#kids mental health journals

[mental-clarity]

Customized Journals: A Personalized Path to Mental Wellness

At Calm Corner Coaching Hub, we specialize in crafting personalized journals tailored to your unique needs and preferences. With expertly curated content and a commitment to customization, we're here to support your journey to mental wellness.

In today’s fast-paced world, finding moments of reflection and introspection can be challenging. Yet, amidst the chaos, many individuals are seeking ways to nurture their mental well-being and foster personal growth. One avenue gaining increasing popularity is the use of customized journals tailored to individual needs and preferences. At Calm Corner Coaching Hub, we specialize in crafting…

[sleepinglionhearts]

Hobonichi updates 🖊 📖

[maybe-itsforthebest]

- j (x)

(txt: 나의 내일은 파래, My future is bright.)

[theblogofinsanity]

The curse of growing up as a "gifted" child

It seems that the better you do as a child equally and oppositely effects the outcome of life as an adult.

Just look at all the child actors, musical prodigies, and academically gifted children.

They tend to wash up. Or, in the absolute best case scenario, they end up... Normal. Bland. Average.

Why is that?

I was a gifted child during schooling.

I tested "off the charts" on most standardized testing I was subjected to.

As far as school went, I found most of it very easy. I studied infrequently and frequently got As through my years of schooling.

And despite dropping out twice, I managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA during my times in college. I might add that I was also a poly-substance addict and alcoholic who almost never studied or put my best foot forward during my time in college.

I think that part of it is the pressure.

It's not normal to shoulder that much pressure at a young age. And I believe it's what eventually burned me out. The sky high expectations, the worry that you're not doing enough or doing it well enough can be very damaging.

A lot of the pressure I felt was self-inflicted. I come from a family of very intelligent and educated people on both my mother's and father's side of the family.

Out of my whole family...

Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins..

I'm the only one without a college degree.

The black sheep.

The broken one.

The failure.

The disappointment.

I always wanted (and still do in a way) to 'keep up' with them.

But I'm now in my 30s.

With a GED.

No degree.

Single parent.

Every family reunion, I'm surrounded by physicians, pharmacists, engineers, and very accomplished people. Happily married people with beautiful families.

What do I have to show for my three and a half decades on this planet?

A single wide mobile home. 2 beat up cars. A couple of tattoos. A job as a public servant, barely making ends meet. Dependent on Suboxone and alcohol to function normally.

I'm a handsome man who is aging pretty well, all things considered.

But I don't think I will find a woman interested any time soon.

I'm damaged goods. I come with baggage.

And if I was to ask myself: "where did it all go wrong?"

I think my answer would be: "It all started with the pressure that comes with being an intellectually gifted child."

[quietintellectualginger]

hearing "do your best" is weird bc idek my best anymore

like- i go to school just for people to give me shit in the hallways and I don't even learn

and most days my brain is too low on energy to actually get anything done

so then I fall behind even though I'm supposed to be smarter than most of my classmates

and tbh I am I just don't have to motivation to keep up

or the focus

that's died out too

but I still do good enough that nobody thinks I need help

but I do

I just don't need help with the information

and I have a therapist and a guidance counselor and teachers and psychologists and none of them can tell me how to fix myself

but like- I can't keep doing this but i'm gonna do it anyway

bc I have to no matter what

lol I fucking hate the school system

[neurodivergenttales]

How are you supposed to summon motivation to do anything or look after yourself when you don’t see a future for yourself anyway?

Why am I wasting my energy trying to function in a world that I cannot imagine myself living in for much longer?

[savage-rhi]

HEY.

Read the tags and leave a comment or DM if interested in helping! Thank you 💙

[tastyflowers]

anyway I just had the most frustrating appointment with a doctor I've maybe ever had

[phoenix-knight]

JEON JEONGGUK IS REALLY THAT MAN

The IT BITCH.

YOONGI WASN'T KIDDING WHEN HE SAID JUNGKOOK WAS A POP SINGER TO HIS CORE. HIS VOICE SUITS ANY FUCKING GENRE IN MUSIC.

"too much" is something you'd think was released by Ed Sheeran or Drake or one of the former One Direction members or even The Chainsmokers or Justin Bieber

He's really staying true to his Justin Seagull form

And HE A GROWN ASS MAN. THE PECS PROVE IT. THE ABS PROVE IT.

THE SERVE. THE C*NT. THE BIG D*CK 3NERGY.

SEVEN, 3D AND TOO MUCH : THE START OF JEONGGUK'S HOE ERA

[bbael]

Oh I just remembered that very early during the pandemic or a little before idk I had a dream on which I was living on a beach town and working as a teacher and I looked very different (long dark hair, prettier, just more mature, normie & put together in general ?) and when I woke up was like haha that's never going to happen, I could never work at a school or get out of the gastronomic system, I'm doing this for life + moving out is impossible anyway with my salary. And now... 5 years later (that felt like much less??) I'm doing (nearly) all that :|

[vancilart]

fenrir picks up journaling

[pulchritudinous-plants]

steep

have some post book six finn angst? i guess? that’s been in my drafts unfinished for months. mainly inspired by the fact that finn literally stabbed one of his best friends from childhood and it got kinda waved away??? therapy and meds are good but not that good. this is very rough very unedited but it’s 2 am so ya know.

His skin is red from the heat of the shower; scrubbed raw until tender. The water long stopped running pink but it doesn’t matter. He can still feel the blood on his hands, under his nails.

He should get out. Go to the infirmary, Philby and Maybeck were still out of it, after all, talk to the girls. Talk to security.

Are they going to send security after him? They probably should. He did kill someone, after all.

His knees give out at the thought. God, he killed Dillard. He’s sitting on the floor of his stateroom shower because he needed to wash off his best friend's blood before he could do anything else.

What is he supposed to tell his parents?

What is he supposed to tell Dillard’s?

His stomach rolls dangerously. Do they even know where their son is? He wasn’t supposed to be on the boat. He wasn’t supposed to be involved.

He isn’t supposed to be dead, either, though.

He buries his head in his knees, hands fisting his damp hair. Jesus Christ. He never should’ve come on this cruise. He never should’ve become a DHI. Screw his friends, how on earth could they be worth this? He never should’ve met Wayne.

Wayne. Anger flares inside him, but it’s muted. Wayne got them all involved in this. He’s the one that decided children could end a war that adults had been fighting for years. He’s the one that made Finn a Keeper. He’s the one that made Dillard a martyr.

Someone’s knocking on something far away. Everything sounds like he’s submerged in a swimming pool; white noise echoing in his ears. Someone is breathing loudly in the next room.

The door opens, light pooling in from the bedroom, casting shadows onto his mother. She looks worried, panic pinching her face. He can’t bring it in him to be embarrassed that she’s just walked in on him. He wonders why.

“Finn!” She rushes to him, pulling his face up in her hands. “God, you’re freezing, hold on.” Oh. He is freezing, now that she mentions it. The water’s turned ice cold; his skin is numb. How long has he been sitting here?

She leaves, just for a moment. The water abruptly shuts off and she comes back, towel in hand and clothes damp. She wraps it around him before smoothing his hair off his face.

“It’s okay, Finn, but please, breathe. You’ve gotta calm down” Breathe? He is, isn’t he? But no, the heavy breathing from before is him, not someone else. He’s hyperventilating, he thinks distantly. You’re having a panic attack, Larry.

God, how many times has he heard Charlene talk about panic attacks after tests? How many times has Willa called him at 2 am, crying from old nightmares? Why did he think he was so invincible, so well grounded that this wouldn’t ever happen to him?

Well, he supposed anyone would be crying in the shower if they‘d just stabbed someone.

He barks out a laugh at the thought, startling his mother. God, what is wrong with him?

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, on the floor of the shower. She breathes slow and even, willing him to do the same as she rubs his back. It feels like forever until he can take an easy breath of air.

Vaguely he wonders how his mom knows how to do this; whether it’s just some inherent knowledge that comes with age and children.

It takes longer still until he stands on shaky legs to grab a change of clothes, towel pulled tight around him. He’s not shaking, anymore, but he’s still cold. Still a little numb. His lips are chapped.

She leaves to let him change, looking weary at the thought of leaving him alone. He doesn’t blame her. He feels like he’s still teetering on the edge of another breakdown; one good push and he’ll be sent sprawling. She had grabbed his pajamas, he thinks idly. An old t-shirt his aunt sent him years ago that he’s yet to grow into and a pair of plaid sleep pants. They both smell like the lavender laundry detergent she uses back home.

Shit, he wants to go home.

“It’s a little late,” she says once he comes out of that bathroom, moving to put her hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t want her to move away. “Do you want to order room service for dinner? Or I could go pick something up?” She offers, but he’s already shaking his head.

“Can we order? Please? I just…” he trails off, not knowing what to say, but she’s already nodding, moving away to find the menu and call in dinner.

He stands in the middle of the room and tries to think. He needs to go down to medbay and talk to his friends. Philby and Maybeck are awake, no doubt, and they’re going to want to know what happened. It’s what a good friend would do. What a good leader would do. Hasn’t he fought tooth and nail to hold on to his precious leader title? He should be explaining; strategizing (apologizing). Instead, he’s leaving Willa and Charlene to explain everything, half of which they don’t even know because they didn’t follow him into that cave.

(They’re going to have to tell them how they woke them up, he thinks wryly. He’s almost upset that he’s almost certainly already missed out on Philby blushing as red as his hair; Maybeck’s cool persona cracking at the thought that he and Charlene kissed and he wasn’t even aware).

Would the girls wait for him to tell them what he’s done? Or do they already know that their leader's a murderer?

Maybe Philby should be the leader. No one’s died on his watch. What does Wayne’s opinion matter now, anyway?

He should go to them, even just to sit in silence with his friends. But the mere thought sends anxiety clawing up his throat. He’s terrified of what he might see when he looks into their eyes (disgust, horror, fear, anger, even sympathy).

He’ll be alone for tonight, he decides. Plead exhaustion if anyone asks in the morning. It isn’t a lie in the slightest. He feels drained, down to the very marrow, and just wants to sleep.

(He won’t be able to. He’ll toss and turn all night when he does finally drift off around four in the morning he’ll wake up from a nightmare with bile in his throat and phantom blood on his hands.)

-

His hands itch. They’re clean. He washes them anyway.

-

His hands start to crack. They’re dry, constantly, from the repeated washing and relentless hand sanitizer.

Their water bill is going to be astronomical, he thinks belatedly.

It’s been a little over two months since…since.

They haven’t crossed over once, Philby putting a stop to it as soon as he was back at his computer, not needing to ask the others if it was okay. There wasn’t much of a need for them, anyway. The OTs were surely scrambling to figure out what to do without Maleficent.

None of them end up caring too much.

They haven’t gotten together much since they arrived back in Florida. They had individual meetings with some high-up Disney execs and then were told to please forget this unpleasantness had happened and sign the new NDAs and oh, don’t forget they needed to post on the official Disney Host Interactive social media at least twice a month.

(His contract is extended for two more years. He doesn’t read the fine print as he signs away his life again. Not that it matters. They’ve already made a killer out of him.)

They’ve slowly been talking in the group chat again, small comments about class and families that carefully skirt around anything too heavy. Charlene sends a picture of her cat in a sink and Maybeck sends back his latest attempt at a donut vase and slowly, slowly, they start to feel like friends again.

Amanda keeps coming over, stretching out the last few days of summer with him whenever she can. He’s rotten company; doesn’t talk much but she doesn’t mind. She talks endlessly about her days, long and boring though they may be, until her voice goes hoarse and he can’t help but get up and grab her a glass of water.

He’s trying, slowly, to explain what happened to her. It had been surprisingly easy to hear Willa and Charlene fill Philby and Maybeck in on the story, he himself stepping in to fill their gaps. It’d been mindless, almost; he’d been too focused on how necessary it was that the panic and fear hadn’t hit him until hours later, hands itching until he’d scrubbed them raw.

(“PSTD,” his therapist says when he finally works up the courage to see one. “Trauma responses and rituals to help self soothe.”)

It’s amazing, really, dealing with grief. How often had he really thought of Dillard before the cruise? They’d certainly been growing apart in recent years, Finn spending more time with the Keepers and working and far less with his childhood best friend. It’d been easy to justify, at the time. Dillard wasn’t a Keeper, wasn’t a DHI; couldn’t understand what he and his friends were going through no matter how hard he tried; not like Jess and Amanda could.

Well, not until Wayne dragged him in.

He misses Dillard at the most random times, sharp aches deep in his chest at the mention of his favorite foods, the theme to his favorite video games; snatches of conversation from other neighborhood boys about girls and school and games. A sudden wave of grief and guilt a misery so strong that he’ll climb into bed and not be able to leave for days.

And then other times he won't think of Dillard at all for days at a time; feel content, almost, until he remembers and then the guilt of forgetting, of neglecting his best friend’s memory is almost the worst part.

He’s fifteen. He’s famous. He’s killed his best friend. He’s a soldier in a war he never should’ve known about. He’s a leader, or at least he’s supposed to be.

His hands itch.

[maybe-itsforthebest]

- j (x), potential

[write-feel-live-love]

Friday Freewrite

SO I'm back at work and 1000% slammed tonight, so I don't feel creative juices flowing.... As much as I love the Friday Freewrite for creative writing, I'm just too nervous to post on here. I want to engage with my creative writing again but I struggle with where to put it. I don't think this space will work necessarily. Maybe I can make it more of a weekly recap day and when I'm up to it so work in my Google Drive where I keep all of my creative writing...

Gonna keep this one short and too the point tonight.

Hope you're doing well Void. <3

[antsjungle]

Hello friends, how are we today? Great, of course. So I know y'all are busy, so I'm not going to take up much of your time. Just wanted to share with you 2 of my online store pages that I would really love for you to visit and see if there is anything there you might like and purchase. Below has the links:

https://payhip.com/AckeliahDigitalEnterprise

Or my other store, which has https://amwy.me/mJIKsPBKn

[muggysstickies]

MuggysStickies

Creativity opens doors to something magical 💫

http://mugggsstickies.etsy.com