- DBT self soothing techniques
- PTSD Forum: Self Care
- ED Recovery: Self Soothing Techniques
- Addiction Recovery Coping Skills
- 99 Coping Skills: Things to do Instead of Cutting
- Invisible Disabilities Association of Canada: Coping Skills
Meditation & Relaxation:
- Tips to Start Meditating
- 8 Ways to Make Meditation Easy and Fun
- 18 Minute Guided Meditation: Blissful Deep Relaxation
- 1 Hour Universal Mind Meditation
- Guided Meditation for Sleep and Good Dreams
- Guided Meditation and Progressive Muscle Relaxation
- Progressive Muscle Relaxation
- 1 Hour of Nature Sounds
- 1 Hour Rain
- Foundations in Flow Yoga Class
- Heart Opening 30min Yoga Class
- 10min Shoulder Yoga Routine
- 9min Yoga Breathing Exercise (Pranayama)
- Kundalini Yoga Breathing Exercises (3 min)
- Make Origami
- DIY Home Spa
- Nail Art Tutorials
- Chevron Friendship Bracelets
- Glitter Jars
- Learn to Crochet
- Learn to Knit
- Turn an Old Shirt into a Tote
- Easy Sugar Cookies (Vegan recipe here)
- Garland Decorations
*starts a fire in my kitchen*
*starts fire in my bedroom*
Omfg. Um. Hello there.
*Starts a fire in my pants!!!*
*gets trapped in lift*
The best part is that there’s a fairly decent chance, given the background of the photo (dry wilderness and scrub brush) that the firefighter in this picture is a Hotshot—
And Hotshots, along with Smoke-Jumpers, are sort of like… Okay. If firefighters are rockstars, Hot-Shots are Queen and Smoke-Jumpers are whatever Tony Stark uses to rev himself up for badassery.
Hotshots are elite firefighters who train extensively and are inserted into high-risk terrain in order to fight the fire on the ground.
In layman’s terms—if there’s a forest fire threatening your house, the hotshots are the dudes digging the fire trenches while whirling beams of fire snap give feet from them.
And then, then, there’s the Smoke-Jumpers. As their name implies, they jump smoke.
In layman’s terms—the fires the hotshots can’t reach by land? Those crazy fuckera PARACHUTE into forest fires.
Because jumping out of a plane isn’t scary enough, they do it in near-zero visibility, through scorching smoke, with the risk that the thermals and currents could blow them right into a burning tree, to pick a landing spot so they can then be in remote backwoods wilderness with minimal hope of rescue if something goes tits up.
So yeah. If this lady’s an urban firefighter she’s a huge badass. But if my guess is right and she’s a more elite unit, then I want to have her gay babies like, yesterday.
“Fix it?” Ithiano echoed, rolling the stone in his palm, noting absently that the little seed at its center pulsed in synch with his heart. He grimaced at the sight, and shoved away the whispers that rose up in the back of his skull. “I don’t think it’s something that can be fixed, child.” He squeezed the crystal briefly before slipping it back into his pocket. “It would be dangerous to try, in any case. This… corruption, does not take well to other magic.” Ithiano swiveled on his perch so that he could face Chrysanthemum, though he kept his gaze away from her face. “Was there something else that was troubling you?” He hoped not. He was getting tired of chasing the wayward girl through his fortress.
Chrysanthemum turned a few corners before deciding that she had become suitably lost and hid behind a pillar in a tiny alcove. She held the crystal close to her chest, trying to keep her sobs quiet so as not to attract attention.
A moment passed before Storm found her, put its paw-hooves up on the ledge in an attempt to join her - but there was no room, and the smoke hound curled up on the floor. Chrysanthemum reached out to pet its shoulders, sniffling.
"I thought," she rasped. "I thought he’d be… nicer. Now that his dad’s gone. I thought… he’d try to be like him."
Storm whined, raised its head to nose at her hand. “He doesn’t care,” she said, scratching Storm’s smooth muzzle. “He doesn’t. He never did. About either of us. He hated Mikael… He hates me…” She started crying again, pressing the crystal over her heart.
Ithiano leaned a shoulder against the corner he’d been about to pass and dragged his hand over his weary face. The girl was weeping, curled into herself with the stone blotched to her heart. He took a step back, to leave the child and her grief, but froze as something like shame made his stomach churn. Hated his father? Yes, more often than not. He’d hated the man, hated that Mikael’s presence had often nearly torn his mind apart when the Grimoire demanded he kill the man and be done with it, while the stubborn root of himself could not bring his hands to do it. He hated that his father had looked at him with eyes so full of hope, hope that his child would be able to return to his old self and be as they once were, and knowing that he was so deeply immersed in his Darkness that there was no way he’d be able to claw free of it.
And as for hating the girl… Ithiano sighed heavily and pushed away from the wall, careful to be sure that his steps would be heard as he approached Chrysanthemum so as not to startle her. She was often a nuisance, certainly. Her ideals and her magic often clashed with his own. He had been… jealous, of the ease with which she had bonded with his father. But hate her?
Ithiano stepped over the Smoke Hound at her feet and settled himself besides the girl, twining his fingers together in his lap as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached into a deep pocket in the inside of his coat and pulled out a tiny stone, not dissimilar to the one she clutched so desperately. Cradling it in his palm, he held it out to her, tilting it so that she could see the dark, pulsing seed that had taken root in the heart of the miniscule crystal. “I would not want to make your gift so ugly,” he murmured.
Chrysanthemum gasped at the sight, wrapped her fingers even more firmly around the gem in her hands. Slowly, she reached out to touch the dark crystal. It was warm, the way her untarnished one was, instilled the same sense of safety - but she could hear the voices reaching out to it, and the shadows reared up around her. She flinched away.
"Can we fix it?" she whispered.
Apparently my director went to see a production of West Side Story a few years ago, and the guy playing Chino forgot his gun before coming out for his final scene. Once it got to the big scene where he is supposed to shoot Tony, he screeched “Poison Boots” and kicked the actor playing Tony until he went down. The girl playing Maria then had to jerk the shoe off of Chino’s foot, and had to do the gunshot scene asking “How many kicks Chino? How many kicks, and one kick left for me”.
There was a split second there where his like, “wait, what? bro what are you doing?”
On more serious note, PTSD dogs for veterans are so fucking therapeutic. They’re like the one person you can spill your guts to and never worry about ever being judged or have that secret divulged. There are times when I definitely prefer the company of a dog over a human.
Therapy animals save lives.
These dogs are even still so much more amazing. They check rooms before their handler enters, so they can clear it to help the person feel safe. Like in the gif, they are there when panic attacks or nightmares occur, to be something for the person to help ground themselves on, or yes just to turn on the lights. Even more amazing, many people are able to reduce their medication when they have a PTSD service dog there to help them. These dogs are useful for not just veterans, but also victims of abuse, accident trauma, natural disasters, and others. Their training allows them to be useful in situations where medical assistance is needed, as well. Some PTSD dogs are trained to recognize repetitive behaviours in handlers, and signal the handler to break the repetition and stopping the behaviour and possibly injury.
Service dogs in general are just awesome. Remember to respect any that you see out in public. They are not there for you to walk up to and play with, even the puppies!
- “Eat” the damn Play-doh cookies.
- Slurp the invisible soup.
- Pretend that they’re not causing grievous bodily harm as they “brush” your hair.
- Always be serious when asked what you’d like for dinner, and never say something silly like rabbit soup. Because they will go get their stuffed one off the bed, put it in your best pot, and fill said pot with water. Then place it on your desk.
- Greet their make believe friends and ask how their day was.
- Always kiss the teddy bear goodnight. It has feelings too.
- Always pretend to die when they shoot you.
- If you are having a fake war with them and you shoot them and they say they can’t die because they are invincible, you don’t shoot them again, because they are invincible.
- Yes, their drawing does look like a butterfly, not a bunch of jumbled up lines.
- Them pounding on the piano is the best thing you have ever heard.
no but seriously it’s very important to a child’s development to not be shut down by parents and other caregivers
The only thing I disagree with is the invincibility one ‘cause if my kid said they were invincible, I’d fake shoot them again in disbelief and continue to be amazed as they shrug off my fake bullets and fake kill me.