#the professor for this class is almost unbearably terrible which does not exactly make me WANT to do this reading

[gingerbreadmonsters]

sleepy and v fed up w this blasted reading for japanese history class tomorrow. give me 45 minutes to finish this article and i will be back to talk about kissing or something

[lothkit]

☆ Fear

I haven’t written in so long, I’m so sorry, this is awful,

Gemma | mentioned: Gillian | @pleasantprefects

1495 words

Summary: This summer - There’s something under Gemma Watts’ kitchen sink. What she finds might surprise you!

12 July, 2006

Gillybean!! I found out the most interesting bit of news at the last family dinner. My stepmum heard from my grandmother that she heard from one of her friends on the Board of Governors that Trelawney really IS retiring this year. I wonder who they got to replace the old bat? Maybe they’ll just do away with the subject all together?? I know everyone thinks it’s “soft” but it’s a really good class to take a nap. My grandmother says they’ll find someone though--she was saying that her family back in India is descended from a famous Seer, so she KNOWS it’s a real subject, and she’ll make them keep teaching it, McGonagall be damned, so help her. That’s what she said, anyway.

I know it’s only been two weeks, but if you wanted to come visit, Shivani says you should do it this month and not next. Apparently she’s getting a new bird next month, and she said it’s not a fwooper so I can only imagine what she’s bringing home now.

I really do hope you come, because it’s so BORING, and I just wanna go for a flight around the Tor but my father says not to unless I’m going with someone else, to never fly alone, just in case something happens. I don’t think it would--and anyway, I have to be the BEST at flying, so I can be the best Keeper. I can’t be afraid of anything! (And DON’T laugh either! You laughed in Defense Against the Dark Arts when we did that lesson on Boggarts and mine was a VAMPIRE. They’re SCARY, Gillian! They have scary sharp fangs and they eat people!!)

Anyway, if you CAN’T come we’re planning on visiting London the last week of August...

The summer holidays are always the worst time of the year for Gemma. It’s not that she doesn’t love her family, when they’re around (because she does, she adores her father, when he’s around; and Shivani really isn’t too terrible, when she’s not asking Gemma to clean the fwoopers’ cages). It’s that she loves Gillian just so much. They’re practically sisters now—they’ve been inseparable since meeting on the Hogwarts Express. Almost every moment of their lives during the school year is spent together. The only exceptions are the winter holidays, and they barely count. The two months separated from each other seem so unbearable to Gemma most days, like she’s missing an arm. Sending an owl isn’t the same as waking up in the middle of the night to share a thought—it’s not the same as turning over and just being able to look at her face as Gillian shares the latest piece of gossip, like what Griffin thinks about that snooty Ravenclaw boy in the year above them, or the predication Trelawney’s going to make about Gillian’s love life this week. Sure, they can visit, but it’s not the same. Gillian has a way of making herself seem like the only person in the room that matters, so Gemma feels her absence everywhere she goes.

This is what she’s thinking about as she chews her quill and ponders over what else to include in today’s letter, when the cabinet below the sink starts to rattle. Her father’s great grey owl, Astolat, hoots in fear and flies off. “Shivani!” Gemma shouts into the next room, but that just makes Astolat hoot again and the cabinet shake harder. Heaving a great and dramatic sigh, Gemma puts her quill down on the kitchen table and pushes her chair back. “ShivaNI, something’s under the sink!”

Her stepmother calls back, “In just a second, Gemma, I’m Silencing the fwoopers!” At that, Gemma wrinkles her nose. She hated the stupid fwoopers and their stupid fluorescent feathers, even if they did make for good quills (Gillian really liked the bright yellow one Gemma gave her).

She stands in the kitchen, unsure of what else to do. The cabinet is rattling harder now, insistent on being opened; elsewhere in the house, she can hear the brief squawk of a fwooper trying to resist its monthly Silencing charm. Shivani seems far too busy with her stupid birds to do anything about it, but before there was a Shivani, Gemma was the lady of the House. Her father often let her take care of important tasks, and wasn’t checking out strange things one of those? Besides, Gemma was a Gryffindor. She could handle whatever was under the sink. It was probably just a puffskein anyway and everyone knew they were harmless.

Annoyed, she opens up the cabinet, and out crawls a perfectly well and fine Gillian Chow.

“Hey, babe,” Gillian says, her eyes bright and shining.

Gemma’s jaw drops. How did Gillian get under her sink? She shouldn’t even fit under there. But Gillian doesn’t offer any explanation, just looks at her curiously. Intently, even. And Gemma can feel her heart just about burst in excitement. She rushes forward, going to envelop her in a giant hug—she must have done it as a prank, and what a great one! This is why Gemma loves her so much, she thinks; because Gillian always keeps her guessing.

Gillian doesn’t move at first, doesn’t wrap her arms around Gemma in return. She can feel her relax though, as she murmurs something in the crook of Gemma’s neck. “I’m so happy to see you! That was a good one!” she says, grinning as she hugs Gillian tightly. She feels her best friend’s smile against her shoulder, and a shiver runs down Gemma’s spine.

“Me too,” Gillian whispers, her teeth grazing Gemma’s neck. “I’m starved.”

“Huh?” Gemma tries to look up, just in time to see Gillian’s incisors lengthen—

And she’s wrenched away from Gillian’s grasp by her stepmother’s soft hands. Gillian snarls for a moment; then there is a loud CRACK! and she is replaced by a giant snake slithering like mad.

“Riddikulus!” Shivani says, swishing her wand in the air. The snake quickly turns into rubber, and bounces harmlessly, causing her to chuckle. In an instant, the boggart vanishes.

Gemma stands blinking in the middle of the kitchen. Shivani stows her wand behind her right ear and turns to her. “I told you to wait, Gemma,” she says. Her voice is stern, but her eyes are concerned as they roam over her face. She flushes under the scrutiny, looking down at her feet. She feels guilty, though she can’t explain why, exactly.

“I—but Gillian—” Gemma stutters, looking frantically from her stepmother to the spot where the Not-Gillian had just stood. “But—”

“Surely Professor Burnsides covered boggarts with you.”

“Well, he d-did, but…” But it wasn’t like that before. Gemma bites her lip and looks back down at the ground. Gillian definitely wasn’t her Boggart before--it was a vampire, she had just written that down! She mumbles something about that, but Shivani waves her hand and steers her to sit back down at the kitchen table. Gemma numbly obeys.

Another wave of her wand, and the teapot is already whistling and pouring two steaming cups, one of which Shivani pushes towards Gemma before taking her own seat. “I know what you’re going through, love,” she says. She takes a long sip of her tea. “It’s perfectly natural.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gemma replies, crossing her arms across her chest.

Shivani gives her a hard look, and she resists the urge to flinch. Instead she raises her chin in defiance. Her stepmother’s eyes soften as she busies herself with her own mug. “I absolutely do, darling, but you have to know, it’s not exactly… let’s say, proper, for a young woman of your name, and social standing to… hmm.” She frowns into her tea, and clears her throat. “There are certain things we—your father and I, and your grandparents—well, that we expect from you, down the line. It’s perfectly fine, especially while you’re still in school to experiment—”

“Experiment?! What do you mean experiment?”

“—but you must remember who you are, Gemma darling,” Shivani continues, as if Gemma hadn’t spoken at all. “You are a Joshi like your father, somewhere in there, and well, your grandmother especially expects certain things. You mustn’t allow a simple dalliance—”

“I don’t know what that word even means,” Gemma frowns and sinks back in her chair. “Gillian’s m-my friend,” she lies miserably. “We wouldn’t, ever, not really.”

Shivani reaches a hand across the table, palm up. “Just take care that whatever you do in school doesn’t cut you off from—well, you don’t want people to think you’re unmarriageable, darling. A good marriage, a Pureblood boy, that’s all we want for you in the end. As long as you’re careful… well, I suppose we’ll just keep this between us, yes?”

Gemma stares down at the extended hand in the middle of the table. Oh, she thinks, soft and small even in her own mind. She gingerly clasps her stepmother’s hand with her own. “I understand.”

[healthandfitnessrecipes-blog]

11 Ideas for What to Say to Your Chronically Ill Friend

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=4628

          How often do you encounter someone who is hurting, either in person or on social media or through someone else’s report, and choose not to say anything because you are not sure what to say?           A confession: I do this every single day, and I am not proud of it. 

          Lately I have found myself trying to be better prepared to respond to a variety of types of pain, including those I am less familiar with. It is okay not to know what to say. I think it is okay to Google what to say when you do not know. I think intentionality is often more important than spontaneity, and I think there is a way to be intentional and thoughtful while remaining genuine and authentic. I think saying something that you know is helpful is more important than being innovative and original. I think these matters are especially important when you are dealing with people whose pain you cannot relate to. I wish we would all be a little more intentional with one another.           At the same time, I wish we would all be a little more willing to mess up. Sometimes when someone says something that they definitely would not have said upon a bit more thought, I can see them becoming embarrassed (and probably wondering if I am offended) when in reality all I want to say is, “You are so brave. Thank you.” Many people are simply not willing to put themselves in a situation in which they might screw it up. Friends, I cannot even give you a rough estimate of how many times I have said something I regret to a hurting person. The number is too high for me to conceptualize. Still, I believe the greater sin is the times in which I say nothing at all, refusing to take on a delicate conversation, prioritizing my own comfort over a friend’s need for support.           Before diving into eleven concrete suggestions for what to say to your friends who are chronically ill, all of which are based on real and helpful things friends have said to me during what has admittedly been a pretty brutal year and a half, I also want to stress that illness is only one discussion topic of many. I am so, so, so grateful for conversations I have with people that have nothing to do with my illness at all. I am grateful for people who dream with me about what the future might hold, who share stories with me, and who see me as a whole person and not just a sick body (I have had lots of these conversations just in the past week, and they have been life-giving). It is not wrong to have a conversation with a sick person that does not involve illness at all, and in fact it is often a great blessing.           In summary: Should you say something that directly addresses illness when you encounter someone who is hurting? In most situations, I think so. Should you be intentional about what you say? When possible, yes. Should you say something even if you are not sure if it is the right thing to say? Please do. Should all conversations with a sick person revolve around illness? Definitely not.           Below are 11 suggestions for what to say to someone who is sick when you feel it is appropriate/necessary/important to address the suffering. This list is by no means exhaustive or representative, and every chronically ill person is different, therefore it is crucial to keep in mind that different people benefit from hearing different things.

1. "I don't know what to say."           If there is one overarching life lesson that I have learned during college, it is that sometimes when you are struggling to know what to say, you can simplify this stressful internal dilemma by choosing to pause and name your concern out loud. “I am not sure if you want to be distracted or if you want to talk,” or “I want to help, but I don’t want to come across as condescending” or “I want you to know that I’m here for you, but I am afraid that I might be invading your privacy,” are all great ways to be honest and transparent about your intentions without having to worry about making a mistake, since power is surrendered rather than assumed in these situations. Admitting that you do not know something is empowering and relieving for everyone involved. “I don’t know what to say,” is always okay to say. I sincerely wish everyone would use this phrase more. 2. "I am free [on Thursday from 2 to 4]. How can I help? Would you like company?”           Chronic illness is lonely. I have begun to recognize this truth as a fact rather than a judgment about my own coping abilities or circle of support. During difficult weeks, having friends to keep me company is often enormously appreciated but not something that I am willing to ask for when I am a walking disaster held together by joints and tendons that I am actively and involuntarily destroying. Sometimes it is literally helpful just to have someone who is willing to sit at a table across from me in the library, or to let me take a nap on their couch while they write a paper, or to invite me over to pet their dog. Company (and especially physical proximity) is so important when people are facing overwhelming circumstances, and it is so easy to offer. It also requires zero skills, and probably a lot less conversation than you might imagine. 3. "This is not your fault."           When I started having to wear medical masks in certain situations as a component of infection prevention measures, what I did not know was that it would mean that whenever I did not wear the mask, I would blame myself when I came down with another illness. When I do too much one day, I scold myself when I wake up with painful joints the following morning. When I skip a nebulizer treatment because I don’t want to feel shaky, I beat myself up when I find myself struggling to move air in and out later. Lots of friends caught me in this thinking last year and reminded me that I am doing my best, that life is not always a simple game of cause and effect, that I am allowed to make mistakes, and that I cannot control every variable all of the time. I did not need grand moral reasoning or a debate about my agency regarding my illness to move past this destructive game of self-blame, I just needed someone to assertively tell me, "This is not your fault," and then I could move on. 4. “I will see you / I will check in with you [on Thursday]."            Last spring, when one of my professors told me at the end of class, “I’ll see you on Thursday, Rachel,” I almost burst into tears (true story). I did not know if I was going to make it to Thursday, and I did not know if I would be able to come to class or stay in New Orleans that long, even though it was less than 48 hours away. Just knowing that someone confidently believed that I could, and expected me to continue functioning as a student, was much appreciated. Similarly, letting someone know that you will check in with them again is a step that I think can be essential, especially if you are reaching out to offer help. When one of my Tulane classmates called me to see how I was doing and offered her help after a brain MRI/insurance company fiasco that left me quite flustered, I refused her kind offer and assured her that I was “hanging in there” (my favorite noncommittal, nondescript phrase). She did not push me, but promised me that she would call again two days later, giving me time to think about what I might need while also assuring me that she was not going to stop caring just because I did not offer her a way to feel helpful. Anything you can say that implies a sick person's presence in the future is typically quite good. 

5. "I'm on your side."           You do not have to know what exactly it is that your friend is fighting to make this phrase work. Some days I am fighting my immune system, or an infection, or fear, or medical institutions, or doctors, or my insurance company, or professors, or medication side effects, or a world that is not always gentle towards hurting people. This phrase is a good way to cover all of those potential challenges and to remind your friend that they are not alone. When I first announced my decision to transfer, this phrase was a part of one of the first texts I received from a friend from home, and I still cling onto it today.

Hannah is a pro at distraction. I think sisters in general tend to be great at this, but she is especially skilled.

6. “Would you like to hear my thoughts on [Say Yes to the Dress]?”

          Sometimes hearing all of the gossip is super beneficial to the burdened soul, and sometimes it is unbearably obnoxious when you are facing much more serious questions than what Leslie’s mom said to her sister behind her back about the mermaid cut gown. I think asking this question before diving into something typically considered to be “shallow” or “superficial” goes a long way (although please do not get me started on the sexism inherent in the popular usage of these words). I have answered this question with “Oh yes definitely, thank God, please start from the beginning,” and also with “I’m sorry, I can’t right now.” Trust your friend to let you know whether this type of chatter is appreciated or hated on a moment-by-moment basis. 7. “Would you like to come over for a movie night? I have blankets.” 

          Sometimes even sick people want to get out of their houses/dorm rooms - in my experience and based on hearing the stories of many of my friends with chronic illnesses, we often feel quite trapped, with nowhere else that we are welcome or no spaces willing to accommodate our need for electrical outlets, medication intervals, an accessible freezer, etc. I have been especially grateful for movie nights during my time in college, and even more grateful for people who prepare in advance for my fever chills (I feel like there needs to be a club for those of us who regularly run low-grade evening fevers). Movies are nice because they require minimal effort and allow a sick person to spend quality time with people even when we have very low energy levels. 8. “When you are feeling terrible, what helps?”           One of my dearest UNC friends asked me this simple question last semester during a brief hiatus between surgeries, and I think it really speaks to the usefulness of asking preemptive questions rather than trying to rack someone’s drugged up brain for practical suggestions while they feel like death (although that is also appreciated.) When asked this question on a relatively good day, I was able to think of concrete things that I could not have thought of on a bad day. For example, I realized in the fall that on the days/weeks in which I was very ill, it helped to schedule meals with my friends. I did not necessarily need anyone to cook for me or to bring me food, but I was unmotivated to eat consistently and was losing weight, struggling to manage my illnesses, and becoming weaker as a result. Committing to meeting someone for lunch or going to the dining hall at a specified time with a friend motivated me to eat and made it impossible for me to skip a meal due to fatigue or a lack of appetite. The point here is that no one necessarily thought that just having someone sitting next to me and eating alongside me would improve my physical health, but it did, and I was grateful for a friend who asked this broad question during a not-horrible time and offered me the opportunity to recognize ways in which I could accept help. 

9. "I believe you."

          Sometimes I hesitate to say this to people because I am afraid that it inadvertently implies that doubt is the norm, but this is definitely a case in which I think the pros outweigh the cons, and is especially important during periods of time in which your friend may be managing a condition that is undiagnosed or not fully medically understood. If your friend has an invisible illness, I guarantee you that they often encounter people who express a range of levels of skepticism, even if all you see from the outside is the support they receive. A simple and well-placed “I believe you” can offer a disproportionate amount of hope and can serve as a way of marking yourself as trustworthy.

10. "Do you feel like you today?"

          Sometimes I do not have “good days” and “bad days.” Sometimes I instead divide my time into “days I feel like me” and “days I do not feel like me.” On Sunday, for example, I felt pretty bad, but I felt like me. My mom made me laugh and a minister helped me awkwardly put my coat on during a hymn and I got to see some of my favorite people and I laughed about reality television on the phone with a friend and I was able to work on several assignments. On the other hand, sometimes I am having a relatively good day with my health, but the medications enabling my good day leave me feeling like a whole different person, usually one who is much more emotional and frail and messy. I think “Do you feel like you today?” is a question full of grace in every way. 

11. "This is so much to have to handle. How are you holding up?"

          People often want to know how my body is doing, and sometimes that question can become a bit objectifying. Asking any sort of question that indicates that you are interested in more than just a person's physiology opens the door to a conversation that can involve illness holistically rather than focusing exclusively on doctor's reports or lab results. I am grateful for all sorts of conversations that indicate that people see me as more than my illness, and this category includes conversations that are about illness but refuse to reduce me to it. My point here is that by asking a more inclusive question, you can directly address illness while often avoiding unintentionally placing the burden of regurgitating a medical report on your sick friend. 

          I hope these suggestions are useful, but they do not have to be used. I think the bottom line is just showing people that you care consistently, intentionally, and thoughtfully, and that can certainly take many more forms than just this brief list. 

          We all have a long ways to go in learning to love one another better. At the same time, I am constantly stunned by how generous and compassionate the people around me are, especially during what has unexpectedly ended up being a difficult season of life for me since I started undergrad. Thank you for being willing to try. You are already succeeding.

Credits: Original Content Source