.

9/14/23

Ugh, what a day. Acute unit again. I wasn’t charge (for most of the shift), but I was still precepting a new nurse. She’s an excellent nurse, actually. Way more experienced than me, and thus perfectly understanding of the fact that I want her to show me she knows how to do things; Too many travel nurses come in claiming to be experienced and turn out to be bad. I’ve seen enough in my (comparatively) short time as a nurse to know that anyone who’s been a nurse longer than me knows I’m being responsible, and thus, that this will be a workplace that promotes that sort of thing. The poor lady doesn’t know how to use our software, and has been trying to get our HR department to give her the basic training module. I ended up spending time not only teaching her our workflow, but our software in general. Thank god she’s such a good nurse!

Anyways. The poor lady who was pooping in seclusion yesterday was my patient today, so I had to take care of her while precepting. Apparently she had an incidence of locked seclusion early in the morning, and came out a little while before my shift started. So I made it my goal: No locked seclusion. We’ll do it if we have to, but we’re going to fight it every step of the way. I had too many doubts in the back of my mind from watching the staff interact with her the day before. Too many times wondering “Was that too aggressive of an intervention? Did we make things worse just now? Would backing off have gotten us the results we wanted?” I want to trust my coworkers who have been doing this for decades, but I can never allow myself to forget there’s always a need to attempt to separate “experienced” from “jaded.”

Every fifteen minutes this lady starts asking/shouting about speaking to a doctor for discharge, and that’s not an exaggeration. She’s such a perfect example of the kind of patient for whom we’re never really going to be able to do anything for her beyond redirect her tangential thought process into a conversation about movie theaters. It was a constant fight of verbal redirection and distraction. That’s just about all we can do for patients as fixated as her.

It’s just tragic. Psych constitutes a spectrum of patients, for whom on the one end they all do just fine with a bit of talk therapy and maybe anxiolytics. This lady is on the other end. I have no realistic hope of any amount of medication giving her the ability to gain insight into her thought process and recognize her delusions enough for a discussion of what she thinks and why. The best I’m ever going to do is keep her calm and cooperative, which is impossible while she’s being held against her will and away from her crack pipe. Yet by noon I had only had to implement one single physical escort back to her room with an IM injection of two different drugs, and she only had, I think, one episode of stress incontinence. Believe me when I say that’s an achievement.

Anyways. I wasn't charge nurse for most of the shift, but the official charge nurse for the acute unit had to leave early, and assigned me the role there at that last hour and a half. She’d already made the evening assignment, and gave me management of one of the easiest patients on the unit. There wasn’t even anything scheduled for her, I’d just have to be aware that her mother was coming to visit around 1830.

But what happens? Her mother visits at that time, and ten minutes later she’s being escorted out by a tech while the patient, her daughter, throws something at her that hits the glass of the nurse’s station. I had to immediately tell her “Don’t throw things. Tell me what happened,” although I’m so tired that that’s probably a paraphrase.

This patient absolutely did not appreciate me saying that to her. Came right up to my face and I could see all the hurt in her eyes, all the conflict over whatever that interaction was. Flat out refused to talk to me; Instead she walked to the security guard and started to say, I Don’t know, something. The guard knows me and calmly told her the same thing; You need to speak to your nurse about that. She starts to walk away, and I tell her “Alright, you need to return to your room then.” She does a 180, walks right back up to me again, and says “that’s just where I was going.” And then she walks, notably with admirable restraint, back to her room, and slams the door.

We were immediately talking at the nurse’s station, because damn, I don’t know anything about this patient or what's going on, I just need to be technically responsible for her for the next twenty minutes until shift change! One of the nurses, a traveler who I’ve worked with a few times and have come to like, mentions she’s seen this patient and her mom visit a few times while on the unit. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. Then the technician comes in and tells us what happened; “Patient just found out she’s homeless.”

So, it’s not too hard to understand why she didn’t want to talk to me in the moment. Just fresh off of hearing some of the worst news of her life, I told her what came off as “Don’t be angry about whatever just happened. Now I expect you to tell me, a complete stranger, exactly what horrible thing you’re going through, under the pretext that if you don’t comply you’re going to be punished for it.” What I do isn’t a punishment, but I understand why patients might think it is, especially if they’ve ever been to units where they do it like it's a punishment anyways. She has no idea who I am, after all.

On top of all this, I’ve got the lady in the back hall who’s starting to knock on the door to the nurse’s station, insisting it’s actually morning and that she needs to speak to the doctor about discharge. And then, before I knew she was there, the patient who just threw the milk carton was already speaking through one of the holes at the nurse’s station; again refusing to speak to me, but requesting “something to please just knock her out.”

This is one of those times I’m thankful I have a good rapport, not just with the patients but my fellow nurses; the traveler I was just speaking to told me “Look, I’ll take care of her. Go handle the lady on the other side.”

I was so worried my attention was going to end up divided between my only two patients who are on opposite sides of the unit, thank god that nurse volunteered. I went back to my patient, who had been my goal all shift to keep calm and out of lock seclusion. She was now knocking on the windows shouting “Nurse! Nurse! Where is the doctor? I need to get my things!” We’d spoken by now, that she was only allowed to be in the lounge if she was going to be calm and cooperative with the nursing staff, but redirection and bargaining only keeps someone like her calm and cooperative for so long.

I remember I was simultaneously proud and disappointed that, at the very minute of shift change, we had to do our second physical escort back to her room. Fortunately, I already had some of the injection supplies on me, so drawing up a syringe and administering it came a lot faster. I went into handoff simultaneously proud to tell them that i was able to keep her out of locked seclusion all day, and frustrated to tell them we still had to do two different escorts and injections.

The hurt young lady ended up getting some oral meds, very similar to the dose I’d just given intramuscularly. I didn’t stick around to see the difference between the two, but I’m going to guess it was profound. The young lady was, probably, put into a deep sleep by the medications we gave her. The older lady with the prior history of everything-abuse was always almost completely untouched. I don’t blame anyone for doing locked seclusion eventually, but I still think it's our duty to give it our all in keeping a patient from having to go in there. There’s always going to be a small worry in the back of my mind that a coworker is putting a patient in locked seclusion because they didn’t want to put up with someone.

Hello so I had this random idea at 2am:

Everyone talks shit on Kai's anime hairline, right? What if he hears one of the bullets saying something and before he can take out his anger on them he sees his s/o drag them away (for example Kurono being an escort in public) and he just kinda goes to his office and sits there thinking over it and he gets insecure about it (and very confused why he's insecure about it.) And his s/o comes back and helps the man feel better about it.

Whatcha think? This possible to even happen?

(Is it possible to happen? Well it is now lol)

~Insecure Kai and His Hairline~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

4:00 p.m and the day was moving along swimmingly...well, as swimmingly as a day of business could go for the yakuza. Kai finished some morning paperwork, and set up a schedule to meet with another group that evening before his shift ended. He also scheduled a few shake downs for Setsuno, Hojo, and Tabe to handle. On top of that, he was busy moving a few things around to be pushed into other areas (he need not say). As he walked down the hallways feeling fairly proud of his achievements for the day, he caught wind of his name being thrown around from Deidoro’s mouth to Rappa. He usually didn’t care about small talk or gossip as long as the workers got their job done, but he was rather curious to see why he was apart of the conversation. Therefore, he paused and put his back against the wall just before the corner ended so he could listen to what his precepts might’ve been saying. 

“I’m just saying, if I were him that I wouldn’t try that slick back style anymore. That shit looked a little ridiculous.” Deidoro spoke in between sipping his alcohol.

“Hey watch it! If the grand and might OverHOLE catches you saying that shit, he’ll have your head on a platter.” Rappa said sarcastically.

“Ah fuck it, what are the chances of that right? Besides, he’s been killing a lot less with Y/N around. Anyway, just hear me out. The boss looking a little good in Y/N’s eyes right? I hear it from random female and male and non binary yakuza members from other groups as well. They always mention his looks and how handsome he is. But like...that recent big ass meeting we had? His haircut was NOT fucking suited for the slick back look. His hairline is like the American basketball player Lebron James.”

“Damn man, I don’t like him either but I’m not gonna roast him this bad.” 

“No serious! This aint a damn roast, it’s facts. I bet by the time boss hits 30, he’s gonna be balding.”

Both men laughed while Kai could feel his blood boiling. Was he some sort of fucking joke now?! Just because he had gone a little soft and started to show sympathy and appreciation for his men doesn’t mean he is to be taken lightly. He was slipping his gloves off at the very moment to go show Deidoro and Rappa a thing or two when suddenly your voice appeared.

“Deidoro! Get upstairs to the top level right now and clean that mess up you made, and I MEAN IT. Rappa, you’ve got to come with me today because we’re picking up some new furniture and Overhaul told me last week if we go through with it that I wasn’t allowed to lift it myself. Sorry bud.”

“Why apologize to me? I’m down for some heavy lifting any day!” And then silence as the three walked away. Kai could always wait until you leave with Rappa to handle Deidoro but there isn’t time to stalk and kill his employees. Plus this was confined talk so he’d fess up to eavesdropping and you’d probably get upset at him for it. He sighed in annoyance and stomped back to his office, silently hoping for someone to step out of line on his way so he could absolutely destroy them. Once back inside his office he buried himself in mindless busy-work to distract himself from the anger. It worked for a moment...but his anger had shifted from annoyance to some other feeling...in fact the feeling could best be known as insecurity. That couldn’t be right??? Could it? Throughout the day he found himself stopping to look at his hair in the small mirror inside his desk drawer. Eventually it became so constant that he shifted towards keeping the mirror propped up on his desk so he could work and keep peeking over and over. With each peek at his hair, his perception of himself shifted more and more until the voice in his head began nagging at him that this imperfection was real and it was very VERY obvious. At times it was the only thing he could see when he looked at himself. He couldn’t remember exactly what he looked like when the day began. He groaned and reached out to fling the mirror across the room. Just as you opened the door to greet him, it slammed against the wall next to you and shattered.

“Uhhhh...bad time?” You laughed nervously as he gripped the sides of his head and sighed. “Angel please leave...I’m not feeling very well and I think I’m sick.”

“Oh stop it, you know I can tell when you’re really sick. Anyway, I was just coming down here to tell you I was heading out to get furniture. I’m bringing Rappa with me like you asked, but I figured I could bring Deidoro instead of Nemoto since Shin has stuff to do back here and Rappa seemed attached at the hip with Deidoro today.”

“Do as you wish with them. I could care less if they died...”

“Okay now I know something is up. Chisaki please talk to me, I don’t like it when you feel like you have to hide stuff from me. I can see you’re bothered by something and I don’t think Pops or the other group’s leader will like the meeting coming up with you being so dismissive on things. Please talk to me?”

He sighed and looked up at you with dull eyes. “Angel...am I still attractive to you?” Kai silently begged you’d have the answer he wanted. “Kai if you ever ask me a question that stupid again, I will physically harm you.” He smirked and shook his head. “Well of course you’d think that. Just earlier I caught Deidoro and Rappa speaking about the current state of my hairline today and-”

“Ohhhh Oh my Gosh they were talking about it upstairs earlier and it was so funny I...” You paused when you saw his lip just barely jutting out in a pout from under his fabric mask. “Oh my God Kai, that was just locker room teasing. They were just making jokes is all. They sit around and roast everyone to keep from being bored. Y’know I didn’t think you were the type to take someone so seriously over this type of thing ESPECIALLY not Rappa and Deidoro of all people! Listen, you know as well as anyone else that not everyone is going to have a good opinion on you. I learned a long time ago that as along as I think I’m hot then no one else matter. Besides, it’s okay to get a little insecure sometimes since it’s human nature, but don’t you EVER forget how sexy you are. And anyway, I don’t know what they’re talking about hair for. Rappa’s shit is so matted up in the back, it looks like he’s starting dreads. And Deidoro...if he reached up and pulled his hair back, he would have a 12 head instead of a forehead.” You said nonchalantly while looking down at him sitting in silence. He slowly reached up to hug you with one arm before thanking you for your kindness. 

“Thank you Angel.”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

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I Was a Schoolyard Judas—Decades Later, Jesus Reunited Us

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Therefore know this day, and consider it in your heart, that the Lord Himself is God in heaven above and on the earth beneath; there is no other (Deuteronomy 4:39).

It’s our responsibility to be truly thankful through the outward expression of praise, worship, and telling the whole world what Jesus has done for us through redeeming time. But let’s be a bit more introspective.

When the Lord does an amazing new thing in your life, it is your responsibility to guard what God has done and keep it special in your life. You have to value and make a big deal out of this thing called redeeming time by pondering it personally.

But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:19).

That’s what Mary did. She pondered. She considered, con- templated, and let the goodness, blessing, and the wonder of it all marinate in her spirit. Throughout her lifetime, I’d guess those treasured moments became revelations of God’s love— kind of like the pieces of a puzzle coming together.

When it comes to redeeming your timeline, your ability to hang on to the truth of the Word and the impact of His presence is all about being committed to contemplation. What you meditate or mentally chew on is a skillset developed by recognizing how God moves in your life.

I will meditate on Your precepts, and contemplate Your ways (Psalm 119:15).

When Jesus starts to change your today because He is redeeming your yesterday, hurts and habits will melt away. Your hang- ups? You are no longer imprisoned by them. Everything shifts. Sometimes, He drops a God bomb and you are completely blown away by His love. Want an example?

I asked Jesus to redeem a broken relationship with someone I had wounded deeply growing up. The very day I prayed that prayer, the Lord answered in an explosive way.

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His name was Joe. We were in the fifth grade and he had won a big, beautiful blue ribbon during field day at school. I wasn’t fast or coordinated, and try as I might, I could not even win a purple ribbon for eighth place. I wanted a ribbon so bad. I wanted to show my family in hopes they would be proud of me.

Waiting for the school bus home, Joe put his ribbon down and went to get a drink. A broken little boy desperate for love and affirmation, I took it. Joe came back and he was devastated. I saw how hurt he was. He cried the whole way home and I saw that pain turn to anger and bitterness as we climbed on that yellow bus.

You see, Joe was poor. And I mean, dirt poor. The kids made fun of him for his worn clothes and shoes. Joe was a good guy, but that didn’t matter to the schoolyard bullies. Now, I had become one of them. The ride home was agony for both of us. Even after Joe got off the bus, my guts were churning with guilt and fear. It only got worse when I got home.

The person I had hoped would be proud of me wasn’t impressed. They spit chewing tobacco all over that blue ribbon in “approval” of my feat. I couldn’t even return it. That wasn’t the worst part. Joe’s trust was so shattered, he never spoke to any of us boys again. Not. One. Word.

Over the years, I stuffed that whole incident down inside me. There were plenty of failures, betrayals, and broken relationships to pile on top of it. It was all a big, jumbled mess in a dark corner of my past until I was driving to a food outreach 30 years later. For no reason at all, the memory of what I had done to Joe crawled out of the shadows. Talk about a gut punch.

“Lord Jesus,” I cried out from that painful place deep inside, “I cannot stand what I did to Joe. I can’t stand that it broke him and made him not trust anybody. I can’t stand that I took something so special to him—something he earned and deserved—just to please someone who was never going to love me even if I earned every blue ribbon. King Jesus, Sir, I ask You to go back into my timeline, and into Joe’s, and apply Your blood to that place. Lord, fix the broken things in him and in me. I don’t know how You’re going to redeem this, but I know You will because You are good.” I bawled and squalled the whole way to the event. I composed myself and tried to act normal as I was introduced to the crowd. Pastor Troy Brewer was going to give a sermon about service, selflessness, and demonstrating the goodness of God, then pray and lead a team out to feed the hungry. Instead, I crumbled. I found myself in tears. I recounted the very story I just told you to a room full of strangers, telling them how I asked Jesus to travel into the past and fix the mess I had made.

“Troy,” said a tall man who had stood to his feet in the middle of the crowd. “Troy, it’s Joe. I forgive you.” Stunned, I just stood there like a deer in headlights. My brain was calculating the odds and, finding them impossible, I stared at the man and recognized the boy in his face. My heart began to race as Joe said something that slays me to this day: “Troy, I want to know Jesus like you know Jesus. Can you help me do that?” My guilt and shame were blown to smithereens!

I treasure that in my heart. I chew on it like spiritual beef jerky. I contemplate how quickly and completely the Lord brought His blood into my timeline and Joe’s. I consider the perfect timing of King Jesus to work all these circumstances together for our good and bring us to a place of full reconciliation and restoration. You can too.

Only fear the Lord, and serve Him in truth with all your heart; for consider what great things He has done for you (1 Samuel 12:24).

I Declare in Jesus’ Name…

The light of Jesus is exposing my darkness. I will not hide what can be redeemed.

I will consider the ways of the Lord. He has truly done great things for me.

I will recognize the fruit of redemption in my life and ponder the love of God in my heart.

The blood of Jesus is working in my life. I have great expectancy for my future because He has redeemed my past.

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Shirley

To say that my most recent work has caused a stir in the contemporary literary community is something of a great understatement. Indeed, I have probably received more postage in these past two weeks from people I would have never known by name otherwise than I have in all my 32 years. Oh, and how vibrant that mail has been! If this, dear reader, is how politely you request information from authors, I would hate to hear what you have to say without the anonymity borrowed from your pens. In any case, I suppose I feel drawn to my typewriter today not in the interest of  explanation, but simply in the hopes that my ordinary story, the product of a boring commute for groceries, finally reaches an equally ordinary conclusion. 

It was a day most would remember only for its warmth. In a place with so much snow that Hell itself seemed preferable to finishing my last year of high school, why was anyone ever surprised at my self-cloistering? For that matter, who thought it a good idea to send me out of the house at all, let alone for some trivial luncheon of Sister Adeline's? These things and more, I pondered, light from the midmorning sun trickling down onto my face, my mind only half attentive to whether or not my skirt matched the color of my blouse and whatnot (it was 1934, those who used to care about such things had probably jumped off high rises like lemmings by then), the remainder of my energy fully devoted to that odyssean task of moving me not only out the bedroom door, but the foyer's one, as well. Success in this was, as in most pursuits my mother had set out for me, less of a cause for celebration than anticipation; people, after all, were not books. They had semantics and custom and all things I considered welcomely absent in books. At the very least, this wasn't another of father's evening parties, more onslaughts of comments on my weight and lack of friends than real gatherings; no, this was for errands. Bread, beef, blackberry jam. Bread, beef, blackberry jam. I would have giggled at the sing-songy alliteration if not for the circumstances. 

Bread. You know, it really wouldn't have been so bad if all those stores were closer together. At this point in my journey, I had already rehearsed my order to the butcher three times before exiting the bakery (a sign of a good day—often, only once or twice was typical), and had two more stretches of sidewalk to traverse before reaching the shop. I wondered if, had Tessie been there, it would have seemed less sluggish, the whole thing. What was the Latin phrase? Yes: Tempus fugit. Time flies. A glance at the ticking clock above the counter (10:24) assured me that this was most certainly not the case that day.

Beef. Tessie was an interesting girl, now that I think about it. Her family had only moved in a few years ago, and, as a result, they had not yet picked up on some of our- the others’, subtler precepts of etiquette. I found it difficult to judge; it wasn’t my people that had been driven out of land after land, only to find that this place, once the greatest industrial marvel of the world, had not only collapsed in on itself come 1929, but bore pointed hoods and smoldering crosses as welcome gifts. “We must be thankful”, Mother said, “that we do not tolerate such barbarism in our neighborhood”. I really did pity Tess, on some level; the only person who could somewhat qualify as her friend was me. I even debated making a sudden addition of pot roast to my purchase, as a gift to her and her mother and father. By the time I reached the end of the line, I decided against it. Adeline would see the receipt and think I was pilfering more for myself again, and I didn’t even know then whether it was beef or pork that wasn’t kosher.

Blackberry jam. As much as I despised these occasional outings, I would be lying if I didn’t ever so slightly enjoy my visits to the fruitier. He was one of the few who could tell when that which was inside me was better left undisturbed (that is to say, always), and the rows upon rows of preserves gave me a sense of vicarious nostalgia, channeled through the stories mother told of the time before; before the crash when you could buy reams of vivid linens and velvets for pennies; before the era of unabashed revelry regardless of your middle-agedness gave way to meagre, prescribed get-togethers amongst women who fancied themselves cultured.

In essence, before I was alive.

Somedays, I would take a jar of whatever struck my fancy—be it rhubarb or raspberry or current, never intending to buy it, but only to turn it over in my hand, admiring how the light from the windows made the thing’s contents shine like amber. Perhaps, if I was feeling particularly neurotic, I’d realign all of them so the modest pencil-on-tape labels were facing the same way. Never did I dream of putting one back where it didn’t belong. Mother, in matters organizational, taught me to associate such behavior with impropriety, and impropriety with scolding.

And how vicious her discipline was. So many afternoons spent in the living room listening to lectures on the merits of friendliness and agreeableness; “We didn’t birth you and clean you and dress you and feed you all those years to never set foot outside of a library.” Ironically, reaching out to Tessie yielded a similarly caustic response: “You know, dear, that she is a child of the Lord as we all are, but must you associate with people who refuse to see it?” I paid no heed to those words then, at the time simply an obstacle in the path back to my books and my privacy. Only now, as I walked down the street to Adeline’s and saw the embroidered signage on her door (Corinthians 15:33, all in green and blue cursive) did they ring in my ears again.

“Shirley, dear! Ah, I see you’ve brought all that we need for brunch. Virginia, won’t you help her into the dining room?” 

It was Mrs. Graves. What a befitting name for a woman who looked so close to death, if not for a thin layer of cosmetics. The proceeding few minutes went as I’d prepared for; introductions to various newcomers from the church group, feigned showings of gratitude and cheerfulness (on their part, for spending time with “them old ladies” instead of the great assortment of friends my own age I presumably had, on mine, for their inviting me in the first place), typical things. The meal was set out (an unexceptional one, but still substantial enough so that we all could have a piece of meat and a teacake), and we said grace. It was only about 10 minutes into the entrée when there came a knock at the door. Such things were no surprise; mail came and went sporadically then. It was Mrs. Adams’ turn to let them in, or, if not that, then at least to get off her creaking feet. A few seconds passed, giving me enough time to nibble once more on my bread (well, the bread I bought, anyways), before she spoke. “Well hello, there! Tes-“

And then, they were upon her.

Not even finished with her greeting, and already the others were upset as if their drinks were suddenly spiked with vinegar. Not in the way I was accustomed to, of course. The discomfort they conveyed was in their eyes and the shifting in their seats and the hiccoughs they supposed would go unnoticed if they were quiet enough, not some gossipy whispers or giggles. A queer thought, that the body’s words were more truthful than any of the tongue’s. 

“…Tessie.” 

“Y- yes’m.”

“Well, might I ask why you’re here this fine morning?”

“O- of course, miss. You see, my father and mother—the ones right down the street, well, they got to thinking and figured that we’d greatly enjoy a meal with you all. We’d seen the flyer for it outside on the church bulletin, and…why, won’t you let me come in?”

“Well, of course you can! Just give us a minute to find you some space.” As a lifelong sufferer of social anxiety and expertly covert recluse, I trust you believe me when I say I have never heard- no, felt, such a forced tone of joy. 

“Oh, thank you, miss!”

The window of time between the door shutting and locking felt painfully long to me. As much as I would like to say I did something of any worth then—be it tossing my napkin in disgust and walking the girl home, or smearing the jam onto Mrs. Adams’ Saturday dress in disgust, even raising my voice for a glass of water, this was simply not the case; some more of my mother’s words, “some people simply can’t tell when to change for the better” had resurfaced in my mind, albeit with an entirely novel meaning. The women’s looks of disgust morphed back into comfort (or at least the aura of it), and the luncheon proceeded as if nothing remarkable ever happened. It was minutes later when Mrs. Graves had gone to the washroom that we began to hear muffled sniffling seeping in from the entrance’s all-too-thin walls; at around 1:00, when we were reaching the end of dessert, I indulged the urge to glance at the window, and she had gone. 

On my way back to safety, past all of the “thank you”s and “call us anytime”s and putrid lavender perfume, I visited the fruitier for the last time in a while: I wasn’t leaving the house in flames, at this point. I handled the jar I last lifted from the shelf (I’d left that one—peach marmalade, tilted an iota to the left), and at last committed one tiny act of defiance against those fools. Now, on the shelf partitioned for blackberry jelly, laid a single orange growth, alone, yet there nonetheless. How ironic, to think that the most surprising thing I’d seen that day was the jar still there by the time I walked out the door.

So, there you have it. The story of my story. In all honesty, I’m surprised The Lottery garnered as much attention as it did; as if the average reader had enough time to read my work in such detail, let alone articulate how terribly my name will be remembered in the ever-expanding oceans of history for having the Tessie of that story receive a stoning rather than a washing machine as a prize. Will it really be the piece I’m remembered for, my legacy? If so, entertain for a moment the comedic potential of my epitaph: Shirley Jackson: Loving mother, brilliant novelist, and fantasizer on the stoning of children. If not, I still hope it lives on for some people, even if only for students of that school I attended back then, a dusty reminder that, “yes, someone from Brighton wrote this, and somehow emerged from this town more sane than those around her!”

In fact, I wouldn’t mind like a legacy like that. 

Not at all…

Hey Team, so yesterday's episode was kinda...Meh. I mean, I am sure #Steamers are happy...for now. The so-called Board meeting was boring. Waiting Ridge and Quinn to give into temptation is going slow. But I guess the “highlight” of the day was Wyatt settling in on his decision to let go of his wife who no longer wants him, if one could say that she ever did in the first place? Now, I stand behind my statement that #Statt should have never happened. They just never made sense to me to rush something that wasn't there. They were more forced than Livy saying “I love you” for the first time. You knew it wasn't real for both parties involved, so why push it? Steffy and Wyatt were great at being friends and  that aspect of their relationship was entertaining, but an Epic love story...naw bruh. Never saw it, never felt it and couldn't be convinced of it. Just a waste a time and character development for those two.

But as I mentioned before, Wyatt letting go (and yes I know it may not last seeing the way Bell is stuck on his Triclusterfvckangles from Hell! lol) brought something to attention that Eric said about him. He said that Wyatt moving on was great for his Self-Care and that part of this story is true. Whether you like Wyatt or not, him coming to realization (as slow and tragic as it was) that he needs to move on with his life and find someone who is worthy of his Love is a gift of Self-Care and Self-Love. I only wished that Steffy would come to that realization for herself, but we are going to stay with the positive, right? Lol Okay.

The Art of Self-Care is something that we all need to learn to do for ourselves in our daily lives. Whether it be moving on from a bad relationship or just finding time to give yourself some space to heal or let be,  it is very important to find those moments to nurture and care for the most important person in your life...Yourself. We are all worthy of Self appreciation and Love and if you are waiting for others to give you permission to do so, then you would be doing yourself a great disservice. No one is harder on You than Yourself, so why not LOVE and CARE for yourself just as much?

Right now, I am learning a Self-Care regime for myself. Taking time in my day to “Break away from Negativity”. It seems too easy, at times to give in to ALL the Negative forces that seems to surrounds us which has many of us in “Fight” mode. So it is Good to find a way to give yourself permission to just not be in that space and seek out the Positive. Here are some great tips I found that I hope will be helpful to you guys also...

Many times, people’s negativity comes from one small thought or occurrence and it takes them into a deep, winding spiral. Imagine your mind is like the ocean: the deeper you get into the negative thinking patterns, the darker it gets. There is no need to drown yourself in the negativity, but you do need to explore it. Nine out of ten times, the negativity is much deeper rooted than people allow themselves to see or feel. The main problem is that people don’t spend time or give themselves space to look at what’s really there.

GET TO “KNOW THYSELF” – LIKE, IMMEDIATELY:

The practice: The first exercise is to get to “know thyself”. Get a piece of paper and a pen and start writing:

Where do I feel negativity in my life? Is this negativity coming from me and my insecurities, or do I believe someone else is making me feel negative? How do I actually want to feel? Why don’t I allow those feelings to happen?  What is stopping me from allowing myself to feel positivity? Why do I feel comfortable in this negativity? What do I need to be happy? What is something I can do today to help bring positivity into my mind and my life?

STARVE THE EGO: 

Ahh, the busy mind. The mind loves to control us and be in the driver’s seat. It will do anything to keep us from quieting down, even if it brings us negativity. The ego is a great part of the human experience and we do need it, but we also need to be aware of it. If you’re a busy working professional and have ever tried meditation, you know how hard it is to quiet the mind (aka the ego). It is always gabbing in our ears, telling us what we ‘should’ do next, what we ‘should’ eat, who is being mean or rude to us, what we are ‘supposed’ to do every day. Starting a routine meditation practice is the best way, in my opinion, to begin quieting the mind.

The practice: To begin simple meditation practice, set your timer for ten minutes. Sit comfortably or lie down. Take 3-4 deep breaths and allow yourself to simply be. If you have an overactive mind, no problem. You can play a simple guided meditation or listen to soft, relaxing music so your mind has something to follow. I send out a simple ten-minute guided meditation every month to my clients and they use it for the entire month as their practice. The more you try to overthink it or believe you have to do it ‘right’ in order to receive the benefits of meditation, the more you are feeling the ego trying to avoid stillness.

PRACTICE COMPASSION:

When was the last time you gave yourself a mental break? There is so much pressure out there to be perfect and aligned with life that it is overwhelming for all of us at different times. So, rather than feeling negative and being mean to the negativity in your mind and feeling even worse about yourself, practice compassion with this exercise.

The practice: Place your hands over your heart. Feel yourself breathe and slowly allow your breath to drop into your heart space. Imagine all of the thoughts in your mind and allow them to come into the heart. Take some very deep, slow breaths and feel love from your hands going into your heart. Give yourself a few moments to feel compassion for yourself. Visualize your life and all of the things you’ve already accomplished, even the things that you don’t believe are worthy of recognizing. Feel how much you matter, just because you are here and you exist in the world. Without judgment or belittling yourself, simply feel love and compassion for yourself and all of your life experiences.

RELEASE THE NEGATIVITY:

Sometimes the mind is just too strong. Here are two additional techniques to help you move the energy and get it out of your own head:

Emotional freedom technique (EFT or tapping). This is a great way to start moving some of the negative thoughts around, especially if you feel like you can’t pinpoint where they start or what they’re really about. There are several tutorials available online and a short video on my website on how to start. Essentially, you begin tapping the side of your right hand with your left fingers, and repeat the sentence, “Even though, I feel all of this negativity, and I don’t know where it’s coming from, I deeply and profoundly love and accept (you can also insert the word trust here) myself.” Do this three times, then begin tapping in a variety of different points on the body and repeat, “I feel all of this negativity.” Eventually the body will open up and a sense of relief will enter the mind.

Full-moon release. Take a piece of paper during the next full moon and write down all of the negativity you want to release. Really feel yourself opening to release all of those negativities, different things, people, projects, thoughts, etc. Allow yourself to connect and go as deep as you’d like with what you want to release. Then, take the piece of paper and either burn it outside under the moon or sleep with it under your bed or pillow and shred it the next day to release the energy.

DAILY MANTRA/REIKI PRECEPTS:

In the practice of reiki, there is something we use called the reiki precepts. These are everyday mantras to practice calling in that which you are ready to receive and be.

The practice: When you wake up in the morning, before even getting out of bed, place your hands on your heart and try saying some of the mantras below – pick the ones that speak to you. You can also add your own words to make them more relevant to what you feel and need every day, depending on what’s going on that particular day. I do recommend picking a couple that you always say so you can really bring those elements into your life. Say and speak this mantra to yourself and, if needed, say it several times throughout the day to allow your mind to exercise these thoughts. Visualize them as seeds being planted in your mind. Eventually, they are grown and you are living them without even needing to focus on them.

Just for today, I am open to the positivity of my life. Just for today, I am ease and grace. Just for today, I am kind and compassionate to myself. Just for today, I release my negativity. Just for today, I trust and let go. Just for today, I am open to receive.

OM.

The power of this word is incredible. If there are times where you just can’t shake it or move the negativity out of your mind, try using om.

The practice: Sitting in a quiet space (even the car is a perfect place, and I do it often between meetings and appointments), begin saying or singing this word aloud. Do this for several minutes and you will feel clarity, a release of energy, a shift in your mind and an opening of energy. You can even set a timer for three minutes and simply practice saying the word until the time is up. If you’re in an office space or can’t say this word aloud, no problem. Internalize it. Close your eyes and feel the word being sung throughout your mind and body. Again, three minutes is recommended.

http://blog.freepeople.com/2017/01/break-negativity/#more-173014