Warning: Depictions of self-harm. Readers discretion is advised. Harvey's music blasted from his laptop, causing everything on his desk to vibrate. His pens and keys shook against the commanding sound waves, which jumped from its epicenter like an earthquake. He had turned the basement of his rental house into a DJ club. He was surprised a neighbor hadn't come banging on his door yet with fire in their eyes, asking him to shut it. “I ain't no therapist, but ya'll got the gist!” He sang the lyrics to his song even louder. It was a Thursday evening, and tomorrow was going to be his debut as a DJ at a local bar. There was no choice but to erupt his basement into an eardrum-smashing destruction - practice was all that filled his mind. The next verse featured a harsh rap which Harvey chanted along: “Money, cash, bank, the coins are in my fanny! Ya'll fuckin' mofos want empty hands, saying love, love love!” The music then spun into a dubstep-style track for a half minute, until the next verse arrived: “Ain't no fuckas saying no to ya'll dimes, just buy them bitches before they mine! Love ain't real, ya mental shit only wants to feel-” Cling! Harvey twitched and stopped his rap abruptly, startled by the loud clang below him which pierced his ear, even through his rowdy music. He directed his gaze below the table at the source of the noise. His lucky penny, which dropped to the concrete floor of his basement thanks to the loud vibrations of his table, was finishing its twirl before flattening. Face-up was heads instead of tails. “God dammit, can't believe I lost my groove just ‘cause of a coin,” Harvey muttered, and paused his music. He bent down to pick his penny up under the table. And that's when he heard it. Not the sound of his music; not the clinging of his coin. It was a faint rumble from upstairs in the house. Harvey glanced up to the ragged ceiling of his basement, pretending to see through the wood. His own music still echoed in his ear, making it hard to tell if he was only hallucinating. He looked back at the coin, peering at its shiny heads surface. It reminded him of a certain conversation he had with his housemate, Samuel, just a few days ago. “Dude, what if I told you I'd off myself based on the flip of a coin?” Samuel asked while sipping a beer next to his friend at their dining table. “The fuck? You're messed in the head, my guy,” Harvey replied, putting his can down and raising his eyebrows to his friend's weird statement. “Then the coin better land as a tails. You gotta support me for Friday night's party, it's my DJ debut!” “Haha, true that.” Harvey's eyes glared at the penny for only another second before a dark feeling of unease filled him to the brim. Samuel had never made such a joke before during the three years he knew him. Wait, he can't be ser-! Before the thought fully passed through his mind, his body moved before his brain. Without picking the coin up, Harvey dashed down the hallway to the stairs of his basement. He leaped a few steps up and reached the first floor of his house without issue. That was when the rumbling noise from one more floor above had become real. There was shaking between the walls, yet no footsteps bounced into his ear. “Shit!” he gasped. He ran to the next staircase, and flung himself up to the top floor of his house. In front of him was the door to his housemate's room. Grabbing the doorknob, Harvey gritted his teeth when it wouldn't open. “You fucking idiot!” he screamed and clenched both his hands into stone to brace for impact, and readied the kick of his life. His body flung at the door, shoe first at the knob, and he jumped as if delivering a karate hit. Thump! He watched the knob cave into the cracked wood, until splinters emerged. Finally, on the fifth attempt - Thwack! - the knob fell through the crack of broken timber, and Harvey barged into his friend's room. He reached to the back of his pants for his pocket knife - a small Swiss Army blade which featured multiple tools - and glanced desperately around for the silent Samuel. After performing a three-sixty, his eyes landed on - The closet! Harvey gulped. With his head covered in sweat, goosebumps devouring his skin, and every limb jittering, he swung open the sliding door to Samuel's closet. “Fucking hell.” The sight of his unconscious friend, hanging on a rather thin rope tied into a noose, was almost enough to give him a heart attack. Instead, his chest sank like a ship, and his hands twitched while reaching for the rope to cut it. With every back-and-forth movement of his knife, the tears around Harvey's eyes grew. By the time his friend dropped to the floor, those tears had already trickled down his cheeks. “Wake up, please, I'm begging you!” He dragged the fainted Samuel out of the closet, laid him on his back, and began performing CPR on both his chest and his mouth. After what felt like forever, Samuel's eyes slowly opened.
Quiet. That was it. It was Quiet. Laying on the soft grass side by side was all they needed. They didn't need anybody else, not their parents, not their siblings or friends. All they needed was each other even if no words were exchanged. The peaceful lulling sound of the nature around them was enough noise for them.Honestly, noise was overrated. There was no need for constant noise. Sometimes the sound of silence was enough, and that's what those girls all by themselves on the cushioning green grass with the sunsetting all around them needed. Silence. Sometimes silence can speak louder than words ever could, for instance right now these young teen girls don't need to verbally say “I love you” they could just lay there in each other's embrace watching the world change in front of their eyes in silence and those words were all they needed.It's quite similar to how animals express themselves to us. For example when a cat or dog is upset or angry at you they scratch or bite. When a cat or dog is happy and wants to show attention to their owner or another animal they rub up against them and or lick or lay with them, similar to how those girls are laying and just enjoying the moment together.The sunset that they seemed to be so mesmerized by had beautiful shades of orange, red, pink and purple. It was a beautiful sight, no wonder they chose the spot they are now relaxing at.They have been laying there for hours on end not a single word spoken, the warm summer air swirling around them and the birds singing It was so peaceful. It was moments like these that would forever stay a memory in both of their amazing minds. It was memories like these that they would tell their future children.People are always talking about how they visited all the great man made wonders of the world but sometimes the best man made wonders are the places no one sees. Like a special spot in a forest somewhere where there is a small gap in the trees where the moon shines through or its a place on the grass where you spent hours sunset watching and stargazing with your lover, sometimes those are the best man made memories.And that's what they did. They made their own man made memories like I like to call it.They did eventually leave but that did not mean that the memory making ends no memory making is constant, even a walk down a deserted, quiet street with only the street lights and the warmth of the other to keep them company it wasn't as scary as I made it seem but it was soothing. The barley lit street with each other's warmth was all they needed. They didn't a blanket or hand warmers because one hands are natural hand warmers and because all they needed was each other to keep them warm. Even the little kiss goodnight when they reach one of their houses promising to see them the next day and finishing with an I love you because all they needed were some kind words so they could fall into a deep sleep.The morning strolls through the park only to end up sitting on a bench feeding the birds was only one of the things they did after that night. They took those night gazing nights they took the sunset watching in the grass they took those little walks in the street, they took those little goodbyes each night and each and every one of those memories were stored.All they needed were those tiny memories that may seem useless and unnecessary to anyone else but them. It didn't matter to them if people thought that about their memories it was theirs to make and theirs to look back at.All they needed were to keep to themselves and those who had opinions that did not matter to stay away and do what they wanted with their lives.These memories were precious to them and all they needed was to keep them forever and continue making more.That's what they did. They made much more memories never needing to stop because who would want to stop making memories? They went skating, went to the zoo.They did things that they would have never done before they met teacher but now that they have all they needed was each other to conquer their fears and one by one the did so many unique things things even I the narrator wouldn't even dream of doing, but they did it together and nothing could stop them day and night they conquered and dreamed all of it .They took over the world just the two of them and nothing could separate them, not even an earth ending event. All they needed was each other to help them out of their shells that they had built to stop the world from breaking them but now they have each other to fight back the problematic world. All they needed was each other to stop the judgy people, the strange looks, the global warming all of the wrong things that have tried to bring them down individually now have no chance against them together for they are ten times stronger together even without words even with people trying to break them down but even with all that going on. All they needed was each other. Please Enjoy! Art by me
As a child, I would spend every summer vacation in Beijing. Every morning, I would wake up to my grandparents announcing the arrival of breakfast from the local farmer's market. “妞妞,” they would say softly. “We brought breakfast!” I would wake up every morning to the smell of delicious food and their beaming faces, arms adorned in plastic bags. There would always be tea eggs: Glorious, salty, delicious bombs of goodness encased in a cracked shell with brining liquid nestled comfortably in its crevices. I feel my mouth watering as I envision biting into the tender egg white, browned by a potion of soy sauce and tea leaves, my teeth sinking into the golden sun, the center of this eggy universe. My grandmother's (姥姥） love language was food. I distinctly remember her chasing me with a mantou in hand, calling, “Just one more bite!” She always reminded me to eat more, as I was a picky eater as a child, and at dinner time, my rice bowl would inexplicably refill every time I looked away. I pretended not to notice. It's been eight years since 姥姥 passed. Yesterday, I had tea eggs for breakfast. As I brought one to my mouth, I felt my throat clench up. I feel guilty about enjoying this treat without her. But then I remembered her reminders for me to eat more la, and I know that she would've wanted me to eat it. I swallowed the egg with difficulty as tears rolled down my cheeks. But I couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or sadness.
August was always one of my least favorite months. It was hot, sticky, and there were bugs everywhere. I wasn't an outdoorsy person, or very social. I would spend my summer days in the house, with the air conditioning and a book in my hand. I would spend my summer nights the same way, although I would trade the book for a movie, or some music. I had 5 siblings, all younger, though there were times they made me want to rip my hair out. I can't help but adore the feeling of having people to protect, I love having people who need me. Earlier in the year, I had found out my mother was pregnant with another baby for me to protect. I spent time thinking about all the ways I would love this baby, thinking about who it would grow up to be. I watched as people bought clothes, as we prepped what having a baby would be like in the middle of the pandemic, and how naming it somehow became the hardest task. In the middle of the night, on August 9th, the baby finally came. I was woken up by my grandmother the next morning, she woke me up with such excitement in her voice, and tons of pictures of the little newborn. My mother and step father had decided to name her Kenza, which is funny because up until that night, it wasn't even top 3. I hadn't seen my mom all day, and my impression of the baby came in poorly taken pictures and the occasional video. Due to the covid restrictions, I was unable to visit her. I had never felt such impatience in my life, I was like a child watching their mother unwrap a lollipop, I was like a road trip passenger, waiting for a rest stop. My heart was beating, I was stressed and all that kept me going were those poorly taken pictures. My stepdad was in and out of the house, giving us status reports and trying to keep our mind off it, but his efforts did not work, my mother was in the hospital for about 3 days before coming home, for 16 year old me, that was a lifetime of torture. I wanted to hold my baby sister, and kiss her, and show her off on social media. I wanted to sing her lullabies at night and to be the first one to make her laugh. When she finally arrived, the house was decorated for her arrival. Thanks to mine and my grandmother's efforts, there were signs on the doors and homemade pictures hanging on the walls. We had given the house a welcoming touch, which was something it rarely had. I was one of the first people to hold her, and I felt an immediate connection. It hit me on that day that August 9th would always be important. Along with November 11th, April 28, March 3rd, October 8th and November 14th, August 9th would go on the list of days the number changed. It became one of the days I would cherish and celebrate, because it gave me one more person to love and protect. It gave me a new piece of my heart and it became unforgettable. With that day approaching, and the time coming to celebrate the aging of my last sibling, it's hard not to get teary eyed or emotional, this is the last of them, the last time I will be able to say “my baby sister's one” or “ wow she isnt a baby anymore,” those have been replaced with “you're almost as tall as me!” and “look at how much you've grown” I used to hate August, I hated the heart, and the stickiness and all the bugs. But it's become one of my favorite months, one of my most beloved times of the year, and all becaused it changed a simple number.
June 9, 2018: My alarm went off at 6 a.m. I woke up terrified. My hands were clammy, my hair was a mess and I was an overall wreck. I didn't know why I was so nervous. Then I remembered: that was the day I would travel across the nation...without my parents. When I got out of my bed, I finished packing my suitcase. While packing, I was daydreaming about what the future would hold. “Will my plane crash?” “What if this is the last time I see my parents?” “But what if this trip will be great?” I had mixed emotions. I knew the trip would be amazing but I didn't want to experience Washington D.C. without my parents. As a single tear rolled down the left side of my face, I broke down into tears. My thoughts were taking over and all of the sudden, my room was spinning. The next thing I knew was that I saw myself sitting on my suitcase crying into my knees. My world was collapsing. I begging my parents to not make me go on this trip, but they said I needed the experience of traveling and it would be good for me. Once I calmed down, I went about my morning. All while having a blank look on my face. When I walked downstairs, I found my sister sitting at the counter eating scrambled eggs and my mom making food for us to eat on the plane. My dad was not in the room. “Dad,” I yelled, curious of where he could be. I did not get a response. “Hey mom, do you know where dad is?” “He is loading up the car.” “Ok,” I said, remembering that he had gone into my room to get my suitcase when I was brushing my teeth. Once my dad had come into the house, my mom had finished packing our snacks and my sister ate all of her eggs. “Ok,” my dad said. “The car is packed up. Let's get out of here.” My sister and I had taken about five minutes to say goodbye to our dogs because we always gravitated back to them every time we stood up. When we arrived at my grandpa's house, his wife Willow, my step-grandma let us in. Her granddaughter, Ruby was sitting on the couch scrolling on her phone as my grandpa was sitting next to her watching the news. Then, we said our goodbyes to my mom and we were on our way to start our journey. When we arrived in D.C, the first few days were great. Then, all of a sudden, I woke up one day and everything took a turn for the worst. On the third day, my grandpa made us walk from our hotel room all the way to a restaurant that was an hour away. When we got there, there was one other family in the restaurant. It looked like it was from the 1800s. Old architecture, and candles as the lighting. I ordered a mac and cheese, and my grandpa ordered a burger with fries. Everyone else's food arrived first, and mine about 10 minutes later when everyone else had finished their food. I was very hungry from the trip to the restaurant because I had also twisted my ankle on the walk there. The next thing I knew, my grandpa was asking me to give him some of my small bowl of food, when he had already finished his meal to the point where there weren't even crumbs left. I told him that I was very hungry and would give him any leftovers I had. Right then and there, he started screaming at me and telling me that I was ungrateful and I was lucky that he took me to Washington D.C. While he was yelling, I started crying and the other family started staring and rushed out of the restaurant. Willow and Ruby were just sitting there quietly eating their food and my sister was crying and trying to defend me. The situation got so bad that the waitress came up to me and gave me a long tight hug. I could tell she felt my pain. They eventually kicked my grandpa out of the restaurant for causing a scene, so that meant I had to leave as well. We took the subway back and I cried the whole way home. Two days later we went to the pool in the hotel. I jumped in the pool and it was freezing so I quickly ran out and huddled a towel around my body. My grandpa started to yell at me again when I refused to go back into the freezing water. I ran into the hotel and found my way back to the room. I ran into my bed and called my dad right away as my sister was next to me and we were both crying hysterically. It was so bad that my parents were looking at airline tickets to come pick us up early. As I was on the phone with my dad, my grandpa walked into my room screaming at me because he found out that I had told my parents everything that happened. My dad heard the whole thing. It turns out my mom had called him while he was at the pool and he lied to her telling her that we were there and he was watching us swim. I waited for him to finish yelling and then hung up with my dad without saying anything. He then left the room. The rest of the trip got worse and was a complete blur to me. I couldn't wait to go home and did not say anything on the flight back to L.A. Once we exited the plane, my parents were waiting for us. I ran into their arms and into safety again. I have not talked to my grandpa, Willow or Ruby since that trip.
With backpacks on our backs, dreams in our hearts and stars in our eyes, my husband (Jason) and I (Heena), set off on an adventure of a lifetime…travelling around the world. Sadly, only after 133 days, our adventure came to a sudden halt. Why? Well, you've probably heard of the most common and biggest enemy of 2020, it goes by several names – Covid-19 / Coronavirus / SARS-CoV-2. Of course, not just our lives, Coronavirus brought the whole world to a standstill. Cities that never sleep, all of a sudden found their roads deserted. Ever busy airports were ghost towns. Shops and restaurants were closed. Buses and trains ran empty. People were fearful and anxious…no longer just of catching the ghastly virus, but of each other! The super powers of the world were playing blame games (surprise) and capitalism was brought down to its knees! We, unfortunate nomads, got stuck in Medellin, Colombia – with our fates in the hands of the raging Coronavirus. Quarantine life Unbeknown to us, Coronavirus was travelling across the world a whole lot faster than us. Before the situation flared up, we were in Bogota, still making jokes about those odd people wearing masks and gloves. We ourselves had a mild scare when Jason complained about being out of breath. I say mild, as not long after he had complained, we realised we had flown in from sea-level to one of South America's highest cities. Well, no wonder he was out of breath! We decided to travel to Medellin, so that we could live our “lockdown sentence” in the “city of eternal spring”, in a milder climate – Bogota was a bit cold for our liking. The initial days were a pleasant blur. We moved into a self-catering flat, over indulged in fine wines and home-cooked meals. We caught up with our families and friends via video calls. However, those fun filled days soon disappeared when we learnt that a colleague back home had died of Coronavirus, and then, we found ourselves in a dark abyss. Our colleague's death hit home. Jason and I, stuck in a studio flat, 24/7, had no choice but to talk about our feelings of losing someone we admired and respected. It wasn't easy, it was painful, it hurt so bad. We both experienced sudden spurts of emotions and ended up in pools of tears. We realised though; we were lucky to have each other. We spent hours talking about our fears of losing family members or friends back home and not being able to bid adios to them. Those were complex talks and we learnt so much more about ourselves and each other. Let me add here - we've been together for 13 years, and I thought (so wrongly) that surely, we know all we need to know about each other? It goes to show we are always learning! Once we were able to rise above the dark abyss, we decided to focus on the positives, and developed routines (Jason really took to sweeping the floor!) to enable us to have a purpose. We reflected on our past journeys, reminisced about the incredible people we had met on our travels, and the life changing experiences we had gained in those 133 days. We wrote blogs about our experiences; those were beautiful times – we were reliving our memories. With lockdowns being extended every two weeks in Medellin, we were in a desperate need of a change of scenery. So, we moved to a bigger and a nicer flat to maintain our sanity. Respecting and accepting change We have accepted this life dictated by Coronavirus. It hasn't been easy – our freedom being taken away has really kicked us in our backsides. I have my highs and lows, and sometimes, several in a day! However, writing has been my unselfish comrade, that has helped me find some equilibrium in my life. It has aided me to stay positive and process my thoughts, in turn enabling me to respect and accept the “new normal” way of living. Writing about my feelings, fears and experiences, has provided me with a vital medium to create a robust bridge between anxiety and self-preservation. I received lots of positive messages from people around the world, who have read my stories and experiences. They have shared with me their own quarantine ups and downs. Knowing that other people were experiencing similar fears, really helped me to feel less of an emotional wreak! We discussed our routines and what was helping us to maintain our emotional well-being. Those beautiful intricacies of newly formed virtual friendships, have empowered me to continue to connect. I have created some meaningful bonds that have proven to be nothing less than a life-line. Hope I hope for a life free of Coronavirus. I hope that people maintain what seems to be a new found respect for Mother Earth. I hope people continue to be caring and kind towards one another. Lastly, I hope we do not take this life for granted. All we have is now, so let us live life to the fullest and write about it whenever we can!
I've never been an active participant in my own life. I've been inconspicuous, invisible, a contentious recorder of other people's experiences and perceptions of me. Until I noticed someone watching me: a voyeur studying a voyeur. We mirrored each other perfectly, my Pygmalion statuette. Before her, I used to think I was missing the foundation of myself: I couldn't possibly build upon a baseless design. I tried to assemble my personality, my identity, out of arbitrary likes and dislikes, curating my persona to avoid a certain social isolation, but still I felt so out of place. In her presence, I'd realized how homesick I was for myself this entire time: I'd been missing for years. Together, we existed in between the plane of reality and unconsciousness: the lingering, liminal space between the figurative and the abstract. We were abundant within the ample nothingness of the world. Conversations, subjects, trains of thought, that were usually difficult to navigate with others, would be completely coherent to her without hesitation: she understood the ugly, absurd, intangible parts of me, reciprocated my energy…and I felt a great, primordial and animalistic nakedness. Where we converged, we extended vertically, dimensionally, inheriting and absorbing all the abandoned love from the annals of the universe. A great oneiric planar ascension, time had become subjective, giving birth to us backwards. Of course, passion knows nothing of it's consequences. Now, I'm right back where I began before I met her: alone, detached, and yearning to be part of something real, or adjacent to real. You can't be the same, live the same, and act the same, after being known so profoundly. Knowing the majority of people will rarely allow you to be so unapologetically raw, ugly, beautiful, cosmic, infernal, celestial, all at the same time, who will accept your volatility as executive function…it makes one bitter to the point of either complete isolation or painful social acquiescence. I'm bored to death of everyone, and of myself. Her violent indifference took its toll: at her most vulnerable, she'd abandon me, dispose of me, and recoil into her own trauma. I'd collapse all the same from the weight of her cruel inertia. Life after a vicious cycle of emotional abuse is perplexing. I was trapped in these patterns of prophecy: now I'm surrounded by people who fill my heart with temporary comfort; light conversation, uncontroversial and exoteric opinions and interests; people float with me above the surface and keep me warm. Their company abates the biting dullness more or less, even if my body is physically numb. But when I'm alone, I feel the futility of it all. My mind becomes an eternal rolling fog, cut by her silver-tongue deliberately leaking angular memories into my moon-sick sulk. Her darkness is territorial: I am not sure how much of her emptiness I can accommodate. As if I'd have a choice. The pit inside me seems like a bottomless abyss, but why is it so suffocating? And why do I secretly enjoy the pain of this asphyxiation? Why does no one ever admit to the euphoria experienced when one is hurt so deeply? The saccharine honey exhaled from a romantic chasm: the validation granted in knowing you are significant enough for someone to want to destroy; because no one bothers to annihilate someone who is already broken. Where is the fun in that? The surge of energy you experience after draining a star of its magic…not enough stars in the world to revive her. Will I admit that feeling sorrow is my way of binding myself to a reality I can make sense of? Do I settle into bad feelings because I am comforted by the fact that, after all this, I am still able to feel anything at all? I am terrified that part of me wants to suffer, just to affirm the materiality of my existence by its resistance of extreme emotional depredation. I avoid analyzing my attachments to dysfunction. I always knew I had masochistic tendencies, but I only ever correlated that to sexual amusement. Is this how I must operate, after her? Must I feel such annoyance around people who feel so safe, so unbelievably vanilla? Those who excite me, but do not dare to rebuke me? Who do not speak to my profligate soul as she did? Must I remain silent around those who do not have the courage to go beyond conventional thought and emotion? Or have I become so affixed to anguish, to concentric cycles of sadness at my core, that I have lost myself in the romance and validation of her own self-destruction?
Tossing the phone on the bed, I walked away to the balcony connecting to my room. Looking up, the night sky was decorated with glowing lanterns you could mistake them for stars. The scenery in front of me taking me back to the memories that I've tried so hard to forget. I never expected for this outcome, I should have but it never occurred to me that it would take place. With so many different paths, you would think that I could've avoided it. A sigh escaped my lips as I stared at the night sky, hoping it would take me away from all the pain in my heart. The sinking feeling drowning my being. Tears begin to spill from my eyes, as my surroundings blur over and I find myself wiping the salt infused tears, I look away, walking back into the room where the memories and loneliness overtakes me. His ringtone breaks through the silence, as I just stand by the bed tears caressing my face as they fall.Why, why does the bad guy have to be me. Crouching into myself I feel my walls break, chip by chip, falling off as the ringtone still plays in the background. I loved you, why couldn't I reach you. The song stops as I look up towards my phone. The thoughts running inside my mind a million miles a minute. The what if and if only. My personal favorite, if you were, haunting my very existence day in and day out, today not being any different. The pain subsiding enough for me to catch my breath. Looking over to the side of the room I see myself on the floor with tears on my face staring back at me from the mirror. Disgusting, failure, unwanted, not enough, useless. The words sticking to my body as I'm just watching from afar. Letting the words engrave themselves in my head. Not being able to stand the sight of myself through the mirror, I turn away and climb onto the bed pulling the sheets over myself. Hoping to run away from myself, I close my eyes, pressing my nails into the palm of my hands. Trying to put all the pieces of the wall back into place, one after the other with pieces still falling off. Fighting the urge to just destroy the whole thing and let everything crumble. Anger slowly crept in distracting me from my own sadness and self hatred. The anger running throughout my body, and my nails dig deeper, and deeper until I feel my life running down my hands. The covers are stained, my clothes and my face. The tears finally stop, and the anger subsides and it's easier for me to put up the walls again. Piece by broken piece, this time staying in place as I layer the glue that will keep it together until the next time it breaks again. Pushing myself up from the bed I walk towards the balcony for the last time tonight. Opening the doors I feel the night air as it rushes past me trying to see the damage that had occurred only moments ago. I glance towards the sky once more, the lanterns seemingly brighter and the moon now gracing my presence with its beauty. The memory rushes back to me reminding me of the times where I was stronger. That moment in time where we glanced at the night sky together, wishing and praying that those memories would stay the same for the rest of our lives. Not knowing the change that would destroy that wish a few days after. It was a similar night like tonight, the wind blowing softly, the moon and the stars watching over us and him, standing behind me holding me like I would disappear in a heartbeat. The promises that were said that day still burn my mind and my eyes begin to water again. This time only a tear fell as I leaned over to watch the world underneath me. A bitter smile placed itself on my face, as I watched the world around me move on without me. Raising my head up at the sky, I see their brightness again as a sense of comfort and twinge of pain fills my heart. One last wish falls out of my lips as I close my eyes and let the wind take over. “Can we watch the lights turn to stars?”
In this interesting article they wrote about childhood depression. They also talks about the difference between sadness and depression. About ways to tell if your child is depressed, symptoms of depression, and ways to treat it. The following quote gives an example between sadness and depression “ Because a child seems sad doesn't necessarily mean he or she has significant depression. If the sadness becomes persistent, or if disruptive behavior that interferes with normal social activities, interests, schoolwork, or family life develops, it may indicate that he or she has a depressive illness.” Shortly afterward in the article they talked about how to tell if your child is depressed and some effects of leaving it untreated. “The symptoms of depression in children vary. It is often undiagnosed and untreated because they are passed off as normal emotional and psychological changes that occur during growth. Early medical studies focused on "masked" depression, where a child's depressed mood was evidenced by acting out or angry behavior. While this does occur, particularly in younger children, many children display sadness or low mood similar to adults who are depressed. The primary symptoms of depression revolve around sadness, a feeling of hopelessness, and mood changes.” Some symptoms this article included were “Irritability or anger, Continuous feelings of sadness and hopelessness, Social withdrawal ,Changes in sleep such as sleeplessness or excessive sleep ,Vocal outbursts, crying, Difficulty concentrating, Fatigue and low energy, stomach aches, headaches that don't respond to treatment, Reduced ability to function during events and activities at home or with friends, in school, extracurricular activities, and in other hobbies or interests, Feelings of worthlessness or guilt” To properly diagnose your child be sure If the symptoms of depression have lasted for at least two weeks, you should schedule a visit with his or her doctor. Some treatment options for children with depression are (counseling) and medication. There were some things in this article i found important and i felt like sharing knowledge about. Something I found important from the article was this quote. “As in adults, depression in children can be caused by any combination of factors that relate to physical health, life events, family history.” Another important something I found “Studies have shown that depression may precede more serious mental illness later in life, diagnosis, early treatment and close monitoring are crucial.” And the last most important thing i found was “Warning signs of suicidal behavior in children include: Many depressive symptoms (changes in eating, sleeping, activities), Social isolation, including isolation from the family, Talk of suicide, hopelessness, or helplessness, Increased acting-out of undesirable behaviors such as sexual and behavioral. Increased risk-taking behaviors, Frequent accidents ,Substance abuse, Focus on morbid and negative themes, Talk about death and dying. Increased crying or reduced emotional expression. Giving away possessions is a good indicator”
The essential psychology, emotional, and behaviors that may drive us as human beings is self-motivation. Are you one of those people at work who's driven to lead? Or why do you think people are driven to lead? What are the basic human drives that motivate us each day to do what we do? This is one of the major psychological well-being factors that influence majorities when things are getting difficult. As your internal motivation produces in you a passion for life because it operates in the midst of your deepest desire and vision for the future. As a result of this gives you tremendous internal motivation to begin to act on your purpose and gifts and to see your vision become a reality, as you exhibit the qualities of a self-starter. You will find that you don't need to wait for someone to prompt you, or even if they eventually do. To use your gift to work towards your goals; instead, you may not wait or can't wait to get up in the morning and continue working on them as a matter of fact because you have internal motivation within you. It will be so cleared that your internal motivation and passion will foster a persevering attitude you possess within you especially in a supernatural forces, because no matter what or how long it takes you to think and develop your natural abilities, as you put your plans into action, or see results, you keep going on and keep believing and keep going forward ever. Internal Motivation Researchers have discovered that the intrinsic value of internal motivation refers to behavior that is driven by internal rewards. In other areas or perspective, the motivation that prompt people or person to engage in a particular behavior arises from within the individual or personally related to the group of people who just feel within themselves that it's natural or because it is naturally satisfying to them. Then we need to ask someone's when was the last time you did something simply for the enjoyment of the activity itself? Because there are a number of activities that fall into this category. For instance, you may play a game, write a story, you may plant a garden, paint a picture or read a book, evangelize. All these may produce a result or may not produce something or be rewarded in any way but it all depends on the ways we approached them. Instead, we do them because we like to, they make us happy. Let's consider this illustration for a moment. What's motivation you to read this article? If you are reading it because you are just interested in reading articles and simply want to learn or know more about the topic of motivation, then you are acting based on intrinsic motivation. If, however, reading this article by now; because you have to learn the information concerning motivation for a representation in a class in order to avoid getting a bad grade, then you are acting based upon extrinsic motivation. In other words, as we contrast with extrinsic motivation, that's to say it generally involves engaging in a behavior in order to earn external rewards or avoid punishment. Power drives people There is one thing to watch out for nowadays, though. While having power can make you happier, but seeking power does not make you happier. With series of finding there is quite a bit of evidence that people who spend their lives seeking power do not focus on the intrinsic joy of life. So, people who seek power are actually less happy than those who do not. The major question to ask now is there a way out of this paradox? That is, how can you have power without seeking it? From the aspects of social life that means doing things for the people around you. Will makes you experience personal fulfillment, contentment, and gratification that come serving the world through your natural gifts and inherent purpose. As long as you are effective in the things you do, and you have certainty that you aren't wasting your life but rather you are using your time, talent, experience, and energy in the best ways. People will never forget and often recognize that. In addition, to this getting thing done makes you happy. The truth is if you consistently do things in your life that help you and others achieve goals, then your journey is a happy one. Without any doubt over time, you will find that you will rise to a position of power within your network. And that definitely will make you happy. Nowadays research shows that there is a popular image that people who are in positions of power are really unfulfilled. Maybe perhaps they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders Bottom Line, Most of the important changes you've made in your life, that is, especially those that persist continually over time, then you'll likely find that many of them involved a rather high level of emotional drive arousal. It's precisely these kinds of strong emotional reactions that can act as a catalyst to increase motivation and commitment.
Helping my little brother getting ready for school on a Monday morning, you wouldn't think anything was wrong. He chatters about something on telly, whilst we look for gloves and then we have a lively debate about when his spelling test is. We look through the mounds of paper in his bookbag, it's in two days. My brother isn't too fussed and goes back to watching his YouTube show. Typical school day morning, right? This morning, as the little guy woke up, bushy hair and bleary eyed, he notices his mum rushing around grabbing bags and toys. ‘Are you going?' he asks, his voice cracking. ‘Yes, sweetie.' Immediately, his face crumples and a cry build up, tears already brimming. She grabs him in for a hug, tells him she loves him and that he must brave just like his brother. This is the routine, this is our normal. I hope to God it is not yours. Our youngest brother has cancer, lymphoblastic leukaemia, this is the second time he's gotten it. This time round, the treatment is more aggressive, requiring more lethal drugs and a stem cell transplant. We just found out last week that the little dude is a perfect stem cell match for him. This filled us with both relief and dread. Relief – a stem cell transplant is the best way to treat him and should be most effective, it means there is less chemo and probably no radiotherapy for him and it could've taken us months to find a match from a stranger. On the other hand, the little dude, who is 5 years old, will have to be put under for surgery – which is not without risks – to help his little (3yo) brother. That's a lot of pressure to put on someone who's main concern now is learning the phonic: ‘i_e.' Can you imagine the guilt? Taking your perfectly healthy little boy and intentionally cause him harm to help the other. He wants to help his brother, but it was still his parent's choice in the end to say yes. No parent should have to go make that decision. But then, they've had to face a lot of decisions a parent should never have to. My dad and my step-mum are good parents, they try their best and they fail sometimes too. They take it in turns to stay with J at the hospital when he's going through chemo. Living half your life in a hospital is not ideal. For obvious reasons. You are surrounded by sick and dying children for one, plus the WIFI is crap. J had been home for the past week, to rest up since the last bout of chemo had given him severe illness – he stopped eating and had to be transferred to the high dependency unit for a few days as his nutrient levels dropped dangerously low, there were lots of problems with his guts and there was a suspected infection. Once he's home, he's a little happier, but it can be an edgy time for my parents, especially my step-mum. In hospital you're surrounded by nurses who can help if things go wrong and can tell IF something is wrong, at home, it's your own judgment. Despite this, home makes a nice change, we can all be together like a family should. The little dude, P, can be picked up by a parent from school, instead of a sister or nan or a friend's mum, so it's more stable for him. We can all sit together and talk or play, most importantly, the two brothers can play together, not always nicely, but together at least. Whilst J was home, he still had to go in one day this week, so the Doctor and nurses can check his observations (weight, heart rate etc), to give my parents some home supplies – feed for his NG (nasal-gastric) tube and some various drugs to be given at home (a lot of anti-sickness/laxatives) and finally a big dose of steroids. Have you ever heard of ‘roid-rage? Try working with a chubby three-year-old with a Smeagol-hairdo shouting at you, whilst you're making him macaroni cheese, about his EXACT specifications (which change constantly). Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out. However, that was the middle of the week, I come home at the weekend, and within half an hour upon my entrance, a cheeky chappy emerges from the grizzle. I like to think its my cheery disposition that's perked him up, but I can smell for the fact he's just removed a load of concentrated anger. For the whole weekend he's like a dream, yes occasionally his bottom hurts as he feels the chemo-poo brewing (there is nothing like it, I can never eat korma again!), but he's laughing, making jokes, (why did the banana cross the road? To get squished!). On Sunday we all make biscuits, blue and sprinkle flavoured, we've visited Nanny in our very special blue car and played with their puppy, sweet eh? Sunday night, his mummy explains that they are going to hospital together tomorrow. J says he doesn't want to, he doesn't want any ouchies. Mummy promises no ouchies, but they have to go in to hospital. J thinks for a second or two, then says: ‘I want cuddles all night long and forever.' Wow. Heart wrenching huh? They hug and continue a jigsaw puzzle with some accompanied inane toddler chatter about Blaze and the Monster Machines….
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