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blankd · 3 years

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Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months. However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet. It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes. Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family. It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic. People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie. Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers. There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved. Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell. PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL. Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up. No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not. But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm. Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought. Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all. Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies. I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover. It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is. If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize. Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

#the mitchells vs the machines #let me ramble to you #text post #hot takes probably

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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

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saw u were taking requests- perhaps a sukka blurb? cute, domestic stuff, if you're up for it!

fun fact, when i got this notification i assumed it was a like on an ask i had reblogged and didn’t realize someone was actually sending ME a prompt until i opened the app. thank you so much for thinking to ask me, it absolutely made my day. i hope this is okay!

It’s late, well past midnight, when Sokka’s boat docks at the Kyoshi port. Suki’s pacing the island - she hasn’t been able to sleep the whole night through since before she left to help with the war effort. Not since she was captured by the fire princess.

Suki shudders at the thought. She’s been told that Zuko is trying to help Azula, rehabilitate her. She’s happy for him, that he might get a piece of his family back. But Suki doesn’t have any interest in seeing Azula again for a while. Forgiving Zuko was easy - Zuko, who fought fair and left when his target did. It was harder to forgive Azula after their more...personal interaction.

“Look at you, the leader of the Earth Kingdom’s most famous warriors,” the younger girl had said all those years ago, in her deathly calm voice. “And you’re stuck in a cage.”

“The Earth Kingdom won’t fall to you,” Suki had hissed back. Azula smiled.

“Maybe,” the princess had agreed. “But either way, you’ve left them vulnerable. I can’t help but wonder - if you hadn’t failed, if you’d captured me instead, maybe this war would be over?”

Suki was silenced. She knew this was just a ploy to get in her head, but the guilt was overwhelming.

“Oh, well,” Azula had said with a cruel smile, “guess we’ll never know.”

“Okay, something’s wrong,” says a familiar voice that brings Suki back to the present, its owner emerging from the island’s shadows. “I’ve never been able to get the jump on you before.”

“Sokka!” she exclaims, running to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hi,” he says softly, resting his head on top of hers, hugging her tightly. Every reunion with him feels like a miracle, like they’ve beaten impossible odds just to be together.

To be fair, they have.

They go back to her house and have tea, talking all the while. Sokka produces four portraits he made of her, each one slightly better than the last.

“You’re getting really good at these,” Suki tells him, smiling at a half-decent sketch of her in her warrior uniform.

“Really?” he asks shyly, rubbing the back of his neck while she looks through the papers. “Toph said the same thing. Then I realized it was Toph, so...”

Suki laughs, picking up the drawings and placing them next to the others he’s made over the years, between the slats of her wall. She waits a moment before rejoining him at the table, looking proudly over her personal art gallery.

“Zuko only gets one portrait,” Suki says to him smugly. “I get dozens.”

They discuss what they’ve been up to - Sokka spent the last couple of months at the Northern Air Temple with Toph. Together with Teo they’ve been working on a language system for the blind.

“They’re thinking of starting a school. Isn’t that great?” Sokka says excitedly. Suki nods, genuinely happy for them. It’s a relief to know how many people respect Sokka for his ingenuity - Suki’s known it from the first few days they met, but he tends to forget. He deserves this recognition, this joy.

“What have you been doing?” he asks her, reaching across the table to hold her hand. She turns her hand so that their fingers are interlocking, and she tells him the truth: not much. Things finally calmed down enough in the Fire Nation capital that the Kyoshi Warriors finally felt comfortable going back home. And now that they’re here - well, they’re certainly back home.

“It’s nice to have a break, but...” Suki feels her eyes begin to brim with tears, and she swallows, hard, refusing to cry over something so selfish.

“Suki,” he says gently, reaching out his other hand and covering hers. “You can talk to me.”

She heaves a big sigh and it comes out stuttering with the effort of trying not to cry.

“Did I abandon the Earth Kingdom?” she whispers, the candlelight fading so that their faces are little more than shadows. “Zuko’s my friend, and I’d gladly help him again but...I came back and everything’s changed without me. I was supposed to protect them, and I left.”

She begins to cry openly, and Sokka stands, rounding the table to hold her. He lets her sob, and it goes on for so long Suki begins to wonder if there’s something wrong with her.

“I’m sorry,” she says wetly once she’s cried her fill. “I haven’t - I haven’t even thought about this until just now and, and it’s just so nice to have you here-“

“Suki, you don’t have to apologize,” he tells her in that same, calm voice that always fills her with ease. “To me, or to the Earth Kingdom.”

She blinks at him, wiping her eyes.

“You can’t be everywhere at once - you protected the Firelord and prevented another war from breaking out. You advocated for the Earth Kingdom and its needs. That’s more than anyone else I know. Well. Besides Aang and Katara. But they don’t count, they’re the Avatar and a wannabe revolutionary.”

“Sokka, Katara is a revolutionary,” Suki says laughing a little.

“Yeah, well, she’s also my bullheaded baby sister, so, to me she’s a wannabe,” he says flippantly, not even able to mask his pride behind the gruffness.

“You wouldn’t know anything about being bullheaded,” Suki teases. He grins sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. “I don’t...talk about these things much.”

“Me neither,” he whispers back, blushing and reaching up to touch where her lips had brushed his skin. “Maybe we should work on that?”

Suki agrees - her chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. Talking about these things might be...nice.

a couple of things: 1. i absolutely believe azula deserves redemption and love. i also believe forgiving her is probably hard for people like suki and the kyoshi warriors, and mai and ty lee. azula specifically mentions speaking with suki during the day of the black sun, and since she knows suki and sokka were together, we can assume it’s true. knowing azula, it probably wasn’t the most pleasant conversation. 2. the great thing about suki and sokka’s relationship is how they can lean on each other, both during battle and emotionally. this was meant to explore the latter - i’d eventually like to write about suki and sokka talking about kya, as well. 3. once again, thank you so much @beepboopbitch for the ask. i really hope you enjoyed it!

#ask me stuff!#suki #sokka #sukka #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfiction #my fanfic #my stuff

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terraaurea · 6 years

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A note on Keith’s Galra Heritage: a Galrapological analysis nobody asked for

This is my excuse not to work on writing a syllabus.

I do hope that Voltron someday elaborates even further, either on screen or in interviews/podcasts/comics/etc., about the pre-destruction cultures of Daibazaal. I also REALLY hope the VLD writers do not cop-out and incapacitate Keith by claiming that his Galra genes make him inherently evil or malicious. A few notes from your friendly neighborhood Anthropologist (we’ll see if my knowledge of humans can connect anywhere with alien sci-fi nonsense...)!

1a. I am sure a ton of people have already talked about this, so I won’t go into it too deeply. The main important part is that Galra genes are in fact probably incredibly recessive or at least highly compatible with other species. The Galra species at the time of VLD has an extremely wide range of characteristics, though they tend to share their purplish color scheme. Their body size can range from small, to broad and tall. Sometimes they have tails, furry ears, sharp canines, and eyes with or without irises/pupils. It is difficult to tell whether this is reminiscent of the intergalactic expansion of their Empire over more than 10,000 years, but I would think that has a huge part in it. Lotor shed a lot of light on the subject, since he advocated originally for the fair treatment of Galra with mixed heritage.

Arguably, however, the Galra phenotypes were far more gracile before Daibazaal’s destruction. There was variation of course, but in general even the broadest of Galra maintained a sleeker facial structure with minimal fur, and no tails. For example, one may be able to see so-called ‘pure’ (scare-quotes) Galra phenotypes in Zarkon by comparing his characteristics to Galra from 10,000 years ago. It is for this reason (in addition to other propaganda) that nobody questions Lotor gracile face, despite his mother being Altean. He appears as a visionary for mixed heritage Galra then in the way that he pretends to be the ‘pure’-blooded savior of the oppressed. Remember, too, that thousands of years of history have been excluded from our knowledge, so there is likely no way to really know for sure what the original phenotypes of the so-called “Galra nation-tribe” were (according to Dayak’s teachings). Dayak does believe though that gracile facial features are signs of more dignified Galra (to Hunk: “That doughy face of yours is very un-Galra”). Cf. these lovely folks to a younger Zarkon pre-Quintessence exposure:

(To be honest, I still cannot decide whether his supra-cranial ridges are biological/organic, or part of his armor. It does not help that we cannot see his ears)

1b. With all of this said, we learned that in the modern-day Galra Empire there are several shared cultural norms. As a student of cultural change and impact, I have to stress something which I believe is applicable (hopefully, please) to our world and this sci-fi universe: culture and genetics are not explicitly linked, and culture is an acquired characteristic, not an inherited one.

Hunk’s training with Lotor’s childhood governess Dayak tells us a lot. Bless this beautiful boy, realizing that knowing about one another’s culture is important for understanding each other! Up until the destruction of Altea, the Alteans were skilled in this, and even used their ability to shape-shift to work with others when appropriate.

For one, the concept of a ‘blood emperor’ has existed since before the Galra “were a star-faring race.” Lotor appears annoyed by Dayak’s use of the term, but it is clear that her belief in its solidarity remains, and can be seen elsewhere in the discrimination shown to Galra of mixed heritage. Lotor obviously wants to come off as progressive to the paladins, here. From her lessons, which she is pleased to give Hunk, we learn that historic Galra customs held strong weight in: defeating your enemies, absolutes (”victory or death”; alt. Blade of Marmora “knowledge or death”), enlightening pain (palen-bol), and the belief in a singular “killing thrust” (vrepit sa) that put the Galra above all other tribes on Daibazaal. If anyone has studied history before, it becomes clear that this singular event was likely instead a series of hundreds, or thousands, of years of combat, diplomacy, and the like (cf. ancient Mediterranean/Mesopotamian/Indian flood myths, fictive kings [like the original monarchy of Rome/Romulus and Remus], etc.). This belief in a singular event reinforces the modern Galra preference for absolutes. This is also why there is no error in violence, as it is the “searing light” that “burns away all imperfections” on both societal, and personal levels. There is no in between. Regardless, the most important takeaway is that Hunk learns these tenets from Dayak and is then able to apply them when working with Galra. Young Galra, like Lotor, were not born with these ideologies, but instead learned them (acquired them) from their ancestors, teachers, and families.

Now that we have addressed basic Galra phenotypology (for funsies), and that culture and genetics are not inexplicably linked, we can cover the reason why it is in VLD’s best interest not to cop-out and give Keith a specific weakness on behalf of his blood heritage. (Also, where there are small links at the most basic level between the human propensity for culture/social interaction on a genetic level is impossible to address here and would be far too anthropo-centric for our purposes, are highly contested, and ultimately inconsequential. Nobody DM me quoting Richard Dawkins and the ‘selfish gene,’ please I beg you).

2a. I can already sense this possibility: Keith loses control because his ‘Galra-side’ takes over. He cannot help it, becomes openly violent, and regrets his parents having met. He regrets his mother being Galra, and wishes he could either be human or not exist at all. I SINCERELY HOPE THAT VLD DOES ITSELF A FAVOR AND AVOIDS THIS ROUTE. I have faith, because VLD has expressed a decent amount of intuitiveness when it comes to cultural race vs biological species. There are far better ways to go about this, both for the sake of narrative and accuracy!

At the very most, Keith’s Galra genetics should provide him with a few unique attributes: physical strength and acuity, and at the very most a different level of hormonal sensitivity, leading to increased or decreased moodiness or impulsiveness. Ultimately, the Galra across the Empire are not violent on account of their genes, though. Moody? Perhaps. Bloodthirsty? No. They are violent because of their upbringing. Keith’s impulsiveness is almost certainly more rooted in his difficult childhood, and his discipline issues are mirrored in other human children and adults who have faced similar losses (absent parental figures due to death, bullying, etc.). There is a reason why Shiro appearing in Keith’s life has lead him to slowly improve his self-control. There is a reason why Keith’s experiences with the Blade of Marmora (and likely his mother, Krolia) have had similar effects on his self-control. These situations have provided him with teachers who guide him. Human or Galra, he would have the same issues if he was left unattended for his entire life.

What, then, could give Keith troubles on account of his genes? Simple answer: power.

2b. We saw in the fight between the Black Paladins that in times of intense stress, Keith’s Galra phenotypes show through, making his face purplish and his sclera yellowish. This is interesting because it reminds me more of Altean shapeshifting abilities. Whether this happens in other mixed heritage Galra is hard to discern, and it is equally viable that Krolia is of mixed heritage in the first place. Keith in general has heightened strength and visual acuity, which can already be attributed to his hard work. But, the two years with his mother may have contributed to his growth spurt: Galra lifespans are longer, so he may not have reached physical maturity yet. Being with a parental figure of Galra descent for an extended period of time may also have helped this on some hormonal level.

Keith has worked hard to tame his impulsiveness. Patience yields focus! But, once one has been patient, has grown, and can focus--there are still mistakes to be made. Humans are physically weaker than Alteans and Galra. Should one give the strength of an Altean or Galra to someone like Lance, Hulk, or Pidge, they surely would struggle to reconcile their strength with their ability to overcome enemies, or manipulate others. All suffered in the Quintessence Field while fighting Lotor, because power flowed through them, and their inhibitions were severely lowered. Not because they are bad people, but because it was a physical feeling of something different, imbuing them with pure energy, which Quintessence is. One of the only examples we have of someone successfully doing this is Shiro, whose Galra-tech arm renders him incredibly strong. But, we also now see from the Black Paladins battle that, if not for Shiro’s mind, he would be difficult to beat as an enemy, and could even become cruel on power. When he exclaims, “Now that’s the Keith I remember!” he refers to the boy before he learned control, and whose recklessness paired with his acuity (see his piloting skills at the garrison) made for dangerous situations for himself and others. These are weaknesses not of the body, but of the mind. The body is strong, and the mind falls victim to greed if it has not trained properly to handle it.

Keith may need to come to terms with the power he is awakening, and very well may accidentally hurt someone he cares about without realizing. It should not be because Galra cultural mores are violent and absolutist, though! It should instead be because he does not know his own physical strength. In this way, perfectly good intentions can end very, very badly, very quickly. With the help of mentors (there are many options!) he can overcome this. He is not evil because he is part-Galra, and his Galra genes should not incapacitate him as though he were a soulless robot. It would be an excuse, a cop-out, and low key a reason for the entire galaxy to warrant wiping the universe of Galra genes. Trust me, it would not be good.

This was my TED talk...

#voltron #vld #Voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #lotor #this is your captain speaking #I have a syllabus to write for a class in the fall and this is my way of stalling #some fun thoughts from your friendly neighborhood anthropologist/archaeologist #i love world building and lore #fml I procrastinate

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lolasimblr98 · 6 years

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Mental Health Hospitals Aren’t Filled with the “Criminally Insane”

https://reignagameofpower.com/2018/05/30/mental-health-hospitals-arent-filled-with-the-criminally-insane/

(Trigger Warning: Discussion and pictures regarding depression/suicide)

Take it from someone who knows. Something I’ve never quite liked about this community is these “asylum challenges” for Sims who are deemed “insane” or otherwise mentally ill. The hospital I was in, wasn’t run down, didn’t have cheap furniture, there was no one holding me against my will, etc. And often the people who were fellow patients were rich, did have aspirations to further their already prominent careers. There were people from all social classes and walks of life. And no one was outwardly would one would think of as “insane”. It could be your kindergarten teacher, a councilperson, a stay at home mother, anyone. Those are some of the people I met.

It’s one thing when you’re looking at it from an entertainment standpoint, not ever truly knowing what mental health/behavioral health hospitals are like, but for those who’ve been in that situation the severity of an illness that incapacitates millions of people every day. May is Mental Health Month. I’ve always tried to inject parts of myself and life experiences into my stories and characters, no truer example of that is when I wrote for Apollonia De-Sai, mother of my protagonist Reagan Leeds in my first Sims story.

Apollonia, like a lot of black women, came from an environment where mental illness was looked as a taboo and not openly discussed within the black community/family. She’s a woman who came of age in the 80s and had her children in the 90s when we still didn’t talk about these issues. Sure, with newer generations, younger people are more open to discussing mental health disorders, but there is still a significant stigma attached to it. A lot of people are ashamed to admit they’ve dealt with depression, suicide attempts, cutting, etc. I have gone through all of that. I’m not incredibly young, I’m an 80s kid and didn’t get proper help until I was 24 years old.

When I wrote Apollonia’s first POV in 2014, I went back in time to her birthplace in Trinidad and Tobago and her journey to the United States in the late 80s. Apollonia had dealt with anger problems and unbeknownst to her, depression for years. But she like a lot of people believed that having depression or anxiety automatically meant one was crazy. She didn’t “seem” depressed. Apollonia didn’t get any help until she overdosed on pain medication and ended up in a mental health hospital; even then it wasn’t easy for her to accept she had an illness. She was already well into her late 30s by then.

I wanted to present that part of Apollonia’s POV from the most honest place I could, from personal experience. Maybe her stay at a behavioral health institution in Queens, NY wasn’t as exciting as being strapped down in a straight jacket. It didn’t contain scenes from ‘One Out of the Cuckoo’s Nest,’ but rather it was more of a serene and therapeutic environment, based on my firsthand account of being an inpatient. I have no shame in telling people that, and I’ve been open about that part of my life for several years now.

Since it is Mental Health Month, I wanted to reshare some of the scenes from chapter 39 of Reagan Leeds: Run The World. Apollonia also “wrote” an article (What No One Told a Lil Black ‘Ting About Depression and Suicide) for S.H.E magazine several months ago about her experience and journey dealing with mental illness. You can check that out here. I’m a mental health advocate, and I have at times consulted with my brother a psychiatrist for his perspective as a professional for my story.

Thank you, as always Happy Simming -Camille

Excerpt from chapter 39 ‘Apollonia’

After being in this shitty apartment over the last few years, it became clear, that my career would never get off the ground in the way I hoped. Constantly being turned down for every good part I auditioned for began to take its toll on me. I kept hearing in my head, my mama’s voice: you’re just a little black ‘ting from an island country…you’ll never be famous, Apollonia. I tried shaking my head as hard as I could, unable to get her voice out of there. I watched the heavy dark rain drops fall over New York City. If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere. Well, apparently that wasn’t true for me. I failed miserably.

The last few years seemed to go by in a blur. It was as if only yesterday, I moved to the Bronx. I packed my clothes one night, got a taxi and left my children. Reagan and Kennedey are in college by now. It’s not like I don’t ever think about them, I do. Knowing Reagan, the only thing about college, she was enjoying was the partying. Kennedey, is loving to learn as much as she can and probably taking on way too much for herself at once. An overwhelming sense of shame and guilt came over me. I slumped down to the floor, holding my head.

What kind of person am I? How could I do that? How could I leave my own children behind? I asked myself. For what purpose? My dreams did not turn out the way I envisioned when I got here. Silly and foolish I am to even believe in dreams. For one glimmering moment, I thought I had a small chance to live the life I set out to live when I first came to this country. Never again, Apollonia, never again.

I grabbed a bottle of vodka and stretched out on my bed. I don’t usually go for hard liquor, but wine wasn’t going to cut it tonight. I didn’t bother mixing the vodka with anything, I just took it to the head. I looked up at the peeling paint on the ceiling and the bad speckling job I did when I first moved in. I glanced around the apartment. What a dump. My house in Miami may have not been the biggest or the nicest, but it was clean and I lived in a good neighborhood. I couldn’t say the same now.

This couldn’t be life. Of the three books I took with when I left Miami, Reagan and Kennedey’s baby books, I also brought my Bible with me. I don’t really know why it’s been years since I’ve read it. There was a time I looked to the Scriptures for strength and encouragement, but I began to reject it the more my parents told me to give up everything I loved and focus on the Bible. In many ways, they ruined it for me. Every time I tried reading Matthew chapter 6 or the or Psalms, I kept hearing Daddy say: Prayer and supplication, prayer and supplication, Apollonia. You must pray and do things the way your mama and I tell you.

I sometimes looked in my Bible when my girls were younger and I thought to myself, maybe God doesn’t like me, maybe His word isn’t for people like me. Perhaps He knew my faith was never as strong as it needed to be. He looked inside and could see how selfish I was. ‘I am searching the heart, examining the kidneys, even to give to each one according to his ways.’ I recall thinking, God knows I’m no good. I looked over at the numerous prescriptions on my bedside table. I had muscles relaxers and pain medications from my workouts and auditions. I never liked taking medication, but these days, I could barely get out of bed without popping one because of all the pain I was in.

All of this thinking about my children and how it is a very real possibility that God sees me as wicked made very uneasy and anxious. I felt scared. Scared of what the rest of my life would bring me. Afraid that nothing would ever be right again. I didn’t feel happy. That wasn’t anything new, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt happy. Not when I married Raymond, not even when I gave birth to my children. Anything my family has ever said about me inevitably became true. I wasn’t anything. Nothing Apollonia De-Sai ever did would matter in this world. If I died tomorrow, none of my family would know about it. I go by my Nani’s maiden name, Alexander. No one in New York knew I had children or where I came from.

Reagan and Kennedey were going on with their lives, but there was no doubt in my mind they both hated me. I was their mother, but I wasn’t there for them. I never told them I loved them. I abandoned them to live out some stupid ass fantasy as a famous dancer. What a joke I am. I opened the bottles to my Soma and Oxycontin, popping first just a few of each in my mouth. I took another swig of the vodka to wash the medication down. Within in minutes I began to feel very relaxed.

I grabbed the vodka and the rest of my Oxycontin. I got up from the bed and staggered over to the sofa. I felt hot and thought lying on the floor would cool me off. I opened the bottle back up and spread out a number of pills on the rug. I had every instinct to put every last one in my mouth. I couldn’t think very clearly about anything, except for the pain I felt inside. I reached for the vodka again and accidentally knocked it over. Nothing spilled from it, I didn’t realize I drank it all.

If there was ever a time for me to talk to God, it would be now. I didn’t ask for His forgiveness or the forgiveness of my children, no I simply begged to not wake up. Please just don’t let me wake up. I don’t mean anything by this, I’m just tired. So, so tired.

My stomach lurched and began feeling queasy. I managed to pull myself up from the floor and slowly drag my feet to the bathroom. I’ve never felt so sick in my life. Maybe if I threw up everything, I wouldn’t feel so bad. To this day, I don’t remember what happened when I made it to the bathroom that night.

I didn’t even remember how I got back into the living area. The only reason I know I passed out by the sofa, is because my neighbor, Laura found me. She later told me, she banged on my door before discovering it was unlocked.

Laura immediately called the paramedics and off I went to the ER. I’ve had low points in my life before, but I will always look at that time as the lowest in my life. Seeing how my kids grew up and knowing I have a grandbaby makes me thankful every day I didn’t stay asleep for good. I don’t know, maybe God was watching me and maybe He did hear my cry.

**********************************************

I don’t remember much about the night of my overdose. I barely remember being in the hospital and getting transferred to Flushing Meadows Behavioral Health, which is a mental health hospital out in Queens. My mind was still very foggy the morning I woke up in the hospital.

I set up on my bed and looked across the room. I got in late last night and went straight to sleep. Now, as I looked around the room, I could see that there was another bed in there, but I didn’t have a roommate. Thank goodness, because the last thing I wanted, was for some weirdo invading my privacy. This is such bullshit, I thought. I’m the last person who needed to be in a place like this. I wasn’t some ‘psycho’. I looked down at what I had on. How did I get these clothes? They were mine and then I remembered Laura coming to the ER with a bag of my stuff.

I got up, showered, and brushed my teeth. I had no idea what to expect when I walked outside of my room, but I could imagine it would be very much like ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest’. After I dressed and ate breakfast in my room, I was told to see the nurse at the nurse’s station. I had no idea what the hell she could want, but I needed answers. I needed to know how to get out of this place.

“Good morning, Apollonia. How are you feeling today? Any thoughts of harming yourself?” asked the Nurse, who I referred to as Nurse Ratchet. “Excuse me? What the fuck kind of question is that? You don’t know me,” I replied, completely offended. Nurse Ratchet looked slightly confused. “Uh, I have to ask you if you’re having any thoughts of harming yourself,” she repeated. Again, I had no clue as to why this stupid woman would be asking me that.

“Of course not! Why would you ask me that?” I demanded. “Well, Apollonia, we are required to ask the patients questions about their symptoms, what brought them here. You came in because you tried to harm yourself. Now, again, I need to know if you have any of those thoughts right now. Also, how is your depression and anxiety today?” she asked. I shook my head, still unable to understand what these questions could possibly have to do with me.

“Like, I said before, no I don’t. I didn’t try to “harm” myself for your information. Neither do I have depression and anxiety. Where are you hearing this bullshit?” I asked. “It’s right here in your chart. The doctor in the ER stated you were suffering from both depression and anxiety. The same doctor wrote orders for you to be treated in this facility because you overdosed on pain medications and vodka,” answered Nurse Ratchet, matter-of-factually. “I’m only saying this once again. I am fine. Who the hell do I see about getting out of here?” I asked. “That’s not up to me. You have to see Dr. Parsons first. He’s your assigned doctor and should be making his rounds shortly,” she replied. “Fine,” I said and walked off.

I started to head back to my room, and contemplate what my next move would be, when I was summoned to a small conference room to meet with the inpatient psychiatrist. “Good morning, Apollonia. I’m Dr. Parsons, I’m the doctor you’ll be seeing while you’re here in the hospital. First, let me ask, how are you feeling today?” he asked , staring at me from across the table. “Fine,” I replied, flatly.

“Are you having any self-harm thoughts?” he asked. “No,” I replied, starting to feel more irritated by the second. I watched him jot a couple of things down on his pad. There wasn’t anything remotely interesting about the man. He’s obviously a super boring person leading a mundane life. His questions to me, seemed as if he were just going through the motions, like he’s asked these same questions hundreds of times in the past.

I asked Dr. Parsons when I would be able to go home, to which he could not give me a definite answer. For someone who went to medical school and made good money, he certainly did not have too much to say. All he did was ask me about my personal history and what led to me “wanting to harm myself.” I swear, the next person who makes that assumption is going to get a fist to the face. “Look, like I told that dumb nurse out there, there is nothing wrong with me. I had a backache the other night and I drank a little too much, okay. Don’t assume that you know me, because you don’t,” I snapped. Dr. Parsons didn’t seem to take my combativeness too seriously. He made a couple of more notes and told me of the drugs he was prescribing for me to take while I was here.

*************************************

I left the conference room as soon as I had finished talking to the doctor. I went out into the common area and grabbed a book to read. I couldn’t tell you what it was about. I just needed to get my mind off the fact that I was in a place like this. I sensed someone watching me and looked up. “Hi, how you doin’? Mind if I sit down?” asked the man. I shrugged, indicating that I didn’t care one way or the other. “I’m Maurice,” he introduced himself. I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond.

“You gotta name?” asked Maurice. “Yes,” I replied, dryly. “Well, what is it?” he asked. I sucked my teeth, it was obvious this foo’ wasn’t going to leave me alone. “Apollonia,” I said. “Like Apollonia from ‘Purple Rain’?” wondered Maurice. Was this guy serious? “I was in high school when that movie came out, so no,” I snapped. “For real? Damn you look, hella young,” responded Maurice, in surprise.

Since I had nothing better to do, I listened as Maurice told me the reason why he was in the hospital. He had a problem with alcohol and checked himself in here a few days ago. He wanted to know if I’d been to any groups, to which I told him and that I didn’t plan to. I admitted the reason these people said I needed to be here. “It’s such crap. I never had any mental problems before. These assholes only want money from me,” I complained. Maurice claimed he knew how I felt, but said I should try one of the groups. Apparently it looks good for you if the staff and doctors know you’re participating in different activities. I had no desire to sit around a room with strangers and share my personal business.

Nevertheless, I took Maurice’s advice and went to the next group therapy session that started. I came in and sat down, half listening to the mumbo jumbo the group therapist was talking about. He talked to the group about common behaviors and self-destructive patterns people tend to have. I looked over at the other patients, who eagerly shared their own experiences. I found it very crazy, pun intended, perfect strangers would talk about various symptoms they have, what mental illness they suffered from, and their experiences with drugs and alcohol.

As silly and close-minded as I was at the time, I didn’t believe I had anything in common with these people. One of the women talked about how she heard voices and saw hallucinations. What the fuck kind of shit was this? Another lady said she’s been a cutter for over ten years and this was her seventh hospitalization. I shook my head, I couldn’t relate to anything these folks were talking about. They’re the kind of people who need to be in the hospital, not me.

The group therapist, whose name was Jon, turned his attention to me and asked what were some patterns I’d seen in my past and how did I deal with my depression in the past. He made himself seem very friendly and like he had the ‘right’ to ask me such intrusive questions. “I don’t have any patterns cause I don’t have depression,” I replied. A sympathetic look spread across Jon’s face. “Apollonia, it’s perfectly fine to be open in group. Anything we say in here is confidential. Don’t be afraid to open up,” urged Jon.

“Look, do you see my face? I don’t give a damn if this is confidential. I don’t know you people. Spare me with this psycho bullshit, okay?” I said. “Apollonia, it’s not bullshit. These groups are designed to help you,” countered Jon.

I hastily stood up. “Fuck out of here with all of that. Where I come from, we don’t stay high on Prozac. You can keep your little American Psych 101. I’m not here for this,” I said angrily and walked out the room.

*************************************

More than anything, I began to feel very frustrated while I was in the hospital. How the hell did I get here? When I thought about what life would be like for me, I never imagined this. I didn’t think I could get any lower than this. Over the course of the next few days, I continued to be defiant with the hospital staff. Maurice said I only made things worse for myself. He advised me that I needed to tell the doctor and nurses what they wanted to hear. The longer I put off participating in my “therapy”, the longer they would try to make me stay. Even if I petitioned to sign out against medical advice, the hospital could petition the court to make me stay here. I didn’t feel like going through such a hassle. I decided to play nice and be a good girl. I didn’t share in the groups, that I refused to do, but I made myself go to a few and answer the nurses and Dr. Parsons’ questions without an attitude.

After ten days, I was told I could go home. The hospital social worker set me up with a therapist to see as an outpatient. I acted as if I would go, but really had no intention of talking to some stranger about my personal business. I had bigger problems, Laura called me and said I’d been replaced at the bar for missing so many days. When it rains, it pours. Now I had no job and no income. My little savings were just about gone. This couldn’t come at a worse time. Before he left, Maurice gave me his contact information. Desperate, knowing I couldn’t afford to keep my apartment, I took him up on his offer to come and stay with him. If I’d known back then what I knew now, I would’ve stayed under a bridge than live with Maurice. I rue the day I ever met that son of a bitch…

You can read the rest at Reagan Leeds: Run The World

#mentalhealthmonth #mentalillness #sims4 #ts4sims #thesims #thesims3 #sims3 #ts3story #Reign: A Game of Power #reaganleedsruntheworld #depression #suicide

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davidwindsor97 · 4 years

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For a while, I've been an asset to the U.S. Government. Since then they have continually asked what it is I want for my service. Since I am apart of a group of Missionaries that doesn't believe in payment due to service it has become complex to perceive what it is I do want. It comes the time to put into detail what it is I desire:

I want to reclaim my real full name, David Windsor. Of course, I want my blood to accept me. But at the moment it is irrelevant. I have an obligation to a people I can seriously relate to. People who if I was in the same position would gladly do the same. Maybe some of them wouldn't but why should that make the difference?

My circumstances have really been unnecessarily shameful. All I've wanted is to explore my identity and yet people offer secrecy. What I've noticed is in every branch of this United States Government there are those of advocacy and heresy. No sector of the organization feels solely the same for me. To consider such a thing would put everyone in the same bubble of thought. Such a form of segregation is something the Enemy holds in high regard. Which is why I shall remain intentionally ignorant of such practices.

I had the money and the means to get to Israel. But some fools froze my accounts impulsively and just plain extemporaneously as if I am some sort of terror threat. When I risk my life for there sakes they decide to paint me as an enemy. The kind of enemy destined for execution by there spiteful hands. What is logic? Simply put I am a Christian who is not swayed by their sinful indulgences.

I don't want a new identity or a new life. I want to accept the identity I've always had and enjoyed the life of which so many fools attempted to control. If my enemies face me like men instead of hiding like children and grow courage in the midst of numbers then I'll be ready. Why fear the wrath of man when I know the wrath of God is exact? Nothing could be swifter. So when I see these Barbie spies hiding every time I call them out I laugh. Because it reminds me of Adam and Eve. Didn't they try and hide from there mistakes? I too have tried to hide from my sins. The sin of deception, of arrogance, of selfishness, of lust, and there's probably more that I'm just not ready to accept. But that is the point, isn't it? We are all sinful people trying to make amends for our mistakes. But the only true way to do such a thing is to accept Christ as your savior. No government could give you a better chance than the Holy Trinity.

Another aspect that just bothers me is there constant attempt to find a code in everything I do. I was looking out this pleasant window expressing part of the Houston downtown area and people act as if I'm scouting out a sniper. My survival is based on a number of factors. But when God tells you you are safe their's no reason to doubt it. Relaxation is something I'm fond of. You just add anxiety when you anticipate something that isn't there.

They've made silent offers to go to school in the states. But frankly, this school system sucks. Elementary, Middle, High, and a bit of college. What did I learn? Absolutely nothing. Every useful skill I learned when I left the states or experienced extremities in the states. A school setting makes me want to regurgitate. Ergo, I would rather throw up than set foot in a ridiculous system. The education I required no money but all commitment. Sure some skills I acquired through favors and some coin. But the most important lessons were learned through earned respect. There's no way a school teacher respects every student. But when you first earn that mentor's respect thereby gaining the important lessons that are when you gain more than any college could give you.

That's not to say you can't gain a wealth of knowledge from any known education system. I've just learned more from the unknown ones.

I'll most likely come back to the U.S. to eventually pursue the arts. But that is not my main objective. I don't have scores to settle but relationships to build. No matter the high or the low that is all that matters. Perhaps the U.S will offer some resources for my journey other than the mud some of them (not all of them) have thrown on my face. But I really am fine either way. Here I can anticipate being treated like I have leprosy. So if I get nothing it would be by no means surprising. Plus they have the audacity to act as if they saved me. When really they're like a dad who decided to stop by after 22 years of abandonment while the mother (the Missionaries and other great heroes) has been protecting and guiding me from day one. And this mama bear hasn't taken any breaks. Even when a lot of them have. I have no doubt some of them relished the thought of my enemies killing me. But I am untouchable by God's grace not by any pitiful physical "mercy".

I am just so sick of feeling like I'm in a prison of misunderstanding. Despite my continual transparency. I'm transparent, not translucent.

There have been times where if they would have told me we're protecting you I would have to ask: how can you protect me from yourself?

Because if I didn't have my license and social a lot of them would have killed me by now. Does that mean they represent the entirety of the U.S. Government? Hell no! People like that are just examples of a load of cowards who can't accept how wrong they are because they're too busy bolstering up their egos. Honestly, I'm surprised they still have a job. How can you rely on someone who's more interested in saving their own asses then the guy next to them?

Oh, and do these pricks get pissed when I call them out on their bullocks. Then they try to act as they care about me. If I was a corpse on the street you would take a selfie, you sick demented morons! But have I, throughout this entire process, had a reason to anticipate death? By Gods Grace: no.

Their mistake is a heavy reliance on fear. I am referring to the cowards of course. Such people are a form of the slaver. They wish to keep their informants in fear so they can do anything they can to take advantage of them. To make the person bend over as they relish in their sadistic pleasures. Such people are the inevitable viruses of any system. Just because a car is dirty doesn't mean it can't be cleaned. Yes, I've given a wealth of information and exposed a wealth of criminals. But that doesn't mean I'm for free. Money has never been an object of concern for me. I've thrived with or without it. Its freedom I will continually seek. No amount of money, no occupation could be worth more than that to me.

Why should anyone fear my expression? Has it ever been a crime to express oneself honestly? Since I don't fear who I am I've officially accepted that cameras will follow me in some way. It seems my reputation has finally landed in the states. But at this point I quite like it. Just as long as personal space is constant. After all, I don't want to be treated like a slave again. A lot of people have called me a weirdo or just been confused by my actions as if I have to fit a certain mold. But I realized when I read the biographies of celebrities they were treated the same way. So I guess I could look at it as a good sign. I do think the photos and videos of me would be fun to watch in certain cases and just a plain invasion of privacy in others.

Despite these neanderthal's, I know a lot of them to care about me. But sympathy or apathy doesn't change that I need to go to Israel. Do I give a damn if my enemies know my destination or not? Of course not and I shouldn't have to mention why. There fear their of overt caution is just evidence of the fact that they have very little understanding of what they're dealing with. But the Missionaries do. And whether they help us or not makes no difference. We will still pursue the mission objective. As we always have and always will.

Yes, the Missionaries could get me there in a matter of days. But the relationship between the U.S and the Creed of Christians (Missionaries) needs to have a solid structure. Its clear to me now the whole purpose of coming back to the US to spill the beans was so I could be free to go where I please. Which thanks to my training is exactly where I'm supposed to go. I definitely can't dispute if it wasn't for the scrutiny of law enforcement and the constant surveillance (for a time) I wouldn't have had the chance to tear away from the fake family. So yeah that tearing away from that toxic mold couldn't have happened without them. It has been freaking cool working with them. Especially when I drove to LA. It was so composed. Every maneuver was a different thrill. And watching my enemies flee in fear wouldn't have been so satisfactory if it wasn't for my exposure induced by there surveillance. Recently the cowards tried to drug me which I can't help but laugh at. If my calculations are correct this is the second time they've attempted this. Even the Russians stopped drugging me because I learned how to fight through it. When it comes to any drugs as long as you physically exert yourself it is plausible to shatter that barrier between you and your capability.

One of the big mistakes some of them have made is thinking I am in some way going to be some sort of Edward Snowden ergo a boy who thinks he could run the country better by pointing out the flaws but totally ignoring his own hypocrisy by sleeping with a Judas of a Government. Look everyone can agree mistakes were made on both sides. As long as we remain transparent and not look for ways to annoy each other we really shouldn't have any problems. Yeah, I've been pissed off at the stupidity that has come my way, but that doesn't change the warm hearts I've come across as well.

Wither they be military, investigative, or a mixture of the two it's not hard to see that the people advocating for me within the U.S. Government and abroad are by no means few in number. This is why it is of the utmost importance for us to work together to put a stop to these extremists by any means necessary.

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the-courage-to-heal · 7 years

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6 Signs You Were Raised By A Narcissist:

To outsiders, your dad is a larger-than-life social magnet who attracts people from all walks of life. Or your mom is the perfect woman, always looking to please and juggling everything with ease. But behind closed doors, all pretense falls away. Only you, their child, knows what it’s like to endure their cold shoulders for days on end over a minor infraction, or bear the brunt of constant, age-inappropriate demands for perfection and strength. You know what it’s like to be parented by a narcissist.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder is one of 10 personality disorders described in theDiagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, an authoritative psychiatric guide. Narcissists tend to have an inflated sense of self-worth and base their identity on the praise and approval of others. Their intimate relationships are superficial and focused mostly on how other people reflect on them, with little to no empathy for the other person’s experience. They genuinely believe that they’re better than other people, but they are also prone to feeling intense shame over critiques they receive or mistakes they make.

Researchers estimate that less than one percent of the general population has evidence of “full-blown” NPD, but anywhere from two to 16 percent of people who seek therapy have the disorder. That’s usually because the loved ones in their lives have demanded they seek help or risk losing their relationship, career or other life privileges, explains therapist Wendy Behary, founder of The Cognitive Therapy Center of New Jersey and author of the book Disarming the Narcissist: Surviving and Thriving with the Self-Absorbed.

But children of narcissists are rarely in a position to demand that their parents seek help. In fact, they may not even realize that their parents were narcissists until they seek professional help for their own struggles, said Behary, who specializes in treating people with NPD and their “survivors.” While narcissists come in all varieties and their symptoms vary across a spectrum, Behary notes that there are a few ways for adult children to tell they may have been raised by a narcissist. In the points below, both she and psychologist Craig Malkin, author of the bookRethinking Narcissism: The Bad — And Surprising Good — About Feeling Special, break down the signs of a narcissistic parent, and what adult children should do to break the cycle of destructive decisions.

1. You’re a complete doormat.

A narcissistic parent will trample all over their family to address their own desires without giving much thought to what anyone else needs. Because of this, some adult children of narcissists will actually overcorrect and bend over backwards to make sure no one could ever possibly perceive them this way. Alternately, they may have grown up all their lives being told that their needs don’t matter. Either way, the result is the same: They let people walk all over them because they’re not in touch with what they need and they don’t know how to express it.

“They’re not able to say, ‘I matter,’ and ‘I have needs’ because that feels narcissistic,” explained Behary. “Someone who’s fighting hard not to be a narcissistic parent ends up being trampled on.”

“I’ve seen clients whose parents made them feel sick, crazy, or selfish for expressing the most basic of needs,” agreed Malkin. “One of my clients felt so worthless and frightened as an adult, he suffered from nightmares and cowered in the face of any authority figures because they reminded him of his abusive father.”

What you can do: Learn as much about narcissism as you can, in order to be able to identify the dysfunctional messages you grew up with and start working against them.

“If I meet someone who has grown up with a narcissistic parent, or if I’m clued in that that might be the case, it’s really important for me to make sure that they understand narcissism in all of its colors,” said Behary. “We figure out together what type of narcissism their parent had, but even more importantly, we have to look for the part of them that got lost along the way.”

2. You’re afraid you might be a narcissist yourself.

Not everyone overcorrects in reaction to seeing narcissism. Some children see that the only way to avoid ridicule and abuse is to be like the narcissistic parent, and over the years, this survival tactic turns into the way they genuinely see the world. Adult children who adopted these coping mechanisms may find themselves putting others down out of a fear — rooted in childhood — that if they don’t show strength first, they could be crushed, just like when they were young, explained Malkin. “Extremely strong-willed children, more extraverted from birth, sometimes become narcissistic themselves in a game of ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,’” he said.

What you can do: Seek the help of a professional to help you break out of abusive behavior patterns, especially if you already have a partner and/or children.

“Children of narcissists who find themselves name-calling and hurling insults aren’t without hope, but they need to roll up their sleeves and work hard emotionally,” said Malkin. “They need to become comfortable feeling — and expressing — vulnerable feelings like sadness, loneliness, fear, and overwhelm with those they love.”

3. You feel relentlessly competitive with, or resentful of, your sibling.

Narcissists have trouble with personal boundaries and view other people as extensions of themselves. In families with several children, one may be chosen to reflect the narcissist’s best qualities. They get the most attention, praise and support, but are also under the most pressure to perform. Another child may be a target for the parent’s blame and shame, and scapegoated as a burden that can never do anything right compared to the chosen child. They may also be blamed as the reason that a narcissistic parent is forced to act in an abusive way. Both projections are two different sides of a narcissist’s personality, but the chosen child and the scapegoat will have two very different childhoods, and this pits them against each other, even into adulthood.

What you can do: Reach out to your sibling with what you’ve learned. If you were the chosen child, you might resent your sibling for the fact that they were under a lot less pressure than you. But if you were the scapegoat, you might resent your sibling for soaking up all the praise and glory and leaving none for you. Understand that the narcissist pits people against each other on purpose, to serve their own needs, and that this dynamic wasn’t your fault.

“Extremely narcissistic people love to put people on pedestals — almost as much as they enjoy knocking them off them,” said Malkin. “Perfect people don’t disappoint, so if you idolize people — even your kids — you needn’t ever worry about being disappointed or hurt. Scapegoating accomplishes much the same thing. You never have to worry about expecting too much and being disappointed because none of us really expect anything from people we view as worthless.”

There is hope for siblings who were put in this position as children, said Behary — even if the only thing that unites them in the end is the shared experience of having a narcissistic parent.

“They can end up feeling extremely bonded to one another,” said Behary. “Common hostages going through different phases of torture, based on how bad the narcissist might be in their life.”

4. At times, you’ve felt you were more your parent’s partner than their child.

Not all narcissists command the spotlight with their bold, brash personalities. Some narcissists demand the attention of the room by playing the victim or describing their problems as greater than anyone else’s problems. They may also try to control other people’s actions by threatening to harm themselves unless a certain outcome goes their way.

People with this kind of narcissistic parent may feel that they spend their entire childhood running to put one fire out after another, or trying to maintain the peace so that no one is hurt. Some of Behary’s clients tell her that they felt more like their mother’s husband than their mother’s son, and this burden meant that they were doing more of the emotional supporting than the parent was. Or they felt their life was all about keeping their father from getting angry at the family.

“It’s the sense of drama that the child feels they have to manage,” said Behary. “In order to do that, they really have to forfeit a lot of their own innate childhood needs.”

What you can do: Take time to acknowledge the young child that’s still inside you, and ask what his or her needs were and still are. Behary advocates using the power of imagination — aided, perhaps, by photos from childhood — to acknowledge the emotional needs that weren’t met and still aren’t being fulfilled by your parents.

“She’s still suffering in there and she needs someone to care about her,” said Behary. “She needs to be able to feel that she’s fine. She needs to know that she has rights too.”

5. You derive self-worth solely from your achievements.

Some children of narcissists figure out that the only way to get along in this world is to do as their parent does and derive their self-worth from production, performance and achievement. While they may not be beset by the perilously low self-esteem and overwhelming sense of shame of a true narcissist, some adult children may take on behaviors like workaholism because their performance is the only way they’ve ever been taught to define themselves.

“The child of the narcissist learns that the only thing that matters is what I can produce in the world, not just my own little being,” said Behary. “[This] is very similar to the way the narcissist can be in the world, except children of narcissists may not have same brash overcoating — they’re more detached, more self-contained.”

What you can do: Try to empathize with your parent, suggests Behary. You don’t have to feel sorry for them, but it can be helpful to emotionally inhabit the feelings and choices of another person, to understand their thoughts and decisions, even if you don’t agree with them. Because of Behary’s work with narcissists, she understand that they are often intensely suffering because the survival tactics they learned in childhood are backfiring on them in adulthood.

While some researchers think that there may be a biological basis that makes some people more vulnerable to narcissism than others, others agree that the personality disorder stems from a complex mix of factors that include exceptionally harsh criticism and/or praise in childhood, which causes the child to shield their low self-esteem with a strong, perfect persona. It also makes the child especially needy of praise, admiration and flattery in order to feel normal, while leaving them especially vulnerable to even the slightest criticism, notes the Mayo Clinic.

“I care about the [narcissists] I work with because I know they’re suffering underneath,” said Behary. “People will say, ‘You’re such a softie on them,’ and I say I hold them responsible for their bad behaviors, but I don’t blame them for how they were formed.” Behary emphasizes that while narcissists may have turned out this way through no fault of their own, it is solely their responsibility — not their children’s — to do something about it.

6. You have no sense of yourself, your wants, your needs or your goals.

A telling trait of narcissism is grandiosity: thoughts or feelings that one is superior to others, even if one doesn’t have the achievements to justify it. Narcissistic parents may see themselves as elite, but because they never achieved a certain level of success, they may find meaning in living vicariously through their children, explained Behary.

“Many children of narcissists will say, ‘I’m not sure how I ended up in this career because I never really knew what I wanted,’” said Behary. Or, “I always felt like I was poised to be more of a reflection of my mother rather than be my own person.”

What you can do: Consider going low or no-contact with abusive or manipulative parents. Not all narcissistic parents are abusive, explains Malkin. But parents with extreme forms of narcissism can leave their adult children feeling like shells of themselves, and sometimes the safest thing for adult children to do is to limit their exposure to these toxic relationships, especially if the parents don’t think they have anything to apologize for.

Malkin says there are three signs an adult child should consider going low or no-contact with parents: Abuse, Denial and Psychopathy. No one should ever have to put up with emotional or physical abuse, and if parents can’t acknowledge the fact that there’s a problem in the first place, there’s little chance that anything will change. Psychopathy, which in this case will look like a pattern of easy lies and remorseless manipulation, indicates that the parents aren’t just bad at putting themselves in others’ shoes — they may actually lack the ability to empathize with others, and may even lack a conscience.

“Abusers are 100 percent responsible for their abuse, and only they can stop it,” Malkin concluded. “Until they do, interactions won’t be safe.”

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emthinks · 7 years

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Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas

Although this is technically a reread in preparation of starting on the rest of the series, since it is one of my favorite series, I thought I should probably review it.

The one thing about Sarah J Maas, in my long break between my reading of Crown of Midnight and my re-read of this book (approximately 3 years, give or take?) is that I had forgotten exactly why I liked Sarah J Maas. It has been a while (a long, long while) since I’ve finished a book with the speed I did, not to mention the fact that I cannot recall a single instance when I had finished a re-read in that same speed. Although I always had this inkling, in the back of my mind, that I had ranked the Throne of Glass series in my top five favorite series of all time for a reason, disregarding the fact that I had only read two books of the intended six, I could never truly recall what the reasons actually were.

Needless to say, now I can. In perfect, clear, crisp detail. And the following will be a list of each and every single one of them.

Rating: 9.8/10

“We each survive in our own way.” - Celaena Sardothien

An Overview:

Perhaps I had intended to read this book more slowly, this time around. To garner a better understanding of the story, of its characters, of Sarah’s ultimate goal. That was, of course, all before. And then I started reading, and I flew threw it in under 48 hours. So please excuse me if I leave out some details.

However, despite my claims that I had forgotten nearly everything in this series, I still could recall (most) of the important plot points, including (but not limited to): Caelana’s progress through the Test, the accumulating bodies of dead Champions, Cain as our antagonist, and Nehemia as the best friend one could ever ask. I did not, however, remember the role Kaltain had played, or the manipulation by Duke Perrington and the King, using her as a pawn to test their powers and her consequential headaches. (Tbh, I think I noticed it the first time around though.)

Keeping that in mind though, despite most of the critical plot points, I still plowed through this story like no tomorrow. I still enjoyed all the banter between Celaena and Dorian; I still loved visualizing Celaena overcoming all the obstacles set before her and trouncing her competition soundly in the Tests (her duel with Varian (Varin?) was especially fun); I still loved the easy relationship with Nehemia; I still loved the fight sequences (especially the last one with Cain, where Elena came and it made Celaena look crazy to outsiders but hey, who cares?); and most of all, I still loved that I still loved this book, this series, this world, despite the years. That’s how you truly know it’s a good book.

“We all bear scars, Dorian. Mine just happens to be more visible than most.” – Celaena Sardothien

Celaena is still the most badass girl I remember. I remember reading the summary, of her being an assassin, and I was like “hell yeah!” She’s great. And I love how she isn’t portrayed to be this perfect protagonist. Yeah, she can fight her way out of anything, but she’s also arrogant and selfish. She’s too proud of her abilities, sometimes, and I like how training with Chaol, with the other Champions, really knock her down a peg. Or two. She needs that humbleness. Yes, she has spirit, which is impressive after a year in Endovier, but she has to show humility at some points too. And I think that’s great character development. And I think her relationship with Nehemia really propelled her towards that.

Speaking of whom. Nehemia. God, the female characters really are great, huh? They kick fucking ass. Nehemia, who knows she’s here more as a POW than anyone with actual power, doesn’t give up. She still attends these councils with the King and advocates for her people, for their freedom. She doesn’t back down from a fight, even if she knows she’s going to lose. Yes, I kind of hated her when we found out she was just faking her lack of knowledge of the common tongue to get information, but then I realized that was just another badass thing she did. She did everything she could to help her people, and I really think that’s admirable.

On the other hand...Dorian. Oh, Dorian. How I love you. But how I also kind of hate you. God, it’s such a balance with everyone in this book, but especially you. Dorian is fun and good. He knows what his father is doing is wrong (really wrong) but he doesn’t do anything. He is as terrified of the king as anyone else. He doesn’t have any backbone. And I really think that’s going to come back to bite him in the ass one day. Like it’s said, he’s a reader, not a fighter. But he needs to be both, if he will become King of Adarlan one day. He needs to know the history of the kingdom, yes, feel the plight of the people, sure, but he also needs to know how to defend himself, fight for his own beliefs. Nehemia does that beautifully, because Nehemia hasn’t been sheltered her whole life. Oh, you can argue that Dorian’s battles are more subtle, the silent wars between his father, his need of escapism from the family, but honestly, he hasn’t suffered nearly as much as anyone else. Don’t get me wrong: I still adore Dorian. I just...would adore him a little bit more if he grew a spine. Or just a few of the spinal bones. I’m not picky.

Even Chaol dirtied his hands in this book. Which. I still can’t believe that Chaol, the Captain of the Guard, hadn’t killed a single person until Cain. Don’t you find that a little ridiculous? Perhaps Chaol is even more sheltered than Dorian. Or perhaps we just don’t know where his fights are. Either way, we don’t learn a lot about Chaol. Yes, I’m glad he’s there, a constant presence by Celaena’s side, training with her and sparring and all. But. He’s just there. Supposedly, it’s “two men love her” and he’s one of the two. I know he’s not Dorian in his show of affection, but come on. Give me something to work with here. I really don’t know what to think of you.

On the other hand, I know exactly what to think of some of these other characters:

The fucking king. Needs to die. Now. Please and thank you.

Jeoffrey Oh whoops. Sorry. Hollin. But in my defense, he is totally, 100% Jeoffrey from Game of Thrones. Just saying.

“Names are not important. It’s what lies inside of you that matters.” – Princess Nehemia Ytger

Questions:

Team Dorian or Team Chaol?

There are many things I didn’t remember from my first reading of Throne of Glass, but this was not one of them. I was (and still am) a strong shipper of Celorian.

“You could rattle the stars. You could do anything, if you only dared.” – Elena Galathynius Havilliard

#emthinks #throne of glass #tog #sarah j maas #emthinks books

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