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damienthepious · 4 years

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i’m not going to apologize for this angst but i am going to say that it has been being built towards for a while and like, it was bound to happen, tbh. tho i am sorry about who precisely gets the worst of it, this chapter. Whoops. anyway happy (?) lizard kissin!

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 7)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ao3] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: No solutions yet, but it's the dead of night, they are exhausted, and at least one of them is attempting to be responsible with their health right now.

Chapter Notes: This one feels pretty heavy. Is it weird for me to admit that I cried a few different times writing this? Anyway. Take care of yourselves, I love you.

Damien swims back to awareness with a rustle of paper and a deep, familiar sigh.

He blinks, stretching his arms above his head with a gasp, and when he sees glossy scales through his bleary blinking he nearly reaches without a second thought-

Nearly. He remembers in time enough to make the motion look only as if it is part of the stretch.

Arum stares at him from a nearby seat, setting aside the books he is holding.

"Kind of you to rejoin us, little knight," he murmurs, his tone blank.

He looks- exhausted, Damien realizes. When he glances to Rilla she doesn't look up from her own reading, though she does quirk her lips into a strained smile, acknowledging him despite her focus. She looks just as harried as the monster, if not more so, a concerning tension in every muscle of her frame.

"How long was I… how late is it?" he asks quietly, and Arum squints for a moment before the Keep gives a gentle answer and the monster frowns more deeply. "Far too late, I think," Damien continues, his suspicions confirmed more by Arum's expression than his dubious understanding of the Keep.

"We've hit a few- a few walls," Rilla says, and her voice is muted and clipped as she lifts a hand to rub at one of her eyes, "but we've been making progress. Got a few hypotheses to test out."

"Bed," Damien says, his voice inarguable. "It's long past time you rested. Your hypotheses will keep until tomorrow, unlike the pair of you."

Rilla sets her jaw for only half a second before her shoulders slump and she nods absently. She sighs, closing the book in front of her. She stands and when Damien steps up beside her she reaches for his hand, and then she glances towards their monster.

"I don't expect we'll be sharing a room tonight," she says, an unexpected brittleness beneath the words, and when Arum blinks Rilla continues quickly. "The Keep should still have my old room tucked away somewhere, anyway. We've done enough tonight that I think we'll be able to make progress with fresh minds in the morning."

"You wish for us to stop working now? We have theories, we could attempt to implement any number of-"

"The last time you ran yourself too ragged you nearly killed yourself and the Keep," Rilla snaps, squeezing Damien's hand almost too hard. "And I don't know about you, Arum, but me? I know for a fact that we're not going to stumble into the right answer on the first try, and I'm way too exhausted to handle another failure right now. If you wanna keep working until you hurt yourself, I can't stop you, but if you want to keep working on this together then you're gonna have to just listen to us and we'll test more theories in the morning."

“But- I-” Arum's jaw clenches, teeth bared, but he looks away from them and after a long moment he sighs, nodding a concession. "Very well. Keep, do you know the room she is referring to?"

The Keep sings a soft reply, pulling out a door, and Rilla's hand tightens on Damien's again, her lips pressing tight together.

"In the morning, then," Arum says, quiet and stilted, and then he gives a very slight bow. "Rest well, humans."

He stares at them for another moment, and then he turns, and the Keep presents him another doorway.

Arum slips through, and then he disappears into the bedroom that should belong to the three of them together.

When the Keep closes the portal behind them, Rilla and Damien don't go to bed immediately. They stand just inside the room and Damien holds his arms open and Rilla sags and flings her arms around him and they just- hold each other, clinging tight for a long time. Feels like minutes, possibly into the double digits, but Rilla's brain is going a little hot and fuzzy at the edges so she can't really trust that her sense of time is working just now. Doesn't matter anyway.

Eventually Damien sighs and loosens his grip, leaning back enough to reach up and brush away the hair that's come loose from her braid, his knuckles soft against her temple, and while his hand is in range she tilts her head to kiss his wrist. He breathes a laugh, his smile going so warm and delighted, and Rilla loves him so fucking fiercely, loves that he can find wonder and joy even at the end of a day like this- loves that he can find it in her, even when she feels-

Even when she feels like well-crumpled trash, honestly.

They undress without speaking, and when they crawl into bed Damien tangles their legs together, tangles their hands together between them, ducking his forehead close against hers and humming lightly as he closes his eyes.

"I feel I should apologize," he says gently, his thumb stroking slowly up and down the back of her hand. "I did not mean to sleep, to leave you to contend with this situation alone yet again-"

"It's fine, Damien." She shakes her head, sighing. "It's probably better that you got some rest. And- and I think he feels less threatened when he only has to deal with one of us at a time, anyway."

"Hm," Damien says, a frown tugging at his lip. "Still. I am glad, at least, that you've come upon some ideas, even if none managed to break the spell quite yet."

Rilla swallows roughly, thinking of how stiff and uncertain Arum's hands felt when they took her own, after their failed kiss. "It's not gonna be an easy spell to break, I don't think," she manages in a whisper, and Damien sighs.

"Perhaps not. But… I believe in you," he says, his forehead pressing against her own, his hands interlocking with her own. "I believe in us, my love. My fear is so very small a thing, when measured beside my love for the both of you, my faith in your brilliance. I believe in you, my Rilla."

Rilla-

It's like glass breaking. The moment the first crack shows, the integrity of the entire facade fails. Shatters. She covers her face with both hands, pressing back against the tears that come as her breath cuts off in ragged little gasps. Damien makes a small surprised noise before he curls his arms around her, gathering her against his chest.

"Oh, oh my flower, oh-"

"I don't know what I'm doing," she chokes as Damien lightly kisses her hair, the pads of his fingers rubbing small soothing circles into her back. "I don't- I don't know if we- what if he never remembers, Damien? What if he's just- gone? We barely even know wh-what happened, not for sure, and if we don't know what the curse is, how can we fix- how can we-"

"Rilla, oh love-"

"Even if we convinced him of the truth it doesn't give him back- it doesn't give any of us back the time we lost! He doesn't remember meeting us, he doesn't remember- we convinced him that we aren't lying but what does that m-matter if he doesn't-"

"Breathe," Damien says, and Rilla tries but every time she tries to slow down her breathing her throat catches sharp and she ends up gasping and choking instead. It hurts, her throat, her eyes, her lungs, and she doesn't know how to make it stop .

"Maybe he falls in love with us again but he doesn't- he didn't- is he even the same Arum that we loved before, then? Is it still him, or- or is this some new Arum and the monster we fell in love with is just- gone? All those little bits of time, all- all the talks and- and the moments of realization and- and- he doesn't know, he can't know how-"

Damien makes a gentle hushing noise, his palms still pressing sturdy into her shoulders beneath the sheets, and she clings to him, curling tight. "We don't know that this is permanent, love. We just don't know. I'm frightened too, but- we cannot give in to despair."

"I thought- I thought if we could remind h-him maybe it would trigger- maybe it would pull something back out but- but nothing is working and he doesn't have the first hint of a memory and I feel so-"

"Rilla-"

"Useless! I'm just useless and the way he looks at us makes me want to scream and I just want him back. I want him back and I don't know how. I should- I should know! I should be able to fix this, I just-"

"It's alright, Rilla, it's-"

"It's not, Damien, it's not alright and I don't know h-how to make it alright again and I-"

"It's alright to feel this way," he insists, and his arms around her squeeze. "You need not always hold yourself so stiffly, my love. It is unfair to expect yourself never to crack. You are allowed to feel this. You are hurting just as I am, scared as I am, and you should not try to bury those feelings for my sake and for his-"

"I- Damien I should- I should be able to fix this, it's my job to know how to fix- why can't I- why can't- Damien I hate not knowing what to do-"

"I know," he murmurs, holding her close and pressing a kiss to her hair. "I know, love. But that does not mean that you are useless, Rilla."

"I feel useless. I feel stupid, Damien, I'm so fucking desperate that I let myself believe that some fairy tale magic was going to work and all it did was make me feel like- like I was kissing the wrong monster and- and like I was betraying- betraying Arum, our Arum-"

"A kiss," Damien murmurs, and Rilla wants to scream for the note of sadness in his voice. He's smart enough- of course he knows exactly what that kiss would be meant to do, and clearly it didn't work. He squeezes her again, sighing into her hair. "I am so, so sorry, my love."

"Sorry for what, Damien? That I let myself fall for some magic potion bullshit when I should have been focusing on real solutions? That I can't shake the feeling that maybe I just wanted to kiss him one last time in case we never fix this-" her throat tightens, her breath shuddering as her tone wobbles out of her own control, "and what if that's why it didn't work? I didn't do it right, didn't say the right things, didn't- or- or if it's a true love thing, what if I'm just not- not-"

"Oh, Rilla-"

"Not enough, or- or maybe it would only work if we were both monsters, or-"

"Speculation without data is unhelpful at best," Damien says dutifully, and Rilla gusts a breath against his shoulder, almost a laugh, surprised to hear her own words echoed back to her. "We simply do not know, and you are only hurting your own heart by saying and thinking such things. You hoped, and that hope did not bear out. You cannot judge yourself lacking for this. You cannot judge yourself useless or - Saints forbid - stupid. Nothing in the world could possibly be further from the truth. Certainly you know that, deep down."

Rilla sags in his arms, her nose pressing against the side of his neck, her cheeks wet enough that she knows she must be crying on him too. "I'm just- it's only been a day and I'm already- I don't know how to do this, Damien. I don't-"

"Is all this- noise really necessary?"

Rilla jolts, inhaling sharply, but hearing Arum still sounding so distant and uncomfortable makes the ache in her chest even worse , makes the uncontrolled hitching of her breath even harder to push down, and she buries her face against Damien's collarbone, trying to stifle as much of it as she can.

"We did not mean to wake you," Damien says quietly, and Rilla shakes in his arms, clenching her jaw tight and squeezing her eyes closed to try to control the tears.

"I was not sleeping," Arum grumbles, unmoving in the threshold of his summoned portal , his claws curling awkwardly against the vines. "Cannot seem to…" he shakes his head. "You are not- injured, correct?"

"No," Damien says, stroking Rilla's hair as she presses against him and tries to breathe more normally. "No, Lord Arum. It has simply been… emotionally taxing, for the both of us."

"I… suppose… I suppose that is to be… expected," he mutters, looking away, and then his eyes flick back towards them again, the uncertainty on his face so clear that he may as well be screaming it. "I… are you…" he pauses, then looks away again with his claws flexing awkwardly. "Are you having difficulty finding sleep, then?"

Rilla clenches her teeth tighter, hisses between them at the stupidity of the question because of course-

"Unfortunately, yes, Lord Arum," Damien says, far more gently, one of his hands still drawing through her hair, and she presses her forehead against his shoulder harder. "And you as well?"

"I-" Arum snaps his teeth together, sighs, and looks down at the ground. "Cannot seem to… it is too cold, tonight, I think," he mutters. He pauses in the doorway, one hand clutched on the frame, clearly tense, his tongue flicking anxiously before he continues. "We-" he pauses again, barely managing the entire word before he has to look away again. "You implied- S- Damien. You implied that we- we rest, together?"

"Most nights, when we can," Damien says, his tone very carefully neutral though Rilla can feel the way he deflates at the question, the slight edge of despair in his words. "Yes."

"So the pair of you would be… accustomed to my presence in your bed," he says slowly.

"Our presence in your bed, when we are here," Damien amends, but Rilla tenses further, pulling herself out of Damien's arms so she can sit upright, swiping a hand quickly over her face to diffuse the tears before she levels a glare at the monster in the doorway.

"You wanna interrogate this now?" she asks in a sour, biting voice. "We slept with our Arum. You don't even know who we are. You don’t love us and we all know it, so why don't you just let us wallow in peace? I'll try to cry a little quieter so we don't disturb your beauty sleep next time-"

"Rilla," Damien says, chastising and gentle, and Rilla shakes her head. Arum doesn't move, doesn't respond to her furious words except to duck his head very, very slightly. "We are all exhausted, all frustrated, all well beyond our depths. And..." he sits up to match her, lifting a hand to tilt her face towards him as she stubbornly closes her eyes again. "My love, I do not believe that your anger is truly directed at him."

Damien's hands on her face are soft, steady, comforting. They always are, he always knows when she needs- he always knows how to-

If she had to do all this alone, deal with all of this on her own- Rilla doesn't know if she could. She doesn't know if she'd be able to make the anger and the fear small enough that she could work through them, if she didn't have Damien here, if she didn't have someone here who knew her so well, who knew how to hold her. If she didn't have someone to have her back.

We have each other, she thinks, a little fury still biting at the edges. Arum? What does Arum have?

Arum has the Keep, at least-

But Arum and the Keep have always been entirely on the same page. Each knows what the other is thinking, always. Except now, the Keep is a full year of knowledge away from its familiar, and Arum is-

Arum, even with the three of them here with him, is probably feeling more alone than he ever has in his life.

Rilla inhales, exhales a sigh, and when she opens her eyes she lifts a hand to grip Damien's for a moment before she meets Arum's eyes again.

"I'm- I'm sorry," she says, and the monster blinks. "This isn't your fault, obviously. I know- I know it isn't-" she clenches her teeth for a moment, forcing herself to keep the damned tears in her eyes where they belong, and then she sighs. "I'm sorry."

Arum stares at her, unsure, and then he drops his gaze. "I was certainly cruel enough to the both of you in my own distress," he mutters. "If I called us even for such a mild bite, I would be overplaying your hand and underplaying my own. I-" he swallows, wincing, and Rilla knows- she knows the exact tone he's about to take when he- "I … apologize, as well. Both our angers were… misdirected, as Sir Damien implied. In the morning we shall aim our ire towards its proper recipient, I think."

Rilla bites back a laugh, if only because she's not really sure she'll be able to keep it from choking into sobs again.

"Yeah," she says, low and forced to evenness. "Yeah, that sounds like- like a plan."

Arum glances up at the both of them again, hesitant, and he stares for another long moment before his shoulders hunch and he half turns in the doorway. "I- I should… leave you be, then. I did not mean to distress you further."

She feels Damien's arms around her tremble, just for a moment, and then he says, "Of course. We- we shall see you in the morning, then, Lord Arum."

She knows what Damien wants, even if it'll sting. She wants the same exact thing. And Arum-

She'd rather have him here than send him off to sleep all alone, even if it hurts.

"Unless-" she cuts herself off, still feeling stupid, but Arum hesitates in the doorway, and she thinks she can just barely catch a hint of- of relief in his eyes, behind the familiar wariness.

"Unless?" he echoes quietly, his face guarded now, his claws scratching lightly along the edge of the portal.

The thing is, Rilla knows him too well to ask if he wants to stay. When they first met, when they first started together- he'd never admit anything like that, even if it were obvious that he wanted something. Especially if it was obvious that he wanted something, in fact. So-

"Would it be- would it be too weird if we asked you to stay?" she tries, and Damien inhales sharply in surprise. "You- you said you're too cold. You may not remember, but- but your body is used to- well, it's used to a bit more ambient nighttime heat than you remember right now, I think." She pauses, swallows. "Or- I mean, I'm sure the Keep could just- up the temperature in your bedroom or something, but-"

"I'll stay," he interrupts, too quick, and then he shakes his head. "It- I- it is far too strange, knowing you are sleeping under my roof without- without keeping an eye on you."

It's so obvious a lie that Rilla almost wants to laugh again. Instead she sniffles, lifting a hand to rub her eye, and then she tugs lightly at Damien's shoulder, laying the both of them back down. "Okay," she murmurs, because she can't think well enough right now to respond in any sort of clever way. She's exhausted. "Good. That's- that's good."

They way they're laying, Damien has his back to the monster as he slinks hesitantly to the side of their bed. Arum can't see the way that Damien presses his eyes more tightly closed, the way he bites his lip a little too hard. Rilla can see, though, in the brief moment before the portal at Arum's back closes, dropping them back into fuller darkness.

She slips her arms around Damien, tugging him closer. "Scoot, Damien. Make room," she murmurs, and he glances up with a grateful half-smile. He tucks himself closer against her side, resting his cheek on her shoulder and pressing a quick light kiss to her neck before he sighs, closing his eyes again as the blankets shift.

Arum grips the edge of the sheet for a long moment before he rattles out a frustrated noise and slips beneath the covers with a grumble, keeping his body considerable deliberate inches away from their own. "I-" he pauses, lowers his voice even further into nearly a growl. "I cannot say if I will be able to rest with someone else in-" he stops himself again, and then he sighs, and Rilla can feel him settling. She wonders if it's more the warmth or the exhaustion dragging him down, just now, because it certainly isn't them . "Well. It does not matter. It is not as if I was sleeping anyway," he mutters, and then she watches the dim reflection of the moonlight in Arum's predator eyeshine as he stares back at her in return.

She closes her eyes before the feeling in her chest gets too big to bury again, holding Damien in her arms and settling closer, grateful for her exhaustion if only because she's too tired to completely process how horrible it should feel to have Arum so close and so distant at the same time.

"Goodnight, my love," Damien whispers in her arms, and Rilla squeezes him tighter because she knows the waver he's hiding in the whisper, knows that he's not talking only to her.

"Goodnight," she replies in the lightest gust of a breath, and from his place beside them, still not touching them, Arum says nothing at all.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #going through changes ripping out pages #ARGHHHHHHH

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oswald-privileges · 5 years

Note

Could you talk about The Magnus Archives to a potential new listener? What do you like about it? What drew you in?

I HOPE YOU’RE STILL INTERESTED IN THE ANSWER BC HEY I’M GIVING IT TO YOU NOW

short version! The Magnus Archives is a horror anthology podcast with an incredibly refreshing stance on horror, an overarching metanarrative, and Chill Queerness. Also just. Such a good range of scary things. Such a good range

You can listen to the trailers on the podbay here http://podbay.fm/show/1095138637

Long version!

I picked this up on someone else’s horror recommendation, and I’m pretty easy when it comes to horror or weird anthologies- I’ll give everything a go once! But I DID fall in love with tma for some very specific reasons, so I’ll expand on them here.

Refreshing Stance on Horror

What I mean by this is that the short stories that make up the show and the overarching metanarrative have a consistently unique take on horror tropes, styles, and traditions. It revels in those that work; the stories usually have lightly sketched first person narrators, placing the main focus on the events and horror of the story itself; the Magnus Institute in whose archives the show is set is a classic “spooky organisation that documents and collects weird stuff”; the topics or horror-creations it chooses to explore are incredibly wide ranging, so there’s a monster or a transformation or a situation for everyone. While the show is definitely aware that you’re there to be spooked, it’s also like a celebration of the best parts of the horror genre. It’s a show that has fun.

And when it comes to the tropes that don’t work well, or the parts of the genre that are tired or straight up facilitate all the horrible “isms” of criticism? They’re cut or adapted if they’re useful, or outright excised if they’re not.

An example of the former: There’s an in-universe explanation as to why the people giving these statements to the Institute are so loquacious and well-spoken. It’s also a spoiler, which kind of indicates how neat a trick it is and how well integrated it is into the lore of the show

An example of the latter: The writer has explicitly stated in a Q&A episode that they have zero interest in writing sex as horror. Perspective characters will occasionally have sex with someone, but that will just be part of their lives or the situation they find themselves in. A good example of this is the episode Squirm- the statement giver visits a club, and brings home a companion-

“I mean, we had sex. There’s not much more to say about that, really. The important thing is what happened afterwards.”

The situation itself is not the horror, nor is it there to sell the story to the listener. The normality of it is what produces the discord, the familiar/common setting of bringing someone home for a night juxtaposed with the suspense and culmination of the actual horror story.

Overarching Metanarrative

The Magnus Archives is kind of a story about stories. The individual statements are linked by their narrator, The Archivist, and a slowly expanding cast of his co-workers, investigative team, people trying to kill him, and terrifying monsters. Most of the characters fall into at least two of these categories. As the stories that get read slowly reveal more and more, the characters responses change, their arcs progress, and conflicts develop and are resolved in a truly suspenseful fashion.

Several other podcasts try to do the same thing- I’m thinking particularly of TANIS and The Black Tapes- but in my own opinion, fall very far short of the kind of depth of character and sense of cohesive progression that The Magnus Archives creates. I feel as though that might be because with other podcasts, the unravelling of the mystery is very linear- one clue progresses to the next and the next with little deviation or space for reflection. The Magnus Archives keeps character arcs linear and focused, but allows the mystery to come to light in an organic, non-linear way. It feels as though you are solving things alongside (or sometimes before) the characters, as opposed to just following the breadcrumb trail.

The Magnus Archives has also managed something I’ve never seen another podcast do so well- it maintains the “this is being recorded” conceit almost flawlessly. Most podcasts that aren’t pretending to be Real Life radio shows tend to outgrow that concept eventually, as excuses for the recordings become more and more tenuous, and are eventually quietly dropped (Wolf 359 does basically exactly this). But The Magnus Archives preempts this, with multiple different in-universe reasons for the recordings. Again, most of them are spoilery, but also sufficiently spooky. The general feeling is that there’s something listening in on everything that’s going on, and it’s not just the audience.

Chill Queerness

A shorter, more simple point here, but this show is just. So relaxed about diversity, and not in the vaguely irresponsible way that can happen when the topic just Isn’t Addressed. Someone’s sexuality or race or disability is never made a topic of horror. I’m of the opinion that those things should never be left out of horror altogether; Get Out, and certain episodes of I Am In Eskew are examples of how those things can work together without being either suffering porn or punching down. But The Magnus Archives doesn’t bring that kind of horror, and it’s honestly deeply reassuring in some ways. The variation is there- the narrator is asexual, statement givers mention husbands or wives or partners, mental illness or gender issues, physical disability or just physical variation- but it’s never used against them, and it’s never used to scare.

Such a good range of scary things. just so much cool horrible nasty things are you kidding me

Horrible anglerfish things that dangle empty people-shape lures at you. Walking masses of disease and worms. The entire concept of entropy. Doors that open into corridors that only turn right forever and ever and ever. Spiders!!!!! Living shadow dark things. The man who met The War. Caves that want to keep you down in the dirt forever. Endless sky in all directions. Books that Can And Will do so much worse than kill you.

there’s something here for everyone and it’s such a good time

#Anonymous #The Magnus Archives #tma

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insomniac-arrest · 6 years

Text

Kiss me on the Moon in Zero Gravity

Genre: sci-fi, wlw, fluff

Words: 4k

Summary: A female astronaut has a very pressing concern: can you kiss on the moon?

-----

“Hey!” A single voice calls to Jilly with the force of a sudden chilly breeze in July.

She turns slowly, her body rotating in place, she felt a slight buzz through her system as she faces her, “hmm?”

Felicity Fischer positions herself in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling like firecrackers. She leans forward like she held a secret between her teeth, “Do you think you can kiss in space?”

Jilly flattens her short bangs back, “good morning to you too, cadet.” Felicity wrinkles her nose delicately, “you’re a cadet too. And it’s not even morning.”

“According to international time, it’s 6a-” “Time is fake!”

Jilly groans, “Felicity.” She tosses her head back and grins even wider, “you didn’t even say yes or no!”

Jilly just shakes her head, “yes, I do think you can kiss in space IF you mean the sweet kiss of death. Since that’s what happens. When you take your helmet off.” She folds her arms over her chest and glances back out at the tiny window of the international space station. She sees a sliver of the planet just beyond a vast expanse of space.

“Okay,” Felicity put a finger in the air, “but what if it’s on the moon?” She winks, “with the power of moonbeams. And love.”

Jilly’s shoulders fall, “Moonbeams?” “Pretty hot, amiright?” Her smile goes lopsided, “like the one on earth. But better.” Jilly purses her lips, her eyes flick back over to the doorway, “it’s my turn in the washroom.” She says dryly.

Felicity clicks her tongue, “let me at least get your signature for the petition.” “Is it for-” “It’s for pro-moon kissing. I have valiantly volunteered to be the advocate for this you see,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “though we’re still accepting test subjects.” Jilly takes a deep breath in through her nose, “volunteers for the grave you mean?” “The power of love overcomes all obstacles,” Felicity says with a cheeky gleam in her eyes.

“Goodbye cadet,” she begins to wave plainly. She floats in front of her, “We’ve barely said hello!”

Jilly gave a small smile, “consider me your first opponent then. Anti-moon kissing if you will.” “Oh man, opponent,” she slicks her hair back, “I always wanted one of those.” “Congratulations,” she folded her arms over her chest, “No more petitions then.” She bites her lip, “there’s only two, but I don’t think you’ll like my second one either.” She gave her an even look, “is it-” “It’s whether or not you can bone in space,” She gave her a guileless smile that could be posted on billboards, Jilly rolls her eyes.

“Goodbye Felicity.” Jilly navigates her way over to the washroom.

“This isn’t over.” Felicity waves after her. Jilly turns mid-air, “not until you try and kiss in space.” She shakes her head, “and then it’s permanently over.” Felicity just tuts at her, “not if you do it right!” “Oh my god.” She reaches for the toothpaste and shuts the door.

-----------------

Jilly had a strict schedule, they all did. Otherwise, you would just sink into a timeless void where no one slept or got any work done, but everyone survived college so it couldn’t be that different.

She was doing her first hour on the treadmill when she sees the first signs of trouble, trouble part two, a bright white piece of paper. Felicity Fischer holding up a very special pen and a bright white piece of paper.

“Good afternoon everyone!” She addresses the first cadet in the center of the room, he was flexing slowly.

He blinks, “it’s morning.” “Time is fake,” Felicity stands up straight and Jilly wonders if she was flaking on her strength training again, Jilly glances at her arms. She probably wasn’t.

“And I’m here to advocate for a good cause,” she held up a lined piece of paper and glances in her direction, Jilly internally groans.

Nathaniel looks up and raises his eyebrows, “is it for a higher variety of beef paste because I was just ringing my dad about that earlier.” “It really isn’t,” Felicity confirms with her eyebrows arched, “but! How would you like to invest in a moon-kissing experiment?” “With,” Nathaniel points at himself, looking bemused. “Me?” “With,” Felicity continues smoothly, “the other astronaut assigned to visit the base with me.” “Oi,” another girl on the treadmill calls out, “is this about the mission assignments again? The higher-ups told us not to gossip about that.” Felicity waves her hand through the air, “the listings were already leaked. And it’s not going to change now.” Felicity's eyes flick over toward Jilly and she makes a face at her, Jilly holds herself up straighter, “I think we’re supposed to call it ‘moon settlement’ now, Secretary of State said it sounded better.”

“It’s not like we’re going to be growing corn up there though,” Nathaniel contributed sadly, “or cows. For better beef flavors.” “Not yet at least,” Felicity sings, “but with future technology- such as the ability to make out on the moon- anything is possible.” Jilly hangs her head, “what happened to the power of love?” “Patience,” she says with her eyes fluttering, “I’ll need at least three signatures for that. Though,” she makes pointed eye contact with Jilly, “there are always faster ways.” Jilly straightens up and glances down at her feet, “You know that was months ago.” She mumbles, but she wasn’t sure Felicity was listening.

The girl next to Jilly, Veronica Jones, clears her throat, “what is all this?” Felicity salutes briefly, “being first. For something.” “For what?” Nathaniel asks slowly, like he hadn’t quite woken up yet. “Kissing in space of course,” she says with her hands above her head.

“First?” Veronica snorts, “how do you know Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin weren’t snogging up there?”

Felicity hums deeply and Jilly stares at the ceiling. “Fair point,” Felicity says after a long pause, “and I’ve factored that into my calculations, and, if I must, I will accept being second. The second salvia-exchange for man. That’s the mission title starting now.” Jilly sighs and adjusts her straps on her waist holding her to the treadmill, “again, they wouldn’t have made it back. If they were making out on the moon.” She says pointedly and feels her eyebrow twitch.

Felicity taps her fingertips together, “I see, yes, because they would have kissed and never returned back to the intolerant earth. Choosing to instead raise their beautiful moon family up there.” Jilly slows down on her treadmill, “yeah, you got me.” Felicity just snickers at her, “That’s exactly what I meant, they would have raised a family on the moon of two astronauts and a space shuttle.” “Exactly,” Felicity winks, “I’ll add that to the petition.” Jilly massages the bridge of her nose, “let’s just be two of the first space cadets to go the moon and, I don’t know, high five. That sounds lovely.” Veronica grunts slightly, “that’s already been done. Arty and Alexandra in ‘27, they made a podcast about it, it was huge. Don’t you remember?”

Jilly turns to her, “Not really.”

“It was though.”

Felicity gave a small fox-smirk, “see?” She says slowly, “firsts.” She turns around hotly in air and waves, “It’s a big deal Jilly” Jilly looks down at her feet, she slows down her muscle training, “at least lift a few weights!” Felicity was already out of the room and singing some variation of ‘Kiss me Like a Heart Attack’ by pop sensation Yoonju Kim. Jilly looks off into the distance in the hopes she sees something.

“The mission list hasn’t been finalized yet,” she repeats the phrase to herself. She hears Veronica slow down her steady jog, “you can always remove yourself from the mission list if you like.” Jilly just turns her head slightly, “do you want to kiss Felicity on the moon then?” Veronica snorts loudly, “I don’t think she’s offering to me mate.” Jilly hunches her shoulders, “right.” She could always remove herself from the listings.

She picks up her pace on the treadmill.

-----------------------------

Jilly knew something was up when she heard the first notes play over the intercom. Sparkling, bright notes, like a clown popping out of a birthday cake when you were expecting a stripper. Slightly jarring.

Jilly turns her face up.

‘Wake me up before you go go,

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo’

Jilly took a moment to contemplate her hands before releasing herself from her chair and the data she was pouring over.

She studies the intercom speakers and juts her jaw out, “Is that-”

‘Wake me up before you go go,

'Cause I'm not planning on going solo.’

“Alright, I have to go,” she says absently to her fellow cadet Daniels who sat on the opposite side of the cramped space.

He took his earphones out, “what?” He blinks at Jilly, “is that-” ‘You get the gray skies outta my way,

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day.’

“80s pop,” Jilly twists around and opens the door with her head already pounding, “I’ll be right back.”

He waves at her absently, “Don’t get a yellow card Jill,” he studies her for a moment, “or at the very least make it worth it.” She sniffs loudly, “She wishes.” ‘Turn a mere spark into a flame,

My beats per minute never been the same.’

Jilly takes a moment to navigate her way toward the heart of the space station, it wasn’t large enough to be very hard. She floats toward the communication hub with her heart thumping a little more loudly than usual.

She knew this song.

“Felicity!” She calls out before she can make her expression purely neutral. The doors slide open just as the next verses blares overhead.

‘Wake me up before you go go’

The compact woman with her hair knotted at the nape of her neck turns around, “Cause you're my lady, I'm your fool. Makes me crazy. When you act so cruel.” She beams.

Jilly reaches for the intercom, “the whole station can hear you know.” She gives a wide grin, “have you seen the official mission listings?” Jilly sticks her bottom lip out, “we’re double-checking supplies at the moon ba- settlement. Yes.” “The moooon baby.” She gave a thumbs up, “and have you considered my proposal?”

Jilly tisks lowly, “how are you not in trouble right now?” She reaches over and presses the suppress button for the loudspeakers.

“How are you no fun?” Felicity teases, “I mean, besides that trip back in August.” “You get tipsy once...” She grumbles. “Tipsy? I remember a little more than that.” Jilly raises her eyebrows pointedly, “did you ever consider-” “One sec,” she flips the music back up louder, “this is my favorite part.” She clears her throat.

‘C'mon baby,

Let's not fight.

We'll go dancing’

Felicity reaches her hand out and does a little twirl, Jilly’s spine tingles, images flash behind her eyes. A face, a girl, music that thumped through her heart and a simple little tune in her head: ‘why not? Why not anything.’ Jilly pauses- and then more images, of a grey house, and long meetings, and a ten-year plan.

Her face flushes slightly, “did it ever occur to you-” She says more loudly as Felicity shimmies around her absently.

‘Wake me up before you go go,

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo.’

“That I didn’t want to kiss you again?!”

She says that part loud enough to be heard over the music.

Felicity pauses, her body floating in the opposite direction, the color drains from her face like an emptying sink, she pauses mid-’yo’ and floats a lower to the ground.

“Uh, I mean,” Jilly huffs gently and looks down to the floor, “we need to…” She hisses the word and cringes, “focus.” Felicity shifts from side to side, “it’s, you know. Just a routine trip Jilly. It could be,” she scowls slightly, “it could be more fun.” Jilly turns around and faces the door, “I,” she swallows dryly, “I told you.” She looks down at her feet, “kissing on the moon just pops your head anyway. Not… romantic.” “Oh,” Felicity’s tone falls two octaves, “I know.” We’re not romantic.

And… I’m not sure I can.

She doesn’t say any of those things, Jilly just floats back the door and mumbles something about going to sleep. Felicity still looked like someone robbed her dog in his doghouse.

Jilly swallows thickly and the door closes behind her.

----------------------------

Jilly stares at a series of numbers and grids, her eyes focus. The lines met perfectly with the side of the page. Each a symmetrical perfect boundary that kissed the edge of the next even perfect boundary.

It was like music or the water cycle or anything else that lined up with itself in a steady, simple rhythm. She traces it with her finger, pressing against the perfect even lines.

Jilly blinks several times and turns around, “do you think I should say something?” Daniel was pouring over another set of data, all needed for their moon trip the next ‘day.’ He barely glances up. “You’re saying something right now.” “To her.” Jilly says with a slight whine. “Perhaps… an extra ration? Or a hug. She seems like she’s the kind of person that likes hugs.” “From what I’ve heard,” he adjusts his plastic glasses, “that might send the wrong message.” Jilly shifts from side to side in her seat straps, “it would just be a hug or…” she bites her lip, “do you think she likes drawings?” “Can you draw?” Jilly turns back to her even, straight lines. “I make a very good quiche back at home.” “I think inviting her home for quiche might also send the wrong message.” Jilly groans again, “things were supposed to be easy in space.” “Very few people say that Jillian,” the middle-aged man gave a small smile. “But you could try with an ‘I’m sorry.” “I’m not sorry,” Jilly knit her eyebrows together, “I think. Kissing on the moon is silly! You know that.” “I don’t think that was ever her point.” Daniels doesn’t look up when he says that, Jilly just opens and closes her mouth in response.

“I should,” she gets up, “I should go.” Daniels doesn’t say anything as she unstraps herself from her seat and then pulls herself toward the door, and then pulls herself back into the room. “What if she yells at me?” He looks up with a placid look in his eyes, “what if she doesn’t?” Jilly shrinks down slightly, “what if she re-assigns herself?” Daniel chuckles, “you’ll have to find out. Or,” he put the data down. “Talk to her. I heard she bribed the coronel so she could play that song over the loudspeakers.” Jilly’s eyebrow twitches, “I know.” “And,” Daniels looks back down again, “I heard that was the song you listened to on some sort, trip?” “It was,” Jilly takes a deep breath, “it was just one night.” She goes back out the door one little push at a time, delicately making her way down the hallway and to the sleeper bunks.

She stands outside Felicity’s room for a good half-hour, missing bedtime by a few minutes. And still unable to go in.

---------------------

It’s a very very quiet preparation time in the shuttle. One buckle, two buckles, four, she talks into the headset to the people on the base. They checked the fuel lines. She talks on the headset with the people on the shuttle.

Jilly counted the buckles on her seatbelt and let the blood rush to her head.

Felicity sat in the chair next to her and asked polite, simple questions, mostly about the hydraulics. Jilly realized with a cold sweat this was going to be a long eight hours. She waits to see the curvature of earth as they set for the launch.

She glances over at Felicity again, she taps her fingers nervously on her leg and bites her lip, why didn’t she switch missions again? Because she wanted to walk on the moon. It’s what she wrote about in her first-grade letter to herself, re: in 30 years please walk on moon. She braces herself as the first signals of launch start to play across the switchboard.

She looks back to Felicity who was flipping some of the toggles above her head for releasing the clamps on either side of the shuttle, Jilly remembers to look back at her controls.

She takes a deep breath, it was going to be a long eight hours. “Ready?” She jumps as a voice comes in through her headset. “Roger,” she doesn’t recognize her own voice as the countdown begins. Neither of the girls look at each other as it hits zero.

She barely feels the launch as they press off into zero gravity with a sharp push from the engine and silent pur from the water motor. Jilly counts stars off in the distance as the shuttle zips off into earth’s orbit to slingshot toward the moon.

“Boo-yah,” Felicity punches the air as they hit the right angle off the station.

Jilly gives a nervous laugh, “oh.” She glances over, “oh good.” They stare at their trajectory on the screen for a long time, it blinks back at them in green. Felicity drums her hands on her knees and she looks out the large window and then back to Jilly.

“Well,” Felicity takes a deep breath, her silver suit reflecting in the low lights. “nice weather we’re having.” Jilly frowns for a moment, “there. There isn’t any…” “Pretty out of this world then,” she says with a tense pull of her lips.

Jilly inhales sharply, “ha.” Felicity exhales slowly, “Okay. I won’t try that again.” She looks down at her feet and the shuttle pilots them angled away from the sun. “But, yeah.” “Yeah.” Jilly shifts from side to side, “it is nice… weather. In Seattle, right now.” “Spring I think, right?” She asks with a small nod. “You know, Arizona is hot right now. But Seattle. Is good.” “Almost summer.” “Almost summer.” They don’t meet each other’s eyes and instead let the motors fill the silence. Fifty minutes pass, Jilly sweats despite the chill in the air and cooling system built into her suit.

She doesn’t know what prompts her to move, but they both turn around at once, catching each other’s eye at just the right moment.

“I-” Jilly starts.

“I’m sorry.” Felicity says quickly, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Wait, no, I’ve,” Jilly’s face blooms like a rosebud opening up, “I’ve never had anyone like me before.” Felicity’s face goes slack, “What?”

Jilly clutches at her seat buckles again, “like, not really. Not in the way that meant they, you know, were actually. Into me.” Felicity’s eyes were huge, “I’m into you.”

Jilly’s mouth hangs open, “I… guessed that?” She pouts slightly, “was it the petition that gave me away?” She gives an almost sad smile, “was it too much?” Jilly can’t help but laugh, snorting gently at the end, “it’s not what most people do.”

“Oh,” Felicity blinks, “I knew I should have gone with a voting system instead.” Jilly shifts toward her, “and what were the voting options?” Felicity smiles back at her, “I was thinking, A. Super Kiss, B. Firm but soft kiss in the shadow of the planet, and C. We are once again drunk and in space. And also kiss.” “Drunk?” She shakes her head, “oh no.” “Yes, I didn’t think it would go over well with voters either.” She nods, “voters are very fickle.” She lowers her chin slightly, “I heard that sometimes… you can sway them. If you are a little more subtle.” Her face heats slowly like a burner on low broil, “the voters are rather… uninformed.” She bites her bottom lip, she whispers, “Like I said... I’ve never really been liked before.” “Bullshit,” Felicity says with a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe once or twice,” she defends, “but I was busy.” “I can tell.” “I had plans.”

“I’ve heard,” Felicity puts a finger up and points, “and by any chance was this part of your plan?” She gestures to the wide expanse in front of them, night sky and stars burning far far in the distance. Jilly can only hold her chin firmly in place.

“It was one of the main steps.” Felicity laughs, “this,” she says slowly, “this is why I started the petition.” Jilly’s mouth tugs down, “my mother would say it was a little heavy handed.” “Oh.” “But,” she wiggles in her direction, “my mother and I never had similar tastes.” “Oh?” Felicity turns her head toward her, “tell me about it. Or her, all of it.” Jilly raises her eyebrows, “shouldn’t we talk about…what happened?” She says in a hushed tone, “feelings.”

“Let’s start with,” she clears her throat, “are Twizzlers your favorite snack or was that just an impulse buy in Vegas?”

She wrinkled her nose, “I ate twizzlers?” Felicity laughs again at that. “What a night.” “A good night,” Felicity sings and her helmet tilts, “so tell me about it.” She says softly, “Tell me it all.” She glances over to the trajectory, “we have time. And,” she bites her lip, “Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m pretty into you.” Jilly pauses, feels her face heat up like a careening meteor, and then she struggles slightly with her tongue in her mouth, “that’s the type of thing I’m talking about.” Felicity fiddles with her fingers, “I’m trying to make it a good thing.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not getting used to it.” “Well, we can learn together then,” she prompts her, “go on.”

Jilly sighs, “well, my mother was born in Toronto Canada before moving south.” “Exactly, good, what was her favorite snack?” She smiles, “Probably twizzlers.” They begin to talk. Jilly blinks and the eight hours pass before her heart can even slow down.

------------------

She could hear the distant din of the space shuttle radio as Jilly stepped off onto the ground, dust settles slowly around her footstep and her thoughts drift down with them. She felt the gentle pull of gravity on her body and it felt good.

She breathed steadily into her helmet, a warm puff against the chill, she turns around in circles. The space ‘settlement’ sat behind her, mostly a low research station with some mining installments, a work in progress.

She didn’t look back though, she tilts her head up, up and up and up. The sun glows off in the distance, hitting the moon with a bright surreal ember. Her eyes meet the object above her

Her breath hitches in her throat and she looks at a simple, vivid blue up above. She never got used to it, blue, blue as the universe and round as the sky. Her whole being tingles and she lets out a shuddering breath.

A simple blue marble suspended in space, like a painting or a perfect snapshot, a gulp of air after drowning or the first startling cry of an infant.

She feels something wet against her cheek, unassumingly, unannounced, running down her face one by one. She had written something thirty years ago.

“Dear Jillian,” she says in a soft voice, “I read space is quiet, very quiet, they call it a vacuum. My vacuum isn’t very quiet, but I believe them. This is a letter the teacher made me write, but I know we are going to space. In ten years let’s be on the moon.”

She murmurs and lets the little pinpricks fall out of her eyes, it wasn’t quiet, not like she thought. She heard a voice over her intercom.

“The prettiest thing in the Universe.” She just nods and turns slightly, Felicity stood with her arms out, smiling like the world shone for them and them alone.

She smiles, “here.” She says gently and Felicity faces her slowly, one inch at a time. Jilly pushes effortlessly off the ground and lands next to her on the grey grey dirt.

She lifts her fingertips, raising two of them in the air and pressing the tips to her helmet, she leans in and kisses them, leaving a faint imprint of her mouth there. Like the little lines of a grid. She smiles and lifts her fingers up.

“For you,” she presses her fingertips she kissed to Felicity’s helmet and the other girl stares fixedly at the spot for a long moment.

The smile was slow as the sunrise and lit up the night with the force of a battering ram, Felicity presses forward and wraps her arms around her neck pulling her forward. She kisses her fingertips through the glass.

They look back at one another, Felicity beams, “Do you want to adopt a space shuttle and make a moon family?”

She tosses her head back and laughs, “only if it’s in Buzz and Neil’s memory.” “Of course, and,” she lifts her hand up, “and,” she reaches for her, “if it’s with you.” Jilly reaches for her hand, she takes out and weaves their fingers together. “I could maybe sign up for that.”

They stand there, light as a feather and poised in place. They tap their helmets together and stay like that for a very long time.

---

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365daysofimprovement-blog · 6 years

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Can’t Hurt Me - David Goggins

Months earlier, I stumbled across David Goggin’s interview with Joe Rogan. This was before I knew who he was, but his description of being a Navy SEAL, Army Ranger and Air Force Tactical Air Controller plus an ultra marathon runner caught my eye. I assumed he would be a very disciplined and focussed person, and I hadn’t really listened to many military guys, so I listened on.

Whilst I was impressed with his credentials, for some reason I just couldn’t get into the podcast. He was very blunt, a ‘tough love’, no bullshit kind of guy. And me being the soft hearted girl just couldn’t handle that kind of message back then. So I tuned off, and continued on with my life.

Fast forward to a week ago, where I found Goggin’s book on Audible. It was rated very highly so I thought I’d give him another go. And I am so very glad I did.

‘Can’t Hurt Me’ chronicles David’s life from being a scared and abused child working nights at his father’s skating rink, to growing up with learning difficulties and cheating off his peers work, to getting into the military only to be discharged with a medical issue and then gaining over 100 pounds and ending up with a job spraying for cockroaches. David explains how we went from a person who was in his ultimate comfort mode but deeply unhappy, to getting into the Navy SEAL and slowly, step by step, changing his life around.

David’s story was riveting, and we get to see exactly how he changed himself. He is very honest in saying that he didn’t like who he was. He lied, he was set in his comfortable ways, he blamed the world for his situation. But he realised that no one was going to help him - it was up to him to change his situation. He had to CREATE the guy he wanted to be. He called that person ‘Goggins’, and Goggins was the guy he wanted to be. Someone who pushed their limits, dove into uncomfortable situations, and worked through his short falls, one by one.

Another key concept David speaks about is that humans only work to 40% of their potential. There is still 60% of their capacity untapped, and for many, remain untapped. The human being is capable of so much and we need to continuously look for the next challenge to overcome to really see what we are made of.

A key method of doing this is through doing things which make you uncomfortable. What are you not doing because its too hard? What do you shy away from because you’re scared? What did you stop doing because you weren’t good at it? Those are the things you need to do. You will never change if you remain the same, and it is doing the things you do not want to do, where you find the courage and determination to be the person you can be proud of.

David in his interview with Tom Bilyeuo of Impact Theory said that what drives him is the day he meets his maker. When his time comes, he wants the maker to say “I knew you would do great things, but I never saw this coming. I was writing as you were creating.”

Can’t Hurt Me will change your life. David’s story is powerful because he is the living embodiment of making the decision to change, and through hard work, determination and will, actually changing.

Final Rating: 4.9/5

#bookreview

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 8 years

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Podcasts for your functions!

In honor of #trypod, here are the podcasts I listen to, semi-arbitrarily assigned to functions! But seriously check any of them out.

Also I tend to go for either surreal radio-show style fiction, or people just joking about dumb stuff.

Si: Sawbones. I recommended this for I think INTPs a while ago, but I think any Si users (...and non-Si users since ISTP sister is a fan) will appreciate it. It’s about all the ridiculous and sometimes horrifying things that people have done in the name of medicine, from trepanation to patent medicines. I’ve also appreciated the handful of more serious episodes: there was one about the hosts’ daughter’s birth, and more recently a few about immigration medical requirements and health insurance. But mostly it’s informative, historical, and funny.

Ne: Crossover Appeal. It’s a podcast about fandom, namely taking two things and mashing them up, but usually things that don’t usually get mashed up (read: no superwholock to be found). I don’t listen to every episode because I frequently find I’ve only read/watched one of the works, but I’ve loved the HP&HP (Harry Potter and Lovecraft) Halloween special, the Yay Hamlet Hamilton/Hamlet one, and the Orphan Black/Phryne Fisher episode for badass ladies. And the fact that it’s every other week and you can skip around probably works well for Ne users.

Ni: The Beef and Dairy Network. Deeply surreal, with that dark and dry humor that is often characteristic of Ni users. There’s a consistent underlying storyline/conspiracy, and a bit of political sarcasm in the mix, so I think that will also work for Ni users who appreciate the payoff of sticking with a serial story with an unusual format, that sometimes draws from reality but twists it.

Se: My Brother, My Brother, and Me. This one is pretty famous (Justin, the oldest brother, is also a Sawbones host and I found MBMBAM through Sawbones), and it’s characterized by a combination of terrible advice and weird riffing and tangents. I think Se users will particularly appreciate the combination of rapid-fire switches in the conversation along with concrete yet impractical suggestions and goofy humor.

Ti: Within the Wires or Alice Isn’t Dead. Both of these are Welcome to Nightvale shows, but with a smaller self-contained story that unfolds slowly, allowing you to try and deduce what will happen next (and probably often fail). I think they both fall well along the Ti-Fe spectrum, though honestly what do I know. Within the Wires in particular seems to be a good Ti-Fe show and is in my opinion the strongest (Orbiting Human Circus wasn’t my favorite though I did enjoy it overall).

Fe: This American Life. A classic, not only because it’s something people have been listening to forever and can all share, but also because of its dedication to telling the stories of every kind of person and finding the commonalities between these different stories. I don’t always listen to it (it’s a lot; also sometimes it will lead to you crying in your car and now that I don’t have a car I’d really rather not burst into tears on the subway) but I do love it and thank it for having this message of how we’re all the same on some level.

Fi: Pop Rocket. It’s about pop culture, and it’s a great hangout show - the hosts are a diverse group and are all close with each other. They focus on a single topic each episode usually but what impresses me is how great they are at letting each host talk about pop culture from their own perspective and relate it to their personal experience in a way that is effective and interesting.

Te: She’s Running. This is really new (only 2 episodes) and it’s interviews with women who are running for office at any level (city, state, federal) in the U.S. . It is not technically partisan though it’s obviously got a very pro-women message and the two interviewees so far are affiliated with the Democratic party. It has a message of getting out the vote for these candidates, but also provides some really great insight into the work involved in running a campaign, even a small one.

Are you being paid by WTNV and Max Fun?

No, I wish.

I’m looking for more/None of these are for me, but I’d love other podcast recs!

Thanks! Other recommendations include:

I figure since this is on Tumblr you’re all sick of Welcome to Nightvale but I do listen to it and enjoy it. It does have the drawback of being both serialized and pretty far into that serial - you'll want to go back to the beginning and that will take a while.

Speaking of - I never listened to season 2, but season 1 of Serial, about a young man jailed for his sometimes-girlfriend’s murder in the Baltimore area that might have been due to a combination of Islamophobia, the fragility of memory, and the fact that in the early 2000s, we didn’t really understand cell phones, was rightfully a hit. Listen if you like true crime or even if you don’t (I usually don’t).

I stopped listening to Aisha Tyler’s Girl on Guy regularly because I lost interest whenever the celebrity wasn’t someone I knew about and also because it’s really long and no longer worked well with my listening habits after I moved from a regular job-having car owner to a grad student who depends on NYC public transit and has an irregular schedule. However, Aisha Tyler is hilarious and a great, empathetic interviewer (I’m pretty sure she’s an ESTP with good Fe from the impression I have) and I recommend it if you’re into more long-form interview style listening.

I also stopped listening to Professor Blastoff which features Tig Notaro, Kyle Dunnigan and David Huntsberger. A large portion of that is because I found Kyle Dunnigan kind of annoying (which is mostly a clash of senses of humor I think - don’t take my word for this since it’s definitely a personal taste thing). It’s also really long (usually about 90 minutes if I recall correctly) so it similarly doesn’t work that well with my listening, but if you do a lot of driving or can listen to podcasts while you work, check it out! I did listen for some time, especially around when Tig Notaro was just out of her year of terrible things and getting a lot of fame for that. It ended in mid-2015 due to scheduling conflicts, but there’s a big archive if you’re just looking for something to listen to that isn’t strictly up to date.

I mostly listen to comedy, pop-culture, and story/fiction podcasts because I am a very visual learner so any more technical/educational podcasts tend to not work for me - I spend the whole time wishing I was just reading an article or watching a video. However, if you’re more an auditory learner, I did enjoy Freakonomics - I just felt like I forgot everything immediately and would rather reread the book. There are some great resources online specifically for finding educational podcasts so if that’s your interest, have at it!

#trypod #podcasts #mbti

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somedaypast-thesunset · 6 years

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I tell him in plain language I haven't eaten and have no money for food. He offers to loan me money and that I can come over. But it's -2 and all my cold weather wear is garbage from the 5 min I spent just going to the store. He says he has to charge his phone. I'm like OK but u can also do it on your laptop. "yeah but then I'd have to find my wallet". I gave a huge exaggerated laugh because who the fuck responds to someone asking to eat like 5hat? He thinks my reply is weird. I tell him I assume he's joking so I'm laughing otherwise I'm just depressed. He replies, "do you need money now?"

SO GCDFHJFFDXDJKCFYBVXSSJKCF

DO I NEED TO EAT TODAY? DO I? GYESS NOT BECAYSE I WOYLDNT WANT TO BORHER YOU TO FIND YOUR FUCKING WALLET.

the only mature non combative response I had was no response because I'm not even dignifying such a stupid fucking question with a response. Fuck you man. Just fuck you. I'd get more respect sucking dick for 40$. Quicker too.

And I'm trying soooooooo hard and it's just nothing. I'm doing nothing but expending the absolute most amount of effort I currently have before becoming sooo exhausted and frustrated that I'm becoming impulsively violent - much like traits I had very young that I worked to control. Like my day consists of waking up and being brought home. I smoke weed, find a podcast or video or movie to listen to but barely pay attention and try to bring myself to do anything. Like changing my clothes from yesterday. Going out to get food (which if I do is my entire morning and I'm done after). Lately I want soooo badly to get back into my shit. I used to be productive. Like I lost alllllllllllllllllllllllll drive for anything. I cannot fathom going to a job. My whole disposition says I want to die every moment I'm awake. I watched this doc about this crazy lady who starved to death in an abandoned house on an occupied street like ppl walked by the house she had neighbors but she like actively chose to just starve and die. And everyone's so confused like oh the neighbors were there she could've gotten food but no. I get this lady. I am this lady right now. I am in an abandoned house that is my body and my neighbors can see I'm here but they don't care if anyone is home. They wouldn't feed me.

In some ways I was like oh no. This lady is me. But she was delusional. Like she made ppl up. I haven't ever. But I am becoming like my mother more and more but I guess I empathize more. This lady was so depressed like she really wanted to die all the time and she was miserable and couldn't keep friends and I get it now. I got it before but now I really get it because there's no choice anymore. At some point you like... You're standing on the edge of the abyss and then u let go and from that point on its just free falling out of control. You can't stop it once it's hit full momentum. And I'm screaming cuz I did the drugs. And I can do them again so I can placebo effectvmyself for 2 weeks and crash again. I am existing solely for the purpose of a few other ppl right now. Like I can't die right here because my roommate has to find it and he's the last person I want to find dead me. Like if a stranger could spot a body that is me, that'd be good. Or like a dog finds me first. I want to go in a forest. I want my body to refuel the earth and I want animals to tear me apart like when the Indians let vultures eat their dead. I'm dead you know. People have too much control. I'm used to no control and I embrace the lack of control one has in death despite society trying sooo hard. And I'm still there you know cuz I want to control when I die. I wan5 to choose and death is not about choice. And it's hard to die. Killing yourself takes like extreme effort. I cannot selfishly take my cats with me tho I want to. I want to die with my cat in my arms, the only thing that ever really loved me besides my dad. I just want to go far far out where it's no coming back. Like even if I last minute didn't want to I want to be so far out in the woods I can5 make it back in such condition so I just die because wanting to live is the moment of weakness. This is not a moment. I am not in a decade long moment. I am suffering and I hurt and the "system" is a fools game. Like it took 100 yrs to accept certain medications and procedures as fucked up because it takes society 100 yrs to figure anything out and like I guess my hope is that because we're evolving technology so fast maybe in 5 years they will know how to fix depression. They will look in my brain and s3e the suffering and fix it. And I'll flick a switch and my memories will be neutral in feeling, not ptsd.

It's not even ptsd anymore. No, it's not JUST ptsd anymore. It's the starting long term effects of poverty. It's like.. My own mental issues maturing with me as I'm getting older and it's not easier at all?

Like I tried to do my shop and realized its so half assed and like I can't be this age and present this level of effort. I can do better I just chose not to but I spend effort doing it half assed still. I took apart 80% of my jewelry and have yet to go back to it because why. And that's sad. Like I have to be careful now to maintain what I do have or I may not care enough to do it again. I have alllllllllllllllllllllllll the time in the world to do something. Anything. Any. Thing. And I've listened to 350 episodes of last podcast, know deeply a 38 yr old man I never met who plays video games online, watched anything deemed good on Netflix, am totally up to date on s3veral news websites and podcasts and I smoke like 400$ worth of weed a month.

I don't even want to know me.

But like.. I don't pretend I just don't talk. I talk to others, share commentary occasionally but I just don't talk about anything. I especially don't talk about how depressed I am because it just bothers ppl and creates both positive and negative opinions none of which are helpful to the illness.

So im very very secluded. And I used to use isolated but that's negative. That's saying I'm forced into it. I'm forcing it. I'm not. I actively choose it now so I am secluded and extremely private.

I'm still trying though? Like I don't even know why. Today I signed up for usertesting sites because I already do contract tests for consumer reviews so maybe I'll make some money but at the same time I feel like its another dead end. Just go work at McDonald's.

Art wise, there is so much I could do to revamp my shop. All new, well made jewelry. I need all new photos including ones of my art with close ups and stuff. I want to "graduate" my art skills a bit. Like really make nice well cut paper with borders for matting and start to sign my work and like all of this means higher quality so a higher price. I can do fucking better. And honestly I'm not doing anything else right now. My mind is completely disabled and to consider working is laughable now. I know I'm not going to so I can stop being anxious about it. Fuck em. I've been doing a depression project for charity cuz that's what I did earlier this year too but this one is more personal. I have 3/5 of what I wanted for my goal but at the same time what I made is so.. Average. It's not great at all. It's just iok and does the job and I tried my best but maybe I didn't? The fact 3/5 have all turned out with fairly major issues makes me feel less inclined to continue and the whole thing pointless cuz why give something to the homeless that sucks. So u can feel good?

I don't want therapy or medication. I deeply hate society and most of humanity. I used to be OK with it and I wanted to be apart of it but I was so shit on by so many people that I can't do it anymore. It's not worth it. 30 years of shit for like 30 y3ars of average? Cool.

Still trying tho. Still asked for money for food and I'll go hungry today but I'll havevmoney tomorrow I guess. That's life. Me and the 45 ppl on main St homeless. Somedays you eat Somedays you don't. He will probably realize at some point he made a mistake - hopefully. Because if I have to chase him for it, I'm probably going to hang out by myself tomorrow too.

I'm now worried I have no good winter clothes and my boots have holes in them. I'm already in super debt. I have to get a new jacket and boots before it snows. I could've gotten an extra 10 if I braved the cold for 25 min tonight but I'm just so tired I don't care enough. I can't talk to anyone about this. Then I'm just poor and a burden cuz I have no job and spend money on weed. And I did. I put myself far into debt just for weed. I'm now working on this plan that since I've quit smoking I must be up some money so I'll slowly build funds back up by not smoking and not spending crazy. Which even now sounds bullshit. But I'm trying the testing thing as well. If I get my shop up before Xmas rush. These are reasons to try but I'm only trying because d3pression put me in debt. If I wasn't this sad I wouldn't spend this money. I wouldntvlive like this.

Honestly until I get this money I don't even have funds for the bus to get my birth control. At the same time tho I was willing to sit all of this out and wait but I have like 7 days to be paid and I can't go 7 days without eating at all.

I spent myblast 3$ on cat food and honestly just this run down alone describes how insane I am. Like there's no way it's OK for me to be on my own to this degree. No sound psychologist would say yes 100% clearly functioning on their own in need of no assistance. If someone described this to me in my moments of sound mind I would be like this bitch is dead in atleast 5 years. Prob less. Meds aren't enough. Therapy is not enough. And I don't deserve to be in a psych ward because my capacity for reasoning and logic is fully there and it's unfair to have success in q team monitored to be released into the same conditions you know.

What am I doing when my father's gone? This because no one recognized that in a Co dependent relationship there are two people who are d3oendent not just one and instead of really assessing the situation people chose to think I was lazy and living off my father (even tho I was not) ignoring severe depression and suicidal t3ndencies. Thanks.

I am the abandoned house.

Today I was trying to get ready to leave when he said he still wanted to smoke from my bong and ohh where do I have to go that's so important. And it's not just him. It's anyone who knows myclife. They d3cided my time has less value because someone who's not them d3cided to pay me money in exchange for menial tasks. Since I don't have that my time is meaningless and they can not show up to qppts or show up late or leave late or make me wait X amount of time cuz I have all the time in the world. They work u know. But I no longer care. For the people who know me I'm no longer accepting this and just going about my lif3 without them. For those who don't, I'm no longer going to share anything about my life with anyone. I'm just as valuable as you. My time is equally of worth. Fuck you for ever thinking different.

Just remember - anyone else alive, not your problem.

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ummypm · 6 years

Text

I’m finally coming back to life…here’s where I’ve been.

I hope you enjoyed those last days of summer and celebrating with sunshine, watermelon, and perhaps a cocktail or two

As much as I look forward to summer, I love when that crisp air rolls through and birds start their migration, indicating fall is on it’s way.

I want to start by addressing the elephant in the room. And that is that I haven’t really been around, much less written to you for a few months.

I wish I could say it’s because I’ve been doing so many exciting things, but the truth is, I’ve spent most of my time since May on the couch. Doing a whole lot of nothing.

I’m pregnant! 23 weeks along now, and our baby is due February 5th.

As some of you know my journey into motherhood has been a bit of a rocky road, so I’m actually telling you about my pregnancy before almost anyone else.

I’ve been keeping this close to my heart in part out of fear that something may go wrong. In part because I’ve been feeling like this is my own special secret. In large part because I’ve been so freaking sick I can’t even tell you!

We actually found out unexpectedly in our first week of a month long trip through Europe.

I was thrilled! And then….very very nauseas and sleepy.

So I gave myself permission to retreat for a while.

I only had the energy for the current clients I was working with, my family, and my body. Well…if eating a few saltines and sipping ginger ale counts as self-care

I’m not going to lie, it’s been hard.

While I’m thrilled about this new life I’m creating, I’d been so used to a “go go go” mentality, feeling stuck on a couch and isolated can cause some depression.

I feel like I’m finally coming back to life and wanted to share with you a few things I’ve learned and loved.

I’m not affiliated with any of these, just cool things I wanted to share. Maybe they can become tools for your toolbox as well.

1. Sometimes not doing anything is actually doing something. Most of our modern lifestyles either teach us to, or force us to, be on the move all the time. If our bodies aren’t physically moving our minds certainly are. I had to remind myself again and again that even though I felt like I was “not doing anything” I was actually doing some really important work…creating a baby.

Whether it’s creating a child, creating artwork, allowing a project come to life, or just vegging the F out because your body needs some time to chill, that is doing something.

2. Life ebbs and flows. I learned from Alissa Vitti of Flo Living just how different men and women’s hormones and bodies are. This should be such an obvious thing, but it’s not! Men’s hormones reset on a cycle of 24 hours. That means that men have the capacity to show up, day in and day out, produce, and shine like the sun. Women are on a (did you guess?) moonly cycle. Our hormones reset approximately every 28 days.

This means that when we try to show up to our life the same way as men, it often doesn’t work! We exhaust ourselves or get stressed out. There are times in our cycle where we may be more tired, moody, happy, productive, etc. If this is the case in a month I had to remind myself that obviously pregnancy was going to throw off my body and emotions quite a bit!

Props to my husband whom has really stepped up to take care of us, and put up with my mini tantrums. This is an ebb before the flow. Life has seasons. Roll with it.

3. Listening to podcasts, reading fiction novels, and a little fluff helps.When you’re feeling down, and especially when you have zero physical energy, a little fluff can go a long way. I watched every episode of Glee over again (which I indulged in during my first pregnancy!). I started reading fiction again, not just self-help. And I found a few podcasts that inspired me.

My absolute favorite lately was Yoga Girl’s “From The Heart” episode with Seal as a guest. Wow that man is inspiring! So much so that I made my husband re-listen to the episode with me when he got home. On a wellness/yoga based podcast I was expecting him to say some of the same stuff you hear regurgitated again and again, but what he said was so unique I was blown away.

4. Going green! While I’ve taken a slight step back in my business, which will continue over the next year or so, I’ve found my passion again for the environment and how that connects to our personal well-being. The thing is that us and nature are one. Really. What is good for the environment is good for us and vice versa.

I cleaned out ALL of our cleaning supplies and replaced them with just one cleaner, Branch Basics, which is completely non-toxic for our bods and the planet! Love this stuff! I did the same with my makeup drawer…it got a cleaning and replacement with more natural products. Think Dirty is an awesome app that can help you with this. I also decided I wanted to get out there and volunteer more for local environmental organizations. Meet new people and do something I deeply care about…a win all around!

5. Social media detoxing. I really haven’t thought of this as a detox. One day I just woke up nauseas, couldn’t bring myself to post or check any social media, and didn’t look back. At first this was tough because I felt like I “should” be posting, or “should” be keeping up with what’s going on with others, but then I realized if I wanted to do that I could just pick up the phone and call them, and that yes…alas…life will go on without me feeling like I need to post daily or respond to every single comment.

It’s funny how when you stop for long enough, you don’t miss it! At all! I started craving more real life connection instead. And it helped me start some good habits again. I resubscribed to the app HeadSpace and began meditating when I needed it, and started stretching for at least 20 mins in low light before bedtime.

So there you have it! I’ve been hibernating all summer but I’m slowly and quietly returning. I have my big ultrasound in two weeks but no…we’re not finding out the gender of our baby. It’ll be a surprise!

I’ll start writing a bit more regularly and sharing tidbits of free resources, things I love, and tools for your own love and happiness. I’m going about things differently this time around and will not be censoring myself as much.

Much love,

Alexis

The post I’m finally coming back to life…here’s where I’ve been. appeared first on Alexis Meads | Dating Coach and Dating Expert | Portland Oregon.

from Blog – Alexis Meads | Dating Coach and Dating Expert | Portland Oregon https://alexismeads.com/im-finally-coming-back-to-life-heres-where-ive-been/

#Blog – Alexis Meads | Dating Coach and Dating Expert | Portland Oregon

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lucyariablog · 7 years

Text

A Content Marketing Love Letter

Almost eight years ago to the day was one of the worst days of my life.

The business I had started 2.5 years earlier was on its last leg. It wasn’t just that we weren’t making money, but we were losing enough money that I started to question whether our family would have enough to pay certain bills.

The downtrend was apparent, but on this day … nail met coffin.

This was the day that one of our biggest clients, the one we delivered our best results to and was the most revered of all our case studies, decided not to renew our service (we provided qualified leads for content agencies).

I called the client, received the “official” word, and hung up the phone. In a daze, I walked out of my home office, and then wandered outside and into the yard.

I can’t remember how long I was back there … it could have been five minutes or five hours. I could hear my two boys (then 8 and 6) laughing from inside the house. I think they had just come home from school.

What would I do? What would we do?

It’s a strange feeling when you feel deeply sorry for yourself. Maybe you’ve felt it before … failure that rolls onto you like the ocean waves. Slowly, it overtakes you.

Looking back on it now, it all seems so silly. I mean, this is the definition of a first-world problem. Sure, it wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t the end of the world … except that’s exactly what it felt like.

I guessed I’d just go back and get a “real” job, which was fine except for the fact that I was unmanageable. I left an executive position 2.5 years earlier, put the shingle out, and vowed I’d never do it again. And here I was, considering going back to the corporate world.

A few days went by. I promised myself I wouldn’t make any decisions while in an emotional state.

That week I received an email from one of our blog subscribers. She worked at a fairly large B2B company. She said she absolutely loved the blog and felt like she found her calling around content marketing. She’d been doing content marketing for years but called it something else. She was glad there was a name for it now. Regardless, she wanted to implement a strategy and process in her company, and wanted to know if I could help.

“That’s nice,” I thought … a consulting gig would help.

Then, for whatever reason, I started going through all the emails I’d received from subscribers over the years. The content marketing blog I started in April 2007 was really taking off, and the audience was anything but shy.

The @cmicontent blog I started in April 2007 was taking off & the audience anything but shy. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

And there it was … email after email, the audience telling me what they would buy. While I was so busy trying to perfect a failing product, the answers were right in front of me.

“Joe, our marketing department needs ongoing content marketing training. Does anyone do that?”

“Joe, why isn’t there a content marketing conference? I’d like to meet people who are going through the same challenges that I am.”

“Joe, is there any benchmark research on how marketers are using and succeeding with content marketing? I need to get buy-in from my boss.”

“I like AdAge and B2B magazine, but they never talk about content creation and distribution issues. Are there any media companies that focus on this? If so, I’d like to subscribe my team.”

The proverbial lightbulb had been switched to the “on” position.

Birth of Content Marketing Institute

Next to my computer was a cocktail napkin (I still can’t recall why). On that napkin, I wrote something to the effect of this:

In three years, we will run the leading online destination for content marketing, the leading content marketing magazine, and the largest content marketing event on the planet.

Just over six months later, in May 2010, Content Marketing Institute was born. The concept took off immediately. People came to the site. Social sharing was off the hook. It was hard to believe it was working.

In May 2010, @cmicontent was born. The concept took off, says @JoePulizzi. Click To Tweet

Michele Linn bought into the vision and took over editorial. Robert Rose, always open to a disruptive idea, assisted with the vision and agreed to run consulting and training. Pam Kozelka, my wife and co-founder of CMI, took over all the operations so I could sell, speak, scale, and write. Joseph Kalinowski brought his design chops.

Chief Content Officer (CCO) magazine launched in January 2011. Clare McDermott, who for whatever reason agreed to edit the magazine, took charge of the brand with Angela Vannucci who became the project director.

I called Kelley Whetsell, event director extraordinaire, and explained to her the vision for Content Marketing World. She reserved a small space at the Renaissance Hotel in Cleveland, Ohio, based for 100 to 150 people. I honestly didn’t know if we could attract 100 people to Cleveland for a small content marketing conference.

I didn’t know if 100 people would show up for a #contentmarketing conference. 660 people did. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

Just a few months later, 660 people showed up at the conference and we were bursting at the hotel’s seams.

Cathy McPhillips came on to run marketing. Lisa Beets agreed to run our annual research. Peter Loibl agreed to come over from Crain’s to run sales. Laura Kozak formalized a process for the website. Jodi Harris came on to help Michele with the blog and our content projects. Mo Wagner brought her social media savvy. Amanda Subler generated more buzz around content marketing than we could possibly imagine.

As we scaled, we added more talent, but even better human beings like Kim Borden, Karen Schopp, Lisa Dougherty, Krissy Leskovec, Dave Anthony, John Hanson, Wally Koval, Ann Gynn, Marcia Riefer-Johnston, and many others.

By the fall of 2012, just two years after the worst day of my professional career, we had achieved our “cocktail-napkin” mission, and indeed built the leading online destination for content marketing, the largest magazine property, and the largest in-person content marketing event in the world.

It’s the community

I love the CMI team. They are family to me and always will be.

But I tell you this story because, to put it simply, CMI exists because of you.

CMI would not be “a thing” without you … your feedback, your honesty, your ability to challenge the status quo.

When I teach people about what it takes to build an audience, I don’t think of an audience as a nameless, faceless crowd. I think of Andrew Davis, Jay Acunzo, Ann Handley, Ardath Albee, Jay Baer, Arnie Kuenn, Ahava Leibtag, Jesper Laursen, Kazuo Watanabe, Pam Didner, Pamela Muldoon, and so many others.

When I teach people about building an audience, I don’t think of it as a nameless, faceless crowd. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

I think of the time Andy Crestodina stalked me at Content Marketing World 2012 to hand me a printout of his Content Chemistry book (I still have it, Andy).

I think of Carmen Hill and how she always willingly spends her birthday at CMWorld every year.

I think of Marcus Sheridan, an incredibly raw and talented speaker that we gave 20 minutes to in 2011 … who became our keynote in 2012 and went on to affect so many people around the world in such a positive way.

I think of amazing moments like Pam and I crying behind the curtain before I went out on stage for CMWorld 2011, and how two days later three delegates came to me crying and disappointed for having to listen to that vulgar Kevin Smith performance (yes, that happened). And I’ll never forget seeing Amanda Todorovich’s face when she received Content Marketer of the Year, presented by her two beautiful daughters.

Content marketing has become a real, professional practice … maybe the most important practice in marketing, because you had the strength and courage to seek out a better way to communicate. You believed that marketing, as we knew it, was broken and there was (is) a better way.

Being witness to this and being able to serve you has been a wonderful and humbling experience. It’s a gift … one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. I don’t know if I’m deserving of it, but I will accept it nonetheless.

My journey

You are smart, so you’ve probably seen where this is heading (if you didn’t already scroll to this part of the story).

Starting Jan. 1, I will be ending my active role in CMI operations. On that exact date, I’ll be taking a 30-day, internet-free sabbatical and spending every possible second with my family. After that, I’ll be taking some very special (bucket list) trips with members of my family and will be working on some non-marketing writing projects (and other shenanigans). I’ll also be increasing my involvement in our nonprofit organization, Orange Effect Foundation, and will continue to raise money for children who desperately need speech therapy and technology equipment to help them communicate more effectively.

I’ve been given a very rare gift in that I can step away and focus on some things that I may have been neglecting over the past few years. As Alexander Hamilton says in the musical Hamilton, “I am not throwing away my shot.” My plan is to truly lean in to this and see where the journey leads me.

Some community members may not know this, but CMI was acquired in June 2016 by UBM, one of the most successful event and media companies in the world. UBM saw amazing value in the business, and CMI found a wonderful home. The partnership with UBM is the reason I have the opportunity to take some time off. Hopefully you’ve noticed that there haven’t been any changes to the CMI team operations or the way we interact with the community. UBM has done a great job in continuing in the spirit that Pam, I, and the rest of the team started so many years ago.

So, while I, of course, will be at Content Marketing World in 2018, I’ll be moving away from my other duties, including the podcast. I can do this because, to be honest, I have complete faith in you, the community, and the CMI team. I’m excited to see what you do next, and how our very important mission continues to evolve.

I have complete faith in the community & the @cmicontent team. I’m excited to see what's next. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

It’s never been a more exciting time to be a marketing professional. We are the ones who will define the future business models, not just for marketing, but for our entire organizations. Building loyal and trusted audiences through the delivery of truly valuable information is the key to making this happen.

Although I won’t be active at CMI, I won’t be gone. I’m here for any one of you with anything you need, just like I always have been. You just might not be seeing my avatar as much on the site.

If you have any questions, please leave them below and I will answer as promptly as possible.

With love and content,

Joe

“Patience, persistence, and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success.” – Napoleon Hill

Want to see Joe’s motivational words from Content Marketing World 2017 and learn from hundreds of presenters? Sign up for CMWorld’s video on demand.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post A Content Marketing Love Letter appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2017/10/content-marketing-letter/

0 notes

hotspreadpage · 7 years

Text

A Content Marketing Love Letter

Almost eight years ago to the day was one of the worst days of my life.

The downtrend was apparent, but on this day … nail met coffin.

I called the client, received the “official” word, and hung up the phone. In a daze, I walked out of my home office, and then wandered outside and into the yard.

What would I do? What would we do?

It’s a strange feeling when you feel deeply sorry for yourself. Maybe you’ve felt it before … failure that rolls onto you like the ocean waves. Slowly, it overtakes you.

A few days went by. I promised myself I wouldn’t make any decisions while in an emotional state.

“That’s nice,” I thought … a consulting gig would help.

The @cmicontent blog I started in April 2007 was taking off & the audience anything but shy. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

And there it was … email after email, the audience telling me what they would buy. While I was so busy trying to perfect a failing product, the answers were right in front of me.

“Joe, our marketing department needs ongoing content marketing training. Does anyone do that?”

“Joe, why isn’t there a content marketing conference? I’d like to meet people who are going through the same challenges that I am.”

“Joe, is there any benchmark research on how marketers are using and succeeding with content marketing? I need to get buy-in from my boss.”

“I like AdAge and B2B magazine, but they never talk about content creation and distribution issues. Are there any media companies that focus on this? If so, I’d like to subscribe my team.”

The proverbial lightbulb had been switched to the “on” position.

Birth of Content Marketing Institute

Next to my computer was a cocktail napkin (I still can’t recall why). On that napkin, I wrote something to the effect of this:

In three years, we will run the leading online destination for content marketing, the leading content marketing magazine, and the largest content marketing event on the planet.

In May 2010, @cmicontent was born. The concept took off, says @JoePulizzi. Click To Tweet

I didn’t know if 100 people would show up for a #contentmarketing conference. 660 people did. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

Just a few months later, 660 people showed up at the conference and we were bursting at the hotel’s seams.

It’s the community

I love the CMI team. They are family to me and always will be.

But I tell you this story because, to put it simply, CMI exists because of you.

CMI would not be “a thing” without you … your feedback, your honesty, your ability to challenge the status quo.

When I teach people about building an audience, I don’t think of it as a nameless, faceless crowd. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

I think of the time Andy Crestodina stalked me at Content Marketing World 2012 to hand me a printout of his Content Chemistry book (I still have it, Andy).

I think of Carmen Hill and how she always willingly spends her birthday at CMWorld every year.

My journey

You are smart, so you’ve probably seen where this is heading (if you didn’t already scroll to this part of the story).

I have complete faith in the community & the @cmicontent team. I’m excited to see what’s next. @JoePulizzi Click To Tweet

Although I won’t be active at CMI, I won’t be gone. I’m here for any one of you with anything you need, just like I always have been. You just might not be seeing my avatar as much on the site.

If you have any questions, please leave them below and I will answer as promptly as possible.

With love and content,

Joe

“Patience, persistence, and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success.” – Napoleon Hill

Want to see Joe’s motivational words from Content Marketing World 2017 and learn from hundreds of presenters? Sign up for CMWorld’s video on demand.

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

The post A Content Marketing Love Letter appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

A Content Marketing Love Letter syndicated from http://ift.tt/2maPRjm

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3one3 · 7 years

Text

The Sequel - 855

Day(bed) Dreams

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“This is the first time I’ve actually sat in here.”

“It’s very nice with the fan.”

“The puppies certainly seem to enjoy napping here. I wonder why they waited for humans to use it before trying it themselves.”

“They like to be near you.”

“I wish Lukas were here.”

“Why did you schedule a playdate for him last night then?”

“Because dumb.”

In honor of Juan’s visit, and because it was really too hot out anyway, Christina postponed her Thursday riding and penciled “lay by the pool” into her schedule in its place. She and Juan made use of the little cabana on the front of the pool shed. There was a huge and comfortable wicker daybed in there with thick canvas cushions, and a ceiling fan that offered even more respite from the temperature than the shading from the sun obviously provided. The side curtains were decorative and remained tied to their posts for maximum fresh air anyway. Both humans and both Toy Fox Terriers had soft baby blue towels to relax on, and the latter snoozed stretched out on their sides for maximum cooling. The humans were right next to each other, with some pillows to recline on.

“I think I’m getting dumber, actually. A side effect of doing nothing but showing and vacationing is developing a serious deficit of other things to even talk about. I have nothing to say that isn’t about horses, horse shows, the Olympics, bikinis, food, or children’s toys. I can’t even read interesting books because I just fall asleep.” Christina inhaled deeply through her nose and let the air out slowly. The first part pushed her chest into the player’s left arm and the second drew it away again, but did blow warm breath on him. She could see it move some hair around. The short sleeve of his adidas logo tee was a little caught up on the towel, so it exposed more bicep than it should. The rider leaned forward just enough to smooch him there.

“You did at least an hour on Donald Trump this morning,” the Spaniard countered. Preseason was hard work for him and he relished the day off to relax with his feet up. His girlfriend’s yard was a pretty nice place to do that. The water pumps in the pool moved the surface water just enough to make a little ambient noise with the whoosh of the fan to back up the music playing over on the patio at low volume. Christina chose an alt-rock radio station on Apple Music, which was as inoffensive as it was uninteresting. Occasionally a song she knew and liked came on and she hummed along with it. More than occasionally a song she knew and didn’t like came on, and she hummed those too. Juan talking to her about the summer tour, in the kind of voice dictated by their proximity to one another, was all she really cared to hear. Sometimes Lucky’s snoring surpassed the collective volume of all of those things, and the player rubbed his head with his toes to interrupt the funny sound without ruining the puppy nap.

“So those things and Donald Trump. That’s it.”

“What do you want to have on your mind? You’re living your big dream in a few days. Better to think about it as much as you can before it’s over and you can’t get this time back,” Juan suggested.

“I don’t know. I just want to feel like an interesting person,” the new Olympian chuckled.

“Have you started reading the zoo book yet?”

“No. You said I should take it to Tokyo, so I’m saving it for Tokyo.”

“Have you talked to Aidan lately?”

“Yes. He’s happy for me about Tokyo. He has a girlfriend. He can’t come to visit because school starts soon.”

“That’s too bad.”

“What are we going to do when football starts for real and you can’t come visit either?”

“You can still visit me.”

“I watched an MLS game the other night at the airport.”

“Why? You hate American soccer.”

“David Villa was on fire.”

“He’s loving it there.”

“He sounds exactly like you. I stopped paying attention when the match was over but I still had my laptop open and my earbuds in and he did the man of the match interview and I thought it was you for a second.”

“We grew up in the same place. This is normal, I think.”

“I looked at the nearest TV screen with departures on it to see if there was a flight to London. I wanted to see you. So bad. It was such a crazy weekend and I heard your voice, or what I thought was your voice, and I wished I was going home to you in London instead of coming back here.”

“You have the power any time you want to make “home” with me in London instead of here with him.”

“Don’t.”

“Why do you tell me this if you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I tried to nap a little yesterday before you got here. I was flip-flopping between putting music on for white noise or a podcast, and I picked neither. I fell asleep just thinking about you instead.”

“What about?”

“I had this vignette in my head about us in bed, having like really romantic sex with the instrumental version of this Damien Rice song I love. I do that a lot.”

“Which?”

“Fall asleep imagining scenarios with you, or with Schü. They’re always affectionate, or passionate, or...I don’t know. The other day I was like, “What does this mean? What does it say about me? Am I feeling starved for that kind of connection?” I couldn’t really decide. I probably fell asleep.”

“I don’t know what it means,” the Spanish midfielder replied somewhat absently as he lifted his arm to use it as a headrest. Christina didn’t read that gesture as one meant to make more space between then. On the contrary, she inched closer to him and moved her knee to his thigh and her hand to his stomach. There were lots of times when his ability to listen to her situation and then interpret it differently could really, really agitate and annoy her, like the night before. Most of the time she wanted the service. She wanted him to tell her why her imagination struggled as of late to embrace any genre but softcore porn and romantic comedies. All it wanted to do was think up sex scenes, and cuddling scenarios, and it provided the staging, the soundtrack, the dialogue, and the plot, but never the prior scene or the one that would come next- never the context. Sometimes her imagination directed the scenes in her dreams and sometimes when she was awake. “Maybe it’s your conscience trying to protect you from thinking too much about the Olympics? If you weren’t having romantic fantasies all the time, maybe you’d be having medal ceremony ones, or scary ones where you hit all the jumps.”

“Maybe, but my conscience has never shown signs of self-awareness or a desire for self-preservation. It’s usually totally suicidal,” the rider giggled.

“You’ve grown a lot. You could be done with the self-destructive instincts,” Juan said back teasingly. She could see and hear his smile. “What are the other vignettes? Is that what you called them?”

“Yes, like a tableau, or scene. There was one where I desperately wanted you to fuck me standing up, like from behind, and you were like, “No, you’re too short”, and I was like “hello, Schü is half a foot taller than you and he manages,” and you were like, “Kneel on the bed”. So you were standing up and I was sitting up on my knees, and it was amazing. You kept kissing my neck or resting your chin on my shoulder here.” Christina patted the front of her left shoulder and then left her hand there, sort of tucked inside the neck of her shirt so she could touch her collarbone. “And obvs you had great access to boobs and clit so I was in over-stimulated heaven.”

“What’s happening in the ones that aren’t about sex?”

“When I got on that plane I passed out thinking about us going to a beautiful library from one of those Buzzfeed lists of beautiful libraries, and you walking around picking out all the books with quotes you know by heart that make you think of me,” she explained, able to see the scene in her head as if it were a memory. “I used to have things like that in my head when I had crushes on people, or when I first met Schü. And when we were first together. Usually my daydreams and fall-asleep-dreams are like...the stuff we put into the Dirk videos. Training montages with great songs. Victory gallops.”

“I know I’ve said it before and I know you’ve said no before, but I bet you could learn more about why you fantasize about different things if you spoke with a therapist.”

“Still no.” Christina shook her head and then pressed it into the Chelsea man’s ribs. He sighed dramatically like her cause was hopeless, and moved his left arm around her. His thumb tucked into the back of her cotton shorts near her hip.

“What are the ones you have with André?”

“Same type things.”

“I have had a thousand of these scenes come to me over the years where you leave him and tell me you’re ready to be together. I used to imagine how it would play out when you gave in and wanted to sleep together. It freaked me out a little bit when it actually happened in such a dramatic way, because I never expected that it would really happen like that. All the ways I pictured it were like laughably over the top, either porn-fantasy-dirty or so epic. Then that night actually was like a great story. Once in a while I think maybe the over the top scenes I imagine you telling me you want to be with me could actually happen like that too.” Juan was wistful in his sharing, but also self-deprecating. He must think it’s not cool for guys to think about stuff like that- to plan it out, his girl concluded while listening. I think it’s okay. If they can picture every second of the play leading up to when they score the Champions League winner then why not when they get the girl they want?

“So in what over the top ways has this gone down?” she asked with a big smile he couldn’t see but could probably sense. “How have I come to you and told you it’s time for us?”

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to recreate any of them when it happens.”

“Why?”

“I want it to be better than anything I could have imagined.”

Fuck, this is one of those moments. This is one of those exchanges you can “fantasize” about but know it never happens in real life. Like meet-cutes in movies. Nobody actually meets their soulmate that way except me and Schü. It’s one of those moments. It’s exactly what he’s talking about, the German girl realized, her heart beating steady but extra loudly in her chest and ears. She thought Juan’s couple of lines were too good. They weren’t even cheesy. They were just exquisite. He timed and executed the setup exactly the way he would have done if she plotted it out in one of her idle daydreams. She wanted to know if he plotted his as well, or if they were silly or ridiculous. Perhaps she said witty things in his vignettes but did so dressed as a French maid or something- some thing indicative of male authorship- some thing she couldn’t even fathom because she was a girl and she was Christina and only had Christina’s experiences and knowledge to draw from to make up her plot. Her internal screenwriter shouted that in her script, Juan would be lovingly kissed for what he said, and that she needed to get on top of him to do it so that after, she could fold her arms on him as a chin rest and spend a while smiling and listening right up close to his face while he told her about his imaginary interactions. Far be it from her to defy the writer.

“Are you about to do it right now?” the player teased after he got his kiss and while she arranged herself atop his body.

“No. That was just an adorable thing to say. Now give me some examples.”

“I think of one scene over and over for a long time,” he smiled, reaching out to poke at the large and disorganized knot of hair on her head. He must be fond of it then, Christina thought about the reoccurring daydream, attributing the frequency to satisfaction rather than some kind of plague or lack of imagination. “We’re at my place, and you drop a gold lipstick on the floor and ask me to pick it up for you. I bend down to get it and I try to hand it to you before standing up straight again, so your hand is right in my face when I go to give it back. You have a different ring on from this one.” Juan pointed at her diamond and aquamarine engagement ring since it happened to be right in front of his face, not unlike the story. “You had your diamond- the one I gave you, on the necklace- put back into a ring just like the one I got for you originally. You said you were ready to wear it a new way. Since I was already down there, I went to my knee and asked you if you wanted to wear it as my wife.”

“Awwww! That’s so adorable. How am I supposed to beat that?”

“I don’t know!” He continued to smile, and delighted in her melting heart. She had no intention of giving any sort of comment that might color his thinking or belief on the likelihood or nearness of her opting to choose the unique 5-carat Asscher cut rock over the 1.5-carat princess cut. That wasn’t the point of the conversation. Christina wasn’t thinking about it either. The feeling of imminent or eventual end of her marriage that she carried around with her for the better part of a year had dissipated enough to be a less urgent weight on her, or it was simply overshadowed by everyday life.

André didn’t follow through with the wedding band idea for their anniversary. They celebrated the special occasion when she got home from Aachen Sunday night, by drinking champagne and making s’mores over the fire pit. As anniversaries go, it was pretty low key. That was perfect though. Christina loved that her partner made a casual plan like that and researched how to pair different types of chocolate with different kinds of bubbly. He had a whole smorgasbord of chocolates with special extras, like lavender or orange peel, her favorite. Her idea for the occasion was to pack a picnic and take it to Signal Iduna Park. She wanted to con someone from the club into letting her spread a blanket and eat a lovely lunch in the center circle, so that she and André could reflect on and celebrate their journey together but also talk about all the ways they looked forward to the future. Football was the best outline by which she could think of to navigate the past and the future, and a lot of the future happiness was intrinsically linked to how he’d perform on that pitch. She didn’t know about his campfire plan ahead of time, and ended up being really glad that they did that instead. When she thought over whether or not to tell him her idea and try to make it happen as a sort of second celebration of their anniversary, she feared that it would seem almost threatening to the player- as if she were trying to tell him that he had better get his act together in that stadium or they’d never be happily ever after.

“What are your non-romantic vignettes about?” she inquired of the midfielder who still played at Stamford Bridge. “Fucking my butt?”

“Yes.” He winked at her and she stuck her tongue out. So did Spencer. He licked at her bare foot since it ended up in his face. His little tongue tickled and caused wriggling and squirming, which caused confusion for Juan, who had no idea why the girl on him was having some kind of attack.

“Pupppppy, stahhhhhp,” she moan-laughed. She didn’t want to just kick her foot or yank it away and accidentally hurt him. It took a few seconds for her to be sure of where he was and then cross her leg over the other ankle, out of range of any terriers.

“What was he doing?”

“Licking my baby toe.”

“Are you going to be lying on me for long?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I want more of this.” Her friend reached for his glass sitting on the little ledge behind his head. It had melting ice in it. Christina made iced coffee with fancy cold brew from the gourmet market. It was delicious. “If you’re just visiting, I can wait until you get up. If you plan to be here for a while, let me go get more and then you can come back.”

“You can go get a refill if you bring me one too. Thanks.” She stretched forward to smooch the unsuspecting player on the lips, and then carefully removed herself from his person. She sat Indian-style by the dogs so that she could pet them and remind them how spoiled they were, and how lucky they were not to have to go to “work” at the barn yet.

Also on her mind was how lucky she was not to have to be working at almost noon either, and how surprising it was that she could feel pretty relaxed about that. Christina was being incredibly “good” about her training, both in and out of the tack. She was back to working diligently but intelligently, the way she was able to do before André’s transfer set off a bomb in her routine. It was so much easier to feel prepared and calm about her riding and her horses when she knew she was doing everything right for them and for herself. Her heart kept trying to spiral out of control with anticipation and anxiety about the Olympics, but her brain kept telling it to calm down and be reasonable, reminding her that she was doing everything she possibly could, and that if she went to Tokyo and totally blew it, it wouldn’t be because of something she did in the build-up. Recognizing how good a place she was in was somewhat bittersweet, however, because it meant that it took an entire year to get back to “right” and “good”, and to her that was a year wasted. The horses especially had limited time and jumps to waste, but so did she. Christina couldn’t see herself extending her prime riding into her 40’s or even later like some of her colleagues.

“As it turns out,” she told Spencer, mostly, since Lucky was reluctant to open his eyes and acknowledge her attention. “All I really need in life is special ponies and a nice place to ride them, special boys and nice environments in which to cuddle with them, and enough free time to do stuff with Lulu Schü, because he deserves his Mom and because he makes me wanna die from laughter, and happy-cry at how cute he is, and- Yes, and you guys too.” The rider rolled her eyes at the tricolor terrier, who reached out with a paw to tap her hand when she got caught up in her explanation and stopped petting his little head. “Don’t tell him I told you, but Juanin said he misses you guys sometimes. Everyone loves you.” The rider bent down to kiss her puppy, and then looked around for her phone. There were a lot of pillows on the daybed, and displaced towels bunched up or folded from her moving about.

I need to know when Stef wants to do her lesson so I know how much time I have to do nothing, in case Juanin wants to do an actual thing. I’m fine not riding until like 7, and if she wants to ride late too then we can go into the city and...whatever. I dunno what he wants to see. Ooo, there it is. Her phone, setting a new record for single case usage, was close to falling off the side of the cushion, partially concealed by a towel.

“No response from Stef but Schü says his back is fucked up again,” Christina reported to her canine kids with a frown.

“Fucked up how? I hope it doesn’t hurt too much :(“ Way to make me immediately feel guilty about relaxing and reveling in how great everything is, she snorted inside.

“Here, for you, carina,” Juan said when he handed over a hard plastic cup with her coffee, milk, and ice. It was already sweating in the heat. He wiped his glass, sans milk, with one of the towels once he’d climbed over the dogs to get back to his spot.

“Did you want to see anything or go anywhere? Or is being a bum around the house all afternoon okay?” An extremely tan, sun-bleached, well-caffeinated and small sized human approached him much the way the dogs approached when they knew they were going to lay down and stay a while but didn’t yet know exactly where or in what fashion. Christina was debating in her head about how she could resume lying on him on her stomach and still be able to sip from her straw. “I didn’t really plan any activities because I was going to ride now and then maybe go out later. Later activities are different than midday activities.”

“Show me your favorite place to eat lunch- late lunch,” the Spaniard clarified. “In a few hours. For now, bum.”

“I like that you like being a bum.”

“I like your bum.” He sat up to swat her butt while she lingered on two knees and one hand, trying to figure out how to get comfortable.

“Can you sit up more actually and I sit between your legs? I promise not to sit on your balls.”

“You always end up sitting on my balls.”

“Well hold them out of the way then and it won’t happen.” The rider rolled her eyes and then quickly climbed over his left thigh to settle in front of him and use him like a backrest. This isn’t as good as staring at his handsome face, she rued. But at least I can drink my drink and operate my phone, and he can rub my tummy, she smiled to herself when she felt a familiar hand settle on her stomach.

“You have become very skilled at relaxing, baby girl,” the hand’s owner yawned.

“Uhhuh. You sound like you need a nap.”

“I always need a nap.”

“You’re an old man.”

“Thanks.”

“I was with Lukas in the store the other day and an old man like you thought I was his babysitter, like I didn’t look old enough to be his mom. I love that old man.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No.”

“What would you be thinking about if you were?”

“Reaching into your shorts.”

“Honestly, babe, how are you surviving celibacy between visits, or are you not still doing that?” By “that” I mean not sleeping with other people. I assume that’s still true, Christina thought with only a very small measure of certainty. I didn’t have sex on the brain right now, but I can see why he would if he’s really not having any with anyone else. Especially since we didn’t even do that last night.

“Pass.”

“What?”

“Pass. Next question.”

“Does that mean you’re not?” She instinctively went to turn around to see his face, but Juan saw that coming and distracted her by slipping his palm into her loose shorts and gently sliding his fingertips down between her legs. Still, he could probably feel that she was tense because of his words rather than his actions.

“It means I don’t want to talk about it,” he informed her with finality. She couldn’t read it though, so she persisted.

“But-“

“No, it doesn’t mean that,” he assured. The rider could feel him move around behind her and assumed it was to put his glass back on the ledge, as she soon found herself in the middle of both of his arms, not just his legs. His left hand replaced the right where it rested on her stomach before. She relaxed back against him a little, letting her head fall to one side. The Spanish player very quickly acknowledged that by pushing a small kiss into her neck. Christina closed her eyes.

“It would be okay if you weren’t,” she told him, hoping to sound ambivalent despite actually feeling the opposite. I would hate it, but it would be fair. It’s not like I’m faithful to him. “Do you want to?”

“Sleep with other girls?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“You know what sucks about this whole Olympic thing?”

“Figuring out how to find food in Japan that isn’t fish?”

“I never know if people are telling the truth or they’re just trying to protect my feelings until after, because they’re afraid the truth will upset me and ruin everything.”

“I’m not lying to you, baby girl.” Juan’s vow came with another distraction measure- he started moving his fingers back and forth across the narrowing fabric of her ultra-soft cotton underwear, slowly and delicate. His wrist was holding the waistband of the shorts out of the way and that other hand dragged the bottom of her shirt up some, so she could feel a breeze from the fan above.

“But how can you stand it?” His actions reminded her just how difficult it would be for her to live without regular sex. It was hard enough to live without those special fingers of his when he wasn’t around, despite frequent access to another player’s fingers.

“You can’t seem to go more than two weeks without seeing me, and then you use me like a sex toy so-“ The one who played in West London got an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Bad angel!” Christina sipped her coffee and then emitted a refreshed “ahhh”.

“But seriously, how do you stand it?”

“I don’t know. I was away anyway. I did miss being with you though...” Juan put his chin on her head and moved his hand back and forth over her navel. She had every intention of making up for any sex deficit, particularly oral sex, but wanted at least the time it would take to finish leisurely drinking her second coffee first. So she rotated her head and leaned all the way to the right so she could see him and offer a real kiss to hold him over.

“I always miss being with you,” she said quietly after that kiss and before a second, unplanned one. Both were sort of on the side of his mouth because it was hard to turn enough for a more conventional smooch. The player removed his hand from between her underwear and her shorts, and helped to hold her head where he could give her a kiss of his own, with soft, slightly sugar-sweetened lips and a bitter coffee tongue.

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be picturing so many different ways you want me to fuck you.” He grinned a mischievous little smile at close range when he was finished checking to see if her mouth tasted any different thanks to the cream in her iced coffee.

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corneliussteinbeck · 8 years

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The Greatest Gift A Single Woman Can Give Herself

At 16 years old, I fell madly in love.

We were inseparable, dramatic romantics, and within a few months of our first kiss, everything I did was with this boy in mind. I was constantly coming up with new little ways to show him how much I loved him, I would try to guess what he wanted and needed before he asked for it, and I thought of him and his desires day and night.

What I didn’t see, however, was how through these million tiny “romantic” choices and actions, parts of what made me “Me” were slowly eroding, and I was losing sight of who I was and what I needed and wanted.

Although that boy and I broke up, for many years I repeated the same pattern in other relationships. I would fall in love, allow myself to get swept away, and eventually feel like I had lost all sense of myself. Over time, I started to notice how many of my female friends and clients seemed to experience something similar in their relationships.

Despite having good relationships with good partners, after every single break-up I found myself hurtling through a warp-speed blast of growth and reinvention. In short, once I was single I would “find myself” again.

It was as though the only time I ever felt truly free and “whole” was when I was single, because being alone allowed me to fortify my own self identity.

Only being single allowed me to recognize and act on my own needs and desires fully, without running them through a love-induced filter. Learning the skill of loving and nurturing myself (while single) ultimately made me feel more cared for, loved, and empowered than I had felt in any relationship.

Why do so many women feel like they lose themselves in their relationships?

My personal theory is that many of us allow our relationships to dictate the direction of our development.

Many of us learn early in life that by espousing certain traits and behaviors we could earn the love, attention, and approval that we so deeply craved, and that other traits and behaviors would endanger that love and approval. Without even realizing it, most of us tend to cultivate and present the versions of ourselves that we believe will get us what we want (love, approval), and ignore or suppress those parts of ourselves that we consider “undesirable” or see as a threat (our anger, sadness, shame, or insecurity, for example).

Megan Bruneau, a friend of GGS and a psychotherapist who specializes in overcoming perfectionism and learning to love your whole self, further explains that it is a very common experience for a person who feels insecure in their relationship, to choose to spend as much time as possible with their partner “in an attempt to manage the anxiety they feel in the relationship.”

Bruneau says this is particularly common for those who experienced an insecure relationship with a parent or caregiver growing up. “For example, a woman who grew up always seeking (but never getting) her father’s approval might gravitate to a partner who makes her feel not quite good enough,” she explains. “She will try to do backflips seeking her partner’s validation and love, because this feels comfortable. She prioritizes the relationship over the previous sources of joy, connection, and meaning in her life.”

When it comes to our intimate relationships, this pattern can become even more obvious. Often, we purposefully cultivate the parts of ourselves that our partners seem to love the most, while abandoning or ignoring the parts of us that we know (or we think) make them uncomfortable or unhappy. By doing this over a long period of time, we subtly censor the direction of our growth and expansion, and eventually lose touch with whole, crucial parts of ourselves.

“After time, one can feel disconnected from friends, creative outlets, and herself, and thus feels as though she has even more to lose if the relationship dissolves,” said Bruneau. “Feeling even more anxiety, she may seek to put even more effort into ensuring the relationship’s stability. It’s a vicious cycle!”

The Value of Being Alone

After experiencing that loss of self over and over again, I’ve come to appreciate the great many benefits to single-hood and sacred time alone.

Relationships can be amazing and fulfilling, and having a steady lover is fantastic. However, if you haven’t ever had time to fully explore and fortify your sense of self while alone, a relationship may cause you to feel lost, stuck, and out of touch with yourself.

The thing is, when we love someone, we want to make them happy and we want them to love us back. It’s how we’re wired. For anyone who is highly sensitive, empathic, and intuitive, this urge is often combined with some potent information on how to earn their happiness and love. Personally, I can usually get a strong sense for what people are feeling, giving me a good idea as to what might make them happy, and what might not.

Often, choosing to make someone happy is such a small thing that, in the moment, it might not even feel like a compromise:

Waiting until a better moment to mention a touchy subject…

Choosing words that don’t make your beloved feel threatened…

Telling a teeny, tiny white lie that isn’t really that big a deal, to spare disappointment…

Laughing at a joke that only deserved a smile…

Making sexy advances before you’re fully in the mood…

Yet, subtly and slowly, over time, these seemingly unimportant details can lock us into a pattern of behaviors that only allow a small part of ourselves to come to the surface.

Plus, since we’ve grown accustomed to tuning into our partner’s desires and needs, we fall “out of practice” at tuning into our own. Their desires and our desires become so inextricably linked that separating them starts to feel impossible.

Staying Single on Purpose

Choosing to be single for a while was the single (pun intended) greatest thing I’ve ever done. Only when I was alone could I integrate, heal, and love all those excluded parts of myself. Once there was no one else to please, I finally started to learn how to please myself. Only when there was literally nobody anywhere near me was I able to start tuning back into my own needs and desires. I began to shower myself in the same kind of gifts and attention that I had always reserved for my partners — and it felt amazing.

One of the most luxurious parts of deliberate singledom was how little emotional work I had to do. I relished in the peace that came with not trying to figure someone else out or maintain a connection. I could finally just sit and be, instead of constantly be doing. It felt nothing short of decadent.

“Some people have a very hard time being alone with themselves, and thus seek partners for distraction and validation,” says Bruneau. “When we choose to stay single, we give ourselves the opportunity to let thoughts and feelings bubble up of which we might otherwise not become aware.”

Our culture seems pretty obsessed with coupling off and being relationships. There are no fairy tales about princesses who go off to be alone and find peace in the quiet wholeness of their own hearts, you know? Romantic relationships are often treated like a goal, one of the hallmarks of a full and happy life.

The truth is though, that a relationship in which you can’t be your fullest, truest, and most expansive self will actually keep you from experiencing true happiness. Each of us has a deep inherent need to be our whole and authentic selves. By sacrificing any part of that authentic wholeness for a relationship to work, you will eventually feel the crisis-like tugging of deep unhappiness.

While some people manage to maneuver these tricky waters inside of a loving relationship, most of us will need to do this work while single or alone. Learning how to cultivate a strong sense of self-actualization, self-worth, and self-compassion is often just too difficult to do while trying to also manage, protect, or care for the feelings of someone else.

According to Bruneau:

“Humans seek pleasure and avoid pain, and when we feel uncomfortable feelings like loneliness, anxiety, shame, and inadequacy, we tend to distract ourselves with technology, food, substances, work, dating, exercise, and so on. Deliberately staying single gives us the opportunity to look inside and get to know which thoughts aren’t serving us, and which uncomfortable feelings are keeping us stuck in negative patterns, and begin to choose more helpful responses.”

Bruneau believes this is key to choosing to be with a partner based on desire rather than on our fears and insecurities.

Own Being On Your Own

While being single and spending time alone may feel daunting or downright scary, it is a valuable experience full of self-discovery and growth. It allows you time to practice tuning into yourself, and recognizing exactly what what you want and need, both from yourself and from the world around you. It gives you time to recognize and heal the patterns and wounds you have probably been carrying since childhood. It gives you the chance to have solo adventures, overcome obstacles on your own, and show yourself who you are.

Bruneau suggests trying some of following to help you get in touch with :

Go to therapy! If you don’t have insurance or can’t afford it, find a graduate program that offers inexpensive services in your area. Working with a therapist you can explore how to maintain your sense of self, communicate your needs to your partner, and assess whether or not this relationship is a serving one for you.

Take up a yoga or meditation practice (or both)

Listen to podcasts on self-compassion

Join a Meetup group, a recreational sports team, or a club, or organization in your community

Take up a reflective self-care activity such as journaling, long walks, or candlelit baths (made better if accompanied by a relaxing playlist on Spotify like Acoustic Covers or Piano Ballads).

Take up a hobby or side project—for example, blogging, podcasting, photography, art

Nurture the non-romantic relationships in your life. They will be your strength when you fall (and we all fall!). When you do start a new relationship, ask them to call you out if they’re feeling disconnected or believe the past is repeating itself (in that you’re “losing yourself”). You’ll likely be much more aware this time around, but it can help manage anxiety to know our loved ones are looking out for us as well.

If you’re in a relationship…

Whether we’re embarking on a new relationship or we’ve been in a relationship for a while, Bruneau encourages us to be a little selfish. “That word has a negative connotation, yet when we give ourselves up, it’s actually counterproductive as we’re no longer the person our partner fell in love with.”

As Bruneau explains, while it’s natural to feel head-over-heels in love when a relationship is new, it’s important to remain aware of your needs, honor your feelings, and know who you are outside of your relationship. “Make it a point to see friends (and not just on double-dates), keep up at least one of your hobbies, and continue to work on your relationship with yourself. Not only will you safeguard against totally losing yourself, your relationship will be that much healthier as a result.”

Ultimately, giving yourself the gift of time alone and immersing yourself in yourself — whether you’re single or in a relationship — will cultivate a richer sense of self, and make it a hell of a lot easier to love and receive love as your whole self.

With thanks to psychotherapist, writer, and wellness coach, Megan Bruneau M.A. RCC for contributing her professional insight to this article.

The post The Greatest Gift A Single Woman Can Give Herself appeared first on Girls Gone Strong.

from Blogger http://corneliussteinbeck.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-greatest-gift-single-woman-can-give.html

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