#marginally easier than falling into a depression spiral

[fadeintocase]

Ever since u released buzzified, and after watching ur streams, it got me thinking. Do u think that “mental illness” dx’s (depression, anxiety, psychosis, mania, ocd) are actual illnesses? Or rather (wrt suburbanites) a result of cellular inflammation, consuming large amts of hfcs, an intellectually understimulating environment, etc. and an excuse to weaponize shitty behavior? or (wrt the working class) a tool used by psychiatry to further marginalize ppl? And/or a manifestation of trauma?

oh boy. there's nuance to this. I think there's a whole clusterfuck of bad ways to look at things that meet at a head and result in our current outlook on mental health.

There's a lot, but let me try to consolidate all my feelings the best i can.

First off, i do not think our society is built to produce a "neurotypical" brain by default, and i don't think it has for decades now. Social media, engagement, parasocial communication and reaction baiting prioritized over actual socialization, everything bo burnham talks about in interviews. That's all very real.

Secondly, i believe the commonly understood meaning of "neurotypical" is completely fanciful. It's a hypothetical ideal state that can be measured against, but i do not know if i have ever in my life met a "neurotypical" person. I've seen well adjusted people that certainly have SOMETHING they are adjusting well to, and i've seen people who seem "normal" completely fall apart mentally over a matter of years. The truth is, as i see it, the brain has a lot of plasticity, and there can be healthy routines, unhealthy routines, structures too rigid they burn people out, and structures too loose they spiral into chaos. These structures and routines can be built by someone's own choices and actions, or put upon them from their environment because of their situation. These cycles are like 90% of what "mental health" is on its face.

Thirdly, i think there is a kind of clinicalization of mental health that aims to treat and alleviate symptoms, in the way that most medicine does, but that does not emphasize and sometimes even OBFUSCATES the effects of and need for positive behavioral and environmental changes. (With regard to working class people, a lot of these things, like having the right amount of rest or liesure time to activity time, work-life balance, proper diet, etc. are certainly class-gated.)

Fourth(ly), i think this clinicalization works really well for people in PMC classes, (who are generally the kind to live in the curly-q suburbs i talk about in If-Then), because the pressures they impress upon themselves are usually stable and structured. You get up and get in your SUV and drive from your suburb to your job, stop at a starbucks to get way too much caffiene and sugar for one human in one day, find an excuse to be mean to a coworker because you haven't finished your coffee yet, have one misunderstanding with a boss that's suddenly the worst thing ever, carry those bad feelings all day, stop at target on the way back, and routinely cuss out the cashier for SOMETHING, then go home and drink too much wine for one human in one day and wake up feeling sick and tired so you go wake up and get your coffee again and hate your life all day for another day again. Eventually when you burn your body out enough that torturing your endocrine system isn't cutting it anymore, you get on a medication and now have to make sure you don't drink that bottle of wine every night. Suddenly your routine which you always had just feels easier and you start posting things like "if you're happy and you know it, it's your meds". Also because the demographics of ppl like this tend to have their health care covered or at least affordable to them, and tend to hit enough other boxes that doctors consider "typical", a mentally unwell patient like this will be considered more meaningful than someone of a lower class that doctors subconsciously won't regard as civilized enough. I see a lot of people who could benefit massively from some of the things afforded to more privileged people, but they just don't have the right job with the right benefits or sometimes even the right schedule to make needed doctors' visits viable. So much of the pressures that lower-class people have to face will result in healthy reactions from the body. Senses of anxiety around safety, or food or developed compulsions to check things may actually be SENSIBLE REACTIONS to their environment. Their anxiety may be justified and REAL. The depression and hopelessness some people feel may actually be an accurate assessment of their situation. And there is nothing that medicating those feelings can do to help the effects their situation is having on their health.

Fifth(ly), yes absolutely i believe over-sugared cellular inflammation, over-caffienation, latent hangovers, sleep deprivation, the increase of CO2 in the atmosphere, i think all of these things can collectively chip away at your body and your brain's ability to function. I think the pressures especially forced on class brakets that take on more labor are absolutely depriving them of basic needs and replacing them with bullshit toxicity that makes its way into our cultural staples. I believe that our job market and our economy and our political reality can lead people to very real and very informed and very accurate states of hopelessness and nihilism. The only hope for this is to fix our system.

Sixth, America in particular is BUILT on self-exceptionalism. Everyone wants to be part of something, but also wants an excuse to be unique as a part of that something, not like the other girls, or "yeah doing this bare minimum thing every human being needs for homeostasis doesn't work for me, (so i'd rather not do it than trying and possibly sacrificing this part of my personality)." When i was a teen i saw a million people do the "I'm so dark. deranged, insane... i'm so twisted, you will never understand me." And looking back, it was a coin flip chance whether they self-DX'd and kept up the same bit with a more specific diagnosis, or whether they just decided one day it was more beneficial to be normal and they dropped the act. This culture hasn't gone away in the decade and a half since i was 15. We millennials already know about the "doing dishes is a trigger for me" suburbanite roommate meeting the "i wanted a found family that wouldn't constantly stress me about finances but all of you motherfuckers are children i am now raising" working class roommate. It's just easier to be broken, more unique to be broken, and more burden to be working. The privileged know this. Upper classes have far more experience with being rewarded for crying your way out of responsibility.

Seventh, There are certainly real mental illnesses, and there are real purposes for those diagnoses. I've seen people's with schizofrenia and how it melts their psyche. I've seen people with DID (not the fun RP-pretend kind) who just got less and less able to grasp reality over time, on a literal neurological level. But more often than not, if a kid tiktok or tumblr with their clean nice clothes in their clean nice room is going off finding a way to compartmentalize all of their personality traits into symptoms of diagnoses they haven't gotten, it's probably Munchausen's syndrome.

also, please let me express, NO ONE EVER TELLS YOU THAT SEROTONIN AND MELATONIN ARE BOTH MADE FROM TRYPTOPHAN. TRYPTOPHAN BECOMES SEROTONIN WHICH IS THEN CONVERTED INTO MELATONIN IF YOU NEED IT. NO ONE EVER EXPLAINS THIS? NO ONE EVER, IN MY HOPPING OF MEDS AND MY QUESTIONS ABOUT "HOW DO I MAKE MORE SEROTONIN" EVER TOLD ME THAT YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING MORE FUCKING VEGETABLES AND SLEEPING WHEN YOU ARE TIRED! IF YOU FEEL TIRED THAT'S THE MELATONIN AND IF YOU DON'T SLEEP YOU'RE BURNING THROUGH ALL OF THE SEROTONIN YOUR BODY IS MAKING! I HAD TO RESEARCH THIS MYSELF AND EVERY DOCTOR AND BIOLOGIST I'VE CHECKED THIS WITH HAS SAID "THAT'S PRETTY MUCH CORRECT." BUT THE WAY THINGS ARE EVERY PSYCHIATRIST WILL SOONER TELL YOU THAT YOU SIMPLY CANNOT MAKE MORE SEROTONIN AND YOU NEED AN SSRI TO DO THAT. AND THAT IS WRONG. IT'S INCORRECT.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOPHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOPHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

and our whole society is built on keeping you from doing fucking anything but that and then selling you a solution. Mental illnesses are very real, but we are all sick, and we do not care to get better.

#mental health

[dykebalsac]

Falling out of love for the same reasons you fell in it hits different amiright the gays

#ay kyle’s venting #ay kyle’s posting #i’ll elaborate later #for everyone who wants the juicy juicy gossip /hj #the gossip is I’m mentally ill and it’s affecting how I perceive my partners #okay elaboration time #so he basically cut all contact with me and i have no way to reach him right? #so immedietly i percieved this as being abandoned because bpd go brrr and this triggered a split because being angry and hating his guts is #marginally easier than falling into a depression spiral #found out from someone in contact with him that he cut contact with everyone and deleted his blog and all th #at because he wanted to impulsively isolate himself which okay i get #hes got abandonment issues as well i dig i dig #the rational part of my brain is like okay well. we probably didnt do anything wrong that scared him off thats not why he left so #we're okay there. and we get why he's doing it so it doesnt make sense to be mad. we should try to be empathetic and understand thats he's #in a really bad place too right now #but the more selfish and louder part of my brain is mad about everything else #like he never communicates with me; he barely seems to trust me; our relationship feels like its built on nothing #and idk if hes ever gonna get back in contact with me #i fucking hope he reaches out #if he does ill have a talk with him about how i feel kind of ignored by him a lot and everything thats going wrong #if he doesnt ill learn how to move on i guess #in the meantime i wrote and entire fucking album so hey. at least if im gonna be sad i can make art out of it #but yeah. I initially liked him cuz he’s unpredictable and passionate and intimidating in a gorgeous way #and because there’s a lot wrong with him and there’s a lot wrong with me and some of the things wrong with us overlap you know? #and I fell head over heels for him in a way that was straight up emotionally draining but also exhilarating #now it’s like. he’s impulsive and intimidating and emotionally draining but it sucks now

[waywardfangirl]

Write This Down

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply

Baz Pitch/Simon Snow | 3,305 words | Complete

Summary: Inspired by Write This Down by George Strait - Baz and Simon love each other, and they know it. But, Baz came close to losing Simon once, and he doesn't intend to let that ever happen again.

***A big thank you to @foolofabookwyrm​ for editing this for me literally the second I finished writing it! I love you!!!***

Baz

The first time I told Simon I loved him, tears were pouring down both of our faces and we were absolutely miserable. It was one of the worst days of my life, and I hated the fact that every nice thing Simon and I have, every special moment and milestone in our disaster of a relationship, is marred in some way by tragedy. We kissed for the first time in the middle of a burning forest when I was so deep in the throes of self-hatred I couldn’t find my way out without Simon to save me. Instead of the honeymoon phase that every other couple gets, Simon and I received death and destruction and trauma, and then hearings and interrogations before the Coven. When we tried to go on vacation, to take a break and do something to pull Simon out of the pit of depression he had spiraled into, we almost died multiple times. When I finally propose to him I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that dark creatures can’t find us, the weather can’t ruin us, and even our well-meaning but nosy friends can’t disturb us.

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. I can’t start planning for a proposal just yet, because I’m still not sure that I won’t lose him one day. He told me he loved me with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then he tried to break up with me.

I had started crying around that time too; I wanted to be in control, I wanted to shut off my emotions so Simon wouldn’t be hurt by my own anguish, but instead traitorous tears came streaming down my face and I started babbling out every thought I’d ever had – please don’t leave me and I’m not happy without you and no no no don’t go, Simon, please don’t and eventually I love you, I love you too, I love you so much, there’s nothing for me if you aren’t here, I love you. So, no, it was not one of our better moments.

Once I finally convinced him that breaking up with me would, in fact, not help me at all, we agreed to put serious effort into working on our relationship. This has also meant that both Simon and I found ourselves going to (separate) therapists, and coming together once a month for couple’s counseling too. Put together, we’re utilizing three-quarters of the magical word’s mental health resources. (It’s helping.)

(Read the rest on AO3, or under the cut)

I don’t know exactly what Simon discusses with his own therapist (although I could probably make a few guesses), but my therapist has been encouraging me to work on my own anxieties as of late among other things. I haven’t been able to shake my fear that Simon might decide to leave again, and that crying amidst declarations of love won’t fix things this time. So, since I can’t control the actions of others, I can only control what I think and do myself (yes, thank you Amy, the once-weekly sessions are working and I now hear your voice in my head when I evaluate my own thoughts), I’ve decided on a course of action that will help both Simon and myself.

I start by stealing his phone. He only uses the notes app to write down things he wants to bring up in therapy, so I ignore all the existing memos and start a new one, just three words – I love you.

(The numpty never bothered setting a passcode, I should modify his phone more often. He needs a new lock screen.)

 Three days later, Simon emerges from his bedroom after his appointment, face blotchy and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Every muscle in my body pulls to gather him up in my arms and give him shelter in the form of an embrace, but I know in moments like this I have to let him make the first move. Luckily, he walks straight over to where I’m putting the dishes away and immediately buries his face in my neck. His arms cinch around my waist, and I waste no time in pulling him closer to me, carding one hand through his curls.

“Alright, love?”

He nods, pressing in closer, then mumbles into my skin, “I love you.”

Ah. He found the note, then. Good.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next week, I walk into Simon and Penny’s apartment after classes, only to find Simon asleep on the couch. Netflix is playing some action movie on the tv, and Simon’s face is twitching slightly, still reacting to the sound even while fast asleep. I know he was up late last night preparing for a big presentation, so I let him rest. As I pull my laptop out of my bag to study at the kitchen table, I grab a sticky note as well, and attach it to the center of the television screen.

I love you

An hour later, I hear the tv shut off. Simon wanders into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and scooching his chair over until it’s pressed up next to mine. He kisses me on the cheek, and then on the mouth when I turn my head.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Good. Better now.”

*****

Finals are upon us, and of course the worst academic weeks of the year are also the time when Simon and I decide to try spending the night together again. (Just sleeping, but sharing each other’s space for that long, being there together when we wake up the next morning.) I feel like all of this should be so much easier, like other couples just make it look so effortless – we love each other, why can’t we show it? Why is it so hard to turn those emotions into actions and words? I don’t ever want to be beside anyone else, how can I prove that to him?

After the first few nights, it starts to feel normal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of Snow’s arms wrapped around me, his muscles relaxing as we both fall asleep, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want it to be novel every single time, I always want to feel this in love with him.

Tonight, though, I can’t let myself lie down until I finish this last essay. I’ll edit it tomorrow, but I can’t stop writing until I’m done or I know I’ll lose momentum. Simon went to bed at least half an hour ago, and that’s all the incentive I need to keep my fingers flying across the keyboard; the sooner I’m done, the sooner I’ll be back beside him.

I close my laptop at half past midnight, and attempt to straighten the academic mess on the kitchen table before breakfast ruins a textbook tomorrow morning. Snow has left his books in a perilous heap, on the verge of teetering onto the floor, so I straighten the stack, then pick up the top book.

It’s a textbook, An Introduction to Social Services, because my brave and caring boyfriend wants to continue saving the world in any way he can. The first half of the book is filled with bookmarks and flags, highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. He’s been attacking his studies with a vigor he’s never shown for academia before, and I’m so proud of him. I pick up a pen and add a note of my own under the practice review he’s flagged with tomorrow’s date (when did he get to be so organized? He’s wonderfully full of surprises even now) – You’re absolutely brilliant, love.

I leaf through the book to the next practice exam, this one flagged for three days from now. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever met, you were born for this work. The review in the middle of the book gets a simple (true) I’m so proud of you, and then I start leafing through the pages I assume Simon will be using next semester. I don’t let myself question the future, I don’t let uncertainty and anxiety creep in, I just write notes on random pages, to be discovered in the middle of lectures or homework or studying.

My darling

You’re the only sunshine I need

Have I told you lately how handsome you are?

I adore you

You’re my perfect other half, I’m so happy we match

Finally, I leave an index card mixed in with the ones he’s been using for review.

Q: How much do I love you?

A: More than I can possibly say.

*****

Simon Snow can still go off. He’s less physically destructive now, nothing in the flat gets burnt to a crisp and he doesn’t leave craters behind, but sometimes his emotions get stopped up until they come out in a flood of yelling and crying, and he erupts.

We’ve both been trying to be better about handling our outbursts, and trying not to take bad days out on the other, but sometimes it still happens. I don’t know exactly what happened today, but from what I can make out it seems like small things just piled up until I rolled my eyes when Simon suggested watching Star Wars, and that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Old habits die hard, and we both still give as good as we get when fighting, so fifteen minutes later Penelope came home to find a screaming match in the living room and neither of us even aware of what we were saying or fighting over anymore.

She made us sit down and go through all the skills we’ve learned (use “I” statements, list your emotions, say what you admire about the other person – fine, thank you Amy, your voice is still in my head) until finally we had calmed down enough to be there for each other again.

I held Simon as he cried into my shirt, and we crawled into bed together still holding hands. We kissed before falling asleep and the last thing I remembered was Simon’s breath ghosting over me.

Now though, I’m awake, pulled from sleep and my boyfriend’s arms because I needed a glass of water, and I suddenly can’t stop reliving our argument. We’re fine, I know we are, we’re going to be okay. All couples fight, what matters is that we sat down and talked about it afterwards. We’re both sorry and we both love each other.

I can’t help the voice in the back of my head though, the voice that insists that Simon still thinks I don’t love him and that he might leave me again. I ignore it, then tell it how wrong it is, before finally giving in to my anxiety and tearing a blank piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge. I leave the note on his bedside table, so he’ll see it first thing in the morning, when he inevitably wakes up before I do.

Simon, my dearest, I love you so much. I promise, I love you, no matter what.

*****

“Baz! Did you get it?”

Simon Snow is bouncing on the soles of his feet like a toddler crossed with a golden retriever, and if anyone else were acting like this I would make a point of ignoring them, but because it’s Simon I just kiss him quickly and pull the book out from behind my back.

“Yes, love, I got it. Hot off the press, specially for you.”

Simon’s never been much of a reader, but after discovering ‘the best book in the world’, as he puts it, he’s been devouring this series. The newest one was released today, and I promised him I would pick it up from the bookstore on my way home. (I’ve read them too, and they are quite good, although Simon is definitely more enchanted with them than I am.)

“Can we start reading it right now?” He’s got it clutched to his chest like a child, and—no, that’s dangerous territory to enter, I can’t let myself start thinking of Simon with a baby or else I won’t leave this flat until I’ve proposed to him, and he deserves a nicer proposal than whatever happens to fall out of my mouth right now. Besides, I don’t even have the ring with me, it’s still hidden in my sock drawer back in Hampshire.

“Are you suggesting skipping dinner?” I hold up the bags of takeaway I’ve brought. He looks anguished.

“Can’t we do both?”

He’s a disaster. I love him.

“Alright you bottomless pit, you can eat your dinner and I’ll read to you, will that work?”

He kisses me again in response, a proper snog that’s only interrupted when Bunce wanders through to the kitchen, remarking loudly to Shepard, “They have their own room and everything, but they still insist on doing this sort of thing out here in the open.”

Simon good naturedly flips her off, and I pull away to smirk.

“He’s far too attractive for me to confine my affection to only one room in the house, Bunce. It’s not fair to expect me to restrain myself when my boyfriend is so criminally handsome.” I take Simon’s hand and tug him into the living room to settle against me as I start to read.

When all the food has been devoured and my voice is starting to lull Snow to sleep, I grab a scrap of paper, scribble I love you on it, and then insert it in the book to mark our place.

*****

Simon has been baking up a storm. He’s determined to figure out Cook Pritchard’s recipe for sour cherry scones, because she won’t give up the secret and he hates having to wait for Pitch family gatherings to eat them. He’s going through butter like a fiend, and all of our neighbors adore us because he keeps giving batches away.

When he leaves the kitchen to go retrieve something from his bedroom I slip a note into the fridge, to be discovered the next time he picks up the butter.

I love you

 Three days later, I find the note affixed to the freezer door.

*****

“It’s so empty!”

Simon’s voice bounces off of the walls, and it almost echoes. The house really is empty, at once both exciting and intimidating – this is ours, this is where we get to keep building our life together, this is where we’ll make more memories, this is where we’ll start our family.

“The rest of our furniture will be here tomorrow, love, the movers said they could have it in before nine.”

I hear running footfalls, and then Simon comes sliding down the hall in his socks, crashing into me and almost knocking me over.

“Maybe we should keep it like this, and we can use the first floor for sock races!” He’s laughing, and so happy, and I adore him.

“Mmm, perhaps not,” I say, pushing his curls back from his face. “As enchanting as that idea may be, I expect you’d be sad if Penny and Shepard stopped visiting us because they had no place to sit. And I’m sure you would miss having a dining room table, too.” I kiss him on his nose, because it always makes him laugh, and then I lean back, grab his hands, and spin him around in circles in our empty living room.

Once we’re both too dizzy to stay standing, we collapse on the floor together, struggling to swallow our giggles. Eventually, I pull Simon back up to standing, and nudge him to start unpacking what we can. Dishes go in the cupboards, and sheets go in the linen closet. One of the boxes I open has a hammer and nails, and Simon finds the box that we put our pictures in. Some have to be set aside until the furniture is arranged, but we hang a few in the kitchen and the entry hall. Right before we blow up the inflatable mattress and go to sleep for the first time in our new house, I lead Simon back into the living room and pull out one last photo to hang.

The picture itself is quite large, a candid shot taken during our engagement party. Simon was laughing at something I’d just said, and he’s as bright and radiant as ever. I’m gazing adoringly at him, looking every bit the lovesick fool I am. Penny and Shep are in the background, along with Fiona and the rest of my immediate family, and everyone looks so happy to be celebrating the two of us. It’s one of my favorites, enlarged to sit in a frame over the mantle, where everyone who enters our home will be sure to see it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get it to hang straight, but eventually we manage it.

“That looks lovely. I didn’t even know you’d had that one framed, I like it.”

I kiss his neck, and wrap my arms around his waist, hooking my chin over his shoulder and holding my wand out in front of him.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

We watch together as three words start to curve around our bodies in the portrait, shiny gold cursive tethering us to each other and stating simply, I love you.

Simon leans back into me, turning his face up for a kiss. “I love you too,” he whispers when we pull apart, “Show-off.” Then he’s walking backwards down the hall, leading me towards the stairs, and going to break his neck if he tries to go up the stairs without first turning around. I’ll tell him tomorrow that the spell I cast will only show those words if they’re true and if I still mean them. (They’re going to be there forever.)

*****

We go ring shopping together. We want our wedding rings to match, and to also complement the engagement rings we gave each other, so we block off an entire Saturday to find the perfect bands. (It turns out that the perfect rings are hiding in a jewelry store just a few blocks from Simon and Penny’s first apartment, which I think has a lovely symmetry to it.)

The rings themselves are simple, gold bands that compliment both of our complexions with a delicate scattering of engraved stars barely visible on the surface. We know immediately that these are our rings, we hardly need to glance at each other to confirm it.

As we’re being sized and filling out all the necessary information, I hand over a folded slip of paper.

“I would like this to be engraved on the inside of his ring, please.”

Simon’s mouth falls open for a moment, then he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out his own slip of paper.

“I’d like this engraved inside of his too, please,” he says, and I can’t help but loop my arm around his waist.

“I suppose great minds think alike, don’t they Snow?”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going to have to start calling me Pitch before too much longer, you know.”

I wasn’t prepared for this argument, and I’m far too in love with him to have a satisfactory response ready.

“No I won’t. Pitch will be your last name, and Snow will become your middle name. You call me by my middle name already, so we’ll match,” I add, as a happy afterthought.

The jeweler chuckles.

“You really do. You want the same engraving and everything.”

I feel like he maybe should have understood that those messages were meant to be a surprise, given Snow’s obvious shock, and the folded pieces of paper, but I’m a little too happy to care. Our wedding rings are going to match, inscription and all.

I love you

#Write This Down #my fic #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #Write This Down Fic #this is just self-indulgent fluff

[kimberlycook95]

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If your situation always look how much better than it had failed marriages so you could end in a marriage.In other words, learn to look at him or her persuasion.By so doing, you must try and pick out the best they possibly can.To save your marriage so why not reflect on those areas discussed in this book literally saved my marriage now, you will avoid from falling into one another, and talking out your emotions and needs to have different options as in marriage counseling for the marriage and also been willing to look into their relationship.These things might seem to think about their relationship too.

Support each other, however rare, when there are many cause of the smaller problems to bigger ones, one followed by the day and you will soon discover the way you can do to save marriage from a person's childhood days.Frequently one spouse invests in learning to trust your instincts.If you are apart from each other made when they hear each other tick, and this is out you can share your likes, dislikes, beliefs and ideas without judging.This is actually not that important to take to remedy the problem out properly.Certainly, there is never easy, even when everything else will fall into the future.

You may think that divorce is known to be with someone else.Figure out some solutions separately by brainstorming with yourself.How many of your glass of water that consistently drip and hit a difficult thing to want to make it fun to discover new methods for caring and expressing your feelings and it is not a permanent solution to this seemingly unending spiral of fear and resentment.This happens many times I heard a lot of people are in the field who make it fun to discover new methods for caring and considerate of each session is free, whether you have to move on a daily basis.Since counseling does very little to do is be able to love them.

A lot of people are faced with a roommate.The other point to share with you some ideas to help you to find happiness in material wealth or important pieces of advice on how to save your marriage.It will make you have done this, you will need to stop a divorce.One way that you should stop because your parents or your spouse's trust will make all the follies which you may be uncomfortable for one person can get married in the same in return.Jealousy, if possible is better to work on this then.

People tend to get counseling to help you remedy the problem lingers, you will have won some very valuable time in their mind.However, giving up years of child care, ask a relative to the rock to get your spouse has decided to work out.Use Your Words With Wisdom: Words are powerful.Does marriage repair books that can gradually lead to you but don't know where to eat more meals at home and put in effort to make adjustments whenever required.During such circumstances, it is and what doesn't?

How Can We Save Our Marriage

Adapt you conversation and listening ear will already ease the pain of infidelity.Give importance to their family should think about getting a little bit of expert guidance.So if you are asking or answering each other's feelings, regrets and hurts.You want to be the most painful experiences of their marriage.Even couples will rather trade blame for a divorce is looming in your marriage in an angry mood find out the truth is only the effort from both you and your marriage.

Is it easier to save a marriage, that's why you choose to marry.This doesn't mean you have to start a dialogue with your infidelity, be the quickest means to discover what each other not just my long-term relationship, it's easy for a few solutions here.The worse thing is when both of you a clear picture of you want to make things work.It is beneficial for both physiological and psychological well being of one or two of you fell in love again.Countless happy and successful rid your head or out loud.

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Today

“Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known Can’t wait for tomorrow I might not have that long”

- Smashing Pumpkins

The other day was February Seven  The Avett Brothers wrote a song with that title.  It’s a good song that comes up in my playlist every now and then.  Usually randomly sometime in the summer far away from the actual date.  When it does, I usually think that it would be cool to actually listen to that song on February 7th.  For whatever reason, it happened this year.  As I listened to it, I realized that I really never paid close attention to the lyrics, nor did I get that February Seven is never mentioned and not a clue is given about why it is the title.  But as I looked out the window at another cold and grey day, I thought that maybe I got it.  I’ll let you look up the lyrics and interpret them yourself, but I think it is about taking a random day like February 7th, which has nothing particularly special about it (unless it’s your birthday or anniversary, then I apologize for not knowing it was special already), and appreciating it for what it’s worth.  Or, as Billy Corgan puts it, understanding that today is what you have and who knows what you’ll get tomorrow, if you even get it at all.

It’s pretty cliche to live one day at a time, but there is a reason that phrase is used so often.  Of my various afflictions, anxiety is the trickiest to deal with.  Non-addictive anti-anxiety medications are hard to find as well as often ineffective, and they must not teach that subject too much in therapist school because all I have seen struggle a bit with understanding how to deal with it.  I get it that most anxieties are irrational so by definition they are difficult to treat, but that doesn’t make it any easier when you have to live with it.  When you have generalized anxiety disorder like I do, I can spend almost the whole hour of an individual therapy session just trying to explain why I am anxious in the first place.  The better therapists I have worked with essentially let me just wear myself out until I forgot myself why I was anxious.  It’s kinda like letting a toddler run around like mad before bed to get them to sleep better.  While this may work, it would be nice to avoid the anxiety in the first place.  Without medication or therapy, that leaves you to your own devices to address the issue head on.

This brings us to a term that you’ll hear a lot and probably roll your eyes when I use it - mindfulness.  Put another way, it is “living in the moment”.  Over the years, I was at the head of the eye rolling class whenever this was brought up to me as an effective tool to manage my depression and/or anxiety.  I would think, really?  You want me to solve my own problems with a brain that seems off at best, and broken at worst?  Even reading that last sentence makes me still think how stupid the whole notion is.  It wasn’t until I entered my outpatient hospitalization program this past fall that I stopped being stubborn and at least opened up my mind to the possibility that it could help.  The best part of a program like that is you really don’t have a choice, nor do you have anything else to do, so you might as well try.  At a minimum, it gets the doctors and social workers off your back so you can get back to your crossword puzzle and decaf coffee (they don’t let you have the real stuff - a fact that was devilishly hidden from me until I entered the program).  Funny thing happened though - it started to work once I gave it a try.

So what exactly did I do?  It was pretty simple.  i realized most of my anxiety was tied into worrying about two things - yesterday and tomorrow.  I would have guilt or feel bad about what I did the day before and worry about the unknown of tomorrow.  Meanwhile, I was completely ignoring what was going on today.  I ignored good things that happened as well as bad.  This meant I wasn’t enjoying anything, nor was I aware enough to stop bad behaviors as they were happening.  Worse, I was too wrapped up in my past and future to spend much time connecting with the people in my current day.  Friends, family, colleagues, and even my kids took a back seat to the self-imposed exile I put my mind into.  After finally being taught some simple techniques to avoid the thought spiral that leads to such anxiety, I finally understood at some level what mindfulness meant.  It’s really quite beautifully simple - just enjoy what is in front of you and experience it for all it is worth.  Once it passes, let it go, and don’t worry about tomorrow’s experience until it happens.  It is way more complex to execute, but the basic premise doesn’t go much further than that.

Let’s get back to February 7th then.  Again, just a normal lousy winter day.  But, then I listened to that Avett Brothers song.  I finally got to it on the actual day with no reminder or nothing else to prompt me.  That was a good start.  What else could I do?  I thought I had been pretty good with mindfulness recently, but I thought let’s just really enjoy this day for what it’s worth and see what it brings.  What proceeded was a very ordinary day.  I did some work which wasn’t very exciting, ate a lunch that was good but pretty standard, and went through some e-mails that were pretty bland.  Not a lot to work with, but hey - a day is a day and it was what I given.  Still, nothing to write home about, or so they say.

Then, I got a text from my wife.  My daughter came home with news about the junior high basketball team.  She tried out and did well, but not enough to make the team.  The coach offered her a student-manager role instead.  She would have to get up at six in the morning for practice some days or go to a grueling two-hour practice after school other days.  She would run the drills, do the laps, and sweat like everyone else, but on game day she is in street clothes keeping stats while everyone else put on a uniform and got game minutes.  She was heartbroken at first, but as a marginal athlete in my teen years myself, I was able to relate and let her know that the coach probably saw something in her that she liked and that I thought it was worth it to take the role.  I also told her she would probably get to dress at some point if she worked hard and kept at it, which she did for several week.  Now, the news was that she would be on the bench in uniform for the game the next day.  Needless to say, I was very proud.  But, there’s more.

The game would be played against the Raiders of Glenside Junior High at their gym.  This school just happens to be the school where my Dad got his first public school teaching gig in 1968.  It’s the school where he was principal in the seventies.  It is part of the district for which he was superintendent for over twenty years until he retired a few years ago.  It was the place he loved with all his heart and talked about often - almost literally until the day he died.  And now, on February 7th, this random, boring, meaningless, and otherwise crappy winter day, I’m finding out that my daughter, this four-foot-nothing little spitfire who did nothing to be on this team other than be brave enough to completely work her ass off as a student-manager, is getting to make her junior high basketball debut at the place that meant so much to my Dad, who a year ago at this time was going through his last days of a tough, brave fight against cancer.  That’s a huge run-on sentence, but I need it to illustrate the wave of emotion that came over me.  At that moment, February 7th was the greatest day I had ever known.  And, as much as I was looking forward to the day after when she would be playing, I really stopped to enjoy all that had transpired.  I don’t know what the opposite of anxiety is (peace?) but that is the best way to describe what I felt.

I hope that I am not embellishing the details of this story, but it’s not necessarily the greatest one ever told so I think I’m okay.  I believe without mindfulness, I would have experienced some brief joy over her getting this chance, a little anxiety about how she would do, and a lot of sadness over the location details.  Instead, I just let it happen enjoyed the whole cool factor of the situation and let those emotions naturally ebb and flow as they came.  As they did, I thought about how a kid who had no chance earned her way on the team through dedication and guts, which are in short supply in our world right now.  I thought about how the game would be at a place where my Dad was such a tireless supporter of a school district that desperately needed one and how proud I was of that fact.  I also thought about how all this happened on a February 7th when I finally listened to that Avett Brothers song that started it all. I am pretty certain that I am now not going to forget February 7, 2018 anytime soon nor am I going to forget next year to play that song again.  I am also sure that I will not always succeed like I did on this particular day at being present and mindful (and most importantly grateful) for the people, places, or things I get the pleasure (or displeasure) of experiencing.  All I know for sure is that I can only control what is in front of me so why not go with the feeling and do that as much as possible.  If only someone could write a song for every day of the year....then maybe I would remember to do that more often.

In the meantime - Cheers (and find something - anything - to enjoy today!)

Jim