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Today, I had a 3pm meeting with a client
We met inside his car. For lymphatic drainage massage, consultation, career coaching & progress report. It's been a month of communication by messenger.
I got my professional fee & a gift(good will). He bought in Singapore city. I love the perfume & tea. Also my professional fee. Yehey!!! What makes you happy during weekends?

Birds of a feather flock together ....?

1111

So where I started was with connection. Because, by the time you're a social worker for 10 years, what you realize is that connection is why we're here. It's what gives purpose and meaning to ourlives. This is what it's all about. It doesn't matter whether you talk to people who work in socialjustice and mental health and abuse and neglect, what we know is that connection, the ability tofeel connected, is - neurobiologically that's how we're wired - it's why we're here. So I thought, youknow what, I'm going to start with connection. Well you know that situation where you get anevaluation from your boss, and she tells you 37 things you do really awesome, and one thing - anopportunity for growth? (Laughter) And all you can think about is that opportunity for growth, right. Well apparently this is the way my work went as well, because, when you ask people aboutlove, they tell you about heartbreak. When you ask people about belonging, they'll tell you theirmost excruciating experiences of being excluded. And when you ask people about connection, thestories they told me were about disconnection.

So very quickly - really about six weeks into this research - I ran into this unnamed thing thatabsolutely unraveled connection in a way that I didn't understand or had never seen. And so Ipulled back out of the research and thought, I need to figure out what this is. And it turned out tobe shame. And shame is really easily understood as the fear of disconnection. Is there somethingabout me that, if other people know it or see it, that I won't be worthy of connection. The things Ican tell you about it: it's universal; we all have it. The only people who don't experience shamehave no capacity for human empathy or connection. No one wants to talk about it, and the lessyou talk about it the more you have it. What underpinned this shame, this "I'm not goodenough," - which we all know that feeling: "I'm not blank enough. I'm not thin enough, richenough, beautiful enough, smart enough, promoted enough." The thing that underpinned thiswas excruciating vulnerability, this idea of, in order for connection to happen, we have to allowourselves to be seen, really seen.

Well, it's that time of the year again in the Northern Hemisphere. What is your preferred method of control, eradication, sting avoidance etc? I have been a Mosquito assassin for at least the last 10 years.

Help...

For 25yrs I lived on the side of a main road which they had promised to bypass within a year of our moving in.

It was horrific, the noise, the dirt, the fumes, the accidents and fatalities etc etc

We made the most of it and concentrated on making indoors comfortable and to block out as much disruption as possible.

I then had the misfortune to find myself living in the flight path of a fast growing airport.

My house now has a buyer and for health reasons I can't move where I'd planned to.

The air traffic has increased 15 fold according to reports I found on the internet but we no longer seem to be getting them flying over.

I managed to find a little comment saying that they'd re-routed the traffic in order to have less impact on the new building close by. Thousands of houses being built.

My question is. Once the building programme is over and all new houses are sold will they reinstate the old flight path.

I'd really like to stay here. It's a great place to be and I won't handle a move very well.

Thanks for reading this my friends.

Hi, guys, I want to send a global message of hope, friendship and peace. Will my CS friends help me? Message me or comment here and I will message you. I will cost nothing but your time.

Anyone else here depressed and miserable or is it just me having all the fun?

As time goes on, your immunity will drop and it would be necessary to have a booster shot.
That's my take on the subject.

...Not rising initially to the status of an actual disesae, much of human suffering is designated as syndromes. Constelations of related signs and symptoms. For example, ueber left biased medical nosology "researchers", have for some time pushed hard cavalierly to call addictions "diseases", when given the incomplete knowledge of these, along with the huge personal behavioral choices involved, and much more, many think syndromes make far more sense. Similar issues surround the huge topic, affecting tiny minorities, of homosexual choices of behaviors. But we are making progress in naming such things. The latest research has expanded the name of a relatively new disorder, mostly Psychiatric in nature, adding details to increase specific validity. This should aid greatly in further studies. We now see TD/HDS in more and more peer reviewed medical publications. Trump Derangement/Hilary Deficit Syndrome lives on, in high grades of severity, and few effective therapeutic options curently exist for these troubled affected individuals. Perhaps I'll follow with findings from the latest research. But the problem is widespread and growing. We see some of the saddest perhaps hopeless cases here right on CS. Prayers for all.

I went shopping at the Sears in North Hollywood last week and I'm not sure why. I hadn't shopped at a Sears in years (yes, I know that rhymes) but something drew me in. Maybe it was nostalgia or maybe it was an act of defiance in this age of 'techonomics'. A flip-off to Jeff Bezos from a soon-to-be fossil...for whatever that's worth. Then again, maybe it's because the clothing shelves and racks were teeming with stuff I needed and in sizes that fit...go figure. Or maybe I was trying to ease the old girl's pain amid the inevitable death throes? Anyway, I spent about $160 which, and as it pertains to resuscitating the floundering behemoth, felt a bit like spitting on a beached whale.