View allAll Photos Tagged traumatic
Managed to get out with the camera last weekend for a couple of hours, had a bit of a traumatic time! (more on this story later with a particular upload, because although I was mortified at the time, its a bit funny now I look back). The background was distracting on this so my own texture added here.
Just also want to say huge thanks to you all for your kind words this week they mean a lot x
Following a VERY traumatic day, I took the camera outside into a glorious cool, bright evening and shot a little collection of pics of our back garden tonight! A very pretty hosta whose name I forget and a dwarf iris- light blue and very fragrant!
"Maybe there is hunger in my blood
Screaming out loud for what I want
See me running full speed at it
Shatter and collide
Call me post-traumatic.
Now it's do or die
Coming after tiny fractures
See me running full speed at it
Coming after tiny fractures
Call it post-traumatic
Feeding frenzies in my brain
I'm hopeful everyday
Gotta get it while we are still young enough to break
We're finally not afraid
Maybe there's hunger in my blood
Screaming out loud for what I want...."
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Yet another powerful song i had to make a tribute for.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCu2gwLj9ok
Pose: "Freya 4" by me (upcoming female set).
Dress by Rowne.
Picture taken at the stunning Missing Melody sim.
Special thanks to Vlad-Sensei :P for walking me through this sunset process lol
plum blossom..
Infidelity (synonyms include cheating, straying, adultery, being unfaithful, or having an affair) is a violation of a couple's emotional and/or sexual exclusivity that commonly results in feelings of anger, sexual jealousy, and rivalry.
What constitutes infidelity depends on expectations within the relationship. In marital relationships, exclusivity is commonly assumed. Infidelity can cause psychological damage, including feelings of rage and betrayal, low sexual and personal confidence, and even post-traumatic stress disorder. Men and women can experience social consequences if their act of infidelity becomes public, but the form and extent of these consequences often depend on the gender of the unfaithful person.
No dramatic stories here. No adverse conditions, just good times with people that I care about, and make the images and experiences even more memorable. You see, for those that don't know me, in this medium...photography, this is all I have. I have a simple life. Work, family, and all that normal stuff. But photography, It's my outlet, and there's a connection with nature and the life I live. One of the things that I enjoy about this photography journey is being able to get out and emerse myself with my surroundings. It gives me a chance to just get out and clear my head and do what I love. As was the case with this image. 3 weeks prior to this outing, I lost my mother to cancer. By far one of the most traumatic experiences in my life. Just trying to function as a "normal" human being was hard. On this particular weekend, it had been my first trip since my mothers passing, and it was therapeutic. I can say it was one of the few times in the past few weeks where I felt somewhat normal again. I'm not looking for any sympathy of any sort. Im simply sharing how the art of photography is a part of my life, and how it helps me escape the stresses of life. Continue to inspire each, shoot for yourself, be well. Peace and Love.
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La sorcière maléfique qui a maltraité l'enfant. Le clou et le pied.
Des légendes populaires de l'intérieur de certains pays racontent qu'une très méchante sorcière trouva un jour un enfant sans surveillance dans une cabane en bois au fond de la forêt.
Comme l'enfant ne pouvait pas indiquer où se trouvaient les trésors de la famille, la sorcière furieuse punit l'enfant a fixé son pied gauche avec un énorme clou sur le parquet du salon de la cabane.
Désespéré, l'enfant a pleuré et souffert en essayant de s'échapper. Mais le pied était là fixé au parquet et l'enfant désespéré tournait, tournait, tournait sur son pied coincé. Et cette horrible condition de souffrance se répétait sans cesse et l'enfant tournait, souffrait, tournait et souffrait et rien n'a changé.
Une légende aussi triste est une métaphore de la condition provoquée dans l'esprit humain par la névrose. L'esprit perçoit la souffrance et en souffre beaucoup, mais la souffrance se répète, se répète, se répète, un automatisme sans fin. La condition de névrose emprisonnant tourne en rond.
La réalité déformée qui entretient la névrose est comme le plancher en bois de la cabane au fond de la forêt.
La réalité, comme le plancher en bois qui ne devrait que soutenir et sécuriser pour se tenir debout et marcher, mais emprisonne et amplifie la souffrance causée par l'énorme clou qui a fixé le pied.
L'clou, la métaphore de la condition de fonctionnement spécifique de la neurotransmission du réseau de neurones que l'on pourrait penser dans le Trouble Obsessionnel Compulsif, le Trouble Anxieux Général, le Trouble de l'humeur Bipolaire, le Trouble de Stress Post Traumatique. Il se répète, il se répète, il se répète, et l'esprit ne peut pas s'échapper.
L'enfant, l'enfant est la métaphore de l'Ego, Notre Centre Opérationnel qui travaille au centre du champ de notre conscience, notre mémoire RAM, qui traite tout ce qui provient du HD de notre esprit, le fond de la forêt, d'où provient l'origine de tout. Nos possibilités génomiques, stockées dans notre ADN, comme les programmes stockés dans la HD.
La tâche sans fin du Ego, métaphore du héros qui lutte pour surmonter le doute angoissant, l'anxiété, l'impulsion, la souffrance et la peur.
Comprendre cet automatisme est très important pour trouver un moyen d'interrompre le schéma répétitif de la névrose, pour enfin se débarrasser de l'énorme clou qui retient le pied.
A l'interieur RAM Notre Centre Opérationnel l'Ego et dedans la mémoire du HD notre Génome, où sont les programmes.
Ivan
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The evil witch who mistreated the child. The nail and the foot.
Folk legends from the interior of some countries say that a very wicked witch once found a child unattended in a wooden hut deep in the forest.
Since the child could not point out where the family treasures were, the enraged witch punished the child by nailing her left foot with a huge nail to the wooden floor of the cabin's living room.
Desperate, the child cried and suffered as she tried to escape. But the foot was there nailed to the floor and the desperate child turned, turned, turned on his stuck foot. And this horrible condition of suffering repeated itself over and over again and the child was spinning and hurting and spinning and hurting and nothing changed.
Such a sad legend is a metaphor for the condition caused in the human mind by neurosis. The mind perceives suffering and suffers greatly from it, but the suffering repeats, repeats, repeats, an endless automatism. The condition of imprisoning neurosis turns in circles.
The distorted reality that sustains neurosis is like the wooden floor of the cabin deep in the woods. Reality, like the wooden floor that should only support and secure for standing and walking, but traps and amplifies the pain caused by the huge nail that grips the foot.
The fingernail, metaphor for the specific functioning condition of neural network neurotransmission that one might think of in Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Mood Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder . It repeats, it repeats, it repeats, and the mind cannot escape.
The child, the child is the metaphor of the Ego, Our Operational Center that works in the center of our consciousness field, our RAM memory, which processes everything that comes from the HD of our mind, the bottom of the forest, from where everything originated. Our genomic possibilities, stored in our ADN, like the programs stored in HD.
The endless task of the Ego, a metaphor for the hero who struggles to overcome agonizing doubt, anxiety, impulse, suffering and fear.
Understanding this automatism is very important to find a way to interrupt the repetitive pattern of neurosis, to finally get rid of the huge nail that holds the foot.
Inside RAM Our Operational Center the Ego and inside the memory of the HD our Genome, where the programs are.
Ivan
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On a recent visit to the British Library organised by the Friends of the Nation’s Libraries, I was fortunate enough to see the original handwritten draft of Wilfred Owen’s poem Anthem for Doomed Youth – a lament for young soldiers who died in the First World War. Today, 11th November, seems an appropriate day to post it here.
Owen wrote the poem in 1917 when he was a patient at Craiglockhart War Hospital in Edinburgh, recovering from shell shock (what today we would link with post traumatic stress disorder). While there, he met and became friends with another War Poet, Siegfried Sassoon, and this remarkable manuscript contains Sassoon’s amendments in pencil.
Wilfred Owen returned to the battlefields of France in August 1918, where he was awarded the Military Cross for bravery. But shortly afterwards, on 4 November, he was killed in action. In a moment of profound irony, the news of his death reached his parents on 11 November – Armistice Day.
Here is the poem:
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.
Leeloo's project couldn't be complete without a proper introduction of her sister! They are not related, but they came to us together from a "breeder". She didn't care if they left together, but I felt they were bonded and boy, I was right. When they arrived, both super shy and scared, they would always stick together. As time went by, Leeloo got more confident and helped Elfie get more comfortable. Elfie is older and had many puppies, maybe that's why she had more trouble trusting again. The environment they were in was far from being stable to be polite.
Today, they're still very bonded, although they are also close to other members of our crew. They're both so sweet and mellow, it saddens me to know they were so used and neglected. Elfie is still very timid and hides when people come over, but she's a sweetheart with us. Like many dogs with trust issues, she adores the ones who made her feel secure and is very wary of strangers. It's funny how she and Cookie (our traumatized puppy mill rescue) are alike, both physically and personality-wise. I noticed merle dogs are very sensitive, but when they had a traumatic past, it definitely shapes them forever and it's hard for them to open up again. But they wouldn't be with us if they were not little weirdos ;).
Windows
Look out from within
Look in from without
Reflect on our world
Reflect on yourself
The meaning is simple
I felt it necessary to state the purpose of this image I thought what I've written above to be a fitting way.
Background on the location:
Street lights glow through steel framed windows into an empty room of the former Crease Clinic. This hospital was constructed for veterans suffering from mental illnesses like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder opened in 1949 closed in 2011.
olio su tela 35 x50
Capita nella vita di dover fare delle scelte che possono sembrare drammatiche , a volte lo sono ...!
Happen in life have to make choices that may seem dramatic, sometimes they are, sometimes not.!
HEAD Technologies Inc. V1.01
President Barack_Obama_during_a_prime_time_news_conference_2009-04-29...
LAYERS
the earth is made up of layers from traumatic ancient days
each one holds a time and can be read in many different ways
a sediment from a long gone sea or by volcanoes fiery heart
yet among these earthy layers life itself did here once start
we pause now among this the age of man where many layers are found
as we build our humanity like structures and would wish on solid ground
we balance such layers as art but they are symbols that our lives are thought as shelves
some sharp some smooth and in many directions we by history try to guide ourselves
Poem by Ironmonger
this summer 8 years ago, was the most traumatic time in our lives, we have this memory burned in, we were finishing our porch roof, installing metal roofing as the sun was setting, and the nw wind blasted us with smoke fresh from a fire just 5 km away, above us...
ash was flying by, and air was harsh smoky thick hot air...
Introducing Fever Dreams.
A collection of dreams and nightmares that I have had throughout my life. From mental heath to traumatic experiences I’ve had, this project is a way to tear down my walls and be open. Together over a span of a year of love and frustration, myself and the beautiful souls I have had the immense pleasure of working with have finally brought it all to life in print. I am doing a short run pre-sale. There will be two to choose from. One that comes with a signed zine, an original polaroid and a print of your choosing. The second is just the zine itself. I wanted to make sure that we could reach the goal to send the project to print and to offer an option that was affordable.
Thank you for all of your support and I hope you love it.
For more information I’ll add the link at the bottom.
Sakara
Another day and another memory from my times cross-dressed as a woman. I wrote the other day of my preference for cross-dressing in private. I have only ventured out as a woman in public very rarely. I lack confidence in my ability to look female and this causes me a lot of angst on the few occasions I have been out in public cross-dressed.
One should ‘never say never’ as perhaps my confidence may grow in the future, who knows! At the moment I have to admit the few trips out I’ve had have proved more traumatic than pleasurable. I just could not relax or believe I looked like a woman.
I have tried and failed to develop a female persona and appearance to work in the real world and to be honest, this is an issue I genuinely don’t think I can overcome. I promised my wife and family I would only cross-dress in private so the rare trips out feel like I am betraying their trust. I feel bad as I am not being truthful with them. I had not admitted I was going to step out the door dressed as a woman and trying to pass myself off as a female. This awareness along with my lack of confidence with my cross-dressing abilities is what induces the fear and traumatic experiences. Instead of elation I just feel fearful. In private I have none of that and experience real joy, excitement and pure delight. In public I feel a failure.
So let me explain this picture. I am obviously in a car in a public place. I did in fact venture out soon after this picture. In fact, I recorded two videos of this trip. What is interesting, in the second video I express I am happy about it. I can admit son after the recording my mood went in the opposite direction and the fear kicked in once more.
I was fortunate to be accompanied by a friend on that trip. She was looking out for me and kindly recorded the video and took the stills. I doubt without her being with me I would ever have gone through with what I did.
I did find myself questioning myself. I was not at all sure just why I actually had to go out in public as a woman? I think as cross-dressers many of us are unconsciously steered that direction. There are male to female cross-dressers who are confident and at ease enough to go out in public as a woman. I admire their confidence. Not all of us though have such confidence. It’s interesting that despite my enjoyment of cross-dressing in private I feel like I am a failure because I only dress in private and do not go out in public. I know I shouldn’t feel that but I do. Despite my feelings of failure I am not actually motivated to go out in public as I don’t enjoy the angst and betrayal of trust with my wife and family.
I do enjoy recording the videos as my female self and I think this is probably my best outlet for expressing my female persona. As for this picture, I was very reluctant to get out of the car when the picture was taken. I’m smiling with nervousness and I was feeling incredibly anxious and just wanted to drive away. The two videos are a brief highlight of the whole experience. I wanted to be honest and explain after my final words the whole thing became overwhelming and the happiness I expressed on camera was soon replaced by angst!
ok so another cute (rather than traumatic!) duck tale!
i was taking shots of this little guy when he started marching straight towards me! he got so close, he got too close for my lens so i had to step back!
such a cutie!
and the below is one of his siblings already dabbling away!
hope everyone had a great weekend!
(PLEASE NO AWARDS OR PICTURES OR FLASHY BADGES)
One morning I drove down to Cattlemans, near Oxbow, and noticed a long line of photogs pointing their big lenses towards the dark bank on the other side of the river. I went walking up with my tripod under one arm and the camera in my other hand, looking down the river. Finding a bull moose crossing through the water caught me by surprise and when one of the other shooters looked my way, all I could do was point, drop to my knees and start shooting. The guy looked down river, shrugged his shoulders and went back to watching the otters on the dark river bank. Before long some of the other guys noticed the moose and then there was quite the fury of trying to follow him and head him off at the next crossing, which they managed quite well. I stayed back with my shorter lens and and shot the landscape with the moose in it. That is a cormorant standing on the bank behind the moose.
Made it safely back to my hometown and found a place to park the trailer and a warm, very comfortable bed to sleep in. Had some fresh home brewed latte and went out and saw some friends. Worked on the trailer some, made some reservations for the next stop - $9 a night with 30 amp hookups and bathrooms with showers, and talked with my daughter-in-law. She just gave birth to my fourth grandchild, a boy, and went through a traumatic time because he is almost as big as she is. Okay, I am exaggerating but she is tiny and he was well over 9 lbs. Anyway, I think she is a champ in every way. Can't wait to hold that baby in my arms. For the moment those children are all that matters and all of the difficulties of the past several weeks are passed.
As a child, to miss an episode of the Howdy Doody show was a traumatic event. As I matured, cars became the subject of my passion, particularly the 57 Chevy. Alas, here the 2 are combined!
Self-performed work.
Mirror-image of myself, taken in my bedroom.
My early step into the studio photography.
NOTE: Available in poster size for sale. It is a very high quality print. Contact me if you are interested to purchase it.
Tech:
Canon 30D on a tripod
Canon EF 70-200mm f/2.8L
Canon Speedlite 580EX (on-camera).
One studio umbrella placed above the flash.
Large mirror for subject-reflection
Black sheet in the background
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DON'T PUBLISH OR USE MY WORKS WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM ME
ABDULLAH AL-NASER photography
abraaj_photos@yahoo.com
Bruce and Edwyn are brothers and Gulf war veterans. After serving in 1991, they felt abandoned once they came back home. The fell into a life of drugs and alcohol. it leads them to become homeless during 20 years. Edwyn is very sick. Thanks to the VA (veteran affairs) program (VA San Diego Healthcare System), they found a place to live.
Fabien Lasserre © all rights reserved
Felicia Hardy is a metahuman thief known as the Black Cat who has sometimes been an enemy, love interest, and ally of the superhero Spider-Man.
Felicia Hardy is the daughter of Walter Hardy, a world-renowned cat burglar. After suffering from a traumatic assault by an ex-boyfriend as a college freshman, she trained herself in various fighting styles and acrobatics and, after deciding to follow in her father's footsteps, adopted the costumed identity of the Black Cat.
She has the subconscious ability to affect probability fields, producing "bad luck" for her enemies.
Because of her choice to pursue criminal activities, Black Cat began as an adversary of Spider-Man, but over time the two fell in love, which motivated her into becoming both an antiheroine, and his partner.
However, their relationship grew complicated after it became apparent that Black Cat was only attracted to the alter ego of Spider-Man and had little interest in the hero's civilian life as Peter Parker.
After their break-up, Black Cat maintained her role as one of Spider-Man's most trusted allies and for years the pair have remained flirtatious.
Felicia Hardy was born in Queens, New York. Her father Walter pretended to be a traveling salesman but was a world-renowned cat burglar who, before his arrest, encouraged her to never settle for second best. For example, if she loved basketball, she should work to become a basketball player and not just a cheerleader.
As a freshman at Empire State University, Felicia was assaulted by her boyfriend Ryan. Hating the idea of being a victim, she trained herself in various fighting styles and acrobatics, intent on killing him.
Finally, after months of preparing, she set out for revenge, but before she could find him, Ryan was killed in a drunk driving accident. Furious that she was denied the chance for revenge, Hardy decided to utilize her new skills to follow in her father's footsteps. After amassing a fortune in stolen items, Felicia adopted her costumed identity.
She first donned the Black Cat costume in order to break her father out of prison. On the same night, she met Spider-Man. Her father died, and Felicia then faked her own death.
Felicia immediately felt a kinship with the lone hero Spider-Man. He was the first man she felt she could trust and she grew to believe herself in love with him.
Felicia looked for a way to earn his trust and continued with the Black Cat persona as a misguided attempt to attract his affection. Seeing the good in Felicia, Spider-Man made every attempt to have her criminal record expunged.
Felicia was placed in a mental institution but escaped. She joined forces with Spider-Man against the Maggia. She was granted conditional amnesty, and again convinced Spider-Man that she had died.
The Black Cat finally finds the opportunity to prove herself after learning the Kingpin controlled an incredibly powerful detonator. The Owl planned to use the weapon to hold New York City hostage. Meanwhile, Doctor Octopus planned to use the weapon to destroy the city altogether.
However, the Black Cat used her abilities to steal the item first and protect it from all parties. She gave the detonator to Spider-Man and became the target of Doctor Octopus' revenge.
Although Spider-Man tore off his mechanical appendages, Octopus was still able to mentally control them and hold the Black Cat still while his men opened fire. Spider-Man barely got her to the hospital in time and, as they operated on the dozens of bullet and knife wounds, Peter realized just how much he cares for Felicia.
After she recovered they began a relationship and soon Peter revealed his identity to her. Felicia had difficulty accepting the fact that Peter is just a man beneath the mask and cannot understand his need for a civilian life. Peter was hurt, but continued the relationship since it was the first time he did not need to hide his life as Spider-Man from someone.
Initially, the "accidents" which seem to befall those who crossed the Black Cat's path were merely well-planned stunts and traps. After her near-death experience, Felicia feared her lack of superpowers would make her a liability to Spider-Man.
She is terrified that his overwhelming need to protect her will eventually get him killed, so Felicia seeks a way to make herself Spider-Man's equal. Felicia is offered an opportunity to undergo the same process that was used to create the Scorpion and the Human Fly.
The Kingpin uses it on the Black Cat as payback for a theft she committed. Scared and ashamed of being empowered by the Kingpin of crime, she keeps her new abilities a secret from Peter. Her 'bad luck' power turns out to be infectious, and begins to jinx Spider-Man, which was exactly the Kingpin's intent.
Feeling a wall of secrets growing between them, Spider-Man breaks up with Felicia. Felicia then begins a "Robin Hood crusade", stealing from the rich to give to the poor.
Peter soon realizes something is amiss with his own luck and enlists the aid of Doctor Strange to remove the "hex" on him. By doing so, he alters the hex's source and changes the Black Cat's powers in the process.
She finds she has heightened strength, agility, balance, vision, and retractable claws. While burglarizing the mercenary known as the Foreigner, Black Cat is attacked by Sabretooth, the Foreigner's hitman; Spider-Man saves her life.
The Black Cat updates her look and her attitude and rekindles her relationship with Spider-Man. She makes peace with his need for a normal life as Peter Parker and stands by him while he is accused of murder as Spider-Man.
Together, they track down the source of the elaborate scheme to frame him and fight the Foreigner. Her apartment is fire-bombed by the Foreigner's hitman Blaze
Peter later discovers their relationship is just a ruse against him, and that she had secretly been in a relationship with The Foreigner. However, despite her anger during her ruse, Felicia begins to fall back onto her desire to love Peter.
Spider-Man comes home to discover Black Cat discussing her plans to ruin his life by framing him for murder, during a telephone-conversation with The Foreigner. Before he can catch her, she escapes. Spider-Man tracks her down to the Foreigner's apartment by attempting to trick Lt. Keating into revealing evidence as Peter Parker.
Peter then intercepts a phone-call on Keating's phone, which turns out to be Felicia, telling Keating to meet her. However this is a part of her plan, as she intentionally lured Spider-Man into finding her at the Foreigner's apartment, causing a fight to ensue between The Foreigner and Spider-Man.
Later she clears Spider-Man of his murder charge. In the end, the Black Cat double-crosses the Foreigner and Spider-Man, detailing her plan and her feelings towards Peter in a letter, also explaining that she has fled to Paris in order to start a new-life. This pushes Peter to find support and a new relationship with Mary Jane Watson.
Years later, the Black Cat returns to America, and goes "shopping" (actually shoplifting) with Dagger. She returns to her original costume, seeks out Peter Parker, and in a chance confrontation with Venom learns that Peter had married Mary Jane Watson.
Angry and jealous, Felicia begins harassing the couple, taunting Peter as by dating his friend Flash Thompson. She physically threatens Mary Jane, confronting her and swearing to ruin their marriage.
After Spider-Man uses a device to remove his superhuman abilities, the Black Cat aids him in finding the device again in order to restore them. In the process, the Black Cat's cat-like abilities are completely erased.
She realizes that she sincerely cares for Thompson, but when she proposes marriage he refuses her, saying that he was only interested in her because she was the ex-girlfriend of his idol, Spider-Man, but is implied that Flash actually cared for her.
The Black Cat later makes up with both Spider-Man and Mary Jane, becoming close friends with them. She subsequently purchases equipment from the Tinkerer to incorporate into her costume in order to compensate for her lost abilities, and occasionally teams up with Spider-Man.
After Spider-Man unmasks himself, the Black Cat is enraged because she felt that they shared a bond over knowing his identity. Though she is dating Thomas Fireheart (a.k.a. Puma), her new romantic interest notes that Felicia may still have some romantic inclinations toward Peter.
The Black Cat joins the new Heroes for Hire during the "Civil War" although Misty Knight believes that Felicia is just there for the money.
⚡ Happy 🎯 Heroclix 💫 Friday! 👽
_____________________________
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
Secret Identity: Felicia Sara Hardy
Publisher: Marvel
First appearance: The Amazing Spider-Man 194 (July 1979)
Created by: Marv Wolfman (writer)
Dave Cockrum (artist)
Keith Pollard (artist)
A very common sight in Seoul's traditional markets are these dried fish, tied in a string. There is almost always one who seems to have died a particularly traumatic end.
Gwangjang Market
Seoul, Korea
January 2021
This is a portrait of myself getting ready to transition from my everyday afro to a protective braided style, which I taught myself to do largely through YouTube tutorials over the years (the hair extensions I use are hanging behind me, forming a colourful backdrop).
For many Black women, hair plays an important role in our identity, in all the myriad ways we wear it. My personal hair journey, especially as someone whose natural hair is the tightest coil texture labelled 4C, has been long, and in some ways traumatic.
My hair has been shaved off entirely three times in my life - the first two times against my will, but the third time by my own hand, in full control.
The first time was when I was five years old, likely a case of lice, but coinciding with the year my family packed up and moved across the continent from Nigeria to Kenya.
The second time my head was shaved was when I was 12 years old, happening the year we moved back to Nigeria as a sort of grim bookend. Amidst the culture shock and familial reconnection, I was taken from having my hair braided for school to a barbershop to shave it all off, because the adults realized belatedly that the dress code for my new boarding school demanded it.
The third time my hair was shaved, I was 25 years old, and I did it myself, in full control of my choice this time. I had grown it out and had been perming it for several years by then, but one morning I woke up, looked at the tight curls of new growth in the mirror contrasting against the straightened ends, and with very little thought, took a pair of scissors and cut it all off.
This time, it was both my choice and a deeper embrace of my original hair texture fueled by a new wave of YouTube hair channels specific to my hair type, which gave me the confidence that I could actually work with what grew naturally from my scalp, unmediated.
Ten years in, wash days and braiding days while they may be long, remind me that I am choosing myself, over and over again, and that brings me the greatest joy.
“I’m interested in diverse layers of communication; paradoxically, of the wordless as an entity by which I mean, torn from the Tuscarora or Mohawk languages of my traditional belonging, I am presented with a void in my practice. Yet, I carry a reciprocal Responsibility of Knowledge, so returning to Six Nations as a participant in the land and an observer of its latent meanings, I have acquired a new enthusiasm through a de-essentialized process – of image gathering and being in a state of constant reflexive return. The dissociation brought about by my dilemma becomes a Wandering With Purpose that allows the gleaning of images and events as evidence stored within the land. Once this evidence is picked-up, I then decode and present what a wordless trauma would look like. Dissimilar images can also reveal unexpected affinities, as they shadowed one another.
I exist within the process of Transforming Belonging by way of selecting more complex images that challenge essential thinking. The images here are of deep personal connections to family, land and systemic deficits that continue to exist. Working through personal condolence countervails the dragging of an ancestral presence, which causes a traumatic shadow. The idea is to recognize that trauma precipitates a transitional stage of change.”
Greg Staats
I think it would be fair to say I've felt better !
Exhausted from lack of quality sleep and the discomfort of a newly fitted tracheotomy, following a surgical procedure that escalated into a traumatic and life threatening event.
None of this has stopped me from picking up a camera though .... gotta keep myself occupied :)
It's been a very traumatic, trying, difficult year for my oldest (here). I'm so thankful that she's still trying, still healing, still my daughter. Always moving forward.
Home from hospital Friday after quite a traumatic op. but as the song says, ...it's a new day... & this was what I awoke to on Monday morning.
"Come, dear. It'll be easier for you than it was for Jason."
('Pamela Voorhees' by NECA / from the Friday the 13th – 25th Anniversary Boxed Set)
Diorama by RK
Bruce and Edwyn are brothers and Gulf war veterans. After serving in 1991, they felt abandoned once they came back home. The fell into a life of drugs and alcohol. it leads them to become homeless during 20 years. Edwyn is very sick. Thanks to the VA (veteran affairs) program, they found a place to live.
Fabien Lasserre © all rights reserved
A war-weary Tommy sits thoughtfully, head bowed, rifle in hand, as he reflects upon the sheer horror of World War One during the first minute after peace was declared in 1918.
This imposing metal sculpture, entitled 1101, owing to the fact the armistice went into effect at 11am on November 11, 1918, stands 9ft 5ins tall and weighs 1.2 tonnes.
Built out of special corteen steel, it has been installed on Seaham seafront in Country Durham to mark the centenary of the start of the Great War and will remain in place for three months.
Created by local artist Ray Lonsdale, the sculpture is also intended to represent Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which many of the returning soldiers endured. Mr Lonsdale got his idea for the piece after hearing a story about a soldier from nearby Murton who won a war medal.
As I am sure a majority of you have read the past 4-5 years, California has endured one of the most traumatic droughts recorded in this part of the Planet. We literally went weeks and weeks during our Winter rainy seasons, without a cloud, not to mention any measurable precipitation.
We had a very wet Fall, and then about 3 weeks ago, "the storm door" opened and we have had almost Biblical rounds of rain and heavy snow in our Sierra Nevada Mtns (where we store all of our agricultural and urban water). One day last week a series of cells dropped over 9 inches (23cm) of rain at about 3500 ft (890 meters) elevation, and in the past three weeks, over 24 feet (6.5 meters) of snow has fallen in the high country. Skiers rejoice...
This afternoon, down in the Central Valley of California, we had a thunderstorm cell pass over that dropped over one inch (2.6 cm) of rain in about twenty minutes.
And then the sun broke out, and God said to us.... "don't worry, sunny days are ahead. Just watering my plants...."
More heavy stuff headed our way tonight and for the next few days.
Català / Español / English
La Bruixa Napa era Maria Pujol, una veïna de Prats de Lluçanès, filla de Cal Nap. Era una dona gran, i no se sabia de què treballava, però malgrat tot anava sobrevivint. Alguns veïns li donaven menjar, d’altres l’acusaven d’haver robat en els horts i les granges per poder viure, aixecant alguns recels en contra d’aquesta dona.
El 1766 va passar un fet traumàtic al poble. En un femer, es va trobar el cos esquarterat d’Anna Riambau, una nena de 4 anys. Els veïns van començar a indagar qui podia ser el culpable d’aquella mort, i alguns van començar a sospitar de la Bruixa Napa.
Alguns veïns van anar a veure a la Bruixa Napa, però quan aquesta va veure una gran gentada davant de casa seva, es va escapar entre la munió de gent de tal manera, que encara avui ningú s’explica com ho va fer. Alguns veïns van entrar a la casa, i hi van descobrir el braç esquerre d’Anna Riambau, i el fetge, d’aquesta nena, cuit en sang.
Els veïns van començar una batuda per trobar a la Bruixa Napa, i la van trobar a la costa de Sant Sebastià, al Roc Foradat, un indret que es diu que era utilitzat per aquesta Bruixa per fer els seus ungüents i per adorar al diable. Un cop la van trobar, la van detenir i la van portar al poble.
Per a poder-la jutjar, la van traslladar a Barcelona, i allà va ser acusada com a delinqüent, i va ser penjada a la forca. Malgrat que la sentència no la va acusar de bruixeria, per la gent del poble es va acabar la Bruixeria a Prats de Lluçanès.
A principis del segle XVII es van viure uns anys coneguts com “els mals anys”. Durant aquest temps, la població es va veure en serioses dificultats, doncs als estius hi havia grans sequeres i, als hiverns, hi feia molt fred. A més, aquests canvis climàtics van provocar un gran nombre de tempestes que van malmetre, encara més, les collites, i van permetre la propagació de malalties, augmentant la mortalitat infantil de la població.
La població, molt religiosa i analfabeta, volia buscar un culpable per explicar totes les penúries que estaven passant, i van trobar que l’únic que responsable era el mateix Diable, junt amb tots els seus deixebles, és a dir, les bruixes i els bruixots.
Entre el 1617 i el 1627, a Catalunya, els consells municipals van dirigir totes les ires del poble cap a la persecució de les bruixes i els bruixots. Van crear un seguit de jutjats encarregats de detenir, interrogar (on moltes vegades s’usaven diferents mètodes de tortura per obtenir confessions) i jutjar a les persones acusades de bruixeria. Durant aquesta època, també van aparèixer els caçadors de bruixes, persones que deien ser capaces de veure marques, invisibles a l’ull humà, que el diable havia deixat al cos dels seus deixebles (bruixes i bruixots). Moltes de les persones que van ser acusades de bruixeria van morir a la forca, en execucions públiques.
Semblava doncs que el 1627 es va acabar la persecució de bruixes i bruixots, doncs una part de l’església catòlica s’hi va oposar, a part de que els processos que es van dur a terme van deixar grans pèrdues econòmiques pels consells municipals. Però més de 100 anys més tard, la gent de Prats de Lluçanès va acusar a una veïna seva de bruixeria, era la Bruixa Napa.
**Trigger Warning** This chapter includes mildly gruesome details involving an accident and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
After making sure Vincent was really asleep and as comfortable as possible, Aiden gently stood from the bed and tried to decide the best course of action. He knew he should just head back to the port but he found himself concerned for Vincent's sake. He stood there, staring at the sleeping figure of the captain as he warred with himself to make a decision. Finally, he decided it was best if he stayed. So finding the chaise on the opposite wall near the foot of the bed, Aiden curled up and got as comfortable as he could. To be honest, he was pretty tired from this evening's events. However, as Vincent slept nearby, Aiden found he couldn't sleep as his thoughts were consumed by Vincent and all the mystery around him.
The next morning, there was the sound of a quiet bump and slight movement of something quietly scraping across the floor. Aiden could feel himself starting to wake up but he didn't want to. He felt so comfortable! He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of the sun upon his head and shoulders and it felt so nice. However, upon hearing a door quietly close, his eyes finally opened and he felt a little disorientated. It was really bright and he struggled to focus around him.
As Aiden shifted, he groaned softly to himself as his neck tensed from sleeping as he had on the chaise. Blinking, he looked around the room and his eyes began to adjust to the light which was when last night started to come back to him. He felt nervous. What did Vincent think of him staying here without permission? This could even cost him his job!
Aiden moved from the reclined position and began to sit up, swinging his feet down to the floorboards. He slid his hand up along the back of his neck, massaging with a yawn as he began to wake up more. As he did, he heard the sound of a door opening to his left. He glanced over and was surprised by what he saw, his eyes widening.
Vincent was standing there looking as shocked as he was, still dressed in his leather pants and black blouse with his hair in slight disarray and standing as if he was in pain. But what shocked Aiden was seeing both of Vincent's eyes open and uncovered for the first time. Aiden had seen the scar last night, but now he was seeing what lay underneath.
Whereas Vincent's left eye was a unique shade of blue that Aiden loved and reminded him of the sea, his right eye was oddly discolored an off-white and lightly veiny, the iris drained of color, and where his pupil would be looked to be a red mark which lined up with the scar on his brow and cheek as he stared straight ahead at Aiden.
Vincent, seeing the look of shock upon Aiden's face, licked his lips and quickly averted his gaze before he saw that disgust he was so accustomed to seeing. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing it in Aiden's eyes right now. He quickly walked to his luggage and hastily grabbed out a fresh pair of pants before ducking back into the restroom before Aiden could say or do anything.
Taken aback by how quickly all that just happened, Aiden stared at the closed door. Okay, that was unexpected. He wasn't sure what to think. It was not a pretty sight to see, certainly, but in truth Aiden didn't find himself put off by it. He'd just been surprised. But...what had happened?
Behind the closed door, Vincent began to strip down out of his clothes, silently cursing and scolding himself for making the mistake of not bringing the eyepatch with him. He hated the looks. He hated the disgust. Above all, he hated the pity. Once he'd changed out of his clothes, he set them aside and began to pull up the fresh pair of pants. That was much more comfortable. Sighing to himself, he unbraided his hair and ran his fingers through it and stared at himself in the small mirror, steeling himself so he could get through whatever was about to happen.
When Vincent emerged once again, he saw Aiden still seated on the chaise. Still not looking directly at Aiden, feeling afraid of what he'd see in his gorgeous eyes, he looked off to the side and began to approach. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, he brought his hand up and began to toy with his hair and gave a soft clearing of his throat.
"I wanted to say thank you for...for your assistance last night in helping me find my way home. I am fine now."
Aiden had watched as Vincent approached. He'd expected Vincent to be stoic and professional about the whole thing but instead Vincent appeared so vulnerable. His body posture spoke volumes to the younger man.
Honestly, Aiden was bursting with questions! As he gazed at Vincent's face, he replied, "I couldn't have just left you there like that. I didn't mean to impose, but I was concerned and wanted to make sure you were alright this morning." Vincent rotated his head on his neck, willing the tension to release a bit more as he continued to avoid looking at Aiden. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine, thank you, Aiden. There's no need to be concerned."
Vincent turned away from Aiden and began to head towards the kitchen area of his flat. "Would you like some coffee before you go?" he asked, wishing Aiden would decline and leave and pretend like this whole thing hadn't happened.
Aiden bit his lower lip, then decided it was now or never. "Would you tell me what happened?" he asked in a gentle pleading tone. He watched Vincent's shoulders hunch slightly and noticed his head gazing down as he hugged himself. He could tell Vincent was warring with himself, which is exactly what was happening.
Vincent liked Aiden despite his initial uncertainty about the guy, but he didn't want to tell him more than he needed to know. He didn't like people getting close. Sure, he trusted Damien but Damien had been there for years and walked this journey with Vincent whereas he only knew Aiden for just a month. But somehow, he could feel his wall breaking down just a touch more. "What is there to say, Aiden? It was just an accident. It's not a pleasant story; kind of gruesome. You don't really want to hear it. Please trust me."
"But it will help me understand you better," Aiden replied, turning more on the chaise as he gazed at the back of Vincent's head. "I really do want to know. Please, Vincent?"
The moment his name left Aiden's lips, Vincent felt an odd warmth spread through his chest as his eyes closed. In the midst of his depressing, painful memories, the sound of the younger man's voice speaking his name to him seemed to ease the tension somehow. Slowly, he lowered his arms and turned to look at Aiden; finally looking right at him. He could see that concern and sincerity in those gorgeous eyes. There was no pity or disgust there. He saw Aiden's lips curve into a soft, encouraging smile where one of his dimples started peeking just a tiny bit.
"Has...has Damien told you anything?"
"Nothing, I swear."
Vincent looked away from Aiden and walked towards the window, folding his arms over his bare chest as he gazed out the window and beside the chaise. For a moment, he looked like he may not speak after all. Yet he gave a soft sigh and began to explain, choosing what to say with care.
"It was a little over three years ago," he began. "Leon's Claw was in port a few towns away from here and we were getting ready to depart." Vincent moved away from the window and began to slowly pace as he continued, hands coming up and running through his hair. "It was like any other day loading up cargo. I was standing on deck going over the ledger and doing the final count when it happened." Vincent took a deep breath then let it out as he let himself just...talk. "We were transporting a load of gunpowder and the box must have had some residue because there was an explosion. It was...a freak accident. We figured that one of the embers must have escaped the boilers and caught one of the crates as it was being lowered into the ship."
Aiden's eyes widened at the information before grimacing. "Oh no," he murmured. Vincent nodded, still pacing slowly as he forced himself to keep talking. "When the crates exploded, some of the thin metal shrapnel lodged itself into my eye." Vincent's hand came up to cover his right eye, the memory of the excruciating pain of the burning metal piercing his skull coming back. "I don't remember a whole lot, but I vaguely remember hearing Damien screaming my name and this... white hot, blinding pain radiating from my face." Vincent swallowed hard, pausing before the fireplace and placing his hands on the mantle. "I was told afterwards that I'd fallen to the ground right in the path of the falling mast. The explosion has broken it in half. He'd rushed to push me out of the way just in time but it landed on him instead; specifically his left upper arm."
Behind him, Aiden stared at his back with wide eyes and felt horror as he listened to the terrorizing story. "So that’s why Damien has a mechanical arm?" he inquired. Vincent's fingers clenched the mantle as he nodded, staring down at the empty fireplace. Biting his lower lip, he inhaled deeply through his nose below slowly letting it out before replying regretfully, "There was no saving it. He saved my life but lost his arm in the process. So I had it replaced for him."
Aiden licked his lips and brought his forearms to his knees as he leaned forward slightly, staring down at the floorboards as he processed everything. Damien was a prideful man who loved to boast; especially about himself. He sure knew how to tell a story, too! He'd saved Vincent's life and received a beautiful and powerful mechanical arm, a gift from his best friend. Aiden knew Damien was quite proud of it. He figured Damien would see it as proof of his heroism yet had never even mentioned it.
"I didn't realize- I'm sorry for my ignorance," he began before Vincent shook his head and cut him off. "Don't be," he responded quietly. "We agreed not to speak of it unless necessary for my sake. He knows I don't want or like the attention."
"I understa-"
"No, you don't!"
The cutting response was sharp and so unexpected it made Aiden jump! Vincent was hunched over the fireplace slightly, fingers curled and his fingernails scraping against the mantel. His body was tense as he clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. "You don't know what it's like, Aiden! No one does and they NEVER will!" As his voice raised, he turned and began storming his way past Aiden, blindly pacing as he unleashed his pent up frustrations.
"Men never look me in the eyes anymore! Women whisper behind their fans and avoid my gaze at formal events and hope I won't look their way! I'm a fucking MONSTER! Even mothers on the street clutch their childr-" He cut himself off abruptly as he stood there facing Aiden, lips pressed together as his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Aiden watched as Vincent's eyes flicked to the picture frame he'd kept beside his bed. A moment later in silence, Vincent turned and sat down on the edge of his bed facing away from Aiden, hunching forward with his forearms pressed to his knees. A moment later, his shoulders began to tremble as he pressed his face into his hands.
Aiden sat there for a long moment, eyes wide as he stared at Vincent from where he sat. He was stunned! It took him a moment to realize that Vincent was crying. Vincent looked so defeated as he sat there with his shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed. Aiden felt so lost as to what to say or do to this poor man who was so traumatized by his past. There had to be more to this than just the accident.
"Vincent, I'm so sorry. You're right, I don't know what it is like. But you are NOT a monster."
"Yes I am!"
"No, you're not. You are a good man."
"A good man would have been here in time! Fucking Hell! A good man would have not even left them in the first place! HOW AM I A GOOD MAN?!"
As Vincent broke into silent sobs once again, Aiden's gaze wandered towards the small picture frame of Vincent and the pregnant woman. An ominous feeling washed over him as he remembered hearing how bad the plague had hit the capital three years ago which was around the time of Vincent's accident. Was it possible that an injured, stranded Vincent couldn't get home to his wife and child in time?
Vincent was so sure that Aiden was going to think he was absolutely pathetic! If he hadn't lost the respect of his engineer before, he sure as bloody Hell did now! He tried to stop crying but he found now that he'd begun that he couldn't stop! Vincent felt the bed shift on his left, feeling embarrassed as he realized Aiden was sitting beside him on the bed.
It was about a minute later and Vincent's tears began to slow. He gave a sniff and wiped at his nose, feeling utterly embarrassed. He was about to apologize when he heard Aiden's soft voice pipe up beside him, "You know, I think you look quite dashing even without the eyepatch."
Vincent blinked in surprise, his teary eyes turning to look at Aiden. What was THAT supposed to mean?! "Y-you think I look dashing?" Vincent's cheeks blossomed in a rosy color as he glanced away in embarrassment. "I'm not dashing!" he exclaimed. "I'm not like...like...Damien! Damien is dashing. Me? Nuh uh!"
"Damien? Are you serious? He's like a damn peacock! 'Oh look at me! I'm so pretty! Worship me and my dashing good looks!'"
Vincent stared with wide eyes, lips parted in surprise as he witnessed Aiden imitating Damien with quite the accuracy; even going as far as to imitate his cocky smirk! And very suddenly and without warning, Vincent doubled over with laughter! Five seconds later, he caught himself and immediately stopped. He covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide in surprise as he stared at Aiden with an embarrassed blush coloring his cheeks! Aiden suddenly beamed, his dimples on full display as he placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, "So you DO know how to laugh after all!" He chuckled and smirked slightly. "Don't worry, Captain, I won't tell anyone."
Vincent blinked and then started to laugh again, lowering his hands as he wrapped them around his own abdomen. "Oh God, Aiden! The Hell am I gonna do with you?!" he asked even as he chuckled and wiped away the tears from his eyes. Aiden simply gave a small smile and lowered his hands to his lap. "Let's start with that coffee. No pressure to talk. Only when you're ready, IF you're ready. Okay?"
Vincent gazed at him, surprise and uncertainty filling him at once. No pressure? No need to talk? Just coffee? Really? A slight smile tugged at the corner of Vincent's lips and he gave a small nod. "Okay."
For a long moment, the men sat side by side and gazed into each other's eyes. Vincent had been so afraid that he'd see disgust in Aiden's gorgeous blue eyes. Instead, he saw only acceptance. Vincent smiled a little more and then stood from the bed, wiping his eyes free of tears. Somehow, Aiden made it better just by being here. How did that kid manage to break his wall down like that?! There was just something about Aiden...
Aiden allowed his gaze to follow Vincent's retreating figure. As it did, his eyes wandered a bit and took in the sight of how his rear was hugged just the right way by his pants. Not wanting to be caught dead staring at THAT, his gaze shifted quickly and settled on Vincent's elaborate and beautiful Celtic-style raven tattoo. He found he admired how it curved around his slender body. Catching how Vincent's tattoo dipped down below his belt line of his pants, a small little smirk grew on Aiden's lips. As he bit his lower lip, he couldn't help but wonder...how far down DID that tattoo go?
Next Part:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/51040325757/in/datepo...
To read the rest of the story, here's the album link: www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127
***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***
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**Special thank you to Vin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!
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Just seventy-two hours ago this tulip basked in the warmest day of the year in Britain. Spring had sprung - but snow bounced straight back this morning. Traumatic times for a tulip.
Explore 195
Model: Amanda Lynn Joyce
Costume Pieces: Krys Bailey, Le Chat Noir
I'm posting this a bit out of order, but I loved this one so much it had to go up first. The concept for this series was thought up for Dark Beauty's "Secrets" Photo Contest.
I imagined "The Keeper of Secrets". She's tall, confident, hungry. She eats their secrets to feed her soul. Mouthless, so no one ever has to worry that she will confide. They travel far to unburden themselves, in a place open but that no one will ever find. You may recognize her from the previous image I posted.
This specific picture is the release of secrets, of stories and experiences that tear at their souls.
Hope you like it, more to come!
Its given me so much, been a silent observer to my thoughts and given me a perfect hiding place to observe the multitude of birds & animals that live in and around it.
Jings...tonight was a complete adrenalin rush...in both good ways and bad.
The bad I'll gloss over...it was traumatic enough at the time. However, suffice it to say that I finally made it into "the pit" just as Usher was on stage for the start of his first song...with my stress levels through the roof. Still, better late than never?
As for the good...man, what a complete rush shooting this was. In contrast to many gigs, there was a ton of light to work with...almost too much as there were panning spotlights regularly shining right into my lens.
Still...I do love a challenge...and indeed the trickier the shoot...the more I love it.
It was a very high energy show...and Usher is a very dynamic performer...great to photograph...and moments like this are always special...if you are lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time...with the right exposure set...and have it in focus! :-)
My grateful thanks are due to Alex Hewitt from The Scotsman, Kirstin McLetchie from Outside PR, and Debbie McWilliams the SECC Box Office Manager, for their assistance in getting me a pass and (finally!) into the gig to shoot.