Whenever thoughts are too much for me, I try to focus my focus my eyes on the black presented whilst they’re closed. Don’t think about all the stuff that’s bothering you, just focus on that bit of black, right there in front of you. keep focusing long enough, and it always sends me to sleep.
Course, I also take a muscle relaxer (or couple benedryl if I’m out) before bedtime and that shit helps immensely lol
“But I was too drunk to remember doing it!” is an interesting defense. Maybe if he gets a good lawyer they can claim since he didn’t take anything, he may have just been drunkenly trying to do business with his bank, without realizing it was closed. Plead it down to drunk and disorderly with a destruction of private property instead of, ya know, trying robbing a bank.
Biking to the local pool to spend an entire day. Low-dive and high-dive until my eyes couldn’t take any more of the chlorine. Take a short break where I’d use my allowance to buy a choco-taco or big ol’ ice cream cookie sandwhich. The days when I never thought twice about my protruding little boy belly being visible. I was friendly with one of the life-guards, who was real hairy so we called him wolf-man. I’d get up on the diving board and ask him what trick I should do next, and he’d call it out. Haven’t been able to find a good high-dive at a pool in a long time.
Days when I’d venture out into the neighborhood, going door to door trying to collect enough kids for a proper game of kickball. One day one of the kids dad’s came out and played with us, and it was such a blast.
Biking to my school during summer break to play on the playground, finding a huge dumptruck load of mulch had been deposited on the blacktop, and I was able to kind of bike up one side and hop off. Spent hours on that mulch pile
Rollerblading in the neghborhood, using my older brothers skateboard ramp to do tricks. One time I went door-to-door, telling my neighbors that I was going to do a rollerblading trick show, and if they wanted to come outside and watch it would cost them a dollar. Think I made like 5 dollars, had some nice adults come stand at the end of their driveway, watching me do jumps off the ramp for like 7 minutes. I finished on a 360 spin with a grab to a patient golf-clap that seemed at the time just short of thunderous applause.
My childhood home had a skylight, and I would use the sunbeam like a blanket, with just my head poking out into the shade. It was wonderful.
It sucked, but it was the right call. As soon as I got sober, I realized that we didn’t belong together. To put it plainly, I didn’t enjoy spending time with her. Something the alcohol masked tremendously. Luckily I had some support from friends, but even that came with caveats. I went from being respected, to being seen as a creepy outsider within my friend group, which was very weird. I hosted two great parties whilst married, and once single, I decided to throw a Halloween costume party rager, and nobody showed up. It’s like taking a very large cut to your social standing.
I also had some random people come out the woodwork trying to jump my bones, and it was such a turn-off, gave me the ick. I honestly should have just moved to a new city after the divorce, it would have made things easier.
I made the same mistake a lot of freshly de-coupled people make, trying to date WAY too early. Like, 6 months after the end of a decade long relationship, is not the time to start a new long-term relationship. As time goes on, now I’m 3 years post-divorce, and due to some more personal turmoil, I’m only now opening myself up to the possibility of trying to date again. It sucks that doing the right thing is usually also the hard thing, and takes time to get over.
Man, I love that movie totally unironically. Cannibal Hugh Grant, dude.
I mean, little dude peaked at two months old as emperor of Russia, then was Man-in-the-Iron-Masked until his death, right at the moment of his release.
Russian or Greek, it’s a freaking tragedy. I hope the guard that followed orders in killing him before he could be released was subsequently wrecked. Freaking bootlickers, man. They exist in every century.
Upon the accession of Peter III in 1762, Ivan’s situation seemed about to improve, for the new emperor visited him and sympathised with his plight, but Peter was deposed just a few months later. New instructions were sent to Ivan’s guardian to place manacles on his charge, and even to scourge him should he become unmanageable.
Dang. Upon the doorstep of deliverance, a new emperor visiting your cell, empathizing with your position, only to have him deposed just as ruthlessly, and your situation made all the worse. How is this a real story and not some terrible ancient Greek tragedy?
Yup, ok, that’s like trying to sleep on extra super difficult mode. Follow all the advice you like on here, but definitely get yourself some sleep meds. A therapist can prescribe them for you, and they’re typically easier and cheaper to find/schedule than a regular doctor.