#like it burned itself into my brain. i didnt choose it

[juni-ravenhall]

whats ur non mainstream film taste then? genuinly curious to hear. as someone whos ended up in some weird ass corners of the film world like Neil breen Zachary Oberzan 0 budget stuff i love hearing what kind of weird indie corners other people have gotten into :3

i will talk a lot below that prob wont be interesting anyway, but i have to say first that i mostly stopped watching movies and now i mostly watch things @yasminewestbank chooses (not all the time but mostly) bc shes a movie nerd, so she picks movies that are usually either genuinely good or at least watchable, and if it was just me alone id prob not be bothering to watch those anyway, bc even a great movie just doesnt give me that much. i suffer from pretty severe apathy :( so if u want someone who hypes up genuinely good movies rather than me who is like "this is genuinely good but im still apathetic and dont really care" then yasmin is better to talk to. (im also generally more of a nonfiction type when it comes to video content, i could hype up Tasting History on youtube most days of the week but i struggle to hype up any movie at all. oh, and animated shorts, there are always some interesting student films and stuff.) the rest ⬇

my taste is usually "its [symbolic or not] critical commentary on something i care about" (feminism and misogyny, classism, bigotry, racism, the queer experience, abuse, trauma, violence, human self development, etc etc) or "its portraying human experiences [internal and external] in an interesting or just realistic way", like. realistic but in a highly specific meaning of realistic. i dont care about realism as a concept itself in art (realistic visuals or realistic setting or realistic costume etc i rly do not care about), what i mean is just about capturing a real essence of human brains and experiences, not copypasting stereotypical ideas without meaning. i can also enjoy some more abstract like david lynch bc its expressing human feelings and experiences in an appealing way. im really big on symbolic stuff and will just keep talking about what different parts of the movie meant or represented after i watch something w yasmin.

(edit to add... i should prob note that many of the movies i mention have adult content and heavy topics depending on who you ask? but i assume ppl who read this would already know to check ratings and warnings)

on the criticising / teaching side of meaningful, it would be for example, Poor Things [2023].... on the realistic / documenting side, for example Burning [2018] or Naked [1993], and i liked ryuusuke hamaguchi's movies Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, and Drive My Car (tho that one has a really badly written scene in it by the end that i hated) for the characters too. i dont know if those are the best examples its more just off the top of my head. theres also mainstream movies that fit my criteria, so for that criticising / teaching side, there's for example Pleasantville [1998], and Pretty Woman, which yasmin told me ppl tend to hate, but if thats the case i think ppl really didnt understand what it was about (it showed so much about misogyny and class issues, coated in such a way that you could get average boomers to watch it as a "romantic" movie without being aware of the actual meaning of what youre going into, the same way pleasantville can be watched as a goofy gimmick movie without being aware of the meaning youre going into, tho pleasantville is heavyhanded by the end, and i guess pretty woman manages to still fly over ppls heads? but not too surprising considering all those mainstream things now will literally just explain every joke and every meaning.... its like all of media is mickey mouse clubhouse, you know?)

i more or less prefer to watch an animated short or a weird animation on youtube/social media than watching a good live action movie. some animated shorts i really liked recently are Au Revoir Jerome, GLOIRE AMERE 40000, and BOLAVLK/WEREAWOLF, and vewn stuff. and i like those Molly Moon game tiktoks, as an example of like, low production stuff…. i dont care at all how much money or time went into something, but bc im usually not actively seeking fiction video content on my own, its more about what falls into my lap by chance, or yasmin/someone shows me.

i thought of listing more movies but its kinda hard for me to remember them after a while (re: apathy). i remember i liked another one from the Poor Things guy called The Favourite but i barely remember what happens in it. I liked one called This Must Be The Place, and one called Annette. those are movies yasmin showed me or that she picked for us to try together.

oh, one movie i saw on my own that i liked a lot is And Then We Danced. it has some less good parts, but overall it for some reason really lives rent free in my head. it felt like i went and lived in georgia with the characters for an hour, idk, it was done in an immersive way that impressed me and i found appealing. another one i remember from years ago is Lille Soldat (little soldier) which i really enjoyed the main character in. that stuck with me. ive tried to find this movie to show to yasmin, but its been hard to find.

i used to watch lots of random movies (from different countries, different times in history, i had a phase where i watched a bunch of really old horror movies) but most of its been forgotten and then i just stopped watching movies whatsoever bc the mainstream ones are generally unwatchably bad and i didnt have motivation to go out of my way to find good movies anymore. its still hard even with good ones. like, The Square, and Triangle of Sadness, i watched with yasmin and it was fine, but i had already tried watching The Square alone and had to stop after a minute bc it just made me cringe and feel bored. but watching it together with her was fine and i did enjoy the meaning. so thats why i say i might not even be watching good movies if it was up to me alone....

if u werent interested in that ramble i hope u stopped reading before now for ur own good :D i have an opportunity to express myself in rambles -> i will express myself in rambles

[sirfdabba]

And after all that has happened, after all that could potentially happen, I still choose to hope. I hope. I try to hope. I force myself to hope. I am standing in front of the wash basin, I have applied the himalaya neem facewash on my face, some of it has entered my eye, it had turned red, I could barely look into the mirror. I wanted to look into myself, but now I could look into just one eye of myself, the red eye is not able to open itself up. Thus I continue to stand and stare. In the meanwhile, the logical compartment of my brain is bombarding facts onto the sentimental layers of the mind, but I use physical force, give it a tight metaphorical slap and command it to hope.

The brain is logical you know, it questions. It asks me, what do I stand for. Yesterday, I was reading an article on human rights violation, it suddenly asked me the meaning of the term hypocrite. It asks, do I still like history? If I dont then where should I dump all the history that I have known till date? The brain says, it wants to throw away all the dates, numbers, deads - the dead names, the dead blood, the dead who are now stories (stories which are lying somewhere under the rubble of a long lost bird called secularism) out in a gutter. Last night, the brain said, it wants to relearn the history. A history which is conveniently picked to satiate the ego and doesnt cause any uncomfort, a history which was all gold and great, a history which was never wrong, a history which was always glorious. I hope it was being sarcastic.

I hoped all day long. In the evening, I looked at the sky and hoped that I was oblivious. But then I went on hoping. Didnt know that even hoping can lead to a vicious cycle. I hoped that the black smoke, coming out of the stubble burning of humanitarian principles, dont come and clutch me. And even if it does, I instantly hoped that it let me go. I hoped that while the smoke's guides are about to behead me by forcefully making me chant something which I dont believe me, and I beg them, let me not be vulnerable enough to instinctively tell them that, at the end of the day (if they consider the mitakshara school, if they consider the blood line shebang) I belong to their team only.

I hoped to never be in such a position that I have to lie to them about the books that I like to read and the movies that I like to watch and the thoughts that keep me up at night. But, you know what, at the very same moment, deep down, I also hoped, that when the "survival of the fittest" animal in me comes to life and I finally prove to them that I am, in the larger schema of things, on their team, I guitfully, yet sincerely, hoped that they accept it and leave me. I hoped that the orange pollutants which make up the black smoke, dont take my life. I guess I have watched way too many documentaries, the ones which have compiled the screams of the minority, that, I sincerely fear being a minority. That on the d-day, on the h-hour, I will shed everything and, while begging the majority to not to kill me, will accept infront of them that I too am a majority.

But then, after a while, (by while I mean, a few seconds) I also hoped, that after begging for my life from the orange polluters, let I have enough hope to kill myself. Because it would be a hopeless thing if I continue to breathe after telling them that I am on their team. I am sure, after the begging ceremony, the reamining hope in my body will, itself, choke me to death.

However, this train of approximately hopeful, somewhat hopeless thoughts, made me wonder, how we all fear them, dont we? We all fear that someday it is going to be me. The ones born in the majority will always have a way out, for sure, no matter what, "their birth in a particular sect" will always be their most powerful weapon, just like my thoughts thought of using them when I thought of myself getting killed. But, I wondered, how we all are at the mercy of the jingoists.

However, then and there itself, I again hoped, preposterously hoped for a day where we would not be at the mercy of the jingoists.

All the books that I have read, all the documents that have stayed with my mind, all the numbers and blood and horrors on which I stand, they collectively come to visit me. They often do, perhaps to check whether my conscience is still alive. Does "having conscience" have anything to do with "hoping"? I dont know. I am exhausted by compelling myself to hope. Hoping is not even a choice, you know. Lately, its been a need. If I were to believe all that I am learning in the classroom, all that I wish to practice in the coming future, then I need to hope. Or else I might die. A death due to lack of hope. A death due to suffocation of hope. A death because one got exhausted by hoping that they chose to stop to hope.

[shattered-catalyst]

Intro to OCD for the RPC part 1/?

This is a balmy 6 page document on the VERY BASICS of OCD by a person who has had OCD for over 15 years and knows their shit.

If you want to write a character who has OCD this series is going to be a good starting point. If you dont know much about OCD I encourage you to read it so you can be an ally to those of us who have the disorder.

OCD is made into a cultural joke and when there isnt the ‘Obsessive Cat disorder’ bullshit its an angst off with other people and their non-ocd intrusive thoughts. Its different. Do your research and be an ally.

This will cover the very very basics. The next post will look into subtypes of OCD and how those are experienced.

 Whomst can write it? 

Literally anyone as long as you 

● Do so respectfully and not make a mockery of the disorder and the harm it causes in peoples lives 

● Dont make OCD the characters single thing or boil them down to it entirely ● Do respect the experiences and opinions of muns who have the disorder if they have concerns about your portrayal.

● Dont milk it for angst - unless you have OCD in which case release some of your angst.

● Dont try and say you know what intrusive thoughts are because they have *insert any other neuro a-typical thing here* 

● Dont police how Muns who have OCD choose to portray it. Its our experience not yours. I like to write out my characters OCD as I experience OCD so my experiences are different from other muns. OCD is very diverse in its effects but always ask if you arent sure.

. What isnt OCD? 

● Cleanliness or organization- OCD is NEVER an adjective. 

● Planning/ Hypervigilance/Organized/Methodical 

● Turning light switches on and off, unplugging things (find out more on later time)

 ● “I have to organize my pencils otherwise it bothers me” “ I have to make sure my mattress is straight” “ my nails have to be the same length” are all typical responses from people WHO DO NOT have OCD. 

● Making sure objects are lined up neatly 

● Having things go in a particular order like the letters CDO as the joke goes

● Really loving Cats, Corgis, or Christmas; if you own any of these items i urge you to reflect and also send me 10$ (jk but do reflect)

The Barest minimum 

Google OCD this will be an advanced version of OCD. This will be long but if you want to be aware of others or want to write the character you will read it. 

OCD is made of Obsessions. Triggers. Anxiety, Compulsions/Rituals.

1. Obsessions are the thoughts 

2. Triggers are the object/person/image/situation/smell ETC 

3. The Anxiety occurs is at uncomfortable levels to the point of panic or anxiety attacks

 4. Compulsions or Rituals are performed 

*There is a variant of OCD called Pure O. In this individuals have the obsessions triggers and anxiety but there is NO compulsion or ritual. This is still valid OCD. 

Obsessions are the precursors to the flawed unwanted and harmful intrusive thoughts: 

Im going to use you so you really understand this because its important.If you misunderstand this you are basically encouraging a mental health condition and dont get a sticker for reading this far. 

First check out this link as it has ALL the subtypes and examples. 

Obsessions can be hidden by the intrusive thought and teasing them out can be difficult to do if you have the disorder because well its a disorder okay thats why. It boils down to ‘i could harm someone’ ‘i could cause harm’ ‘ i may have accidentally harmed ___’ ‘ i may accidentally harm’ etc 

This is the flawed powerful belief that predate the Intrusive Thought. 

Intrusive thoughts appear in every brain on earth. They are not special or unusual however intrusive thoughts with OCD get stuck in the brain- meaning they stay there no matter what you do. So yes , they are different from intrusive thoughts in other conditions. 

The thing about OCD is that it latches on to what you hold dear; it may be you are a caring person and love children and animals- your OCD would give you intrusive violent or sexual thoughts or images. These are horrible to experience. They are not welcome nor appreciated and there is no benefit or positive side to having them. 

If say social justice is something you hold dear your ocd may take the form of intrusive thoughts of slurs, jokes, visuals etc. These are horrible to experience and lead to high levels of anxiety and are not positive nor beneficial to have in any way shape or form. 

Maybe you would not harm someone or you value others; your OCD may present as graphic intrusive images or thoughts around poisoning, stabbing,accidental..ly murdering (yeah you read that right), hitting, insulting etc someone else 

I must emphasize this because it is critical that people understand POCD: for the sake of those of us who have OCD read this until its burned into your brain. 

This is the fucked up awful Obsessive thought that you are/were/ or could be sexually attracted to children. This is NOT pedophilia. People kill themselves over this because they are afraid that these intrusive thoughts are true. People isolate themselves and dont have families out of fear of harming a child. People take work in different fields or avoid areas with children out of the absolute terror their obsessive thoughts could be true. This is NOT pedophilia. There is NO attraction present.

Most people who experience POCD intrusive thoughts would rather punch a sharknado than even THINK of hurting a kid in any way shape or form. That is why the OCD does its thing it is like having an abusive brain. 

Again for clarity's sake 

If you value social justice -> the intrusive thoughts violate social justice stuff 

If you value animals -> intrusive thoughts come up with harming animals 

If you care about the protection and safety of children -> POCD 

Triggers would be the situation, scenario, object, person,creature, context etc that is related to the Obsession. It can be literally anything. 

What follows is a hell of a lot of anxiety that can range anywhere from discomfort to full on panic attacks. 

Everyone has different intrusive thoughts and everyone experiences different amounts of distress upon being triggered. 

● As a side bar. Do not ever try and expose someone to their triggers or write about a character being exposed to their triggers as a way to help ‘cure them’ or ‘expose them’ to ANYTHING. What you are doing is literally taking someone with a mental illness and shoving them into a breakdown and thats a piece of shit move. Exposure therapy does exist and is done by professionals TRAINED in ERP. My parents did this a lot and I am positive I am not alone in that experience. 

Compulsions or Rituals: Now you may be saying ‘hey i know what those are’ yeah dude me too and I have had ocd for over 15 years and trained in mental health for 7 and guess what. They teach ya wrong. 

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. 

This can be as passive as ‘i am leaving the room’ ‘ i am checking my body sensations’ ‘ i am trying SO HARD TO HEAR MY HEARTBEAT’ .

 It can also be repeating the same thing over and over. To illustrate this I once mentally chanted the same song lyric line on a 3 hour plane ride because otherwise we were all going to die. I took one for the whole team.

It can be somatic things like counting your heart beats, focusing on your breathing, swallowing, staring and not blinking for so many seconds. 

It can be readjusting clothing until the seams fit. It can be checking god yes checking IK its a common trope but it IS a compulsion that has ruined my life and can be as passive as checking my reality or texting for proof my cat is still alive. It can also be checking yourself for assurance you wouldnt do the intrusive thought or that the intrusive thought isnt going to happen.

Compulsions are mentally painful and sometimes physically painful; 

● Washing your hands with scalding water for 5+ minutes can lead to horribly dry and cracking skin to down right BURNS.

● If you do the same movement you can mess up joints and ligaments. So if you pray constantly you may have knee issues from standing and kneeling.

● If your compulsion has you doing movement against an object ie say gripping and regripping something you get callouses. 

● If you compulsively exercise you may get trapped doing something above a healthy amount or say going from not working out to running a five minute mile and wiping out on a treadmill because your brain demanded it. Totally didnt do that... 

● If your compulsions make you rub against any object you can get friction burns and scars. 

To put this in perspective 15 years of compulsions have left my hands and finger joints a complete mess, damaged my arm tendons, friction scars on my arms that only now faded, and scars on my legs from doing too much of an activity. 

Its not lmao I gotta fix these pencils its real agony and real torture. 

In short compulsions and rituals are not fun they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

OCD disrupts relationships with social components such as ; 

Obsessively checking in with partner/friend if things are ‘okay’ (this feels horrible to do too fyi like you KNOW things are fine but you cant NOT because the anxiety is SO BAD), 

Relationship OCD is a WHOLE category itself! this ties into sexuality OCD where your obsessive thoughts prey on your sexuality (regardless of your orientation), your relationship, cheating or being disloyal etc.

OCD causes significant withdrawal from others, fears of being a monster, intense guilt over intrusive thoughts, disgust with yourself over the intrusive thoughts sometimes leading to self punishment. 

OCD leads to strange behavior which more often than not leads to bullying and ostracization. To exemplify this I have an intrusive thought that I have stolen something when I am inside stores, my check-check-check-check-check-recheck! of my pockets gets me store security called so often its criminal.

OCD limits activities that may expose them to triggers or influenced by intrusive thoughts ie: not being able to take the train to work or only getting off at bus stops with even numbers.

OCD impacts where they spend time, who they associate with, what jobs they take or even if they have a family or not

OCD leads to overwhelming feelings of guilt, shame, and fear over having intrusive thoughts or images that they experience which causes them to socially isolate or have difficulty in social situations. 

OCD leads to Hyperfixation: like a lot of other things but thankfully it is just hyperfixation and not different from other diagnoses. 

OCD leads to rigidity or structured routines: I have listened to the same CD in my car for 5 years now. Every single day. 5 Years.And Im not okay with that. 

OCD impacts standards we hold ourselves to and others: its like regular perfectionism but like add on 5 extra layers of anxiety! 

OCD according to NIMH statistics 

1.2% Occurrence among US adults 

2.3% Lifetime Prevalence among US adults 

34.8% Of Adults who have OCD suffer moderate impairment to daily functioning 50.6% of Adults who have OCD suffer serious impairment to daily functioning

OCD has strong co-morbidity with the following:

Tourettes Syndrome- is a genetic friend of OCD and if you have tourettes or OCD your chances of having someone else in the family is high

ADHD

Autism 

GAD

Eating Disorders

Depression - this is a big one along with low self esteem because of the intrusive thoughts

Writers like to make jokes about characters “being OCD” well now they have clinical OCD and you should consider fleshing out your character with this information just as you would any other disorder.

Batman (DC)

Riddler (?)(DC)

Domino (Marvel)

 Cyclops (Marvel)

[the-wild-ego]

The Past

Requested: No.

Fandom: Markiplier

Pairing: Lucius/Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Warnings: Angst, implied murder. If you find another one, feel free to inbox me, so I can fix it. :)

A/N: Its 2:30am and I was struck with inspirations. You can read about Lucius more here and here, he is my own creation... if you'd like to know more about him or Luc/Luci, please inbox me.... Enjoy!

Lucius has always struggled with himself and what he was feeling. His emotions were warped during his time in the Magik Realm, and he has struggled with his guilt ever since his soul had been restored to his body.

You see, to enter the Magik Realm, and to learn Magik the true way, one must be willing to lose their soul and may choose to have it restored to them. Once the King of the Magik Realm determined that their training is over, of course.

That being said, not everyone chose to have their soul returned to them, finding it easier to simply exist without it. For some people, Magik was better when you didnt have to face the mental consequences.

"You're stuck in that place again, aren't you?" came a steady voice to Lucius's left. He smiled as he looked over to you, and noticed immediately that your brow was furrowed in concern.

"What place, my love?" he asked softly, setting down his- now cold- cup of tea. His question made you sigh and you stepped closer to the man. His shaggy brown hair had been tied back and his glasses sat perfectly on his nose. The shirt he wore was short sleeved, allowing his markings to be on display. The markings were thick, black runes that had been burned into his skin. A physical connection to his powers that seemed like tattoos to other mortals.

"Don't play coy, you know what I mean," your hands took his free one, cupping it gently before pulling it against your chest. Your eyes stared into his chocolate ones, "Talk to me about it, please?"

Lucius's eyes flicked over to the window, peering out into the street below. It was midday but the sky was dark as rain pelted the earth and blurred the lights of other homes that lined the roads.

"One of my tasks in the Magik Realm was to come to the human world..." he began, pausing when you moved to stand closer to him. He was tense as he dwelled in the past. It was something you never forced him to talk about, but he appreciated it whenever you offered to lend an ear. "Not only that, of course, but I was tasked with gathering emotions."

"For this one, right?" you kept your voice down, not wanting to disturb his train of thought even as your fingers traced over a rune that peaked out from his shirt. It was a physical connection to his magik, something humans perceived as a tattoo. However, if you looked closer, the thick, black lines were obviously burn marks. Lucius called them 'lessons', it attested to the tasks he did to gain more spells and knowledge. They hurt and often times, Lucius would wake up from the nightmares of recieving them.

"Yes... This rune allows me to better control and manipulate how others are feeling..." Lucius frowned, but it was the truth, that was his intention when he asked for the task, "However, gathering the emotions meant collecting the souls of humans during their last few moments alive. Their greatest emotion would be the one that we learned..."

You held your breath, not wanting to interfere with his story, even if you didn't like what he was about to say. You knew you wouldn't, you almost never did.

"I was thinking about Fear, and how I collected it." Lucius turned his eyes back to you, his jaw clenching and unclenching. A rune revealed itself on his temple, its lines branching out to his forehead before it faded again. It was a Rune that allowed Lucius to grant a telepathic connection. He used it often with you, showing you his memories or feelings. This time was no exception as his thoughts were poured into your brain.

Lucius stepped through the wreckage of the train. It had flew off its tracks due to an electrical malfunction and Lucius thought it would be a good time to collect the last emotion he'd been missing. Fear.

And as he passed by the strewn out bodies, he found the perfect target. A woman, with long brunette hair and deep green eyes. Blood seeped through a cut in her temple and she was gasping for breath as she tried to stand up. The train was turned on its side and it was obvious she was disoriented and frightened.

"Help!" She cried out, voice weak as she managed to stand. It wasnt long before she had tripped over another body, and it was then that Lucius somrthing about this woman. Her stomach was large, abnormally so, because she was pregnant. With twins from the looks of it, "Somebody!"

"How sad." Lucius huffed, rolling his eyes as the woman turned to him. She was clutching a broken seat, trying to pull herself up again.

"What? Wh-who?" the woman groaned in pain, clutching her stomach.

"It doesnt matter. You're going to die now." Lucius stated, his hand began glowing red. The rune on the back of said hand began to glow a deeper red as the magick activates.

"No- this can't be real... please, my children, please." the woman began to sob hysterically, scared and confused as she collapsed once more. She could only lay there, staring up as Lucius approached her. He raised his hand and-

You were pulled from the memory, your breath gone from your lungs as you struggled to catch up with yourself. Never had you seen the super dark parts of Lucius's past, even if you knew they were there. So it was jarring to experience it.

"Y/N?" the Wizards voice drew your eyes back to him and it was then that you'd noticed that you had pulled away from him. His hand was out reached, but he made no move to grab you.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still seeing the woman's eyes flash in front of your own. You hadn't wanted to do this, but, "I need a minute."

Lucius nodded, a numbed expression settling over his face. Yet, you couldnt bring yourself to calm the expression. Instead, you turned and left Lucius alone, with his thoughts.

"Of course." His voice was short and hung in the empty air as the door shut behind your figure. And he was forced to dwell once more in the past. He felt the tears prick at his eyes as he back handed his mug off the windowsill. He panted angrily as he struggled to contain his emotions. Flames flicked between his clenched fist as he caught his reflect in the window's cold glass. His face twisted in disgust,

"Monster."

[thoughtfulpaperback]

Charmed 2x12 Review SPOILERS!!!!!!

Okay let's do this. Sorry I skipped one but times are hectic. For entertainment I give it an 8/10. Same format. Dislikes, likes and highlights

Dislikes

1. Macy Kneeling to Abby.

Let's just get this one out the way. I can see where they might have been going with this.

They maybe are trying to move away from the ambiguous route with abby (trying to make her sympathetic with her whole patriarchy thing and her dead mom) I mean she is progressively becoming more predatory with Harry so with that in mind, this was possibly one of the "abby is really a bad person not a feminist as she is only out for her own gain and not the empowerment of all women". And I can get that maybe they were also trying to show "look Macy is willing to do the most degrading thing possible just for the chance at rebuilding that power of three/charmed bond with her sisters for the protection of the magical community".

But listen.....

We all know Abigael isnt a star feminist. We already know (although we dont exactly know) that she has some sort of plan up her sleeve to be weary of.

There has been too much attempted ambiguity and the main characters letting her get away with terrible things that the message isnt coming across.

Plus Maybe yes showing Macy being willing to do something that really probably hurt all of us (epecially those of us who are minorities) to watch, may have been to drive home the differences between her and Macy and play up Macy's love for her sisters

But like we know Macy and Abby arent similar (as much as you writers tried to play that up at first). And you know just adding more sister bonding moment and just the fact that Macy was willing to go to abby after all the previous stuff was enough to show she was desperate? Maybe just add more sister bonding moments so we can see how dedicated they are to each other?

Maybe? Just saying.

If the writers are finally going to commit to Abby being a full on villian then I guess the seen was worth cementing that she is horrible (sort of).

Here's my question though as I consider whether the scene was worth it. Who is this show for and what is it trying to show? I mean if it is for minorities and women then i can see how showing these historical and current issues (conflict of power and consideration among women where race is concerned) then I guess showing it and having that controversy makes sense. But like we live it.

As minorities we already know. I know I struggle between wanting my experience shown and also wanting to watch something where for once the minority characters arent subjected to that experience. Charmed did better at addressing controversy and women's issues in season 1. I dont care if it was "obvious" or "heavy handed" because when it is not you basically get the kneeling scene where you dont know what the point was, if it was necessary, and are left feeling hurt or bitter about it.

2. Hacy Kiss.

Listen Brenda/on, this is on my like and dislike list. I will mention what I dislike about it.

The first thing is that it was a fantasy. I mean yes I like that we get full on confirmation that Macy has romantic feelings for Harry and not just considering that she might have them, but I honestly hate the fact that they would tease us like that. Especially when Macy is at a low moment. Which I will get into.

They are kinda ruining Macy for me. Listen, at this point they havent given us enough insight into Macys feelings or thoughts to understand why she isnt pursuing Harry. We can speculate and infer based on previous seasons and some of what the writers or showrunners say on twitter, but this season itself hasnt done much in showing Macy's thought process and so it falls flat. It isnt her reluctance to let people in or not wanting to get involved with someone after Galvin since she does pursue Julian and gets serious relatively quickly. She, at least now we it is confirmed, has those feelings for Harry, but is still choosing to be with someone else inspite of those feelings. I hate that. Harry is obviously tempted by abby and is being naive with her, but he isnt pursuing her and has blocked her advances (except the kiss) so far which may change who knows, but the point is if Macy was just casually dating and enjoying Julian's company I would be like okay, still hate that she would lead someone on when she has feeling for someone else, but if its casual there is less of a chance of the other person being hurt.

I cant get behind Julian x Macy, not because of Julian (who so far is perfect and probably going to be a villian or some how connected to the villians because it is a common trope) but because of Macy. Julian x Macy isnt Healthy because Macy knows she has feelings for someone else. She is using him. That isnt to say she doesnt genuinely like or care about him, but at the end of the day she is using him. Which is crappy because Julian so far seems like a great guy and doesnt deserve being the "distraction". I mentioned this all the time but my least favorite love triangles are the ones where one person is using the other.

Healthy would be Macy and Julian being friends while she works through her feelings and then decides who she wants to be with. Not being with someone while having feelings for someone else.

Macy was shown in season 1 to be rational and could be rational to the point of compartmentalizing and coming off as cold. So maybe that is where they are drawing from, but again little effort has been made on the part of the writers to show what's going on in her brain other than that fantasy kiss. And again I am still like....okay so what does that mean in the long run you butts!!!

3. Helen's suicude

I am so iffy about how shows portray people completing suicide. Like on one hand I get that them showing her exercising free will, but suicide portrayed as a positive rather than a tragedy is just....ugh for me. I still am not sure how I feel overall about it.

Lore wise I hate that they use it to explain why Harry and jimmy couldnt kill each other, because in an interview rupert claimed Harry was immortal now because of the elder thing and the show said it in that first episode. So like are both true? So if harry tries to stab himself like Helen will he just end up back in the coffin and alive since she is immortal?

I mean we are 12 episodes in and have about 10 to go so we really should be working towards a cohesive lore and storyline not adding confusing or not well explained layers. The world building they did in the first half was a lot better which makes me wonder what they heck is going on in the writing room.

Likes

1. Parkerita

Let me explain. While I fancy Jordan x Maggie together. I'd prefer that be a slow burn and steady friendship first. Parker seems to be Maggie's first love. It makes sense that she is still grieving and holding on. While I kind of wanted to be done with Parkerita in fairness to all the season 1 romances that where tossed out, I like the nod to Phole. I felt the OG Phole relationship was not healthy, but I liked the tradgedy of it. I think if new Charmed wants to wrestle with that and do it better (although my faith in the writers is low right now) then I wouldnt be against it. I love a good tradgedy and I sat through Phole so I'll sit through this one.

2.Hacy kiss

I love that the writers finally did something to show us what is going on in Macys brain. I need more (not necessarily Harry fantasies but I wont complain if we get more of those). I do hope a real Hacy kiss is a bit different because one one hand the fact Macy wanted to kiss harry when she was feeling down says something to me about how she feels about him and that she still trusts him (but it could, If I wanted to be cynical, just be more evidence that Macy skews towards using people when she is repressing or feeling down although she didnt actually kiss him, if she had I think I would have not liked it in that particular moment given it would have felt more like using him that expressing feelings)

Highlights

1. Abby really thinks no means maybe 😒 . . .

2. Mel is a lesbian magnet and I'd be fine with her just casually dating while all this other crap is going on as long as she is happy

2. Helen

3. These horror movie vibes though!!

[159potterhead]

You better keep that pinky safe. It's a treasure!! I like where you are going. Yk they say that skull of previous humans was very different from us so yeah it can be possible that new generation millions of years from now will be different.

I can't say about benifit but it's more about that evolution thinks it's of no use. Yk like we don't have use for tail so evolution kinda reduced it to nothing and our tailbone is fused in lower vertebrae. So yeah something like this can happen. Idk it's just prediction scientists made coz they observed that pinky toe is reducing.

****

Not someone you wanna be with. It can me them or anyone. You are like already contributing to evolution just by having sex and kid with anyone. Here it doesn't matter if that person is the love of your life or sibling. Evolution doesn't care who that person is to you or what they mean to you. It just has to be a person who you can mate with, and have kid so species live on. It's not about commitment. You can still have sex with anyone and have kid. Evolution doesn't care

It's not that as a human we are have check this step out. You getting me? If I want to spend my life with someone then it's not like I have to go through first step and have sex with anyone and then second time choose someone better and third time fall in love with someone else. It's not that. I don't have to check off the list. Evolution already did it. We have evolved. We are already on step 3. Where two peeps raise kid together and keep their mate. But also at the same time we are at step 1 and 2 too. We are not having sex with anyone random but that doesn't mean we have to find the love of our life and have sex with them. Okay, see this, while you play a game you keep on moving forward. If you are at level 5. Then it doesn't mean you can't play level 1 and 2 or any previous ones. You can also play previous levels but what makes the difference is level 5 is up high, you have reached a higher point and you will want to keep the higher position. You will want to play at level 5 coz it's a superior or higher than the rest and you will want to go to level six and unlock level 6. You getting me? So in evolution we are at level 3 but we can also play level 1 and 2.

I think I am losing you. First hear me out. I think you got confused with evolution and the version of us we are today. It's 2 different things babe. We are talking about two things simultaneously. One is evolution coz there was nothing billions of years ago. It was just food and sex so first we look form evolution POV and what it did through these years. And other one is about us, our POV, coz whatever changes evolution did over this for this long long period it has made us what we are today. Now, keep yourself aside for a moment and go back in time. Million or billions of years ago. Here it's just forest and bunch of people roaming around and here people don't have any idea of what society is or what love is. They only want to have food and they fuck with whoever. So like I have explained before evolution ensured everyone is having sex then it kept moving up a notch saying let's see if we can choose a mate and then it said let's see if we can keep the mate. Okay. So all this has already happened. We are on step 3. We don't have to check off step 1 and 2. The wiring of our brain is molded in the way that now we know that society is important. And we know we have to find the person who we can spend the rest of our life with. Okay.

Now that being said. Want/desire is something that is the urge that nudges the animal to have sex. If you go millions if years back over there you can't force two people to fall in love with each other first and then have sex. There they don't understand what love is or what are the norms of the society. Their brain wiring only has 2 priorities, find food and there is surge of hormones which creates the desire/want and therefore they have sex. And it is important for them to have sex because if they don't then their species will die. And for the survival of species it is very important that the animal have sex. Also that animal has no idea about species or anything the animal is very dumb so in order to have sex the animal should itself want to do it. Right? So that's why the hormones goes high up which create the need/burning desire as we say in fics to have sex. And to satisfy that need the animal will have sex. And as a result there will be a kid and now we know species will live on.

Keeping mate is not important for other animals coz they don't understand of this stuff. They don't know what a society is, they don't know that they can't just walk around naked, they don't know what makes the society or what are the rules. They are animal. Priority of their brain is different. lesser evolved are only concerned about food and sex while a little evolved one can do choosing but they are still nothing compared to us, they are way behind coz they don't keep the mate. Some maybe hang around by the time kid is born so they can provide food but yeah it's not fixed it depends how the animal live yk. If they live in pack or groups and two peeps of same group have sex and have a kid and it's pretty obvious that the kid will be living with same group and it's not like parents will part ways or join different pack. They will all live in same pack so they are unknowingly raising a family. But still we are ahead of them. But it is important to us humans coz we are evolved in such a way that we will raise a family and live in a society. You need both the mate one to take care of kids other to have a job and provide for others this was very fundamental thing about family. But now we have grown past it. Things have changed. But still we need someone to share our life with ups and down that's why we keep mate. That's what a family is about yk. And many families will contribute to a society.

Your answer was right. Now, there are hundreds of peeps around you sending impulse/signals by way they look, way they walk, talk, laugh, gesture. And you remember when we talked about memory we talked about that brain sorts info, the same thing is happening over here. Your brain is sorting all this info out, the impulses/signals you get from different people your brain sorts them all out. It's like keeping those signals in different box, it's sorting them out looking for pattern. And while you are receiving all these signals/impulses over here your harmoes are also high coz you have reached adolescence now surge of this hormones will create a sex drive like I told you already. And over here brain has whole another box prepared for it to sort these signal for potential mate. It is different for everyone depending on things or taits that you find likeable or attractive in a person. Brain is like does this pattern make this person a potential mate. All the impulses, smell, touch, sight, sound, taste if they are cooking for you. Everything all the signals they are sending across knowingly or unknowingly all are broken down into pattern and brain is filing them into different categories. And one of them will match and it will "click" and that's how you it happens. That's you don't fall in love with everyone.

Yeah. Vibes matter too I gets. How good two people hit it off. That's important. Coz I know about the stuff it has kinda influenced my thinking about the "one right person" so I can't say anything about that. But yeah I do think that maybe soulmates do exists. And I have read some fics soulmate au which caused me think this thing totally exists but on contrary it also feels like fairytale thing, coz when I read the fics I feel bad if soulmate is untrue so I read these au less. But I'm optimistic.

****

10th I guess? I am okay with any date.

(I wasn't aware of the song. Just heard it for the first time rn. And I was thinking you on a road staring out the window of the unfamiliar city as this song plays✨🥰🥰 it's really good song😍😍)

I’ll chop it off and store it in a jar! nah just kidding that’s gross😂 ooooo how different were they? this is so cool! well seems like evolution is kinda judgy ngl. WAIT WHAT WE USED TO HAVE TAILS??????? WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME THIS SOONER???????? scientists and their predictions… I love them.

*** no wait it DOES matter if it’s incest😭 jeez evolution sucks then ig??

but how? it doesn’t make sense🤨 OH OH WAITTTT I THINK I’M GETTING IT. so humans started on the normal level 1, but with evolution there were more levels and humans evolved to much higher levels and they can choose if they want to just have sex without commitment?

Honestly we’re both losing each other I think😂 okay I think I kinda understand. millions of years ago, they only cared about keeping the world running and it didnt matter if they were to stay together right?

ohhhhh so with time those hormones began rising? that’s why this “want/desire” level exists now?

wait that bit is kinda interesting. okay aren’t humans social creatures by nature? Didn’t they need partners in the start?

OHHH SO THAT’S HOW I HAVE A TYPE!!! niiiice! Oh wow I am really liking this. I am liking this a lot. suddenly it makes everything 10x clearer.

yeah that is reasonable. yes girl you be optimistic✨ *** of july?

awwwww🥺🥺💓💓💓

🎶nothing is perfect but your imperfections are quaint, and your love is worth it and for that I will wait. and though you hate me, when you have a turn, I drive you crazy but you always return. if I fall short, if I break rank, it’s a bloodsport, but I understand. I am all yours, I am unmanned, I'm on all fours, willingly damned🎶💕

[foursprout-blog]

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/when-paris-didnt-fix-my-depression/

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

John Towner

I had just taken my first Metro ride in Paris. Although I relied heavily on my iPhone Metro app, I found that the system wasn’t that difficult to navigate and I could easily pinpoint the fastest route to my destination: the Eiffel Tower. It was my first day in Paris and I figured that beloved monument should be at the top of my list. I emerged onto the cold street, the sky gray and threatening above me. It was December, after all, and a balmy 45 degrees. I huddled myself as best I could into my thin jacket and scarf, trying to shield my face from the harsh wind. I looked around as I made my way along the river, and a sinking feeling began pressing itself into my gut.

This is Paris? I thought to myself. It was my first trip to France, and while I was aware of the fact that it would never look as it did in the movies, I was still conjuring images that resembled Sydney Pollack’s 1995 version of Sabrina. I saw myself as Julia Ormond (minus the incredible haircut), strolling along the Seine with my camera and my journal and attempting to “find myself” in Paris. I’ll be honest – I also saw myself kissing a 90s Harrison Ford on the Pont Neuf but who hasn’t had that dream?

I was ending a three-month long journey in Europe that began in Iceland, led to two months in Ireland, and then three weeks in Italy. Paris was my last stop before heading home from a trip that was supposed to last a year. I had arrived on a work visa in Ireland, intending to stay for my allowed six months, and one disappointment after another (along with a dwindling bank account) led to me deciding it was time to leave.

I suppose I put a lot of pressure on this great city. “Paris is always a good idea,” or so the movies told me. I kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that what I saw next would stir something inside of me that I had been missing. The heavy scent of failure had been trailing me for months and it was clutching me even now. There we no lovely trees or flowers in my line of sight – the landscape was barren and that was the way I felt. Every way I looked seemed a reflection of my own state of mind.

You’re in Paris. I reminded myself of this fact over and over as if this alone was supposed to cause elation, joy, feeling.

You’re in Paris. You’ve been dreaming of Paris since you were fourteen. You’re here.

There was no dramatic music or soft lighting that occurred when the Eiffel Tower finally came into view. The buildings and lifeless trees gave way to a glimpse of its structure. I kept moving, not stopping until I was directly across the street. Finally, I stared, waiting. Waiting to feel moved. Waiting to feel anything. After a few minutes, my eyes burned and tears threatened to fall. Not from joy or wonder, but from sorrow.

I had been doing well when I began my journey. I had energy. I was managing to find laughter and enjoyment in my days and I was happy moving from one activity to another. But it didn’t take long for my depression to remind me, like an old friend, that it was still there. Soon I was spending more time inside my hostel, laying on a thin mattress with my headphones on instead of tackling the next tourist spot on my list. A quick meal and Netflix became more appealing than facing the anxiety that would leave me folding in on myself in the middle of a crowded restaurant or pub.

Depression and anxiety have been a part of my life since I was twelve years old. More than half my life has been spent with their hands on my shoulder, coloring every move I make. During the worst years of my depression, there were many days I could not find the strength to leave my bed. I would eat nothing or everything in sight. I would suffer panic attacks that left me crouched on the bathroom floor, near vomiting, unable to breathe. Through the years I found different ways of dealing with my mental illness. And yet no amount of therapy, medication, herbal supplements, lifestyle changes, and continued healing would take it away entirely.

But perhaps a new country might. Or so I had led myself to believe. I drank in the Instagram feeds that showed me colorful, perfectly posed views of this world and read the stories of people whose lives had been changed by setting foot on a new continent. I clung to the Pinterest quotes on wanderlust like they were living water sent to quench my unending thirst for being made new. I wanted a new country to fix my broken self. I wanted to step off the plane and transform into the woman of travel blogging fantasies. The woman I was assured I could be – all I had to do was go. But this was all a facade. A virtual reality.

The truth is that when I stepped off of that first plane in Iceland, I was exactly the same person. I was a still a woman with a broken past, healing and going after what she wanted in life but hindered by her mental illness. When I landed in Ireland, I was still a woman whose insecurity kept her from trying too many new things due to the fear of not being “good enough.” In Italy, I was still a woman who was fighting that crushing feeling of defeat that came with knowing nothing in life was going according to plan.

And when I walked the streets of Paris, I was still a woman who had to fight, each and every day, to open her eyes and rise up out of that bed and choose to live. Paris would not save me. As much as I wanted it to – as much as I hoped it would – there was no magic spell cast or Eat, Pray, Love moment that changed the way my brain functioned. I was still me.

I was disappointed in the fact that I was not able to simply enjoy the gift of travel that I had been given, but now I recognize that just because my experience was different than the socially expected norm – just because I didn’t fit into the mold of the “perfect” traveler – did not mean that I was failing, or that failure was even possible. The Eiffel Tower didn’t cause me to grin from ear to ear or prompt a perfectly posed photograph and it didn’t erase my sadness. But I kept going anyway. I kept venturing out even when my personal brand of traveling included just as many lows as highs, my sadness intertwined with happiness.

The next morning, I rose early and once again boarded the Metro, taking it to Le Marais to explore the district I had heard mentioned by so many. I found a small cafe away from the crowds because it’s easier for me to relax if there’s fewer people. I didn’t berate myself for this fact – I simply accepted it as what I needed. I sat down and ordered a Café au lait and, since they were out of croissants, the owner brought me half of a baguette. I was definitely not going to complain about being given a piece of bread as long as my forearm and instead slathered it in butter and strawberry jam and ate while silently watching people walk by.

It wasn’t a perfect moment, or even a perfect day. It would still involve finding myself a little lost and fighting off the unwanted advances of a man who thought helping me order tacos meant I would have sex with him in the back of the restaurant. It would still involve obsessively repeating the name of the Metro stop where I would get off of the train because I was terrified of missing it or looking like I didn’t know where I was going. But right then, I was sipping the best coffee I had ever had and the air wasn’t too cold and the buildings were beautiful and I was content to be on my own and enjoy my surroundings in the best way I could.

It’s been one year since I was sitting in that Parisian cafe, and it has taken this long for me to not look back on that trip with grief and regret in my heart. When I first came back to the States, the regret over the emotions I had no control over was enough to make me avoid discussing my trip with anyone. I am not really the person that they want to hear about traveling from, I thought to myself. I was convinced that my voice didn’t count since I didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I thought that I would sound ungrateful and spoiled if I was honest about how difficult that journey really was for me. I felt like I had thrown away my chance of seeing the world, and wasted the experiences I did have. But my experience still means something, and my voice – all of our voices – are worthy of being heard.

I am living with depression and anxiety but the point is that I am still living.

I am still doing brave and beautiful things, conquering fears and following dreams and seeing the world exactly as I am. It doesn’t matter that there were some nights that I could have chosen to go out and see more of the city but instead stayed in my hostel, reading a book. It doesn’t matter that I could have fit more activities into my day but instead gave myself time to slow down and sit in a cafe for four hours because I needed to rest. The places I saw, the people I talked to, and the things I did were exactly what was right for me. Maybe not for someone else, but this is my story, and I have given myself the grace and space to live it the way I choose.

Maybe Paris didn’t fix what I saw as broken, but maybe that was because it didn’t need to be fixed. I may wish that depression and anxiety would no longer be a part of my story, but I know that I can keep on living, even with both of them present. I can explore, travel, dream, and adventure exactly as I am, in my own way. And I can have a hell of a time doing it, too.

So here’s to the travelers, the dreamers, the adventurers, who don’t fit the mold. Here’s to those of us living with mental illness and doing hard things anyway. Here’s to all of us who see the world on our own terms. May we never allow anyone else to cloud our stories or make us feel as if we have something to hide. May we choose to be ourselves and live, just as we are.

And if we find ourselves in Paris, staring up at the Eiffel Tower, may we recognize that whatever brought us there is a testament to our own strength and resilience and belief in the beauty of this world – and that is even more astounding than any landmark.

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/when-paris-didnt-fix-my-depression/

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

John Towner

I had just taken my first Metro ride in Paris. Although I relied heavily on my iPhone Metro app, I found that the system wasn’t that difficult to navigate and I could easily pinpoint the fastest route to my destination: the Eiffel Tower. It was my first day in Paris and I figured that beloved monument should be at the top of my list. I emerged onto the cold street, the sky gray and threatening above me. It was December, after all, and a balmy 45 degrees. I huddled myself as best I could into my thin jacket and scarf, trying to shield my face from the harsh wind. I looked around as I made my way along the river, and a sinking feeling began pressing itself into my gut.

This is Paris? I thought to myself. It was my first trip to France, and while I was aware of the fact that it would never look as it did in the movies, I was still conjuring images that resembled Sydney Pollack’s 1995 version of Sabrina. I saw myself as Julia Ormond (minus the incredible haircut), strolling along the Seine with my camera and my journal and attempting to “find myself” in Paris. I’ll be honest – I also saw myself kissing a 90s Harrison Ford on the Pont Neuf but who hasn’t had that dream?

I was ending a three-month long journey in Europe that began in Iceland, led to two months in Ireland, and then three weeks in Italy. Paris was my last stop before heading home from a trip that was supposed to last a year. I had arrived on a work visa in Ireland, intending to stay for my allowed six months, and one disappointment after another (along with a dwindling bank account) led to me deciding it was time to leave.

I suppose I put a lot of pressure on this great city. “Paris is always a good idea,” or so the movies told me. I kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that what I saw next would stir something inside of me that I had been missing. The heavy scent of failure had been trailing me for months and it was clutching me even now. There we no lovely trees or flowers in my line of sight – the landscape was barren and that was the way I felt. Every way I looked seemed a reflection of my own state of mind.

You’re in Paris. I reminded myself of this fact over and over as if this alone was supposed to cause elation, joy, feeling.

You’re in Paris. You’ve been dreaming of Paris since you were fourteen. You’re here.

There was no dramatic music or soft lighting that occurred when the Eiffel Tower finally came into view. The buildings and lifeless trees gave way to a glimpse of its structure. I kept moving, not stopping until I was directly across the street. Finally, I stared, waiting. Waiting to feel moved. Waiting to feel anything. After a few minutes, my eyes burned and tears threatened to fall. Not from joy or wonder, but from sorrow.

I had been doing well when I began my journey. I had energy. I was managing to find laughter and enjoyment in my days and I was happy moving from one activity to another. But it didn’t take long for my depression to remind me, like an old friend, that it was still there. Soon I was spending more time inside my hostel, laying on a thin mattress with my headphones on instead of tackling the next tourist spot on my list. A quick meal and Netflix became more appealing than facing the anxiety that would leave me folding in on myself in the middle of a crowded restaurant or pub.

Depression and anxiety have been a part of my life since I was twelve years old. More than half my life has been spent with their hands on my shoulder, coloring every move I make. During the worst years of my depression, there were many days I could not find the strength to leave my bed. I would eat nothing or everything in sight. I would suffer panic attacks that left me crouched on the bathroom floor, near vomiting, unable to breathe. Through the years I found different ways of dealing with my mental illness. And yet no amount of therapy, medication, herbal supplements, lifestyle changes, and continued healing would take it away entirely.

But perhaps a new country might. Or so I had led myself to believe. I drank in the Instagram feeds that showed me colorful, perfectly posed views of this world and read the stories of people whose lives had been changed by setting foot on a new continent. I clung to the Pinterest quotes on wanderlust like they were living water sent to quench my unending thirst for being made new. I wanted a new country to fix my broken self. I wanted to step off the plane and transform into the woman of travel blogging fantasies. The woman I was assured I could be – all I had to do was go. But this was all a facade. A virtual reality.

The truth is that when I stepped off of that first plane in Iceland, I was exactly the same person. I was a still a woman with a broken past, healing and going after what she wanted in life but hindered by her mental illness. When I landed in Ireland, I was still a woman whose insecurity kept her from trying too many new things due to the fear of not being “good enough.” In Italy, I was still a woman who was fighting that crushing feeling of defeat that came with knowing nothing in life was going according to plan.

And when I walked the streets of Paris, I was still a woman who had to fight, each and every day, to open her eyes and rise up out of that bed and choose to live. Paris would not save me. As much as I wanted it to – as much as I hoped it would – there was no magic spell cast or Eat, Pray, Love moment that changed the way my brain functioned. I was still me.

I was disappointed in the fact that I was not able to simply enjoy the gift of travel that I had been given, but now I recognize that just because my experience was different than the socially expected norm – just because I didn’t fit into the mold of the “perfect” traveler – did not mean that I was failing, or that failure was even possible. The Eiffel Tower didn’t cause me to grin from ear to ear or prompt a perfectly posed photograph and it didn’t erase my sadness. But I kept going anyway. I kept venturing out even when my personal brand of traveling included just as many lows as highs, my sadness intertwined with happiness.

The next morning, I rose early and once again boarded the Metro, taking it to Le Marais to explore the district I had heard mentioned by so many. I found a small cafe away from the crowds because it’s easier for me to relax if there’s fewer people. I didn’t berate myself for this fact – I simply accepted it as what I needed. I sat down and ordered a Café au lait and, since they were out of croissants, the owner brought me half of a baguette. I was definitely not going to complain about being given a piece of bread as long as my forearm and instead slathered it in butter and strawberry jam and ate while silently watching people walk by.

It wasn’t a perfect moment, or even a perfect day. It would still involve finding myself a little lost and fighting off the unwanted advances of a man who thought helping me order tacos meant I would have sex with him in the back of the restaurant. It would still involve obsessively repeating the name of the Metro stop where I would get off of the train because I was terrified of missing it or looking like I didn’t know where I was going. But right then, I was sipping the best coffee I had ever had and the air wasn’t too cold and the buildings were beautiful and I was content to be on my own and enjoy my surroundings in the best way I could.

It’s been one year since I was sitting in that Parisian cafe, and it has taken this long for me to not look back on that trip with grief and regret in my heart. When I first came back to the States, the regret over the emotions I had no control over was enough to make me avoid discussing my trip with anyone. I am not really the person that they want to hear about traveling from, I thought to myself. I was convinced that my voice didn’t count since I didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I thought that I would sound ungrateful and spoiled if I was honest about how difficult that journey really was for me. I felt like I had thrown away my chance of seeing the world, and wasted the experiences I did have. But my experience still means something, and my voice – all of our voices – are worthy of being heard.

I am living with depression and anxiety but the point is that I am still living.

I am still doing brave and beautiful things, conquering fears and following dreams and seeing the world exactly as I am. It doesn’t matter that there were some nights that I could have chosen to go out and see more of the city but instead stayed in my hostel, reading a book. It doesn’t matter that I could have fit more activities into my day but instead gave myself time to slow down and sit in a cafe for four hours because I needed to rest. The places I saw, the people I talked to, and the things I did were exactly what was right for me. Maybe not for someone else, but this is my story, and I have given myself the grace and space to live it the way I choose.

Maybe Paris didn’t fix what I saw as broken, but maybe that was because it didn’t need to be fixed. I may wish that depression and anxiety would no longer be a part of my story, but I know that I can keep on living, even with both of them present. I can explore, travel, dream, and adventure exactly as I am, in my own way. And I can have a hell of a time doing it, too.

So here’s to the travelers, the dreamers, the adventurers, who don’t fit the mold. Here’s to those of us living with mental illness and doing hard things anyway. Here’s to all of us who see the world on our own terms. May we never allow anyone else to cloud our stories or make us feel as if we have something to hide. May we choose to be ourselves and live, just as we are.

And if we find ourselves in Paris, staring up at the Eiffel Tower, may we recognize that whatever brought us there is a testament to our own strength and resilience and belief in the beauty of this world – and that is even more astounding than any landmark.