#like. the weird and totally indescribable way hospitals make me feel. i want to say ''liminal space'' but it's not really that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanessakirbyfans · 3 years

Link

Vanessa Kirby suggests we meet on the Mall, the central location for her on-screen triumph as the young Princess Margaret in The Crown. I’m standing outside the shuttered Institute of Contemporary Arts when she strides into view, a slender, leggy figure with bleached hair and brilliant blue eyes, clad in trademark black, but for her gleaming white Converse trainers.

"I haven’t been here since we were filming!" she marvels through her mask, gazing up the processional avenue towards Buckingham Palace. "I was whizzing up the road on a motorbike, holding onto the back of Matthew Goode [as Antony Armstrong-Jones] and feeling so exhilarated about what on Earth was happening to my life – being in a job I loved, playing someone I loved."

Her ebullient mood was dented when Margaret’s handbag, into which she’d put her own phone, was blown away from between her feet, and an opportunistic passer-by ran off with it. "By the time I could check Find My iPhone, it was already in Leicester Square," she says. "Of course, the costume department were furious because the bag was vintage and a one-off." We both laugh, rather ruefully, for such anecdotes already seem to belong to a more carefree time. This bright, crisp lunchtime in lockdown, the Mall is all but deserted –there would be no need for roadblocks or filming at dawn today – while the roles Kirby is here to discuss are light-years away from her embodiment of a pampered royal party girl.

The morning of our meeting, Pieces of a Woman has launched on Netflix to rapturous reviews and critical acclaim that has seen Kirby, in her first lead role, picked as a front-runner for the award season’s most coveted best-actress gongs.

It is not, however, an easy watch. Kirby plays Martha, a first-time mother whose baby dies moments after being born; the film follows Martha’s subsequent disintegration, alongside that of her close relationships. Her labour, which comes at the start of the film, is some 26 minutes of one unbroken take that manages to be simultaneously intimate and menacing as the camera swoops around the apartment and hovers beside the traumatised protagonists.

Kirby’s performance is astonishingly unselfconscious, which is the more surprising since she never went to drama school (turning down the offer of a place at Lamda in favour of stage roles at Bolton’s Octagon Theatre) and says she couldn't bring herself to dance in front of her friends. "I’m the one who sits in the corner and watches." She describes seeing herself on-screen as "disconcerting", and "not a very natural human experience", and indeed even finds making Zoom calls a trial. "There’s nothing to hide behind!"

For Pieces of a Woman, the director Kornel Mundruczo decided that the birth scene would be the first to be shot, she tells me, as we stroll around St James’s Park, conducting ourselves like a couple of spies in a Le Carré novel. "I knew I’d have to be naked, and literally open my legs and give birth in front of a group of strangers I’d only met that morning. I was actually quite thankful – I thought, the rest of it’s going to be a lot easier."

In fact, she says, she found herself swept away by the emotion of the story. "Normally, it’s so hard to forget there are machines in your face, but I had no idea that a camera was even there." Was it traumatic to act? "The first time we shot it, I was literally sobbing for 10 minutes afterwards. I couldn’t get out of it. My brain was telling me it wasn’t real, but my unconscious didn’t know the difference, especially with having a real baby in my arms.

"Kornel came over onto the bed and held me so tight. He didn’t let go of me for five minutes, and he said, 'Just remember this feeling.' That really helped me for the rest of the movie, when the character doesn’t express anything, but almost has to be doing the howling without speaking a word."

Kirby took her research seriously, even asking a mother-to-be –a total stranger – to allow her to be present in the delivery room at the birth of her son in a north-London hospital. "I remember every single second of it," the actress says emphatically. "I was there, glued to my seat, for seven hours, not even a loo break! I was just amazed, in awe. I saw a woman completely surrender and go on this spiritual journey, which involved indescribable pain, clearly, but also ecstasy. It gave me a whole new respect for women and how powerful they are, and a new empathy for men, because they feel so helpless. And obviously, seeing the baby come out was the most incredible thing in the world I’ve ever seen, by far. After he was born, all of the mother’s colour returned, she looked like an angel, she had a kind of holy glow." Bathetically, it was only then that the couple recognised Kirby. "They were going, 'Oh my God, it’s Princess Margaret! This is so weird!'"

The experience has given her a new philosophy on life, she says. "I was watching the mother go through these contractions, which were excruciating, and the pushing, and then there was a moment of calm, and of expansion. And so, when I’m going through things in my life, I say to myself, this is like a contraction, surrender to it, because there might be something born from it. Sometimes we don’t want that; when we’re feeling something horrible, we want it to pass as far as possible. I’m teaching myself to allow it to be there and not resist or push it away, and that’s because of that woman."

But her character’s storyline also demanded that Kirby understand the experience of stillbirth. A friend introduced her to a woman who had lost her baby Luciana under eerily similar circumstances to those in Martha’s narrative. "She shared everything with me." They have become close friends, and the film’s ending is dedicated to Luciana. Kirby continues to work with Sands, the Stillbirth and Neonatal Death charity, and is voluble in her admiration of the Duchess of Sussex and Chrissy Teigen, both of whom have recently spoken out about their own experiences of miscarriage.

"I feel so close to them and so proud of them for breaking that silence," she says. "Meghan is probably the last person who would feel comfortable sharing her very personal, intimate feelings. It’s that courage that I want to continue to honour. What they’re saying is, if you’ve been through it, we have too, we share your story. I think that makes you feel less lonely. But one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage, which is far more than I knew about. Society finds it difficult to hold space for that kind of pain."

Her parents, to whom she is very close, have both seen the film and wept throughout, she says. As if on cue, her phone pings, and her eyes soften when she checks the message; it’s a childhood friend who herself miscarried, getting in touch to say how much the film has meant to her.

The integrity of Kirby’s performance has already netted her the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival. "It doesn’t seem real," she says. "I have it in its case – I wouldn’t have it on display, it looks like a football trophy – but occasionally I glance at it and think, 'Did that really happen? Or did I make it up in a weird dream?'" In a similar vein, she is reluctant to engage with the Oscar buzz surrounding her. "I don’t even know when they are," she admits. "My 13-year-old self would have a heart attack. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it!"

Kirby’s other film, The World to Come, is set in mid-19th-century America but touches on the same themes of bereavement and redemption. The central character Abigail, played by Katherine Waterston, has also lost her young daughter, and in her grief, turns away from her husband to have an affair with Tallie, her free-spirited, flame-haired neighbour. "I was glad I was playing Tallie rather than Abigail, because it might have been a bit too much," Kirby confesses – though without giving away spoilers, that role is pretty traumatic too...

The screenplay is taken from the short story of the same name by Jim Shepard, which was inspired by an entry he found in an antique diary: 'My best friend’s moved away, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.' "It was one woman’s voice, like an echo from the past, and we’ll never know who she was," says Kirby. "The World to Come really educated me about what life was like for women not that long ago. They didn’t have a choice about anything they did with their time. You were owned by the house, and the man, and you had no freedom outside that. The best thing about doing this mad job sometimes is having your ignorance illuminated. I gravitate towards things that push beyond my experience, I want to go to places I don’t know, I’m not familiar with."

The experience of making both films has changed her profoundly. "I can’t do anything unless it means something to me now," she says. "It’s a better way to work, because you’re not focused on yourself at all. So maybe I’ll only work once every 10 years!"

To ensure that this is not the case, and in order to find more untold, female-led stories, her ambition is now to set up her own production company. "Even a few years ago, a film about a woman losing a baby would have been unthinkable. There are so many voiceless people, and I have a voice in this industry, and I want to make sure the tribe is represented properly."

It is undeniably awkward, therefore, that her male co-stars in the films, Shia LaBeouf and Casey Affleck, both of whom play violent, abusive husbands, have been called out for their treatment of women. In December, the British singer FKA Twigs filed a lawsuit against LaBeouf, her ex-partner, alleging that he "hurts women. He uses them. He abuses them, both physically and mentally". While LaBeouf largely denied the accusations, he admitted in a statement to The New York Times: "I have a history of hurting the people closest to me. I’m ashamed of that history and am sorry to those I hurt. There is nothing else I can really say."

Meanwhile, Affleck was sued by two female crew members working on his 2010 film I’m Still Here, one of whom accused him of sexual harassment. He denied the allegations, and the lawsuits were settled out of court, but he later told the Associated Press: "I behaved in a way, and I allowed others to behave in a way, that was really unprofessional, and I’m sorry."

Kirby is understandably reluctant to get into any of this. "I can’t comment on a legal case that’s going on in someone’s personal life," she says. "I feel really protective of Pieces, so that’s what I want to speak about. Because it came out at eight this morning, all I can think about is the mothers I spoke to, and wanting them to be my focus. I just know my job is to honour them."

Perhaps counter-intuitively, starring in Pieces has awakened in her the desire for a family of her own. "It’s definitely made me want a baby, for sure," she says; but she hasn’t currently got a partner, having split up from Callum Turner (Frank Churchill in last year’s Emma), whom she met when they co-starred in the 2014 film Queen & Country. "This year has made me think a lot about the home I want to create. I like the idea of inviting someone into a space that’s mine, preferably before I have kids."

In the near future, however, Kirby has nothing on her plate except for getting through a third lockdown. "I’m free as a bird! I’ve read a lot of stuff, and said no to a lot of stuff..." She currently shares a flat in Tooting, south London, with her sister Juliet, an assistant director, and two friends. "I was just about to move out to live on my own in north London – my God, I would have been so lonely! My sister saved me. It was so nice to have routines together. We were trying to take a bit of exercise, cooking together, watching films that made us feel better, drinking wine on Friday nights..."

By now, having circled St James’s Park several times, we are strolling back towards the Corinthia Hotel, where Kirby has a full programme of Zoom interviews lined up for the afternoon. "That’s why I’m so happy to have actually had the chance to go out and meet you in real life," she says enthusiastically. "It’s funny when everything in your life closes down, and you have to sit with yourself, and you suddenly notice all the things you have and you’re grateful for. I hope that feeling never goes away – I will never underestimate how lucky I am."

#Vanessa Kirby #Pieces of a Woman #The World to Come #Interview #Articles

33 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @dontgostakinmyheart!

Read on AO3

*****

Always be there

“I knew it was a terrible idea to go in here. I fucking knew it”, he murmured to himself, a slight trace of tension in his voice. The young man also knew that he should better be quiet in a deeply haunted place like this. But the fear loosened his tongue in a poor attempt to try and deal with his running mind.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it any longer.

Stiles stared down to his bluish fingertips and white knuckles, the firm grip which held the wand. His robe’s end was already wet and cold sank into his shoes and socks, making him chatter his teeth uncontrollably. Still Stiles didn’t want to stop making his way through the ankle-deep snow. Every few steps he saw drops of blood covering the pale white landscape that lay in the darkness before him, rendered by dark and rotten trees.

No, he had to fucking move on.

“Did it ever come to your mind that this injured dog-wolf-thing possibly went crazy and might attack you? No? Good. Why should it Stiles? Go in the middle of the night into the Forbidden Forest to hunt a wolf thing and tell nobody about it. Great idea .”

Sarcasm, his only defence besides some magical abilities, wouldn’t save him either. He was also skipping Potions right now, just to follow this dog - or wolf, whatever - which would certainly get him into trouble.

And yeah, Potions class. In the middle of the night .

Maybe the injury was caused by one of the hippogriffs , he wondered. But the hippogriffs looked unharmed. And why, Stiles added in his thoughts, why would a single wolf attack a herd of hippogriffs, which are way too strong for it? It made no sense. What if it attacks me out of pain? On the other hand it didn’t look like it could do anything anymore.

Stiles pushed his thoughts aside.

“Focus, Stiles. It’s going to be fine.” He knew that Mrs. Lovise, one of Hogwarts Gamekeepers, would take care of any harmed animal. Even a wild wolf… or maybe even a grim.

Well, maybe not a grim...

Suddenly, he heard a low crackle to his left and froze before he turned around slowly to face whatever he could possibly face. A loud, pounding noise hammered unsteadily in Stiles ears, but it didn’t come from outside because it was his own heart beat.

Blood drained, black fur and a pair of glowing wolf eyes stared directly at him. Stiles swallowed. He hadn’t thought about what he would do if the wolf was still able to move. It had looked so injured in the meadow, right beside the big lake. Stiles had seen this wolf vanishing into the forest, in an almost crouching manner. But this specimen, in an indescribable way, still looked majestic and more than able to kill him in one strike.

Shit.

“Hey little grumpy wolf.... I’m not here to hurt you, okay…?”

Stiles raised his wand to slowly cast the levitation spell – nope, he wouldn’t even try to carry a hundred fifty pound animal on his shoulders.

“Just let me-...”

But right before he could say the first syllable, the wind carried a deep growl towards him and sharp, white teeth appeared in the darkness. Within seconds the boy felt fear flood his mind, right before the wolf jumped.

“ Shit .”

__________________________________

Pain rushed through his head, filling his mind with terror. He couldn’t be dead, right? It was too painful for being a dead corpse. Stiles’ head felt like syrup, dull pain hammered down his spine and caused a low, painful moan.

Where am I? Fuck...

Whatever was underneath him, Stiles could recognize that it was too warm to be snow. It was too soft and cuddly, like a pillow. Weird.

“Wha… nh …?” Stiles whispered slowly, he felt so damn weak.

“Shht, shht. Easy. You are safe now”, a calm female voice filled his mind with peace, just for a moment, but...

The forest. The wolf! Stiles’ eyes opened rapidly. He slowly tried to sit up and moaned quietly, but he did recognize the room as his sight sharpened.

He was in the Hospital Wing, but how the hell did he end up here?

“Where’s the wolf, what-”, he was so confused. Stiles remembered the wolf attacking him before he passed out, but it didn’t explain why he was still alive? It didn’t make sense.

Slowly and cautiously Stiles began to move - It felt like a flashback to his first Quidditch lesson. When he got hit in his face by a quaffle, the pain was quite similar to what he felt now. He bent his fingers and his toes, he just wanted to make sure, that he wasn’t missing some parts of his body. But nothing of him was ripped out by sharp wolf teeth.

You lucky one.

“Mr. Stilinski, please lay down. Everything is fine. Mr. Hale brought you here and-...”

Stiles tuned the nurse’s voice out instantly, his thoughts exploding in surprise.

What did she say? Hale?

Derek Hale ?

It didn’t make any sense why he would have carried Stiles back. How did he even find me?

Derek Hale was a Gryffindor and a sixth year. He was famous - well, according to the hand full of students who always were around him. They were even calling themselves the Hale Pack – and he’d never looked at Stiles once.

Ok. Well, he actually did look at me one or two times in his entire school career, but his gazes always were darting and sharp, Stiles thought.

He felt dizzy and so his thoughts stumbled back and forward uncontrollably.

Stiles was a fifth year and he never thought about forcing himself through the wall of people that encompassed the Hale Pack. Okay, he’d often thought about it. But he kept those thoughts secret. Derek had everything he didn’t have. He looked like a greek god, was big and strong, he was the cool guy everyone wanted to be with.

He had everything.

Almost .

A pointy voice inside his head reminded him, of what Derek had lost a long time ago.

He was an orphan, he didn’t have parents like Stiles. Well, Stiles at least has his dad and… he would see him soon because of the christmas holidays.

Derek would stay here. Possibly all alone.

Instantly Stiles felt bad for his selfish thoughts and looked up to a worried face right above him. It was the nurse. Right, she was here, too.

“Where is he?” Stiles asked, furrowing his brows. The only answer he got back was a mug of fluid he couldn’t identify. It smelled sweet and spicy at the same time.

“Drink this. It’ll help to get you back on your feet”, she added gently.

Stiles sighed and emptied the drink hastily. “Where... is-...” he coughed. It tasted terribly! Did she want to burn off his tongue? For God’s sake! “...is he?” Stiles finished hoarsely.

In a sadistic way she looked pleased, due to the fact he'd almost died because of the drink. “Mr. Hale is lying just next to you. He is fine. And you, Mr. Stilinski, should thank him for what he did. The tebo could have killed you. Both of you!”

A tebo? He had heard about this boar-like creature, but a tebo, in Hogwarts ?

“What is a tebo doing here?” he couldn’t resist to ask. Tebos were dangerous, he could imagine that it might have found use in Care of Magical Creatures.

“It escaped its cage and Mr. Hale, who was around when it happened, rushed out to capture it…” Stiles heard a sigh.

“I’m so glad that both of you weren’t badly injured. The tebo is gone, no one knows where it went. But more important: What were you doing out there?”

“Ehh…” Damn it.

“I saw this wolf, and… I was on my way to potions, really. I just wanted to check on the new hippogriff foal. Did you see it? It’s a sensation to breed hippogriffs in captivity successfully. Well... When I saw the injured wolf, I had to follow it. I thought, maybe it was harmed by the tebo…? I couldn’t ignore this…. So… Umm… Yeah. I should look for my saviour now. I have to thank him, right? So… ehm.”

He gesticulated excessively with his hands before he started cautiously to stand up. Stiles avoided the nurse’s gaze and hoped that he was owing her no more explanation.

The boy sneaked silently to the bed next to his own.

Derek seemed as if he was sleeping. Two long scratches were marking his cheek and a thicker scratch ran down his throat. He looked terrible, but he wasn’t in critical condition.

And how did he save me? What is with the wolf? Was that Derek?

Stiles didn't understand, his mind began circling unsteadily around itself. Underneath Derek’s terrible appearance, an indescribable softness covered his face. Stiles couldn’t even tell why he noticed that.

“Was that you?” Stiles began to speak in a low voice.

On one hand he didn't want to wake him up, on the other hand… He had to know.

“I mean”, he continued slowly. “The wolf in the forest.” He had no other explanation for what had happened. If Derek really was the wolf he had seen…

A memory struck Stiles’ mind and he gasped for air.

“A wolf saved me in the forest from freezing when I was a child”, he started to tell him the story from a time when everything was bright and fine.

“That... was also you, wasn’t it?”

He recognized this pair of bright golden wolf eyes, their stare. But if Derek was not the wolf, he’d made a total fool out of himself again. But hey, it was a familiar feeling.

A long time ago he had been a young boy, lost in a forest. Not the Forbidden Forest, but it was winter and only a few days before christmas. He hadn't been able to find his way back, and had almost frozen to death until a big, black wolf showed up and led him back to civilization.

He’d never forget that.

“Idiot”, a raw voice broke through the silence and Stiles froze.

Shit. Did Derek hear everything the Slytherin had said?

“What?” Stiles repeated raising his eyebrows. He suddenly felt insecure about this. He never really talked to Derek before.

“Wandering alone into forests every time… What the hell was your business out there?” Derek snorted and Stiles’ eyebrows rose further upon his forehead.

“Are you telling me that you were worried about me?” He was kidding, right?

But the glint in his bright green eyes told Stiles in a silent manner, that Derek was fucking serious. He also didn’t answer him, and with that, he confirmed Stiles’ suspicion.

“I just wanted to help the injured wolf”, Stiles repeated quietly after a while. He didn’t know that the wolf was also Derek fucking Hale, but even if that had been the case, for him it didn’t matter… The Slytherin kept this thought for himself.

There was complete silence for one or two minutes.

“Thank you. For… well. Saving me. You’re going to be okay soon, right?”

Silence again, but then Derek nodded slightly and Stiles wondered what his facial expression could possibly mean. He looked somehow… lonely.

Where is his pack? Stiles wondered and sat down on a chair next to the bed, his legs felt still weak. He wanted to accompany him. By this time all other students were already back at home to celebrate the holidays. Scott, Stiles’ best friend, included.

And so time went on, silent but not uneasy or awkward.

Stiles gaze wandered through the room. Christmas decor was floating in the air, even some of those moving portrait figures were wearing Christmas clothes.

What a picture - ha, what a pun …

“Why did you save me? I mean...”, Stiles slowly began to talk.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t expect to be attacked, it was stupid to go into the Forbidden-...”

“Shut up, Stiles”, Derek cut him off. It seemed that he wasn’t the most patient guy in the world.

“Hey”, he began, but a few seconds later he realized that Derek had called him by his name.

“Why do you even know my name?” Stiles added after a while, sceptical and shoving a chocolate frog - found a few minutes ago, abandoned in its package and in an empty bed next to Derek’s - in his mouth.

“Mh, these are so good.” He saw Derek's expression of distaste, guessing he didn’t like them.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Disgusting.”

“Well, grumpy wolf, I asked you a question. And I will not stop talking until you answer me”, Stiles smirked and a low, dull croak came from inside his mouth. It was the chocolate frog.

“Our mothers were friends.”

Silence.

“She wanted me to watch over you”, Derek added.

“What?” He didn’t say more than that. Stiles was speechless. His mother knew Derek’s mother? They were friends? Inside his chest, Stiles’ felt an edgy but warm tingle. He wanted to know more about their friendship. He definitely would ask Derek about it soon.

“You heard me,” he remained silent a moment, “but I don’t do this just because she wanted me to.”

Stiles wondered what that could possibly mean and furrowed his brows. “Why else would you unless… you… actually like me?”

Derek frowned and Stiles closed his mouth at this sight to prevent himself from babbling or saying anything more - at least for now. Except… his mind was racing again and he couldn’t be quiet.

“Not that it matters in any way. Um. I just… I thought you hated me, okay?”

He saw how Derek furrowed his brows and how his eyes dared him to go on.

“Yeah. Gazing at me like that… that's why.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“What? Why? That’s not really gentle either, ok? Don’t be such a sourwolf. And yeah, I know that you were the wolf in the forest. And you know what? It didn’t matter if I knew it at the time or not, I’d have followed you anyway.”

Stiles took a deep breath, he wasn’t finished yet, but...

“Shut up.”

Again his lips shut together and heated, unspoken words turned his face into a pout.

The silence that followed his outburst was only disturbed by Derek, sighing quietly.

“I don’t hate you.”

#dontgostakinmyheart #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

15 notes · View notes

the1997diaries · 6 years

Text

100 Facts About Me

I don’t really know why I wrote this one on Christmas eve but I just want to share these bits and pieces of me with you guys cos why not? Hehehehehe. Am I being too vain now? Btw have a very Merry Christmas to all. Hope you’re all doing good and having a good time.

My real name is Marie Grace Q. Jolo.

I was born on the 29th of August, year 1997.

Currently taking up Business Administration - major in Marketing Management at National University-Manila.

I’m an Ornithophobic.

I can’t stand the smell of rotting feet.

I wish I could read people’s mind.

I’m an EXO-L, Blink, Reveluv, and iKONiC. Annyeonghasseyo chingus!

That is why I can sing Korean songs~~~

I admire guys with a ring on their finger. I don’t know why I find it so adoring with men. Like feeling ko ang lakas makagwapo.

I prefer staying at home all day.

I do brush lettering.

I’m in love with colors eg. faded pastel pink, pastel gray, and white.

My favorite subject is biology but I don’t appreciate the presence of animals.

I’ve been in two schools when I was in elementary. I started grade school at Holy Trinity Academy but I graduated from The National Teachers College.

I’m moody— that’s what people say.

I’m scared of nuns. Lalo na sa mga nakaitim. Hindi ko alam tawag dun sa damit nila, basta yung itim na ganun. Hahaha

I hate hospitals like I always feel uncomfortable or maybe I just don’t like seeing people who are in such pain and those dying. Tbh I don't like to see people’s tearful eyes and losing hope.

When I was young I’m scared of going to restrooms so I always pee in my underwear— my mom always scolds me.

I don’t appreciate mayonnaise except with burger.

I have trust issues.

I’ve become a class president for like two consecutive years in high school.

My skin is indescribably sensitive— I get wounds unconsciously.

I’m a shy person. I don’t talk to a lot of people but I’m not suplada.

My sense of smell is the strongest among all my five senses.

I hate commitments— just because I don’t know how to handle them.

I don’t know how to express my thoughts in the right way people can understand.

I can’t sleep with lights off.

I think I’m awkward.

I am right-handed.

I don’t drink Milo, I eat it.

Fave author: JK Rowling and Colleen Hoover.

I’m a fan of Taylor Swift.

I’m a YFC for 5 years now.

I’d rather collect shoes than clothes and bags.

I love coffee. Ordinary coffee. Yung timpla ko lang.

I don’t like pure chocolates. I want it to have something with it like; a chocolate brownie, hot chocolate drink, chocolate sandwich, chocolate donut.

I really want to be an interior designer. I love moving things around; changing curtains, the smell of a newly washed bedsheet, countertops and islands. Organizing rooms and offices and lofts and things like that.

I have a collection of Total Girl magazine when I was young. I got the influence from my elementary best friend but either my mom or dad threw it away when I went to college.

I am a Manila girl since birth but I got to move to Quezon with my parents when I turned high school.

I really have a wavy hair just like my dad.

I am too emotional like sobrang babaw ng luha ko.

I have a small box of memories where I store every piece of memorable days and experiences. But unfortunately, I lost one box when I was in high school without any knowledge of its whereabouts.

I love doing arts and crafts. I have an artsy heart.

My sisters and I share a room.

I do still believe in chivalry. I wanted my first boyfriend to be my last and the father of my children.

I love watching YT videos and reading random blogs.

I have a thing for romantic-mysterious-sci-fi-supernatural movies, series or stories.

I can’t help but cry whenever I watch any version of Romeo and Juliet either a theater play or movie.

I am a big shipper of Wesley-Dobrev (Paul Wesley and Nina Dobrev), Madden-James (Richard Madden and Lily James) and WilKate (Prince William and Kate Middleton) love teams.

All-time favorite foods: sinigang, brownies, pizza, and donuts

I’m a picky eater.

I didn’t have a stroller bag when I was in elementary but I remembered asking my parents for it and when I transferred to a new school, it’s like the whole elementary department were all in 3rd and above floors so parents really know best.

I am a perfectionist— OC girl here.

I love collecting pens and stationeries even though I don’t really use them cos they’re all cute that feel like I’m just gonna ruin their cuteness.

My feet size is 8 sometimes 8 and a half. I have a combination of my mom and dad’s feet; wide and long.

I have eczema when I was young and that returned when I was in 2nd-year high school.

We used to spend our summer vacation in Quezon with my grandmother or with my Tita in Cagbalete Island where I really got to enjoy my childhood and learned a lot. Especially how to “mag-igib ng tubig” every dawn or else we’ll not have water the next day.

People would always say that I have a weird voice.

I love watching wrestling but I closes my eyes with serious moves.

I love taking random photos.

I used to blow bubbles whenever I feel tired and hopeless.

I used to make my dad his coffee when I was young.

I got a little bit abuse by a man in green while I was riding a jeep in fifth grade. That is why I hate green color.

I like doing surprises.

I used to watch Jimmy Neutron, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Madelaine, Spongebob when I was in elementary before and after school, all that in Tagalog version.

I wrote a story way back in sixth grade but I lost it and I am so sure that it’ll hit the market nowadays.

I am patient whenever I do something I like.

London is my dream destination;

Canada or SoKor is where I want to live; and

New York is where I want to work.

I’d like to have my own publishing company and to have my self-titled magazine.

The note app and phone calendar on my phone serve as my personal diary— I wrote almost anything there.

I have my own way of talking to God.

I believe in fairy-godmothers

My favorite Disney princesses are Belle and Aurora.

I’m in love with Olaf.

I really want to blog many things but I suck at expressing myself.

I don’t know how to draw but I want to be an architect. HAHAHA that is the point of learning, right? To learn...

Perhaps I can’t cook decently cos no one eats my cooking.

I’m perpetually tired.

I prefer American series than Kdrama. But there’s this thing, I like the story concept of both but I just feel like stories of kdrama could really get along with American superstars more. It is just me? Nevermind me. But KPOP is life. Love you BI.

I can’t stand watching horror films without someone beside me.

I don’t like spices like di ko talaga naeenjoy yung food.

I loathe confrontations.

The superpower I would want to have is to never to need to sleep cos…

I hate the idea of needing to sleep at night and

I hate goodbyes and goodnights.

I can’t sleep without a blanket, either hot or cold weather.

Sofia Andres is my wardrobe goals.

I’ve mastered faking emotions.

I never left my country and I would love to someday.

My fave flowers would be; pink and white roses and sunflowers.

I want to write my own novels someday.

I always have a water bottle in my bag. Also an antiseptic alcohol.

I’m not flexible, literally.

I used to love outdoor activities when I was a kid.

I like playing with only my shorts on when I was a kid and then when I needed to pee, I’ve realized that I’m all naked and that’s really awkward.

My height is 5′1 and I weight 50kg.

I love dancing and singing without people watching.

I can’t whistle.

#random #personal

3 notes · View notes

denriawhale · 7 years

Text

perhaps i should explain

a day before my birthday and i find myself reflecting on the fact that i nearly didn't make it to said birthday.

back in march—the 20th, to be precise—i got into a car accident. i'm going to go into the whole morbid affair here so if you don't like hearing about near-fatalities you should probably stop reading.

i was driving back to my college after spring break, at around 9:30 at night (i didn't want to leave home, so i stalled as long as possible, heh), when it happened. i was singing along to the music on my phone, and wanted to know how much time was left in the song that was on. so i looked down.

big mistake.

i lost control of my car—driving 80mph, with cruise on—and glanced off the left guardrail a couple of times before cutting straight across the road and spearing the other rail. i then slid along the rail, forcing it into my car. it slid under my left leg, taking a foot-long, 2-inch deep, 6-inch wide chunk out of my leg on the way, snapping my femur in the worst compound fracture my current ortho has ever seen and shattering my tibial plateau (my knee). it also broke my pelvis in 5 places. i sound a little clinical about this because it's hard thinking back to how much it hurt, really. the rail pinned me into a 6-inch-wide space between it and the back of my car seat.

i can say that while i was out of control of my car, i couldn't move. couldn't even take the cruise off. i really only had time to think "this is actually happening, this is real, this isn't a game or a movie. i am about to die... or be in indescribable pain for a long, long time" before the impact happened.

honestly, people ask when i regained consciousness a lot but i never lost it. and i can say that the impact was sort of like a jump cut in a movie. the previous second i was bracing and then i blink and the impact has happened and i'm pinned. the fear took a while (in accident time. time gets fucking weird in situations like this. in realtime it was probably maybe one minute or two.) to set in. actually the first thing i did of my own volition (the first thing i actually did was throw up eight times onto myself) was take stock of my injuries. i could move my arms and my head felt okay, and i could feel my right leg, it seemed fine. my left leg was a different story. i couldn't feel it at all. no pain, no cold, no nothing. i noticed that my knee seemed at an unnatural angle and it really, really bothered me to look at that. despite knowing it was probably a bad idea, i used my hands to shift my leg back into alignment.

nothing. it was like i was holding someone else's leg. i think that was when i started to get really afraid. i figured the leg was a complete lost cause.

i also figured that i was going to die.

i started thinking about my friends and family, and i made peace with myself. i'd done everything i could to be a good person, maybe i wasn't the best but surely god would see that i tried to help my friends and be a good family member and i would miss them but i would make sure to watch over everyone in heaven. after that i just waited to bleed to death. it was so, so painful and i've never wanted to die before then but at that moment i wanted it more than anything else i'd ever wanted in my entire life.

that was when jared found me. i didn't learn his name until over a month later, but he's honestly my hero. he witnessed my accident in his rearview and immediately pulled over to help me. of course, i didn't know that. all i knew was that while i was waiting to bleed out, my car's back door flew open and a man threw himself inside, mid-conversation with 911.

that was when i decided that i was going to fucking live. it didn't matter that i hurt, i wasn't going to go out with an ellipsis at the end of my story. i was going to fucking fight and then even if i did die, i could face god proudly and say that i did my fucking best right up until the end. the fear completely left me, and i became very determined and rational very fast. i guess it was a survival instinct from my body. adrenaline and all that?

he was telling them about my condition and making sure i was awake. the dispatch sent out help and he hung up, then immediately started trying to get the seatbelt choking me off. of course, he couldn't because the mechanism was wrecked—the entire front of my car was a mangled mass of metal and plastic, and my seat wasn't much better if we're being honest. he would have cut the belt, but he didn't have a knife and mine was in my purse, which was flung against the windshield and completely unreachable through the tangle of sharp metal. failing that, he asked if i wanted him to call anyone and i had him call my parents, who immediately began to rush to get to me, 2 hours away.

that was when the next miracle happened.

a volunteer firetruck—driving home for the day, not summoned by dispatch—pulled up and out poured about a dozen firemen. they ushered jared away and immediately began trying to help me. i remember the name of one of them because he was the one who tried to keep me awake and alive by talking to me the entire time. his name was nate, and his job was to sit in the back seat of my car and hold my head to make sure i didn't move it in case i had a neck injury. he also talked to me to keep me calm—though mostly the calming part wasn't necessary. i panicked a total of 3 times after the firemen arrived, each time screaming "help me" over and over and trying to pry myself out of the rail's grip. they only lasted maybe ten seconds before nate settled me down again. meanwhile the firemen tried to figure out how the actual fuck to get me out of my mangled car.

then the paramedics and another firetruck arrived, the ones summoned by 911 dispatch. the firemen wound up deciding to kick the rear and front windshields out—they put a blanket over me to protect me from the glass—and cut the roof of my car from the rest using the jaws of life. after the top was off, the paramedics rushed in. they tried and failed to stick me with an iv—shock and cold had collapsed most of my veins. i had no pulse in any of my limbs, but i was still awake and talking. i knew that if i passed out, i would die.

in fact, at one point it very sharply occurred to me that i could escape all the pain that was coming to me by simply closing my eyes and going to sleep and dying. it was so, so tempting. but then i remembered that one of my long-held beliefs is that the saddest thing in the world is a parent outliving their child, and i couldn't possibly do that to my parents, and i didn't want to leave my friends. my resolve to live got even stronger.

the paramedics had to use a drill to give me something called an io, which is basically an iv but it sticks into your bone marrow instead to give you fluids. by the way, it's also incredibly painful and when i still had one in the next day i actually thought my arm was broken.

once they managed that, the firemen started trying to figure out how to get me out. i remember thinking to myself that they needed to hurry the fuck up and stop standing around talking about what to do, but that's because i was in pain. logically i know they had never seen something like this and they would need to discuss how to help me or they might end up killing me by accident.

they ended up deciding to cut the reinforcing bars out of the back of my seat and then, using the jaws of life as a spreader, they forced the back away from the guardrail. at once, maybe ten firemen surrounded me and lifted me out of the car and onto a stretcher.

honest to god, that was the closest i came to dying. all of the pain completely vanished, and i closed my eyes and sighed in relief, nearly fell asleep right then and there. then i remembered what was happening and forced myself awake again.

that was also when i began to bleed to death. it turns out the guardrail had cut my femoral artery, and the only reason i'd made it longer than a couple of minutes was because the pressure of the rail crushing me was acting like a sort of tourniquet to stop the blood from escaping. the paramedics rushed me into an ambulance to stabilize me and stop the bleeding, rushing to put warm fluids into me and keep me awake. it started to get hard to keep my eyes open, and i said as much to the paramedics, figuring it was important. the look of complete and utter terror on their faces is something i don't think i'll ever forget. they rushed even faster at that point, making me promise to stay awake and then rushing me into a helicopter.

at that point i was too tired to speak, so i kept myself awake by looking at all of the buttons in the helicopter (there were so many, it was crazy) and trying to reason out what they might do. it was all i could think of. they got me to the hospital and into the trauma bay after that, and that was when things got a lot easier.

it took them an hour and a half to get me to the trauma bay, starting from when jared called 911.

once at the hospital, they had to do a CAT scan to confirm what all was broken and make sure my spine was okay, and they wheeled me to the scan room. they apologized so many times before they moved me to the table, because they knew it would hurt me (and boy, were they fucking right) but it had to happen. i, of course, cooperated easily because i knew what was at stake here. they got me back to the trauma bay and the red cross found my blood type (a negative) and started to give me blood. i woke up a lot after that, and started asking for details on what was happening and participating in conversation.

that was when the absolute worst part happened. they had to debride the wound—that is, pull pieces of road and dead flesh out of it. they apologized, then lifted my leg up into the air and started pouring betadine into it. that was the only time i screamed in pain. it was blinding agony, the worst thing i've ever felt in my life, so much worse than the accident itself. i wanted to die. i wanted to die so badly. but, eventually, it was over and they set my leg back down.

my family turned up after that, and at this point i was pretty certain i was gonna make it. so i wanted to make my family feel a little better. i made some jokes, like telling my mom "at least i kept all my teeth!" and apologizing to my dad for wrecking the car. i think they thought i was an asshole for joking around at a time like that, but hey. then i was wheeled out of the room and into surgery.

i'd end the story there, but i want to bring up one other thing. the next morning, they woke me up from surgery still intubated. that was the worst thing i have ever fucking experienced and for each subsequent surgery i have threatened the nurses with death if they ever wake me up like that again. never. again. imagine being restrained so you cant move your hands, unable to make even a groaning sound, unable to communicate, with a tube down your throat so you keep throwing up over and over and they keep having to suck fluid out of your lungs which just makes you throw up again and it's an endless fucking cycle. eleven hours. i spent eleven fucking hours like that. i have never wanted to fucking die more than i did when i was intubated. nothing compares. nothing. not even the month i spent in agony in the hospital while my bones knitted back together. it was fucking awful. never again. i will fight six bears barehanded before i let them wake me up intubated.

that being said, i'm really glad for those surgeons and that hospital and everyone who was involved that night. they're all the reason i'm still here and i will always be in their debt. i'm currently still recovering and i have one more surgery (on the 28th) in my future. unless there's some kind of complication, but i've been blessed to escape any kind of complications so far. i hope that continues. i'm expected to make a full recovery and i'll be able to go back to college once i have more stamina for walking!

anyway, there's my story. of course, there's more to it, but a month of hospital time would take so long to go over and in the grand scheme of things the part i wrote about is what's important. if you made it all the way down here, thanks so much for reading.

#personal #car accident #story

8 notes · View notes

mrstomummyandbeyond-blog · 5 years

Text

New Journey... New Blog?

September 26th 2019. Elijah is 7 weeks old and weighing in at 13lbs 2.5oz

It would definitely be fair to say that an awful lot has changed since I last posted a blog... I truly LOVED writing my wedding blog, and had every intention after we had settled into our home to continue writing about the ups and downs of being a wife, how I was adapting to married life and had even thought about looking for some other newlyweds to submit posts and having an interactive blog about the lives of wives. Then four months into our married life we discovered some wonderful news, we were expecting a little bundle of joy. Not exactly as planned, but we were over the moon and so excited.

I then thought repeatedly throughout the pregnancy, maybe I should write blogs about this to document for my future self to look back on with fond memories. That didn't happen either, in February we took a big leap and moved from our home in Birmingham back to Wales to live with my parents, mostly for money saving reasons to allow me to be able to take a longer maternity leave once our little fella was here, but also because I realised I was extremely homesick. We both thankfully got new jobs and started working full time again within the same month as we had moved out.

I can honestly say that apart from growing a larger baby, pregnancy really was a breeze for me. I didn't really suffer with morning sickness, or any type of sickness really. My absolute worst pregnancy related ailment was heartburn, but drinking 2 pints of milk a day seemed to resolve that enough for me. Oh and the fact that I felt like a WHALE throughout most of it, I didn't think it was possible for my stomach to grow and stretch the way it did. It’s safe to say that the bigger I got the more I wanted my boy out, and when his due date came and went I was quite disappointed. A week to the day after he was due Elijah decided to make his appearance at 6.14pm, on the Fourth of August 2019.

Disclosure - next bit is going to be about labour, the actual birth and postpartum recovery, so skip it if you don't want to know the gory (not that gory) details.

I really surprised myself during my labour, I expected to be a total wimp and need the epidural before I was even 4cm dilated! I woke up at around 4am in pain but not sure whether it was contractions, Braxton Hicks or just Elijah kicking extra hard.. It had become commonplace during my last few weeks of pregnancy to be awake at all sorts of hours of the night, uncomfortable from the little guy wriggling. So I went into his nursery and sat in the rocking chair as that usually calmed him down and made me feel more comfortable. It hadn't worked and so at around 5am I went back into our bedroom and woke Kurtis up to tell him I thought I was in labour but I needed to time the contractions. At the time Kurtis was starting work at 6.30am so he said “ok, well I have to be up for work in an hour so just let me know if you are actually in labour” and then rolled over and went back to sleep. No I am not kidding, I told my husband I thought I was in labour and he rolled over and went back to sleep. I could've killed him!!

At around 6am after timing the pains and coming to the conclusion I was most definitely in labour I decided to have a bath, in an attempt at easing the discomfort. It is most definitely true when they tell you that your body finds weird and wonderful ways of evacuating EVERYTHING to make sure there isn't anything in the way of the baby. I was sick, everywhere... this of course set off the ‘oh my this is really happening, what do I do’ panic. Fortunately for me my mum and Kurtis rushed to my aid, and they were both the most supportive birthing partners a girl could ask for throughout the whole thing. By 7am I was cleaned up, dressed and downstairs trying to eat some toast and drink a cuppa tea. We called the labour ward and they said ‘yep, take some paracetamol and make your way down to the hospital’. By 8am I was in the Princess of Wales hospital on the labour ward being examined by the doctor. I was 3cm dilated and she offered to put in a 6 hour gel to speed up the contractions.. definitely worked. I was in a lot of pain so they gave me codeine to ease it up... contractions continued and the pain relief appeared to me to be doing nothing.

I was on a ward with five other people who were all supposed to be in the same stage of labour as I was, now either I am a total wimp or we were in totally different stages of labour. The midwife then suggested maybe a hot bath would help make me more comfortable, it did for a little while but as soon as I got out of the bath the pain was relentless so I went back to the midwife and said I really couldn't cope and please could I have some other form of pain relief.

They offered me pethidine, this in itself deserves its own dedicated blog because it was AWFUL. Pethidine for me gave absolutely no pain relief for the contractions, though it did make me sleep in-between them which was somewhat nice I suppose. However during the contractions I was in more pain than ever. They wanted me to lie on my back so I could be on the monitors so they could asses the stage of labour, but lying flat was excruciating.. The senior midwife told me that I was probably still be around 4-5cm dilated because of the strength of contractions showing on the monitor; however I later found out that it was possible to labour in your back (which I clearly was) and that contractions felt in your back would not show up on the monitor.

They wouldn't examine me as ‘they don't like to interfere too much, just in case it complicates things for the baby’ (their words not mine!)... So I continued on with the pain, screaming through every contraction (sorry to the other people on that ward, I’m sure I was super annoying) until my waters broke. Mum went and got the midwife as there was a little blood mixed in (normal apparently) and had to demand they examine me... It was a good job they did as I was 8.5cm dilated and having the urge to push. They quickly rushed me over to a delivery room and this is where they broke the news - I had to get up off the bed and walk to the other bed before I could give birth. In the state I was in this felt like an impossible task, I did it by some miracle and from here on out everything is a liiiittle bit hazy.

Mum and Kurtis told me that as soon as I had the gas and air I seemed to be relieved from a lot of the pain and I said “Why don't they start you on this stuff, its fantastic”... Clearly the gas and air was working. I don't remember any of the hour and fifteen minutes I spent trying to get our baby out, but Kurtis and Mum tell me I was very irritable, and kept asking questions about programmes I had been watching while being kept up at night by baby kicks. I do however remember the feeling of actually giving birth, and it being the most surreal amazing thing I had ever experienced. The instant love I felt for our baby boy when I heard his cry for the first time and they placed him on my chest is honestly indescribable. The doctor mumbled something about needing to stitch up the incision she had made, but I didn't care about that; I had my baby and that was all that mattered.

I think this post has gone on long enough now, but I have definitely re-discovered my love for writing and so will continue posting here about life with Elijah. I'm not going to make promises about the frequency I'll post, because lets be real with a newborn promising you’ll do anything is pointless, they set all of the routine and rules.

#motherhood #birth #labour #birthstory #babyboy

0 notes