go from was what I heard from others, and cross-training lead me to Lee.

Be water, my friend.

I latched onto his concept that the ultimate fighting style was no style because, at the time, I was cross-training as a white-belt Judo, but an Arizona state champion wrestler . I kicked ass in the beginner judo category in my first tournament. I didn't even know the proper way to start a match, but I knew ippon got the win. Talk about confidence.

Talk about judo people not liking me immediately.

Being able to pick battles (wrestling) inside of battles (judo) gave me a distinct advantage simply because I knew how to move my body according to another rule book.

I didn't know it at the time, but this was my first experience with the full effects of the forces of water crashing.

Rock. Paper. Scissors. Hurricane Andrew.

I felt the effects of this rule book for the first time in the big home town wrestling match between two of the high schools in my city. I'm actually supposed to be attending the third, but the wrestling program is... better... so I go by two high schools on my way to the third. These sorts of activities are frowned upon, but my family has found all of the right loop holes, and I just wanted to be the best wrestler.

It's the 00's. Loopholes are in. We just got around Y2K with a Patch.

While shaking hands, an opponent from a junior high I attended but was also not supposed to, head dove into my knee and fractured my tibia, and tore my ACL and Meniscus.

It might've been a dirty move, but it's not totally impossible to see the justifications to attempting anything slightly less damaging. Errors were incredibly likely in both my anatomy and his judgment, both of us were starving ourselves to make weight at the time.

It wasn't until several years later, after falling out of the sky and onto the dirt while executing a perfect break-fall through some bushes to avoid injury did I fully connect the essence of training in Judo, or the gentle way, for free-ride mountain biking. Rushing rivers take debris with them. But we're not there yet.

“Get Mad!”

It's been a few years since I first saw Bruce Lee's grin. My coach yells at me from the side of the wrestling mat, clip board like semaphore in an earthquake.

Losing by points in a dual-meet match with my family watching from the stands, a switch flips. I want to giggle.

“Get Mad!”

My coach never stood a chance against Bruce Lee. When you know your master can be defeated, it wears on you. I wait for time to run down.

“Get Mad!”

I'm at my second high school. Nothing clicks here. The team doesn't like me because I won't warm up in the matching sweatpants. I've never viewed loyalty like they have. They don't like me because I don't try and pin every opponent in a little as time as possible. I try and score as many points as possible. A process which not only allows giving up points myself in the process, but has a totally different goal. I see every point as one in hundreds over a season, they see every point as an achievement in itself. To them, wrestling is about being on the team. To me, wrestling is an art, practiced by individuals. Our perspectives clash. By not “traditionally” crushing my opponents, I am crashing into my surroundings.

At this point in my life I'd spent nearly a decade spending at least 2 days a week in the gym on top wrestling daily wrestling practice. I get up and run 3 miles before school daily. All of that so I can get mad?

My opponent scored an early lead due to my own miscalculations and has been hiding in plain sight the rest of the match. Getting mad will only make me chase him. I wait for him to get confident and come to me so I can use my superior technique, strength, and conditioning late in the match to pin him.

Be water, my friend.

Only I don't get that stupid grin. The look of relived anxiety around me points out two very serious problems with the world around me:

1. My coaches and family know how much work I put in. Because they don't actually do the work they don't feel the same way I do about it. They “know” running, but they didn't know the meaning of the frosty glow of the northern lights over Escanaba Mi at 5 am Like I did.

2. High School Sports are supposed to be recreational. If we're getting angry in our recreational sports, how the hell are we supposed to view the world around us?

When water gets too warm, it evaporates. That doesn't mean it disappears.

I quit wrestling that year after eating, sweating, and bleeding wrestling for a decade.

It was an easy choice after I wasn't allowed to go “night skiing” after winning the regional championship because I might get injured for the next “state championship” tournament. I had just spent two years in an out of leg immobilizers due to a wrestling injury. I had only discovered skiing the month before.

I went on to lose well before finals a week later against somebody I had already beaten because my heart was no longer in the sport, and they did everything they could leading up to that match to beat me. Hard work is rewarded.

Gold medals make shiny paper weights at best.

When I quit wrestling, I was “wasting my talent.” I didn't care. Wrestling wasn't making me any happier no matter how much I won.

After evaporation comes condensation, and then precipitation.

It's snowier in the UP then it is in Hell, MI. I didn't really know that until I was 16, spending the majority of my childhood in Arizona, where snow is mostly a legend. The Northern Lights were a legend growing up too, and after I first saw them, I started to understand the real purpose behind running before the sun lit up the clouds of my icy exhales. Running put me in the shape required to get a late-in-life start at skiing.

Be water, my friend.

I saw Bruce Lee's elusive grin again while I was learning to ski in the neighboring town of Gladstone, Mi. It manifested itself on the face of a kid who was at oldest, a 4th grader. I was teaching myself how to spin a complete 360-degree-rotation off of a hand-shoveled jump on the side of the slope. I made quite a show of my crashes and was gathering a crowd of pre-teens who were better than me. Being in your place is important here. Little Lee stepped on the back of my ski binding, releasing it without my knowledge and dropped in in front of me, spun the trick I wanted to do perfectly, and skied away while making a face. Determined to stop my embarrassment I followed again.

I was a teenager skiing in an orange jumpsuit from GoodWill with a red flannel hat.

Teenagers don't know anything other than gusto. They just found out they can be heard. Instead of success I fell out of my ski and onto my face before I even started. The same competitive mentality I grew up wrestling with ignited itself again here. I could handle this. Hell, I liked it.

Ran by the community, the ski hill was closed more often then it was open. The snow still slid even when the ropes weren't yanking us up hill. I started skiing after the ski area closed until I knew how. When I got better at skiing I was just left alone during the day time. I didn't fit my role as the awkward older kid anymore. I lost my place and took a new one nobody knew what to do with. Walking up the hill again and again in ski boots was strange behavior.

Lee didn't say the best, he said be water.

When the population was larger, and full barstools forced the local population outside, “good” skiers skied there. Only because before the 1980's, most “good” skiers skied at their home mountains. Commercial airfare wasn't really commonplace before WW2, making long distance travel for pleasure an incredibly new concept to anybody but the wealthy or the deranged. Television cameras didn't fit in a shirt pocket back then either, so the best skiers most people had seen were the ones they could go see themselves.

Wrestling, the kind they do in high school, never gained the mass acceptance skiing did, so nobody ever saw it on TV. You could be a terrible wrestler in Gladstone Michigan, and as long as you beat other terrible wrestlers there, you could be the best. Naturally, it's easier to know a good wrestler in Gladstone, Michigan that it is to know what to talk about with a good skier.

Either way, to get a help from a stranger in Gladstone, wear a purple shirt.

No matter what shirt you're wearing, the bars in Gladstone, Michigan, are still good as they can be. The pool players are some of the best anybody knows. To show up from somewhere else in Gladstone, Michigan and be too good at is the sign of a pool shark. Chicago is just down the lake—regardless of your intentions don't look like a shark, this is the first place they get lost.

Sharks make water miserable for everybody else.

We value water above all else, if we value life. We valued that snowy hillside because without many rules, the fourth grader could be king until his mom picked him up no matter who else came. There wasn't anyone to look up to other than who was having the most fun. Sure, there might have been trophies for being the “best-skier-on-the-mountain” somewhere in the cabin, but with hot chocolate and a fireplace waiting they went as ignored as trophies in trophy cases anywhere do.

In the entire history of the world, most of the monuments we know are from the last 100 years or less. Sure there are others, but even though we all know the pyramids, we can't agree on what they're there for. Show anybody anything you've purchased in the last 10 years, and the overwhelming odds are that you can't because you've replaced everything you have in that interval at least once by now.

But that grin. Something close to it probably happens it in the event a trophy is won, but trophies aren't required. It's easy to know it no matter who wears it, but most of the time it's impossible to understand where it comes from on first glance. If you need to ask how to get it, no matter how hard you try, you'll never wear it yourself. These are the sorts of things you learn when you spend years outside playing in the snow. Sure, you might read about them, but the more you know without doing, the less you'll understand

Rock. Paper. Scissors. Tornado.

“You need to calm down.”

There in the hospital bed, where I'd been for a couple days, I saw no reason for peace. Unknowingly high on painkillers and a TBI with no idea how I got there, and not a visible scratch on my body I didn't understand why people kept telling me my pelvis, ribs, and spine were broken. I had no idea how long I was there for, but I knew I was supposed to be at work.

Working at the job I took specifically to pay me enough money to enjoy my time not working.

It's the first time in my life I've ever done anything not to be the best. I'm trying to fit in when everyone wants me to be what they view as the best. My disconnect causes it's own ripple. I'm good at it, but I don't play by the rules. My Boss doesn't play by the rules either. She hires me because I might make her team better. She's on the team to pay for her family's needs. Both of us wore the smile that comes from getting what we want. Only, as a County Convention and Visitor's Bureau, work for is literally supposed to represent the people and the place, not us. Regardless of being able to work around the rules, it's not a good idea to break them.

With several year-long projects meeting their deadlines, all involving contracts with her children, she needed my input, even if I was in the ICU. Her plans depended on them.

It wasn't her voice telling me to calm down after she left. When the sides of your brain separate, the connections sever. Brains heal, but not instantly. Every connection from the point of injury is a new one, even if it's been done for a lifetime up to that point.

At the time I can't explain why I need to get to work, all I know is that if I lose my job as a Digital Marketing Director in Marquette, Michigan, I'll have to move. I've moved no less than a dozen times since the advice coming to me was to “get mad.”

Until my accident, I was the opposite of mad. I had the stupid smile that comes from doing whatever you want.

There on my slobber soaked pillow, I had obviously fallen out of my container, and I was eager to get back in. But that's not how water works.

Water can flow, or it can crash.

In retrospect, the car accident itself was one of my least spectacular crashes.

There, upside down in front Big Gus, the world's largest chainsaw, the biggest news was that I replaced the airbag on my CRV prior to figuring out how to flip it over before I brake a sweat.

For a solid decade if I didn't know how to flow in a situation I crashed my way through. You learn that when you stop moving long enough to look back.

It brought me some pretty cool places. My ability to crash and come out unscathed landed me all sorts of snowy jobs a kid who grew up in the suburbs of Phoenix could hardly even imagine. It's easy to see that after spending a year crashing into things without any of the grace, and all of the awkwardness I used to have. I didn't discover the error in my ways until a recent wedding when I finally understood what crashing sounds like.

I've spent over a year without drinking alcohol by choice, because of the effects of my injuries. Rather than doing my best to enjoy myself I'm enjoying everyone else. Right up until the married couple's dance. Every few verses into the song the emcee announces an anniversary line and everyone who has been married less has to exit the dance floor.

Other than the first dance, it's the most anyone pays attention to dancing all night. After 45 years, only two beautiful couple remain dancing. Somewhere short of 50, only one couple remains. Amidst the cheers an exclamation is made:

“I bet he doesn't play ball in a league.” Says the man—my grandfather—who danced just a little less, but more than nearly everyone but his wife and another couple.

It's the first time I see myself missing the point of a moment entirely—so many other times. Whiskey might have made me wander around that moment, but forced to notice the world around me, it stings. I've always loved my grandma, but in that moment I learned a deep respect for her.

TBI's can do that. Change your perspective. But all things change over time. Crashing water is crashing water no matter the energy behind it. Water flows from the same energy as well.

All this crashing and flowing lead me to another Bruce Lee Quote:

“I'm moving and not moving at all. I'm like the moon underneath the waves that ever go on rolling and rocking. It is not, "I am doing this," but rather, an inner realization that "this is happening through me," or "it is doing this for me." The consciousness of self is the greatest hindrance to the proper execution of all physical action.”

I was wrong to try and be the best all of those years. But it's made me who I am. It's my job to organize this energy into a wave. Rideable waves have entries, rides based on interpretation, and exits. Here we go.

Be water, just remember that although Arizona knows both the Grand Canyon and countless flash floods, they're nothing compared to the Great Lakes (If you're in Michigan). Anybody thinking about the Mississippi or the Pacific right now just doesn't get it.

To have a perception about me is your right, but also my privilege. The interpretation of that perception isn't guaranteed, so for me to do anything about it other than what I want is false—no matter how good it feels. For the first time in my life I'm doing something not because I can, or because I should, but because I want to. For somebody who has always been able to see the opposite of intent, I now know why. Anybody can know what isn't, and though knowing feels good to the self, understanding what is nourishes our reality.

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