Bushra @bushrazkhan - Tumblr Blog

The complexity of my brother and I

Has existed a thousand times

Via @/user68519586 on TikTok / Joseph Fasano / Brother by Murder By Death / From Aquatic odyssey - A photographic trip into the sixties by Don Snyder / Inscriptions Cain Read in Abel’s Eyes by Silvina Ocampo / Icarus by the Crane Wives / The Plagues by Ralph Fiennes & Amyck Byram / Unknown Artist / Article about Cain and Abel on Wikipedia / Unknown Author / Unknown Artist / Nathaniel Orion / Rabbi Joseph Telushkin / Unknown Artist / a search for God by BELOVEDVIOLENCE / I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson / Photography by Denise Baumgartner / Quote taken from this post

arylleth

The books taught me that when we live through traumatic experiences, our brains take in the things around us that are causing the greatest threat, and they encode these things deep into our subconscious as sources of danger. Let’s say, for example, that you are hit by a car. Your brain registers the noise of the car screeching to a halt, the grille speeding toward you. It shoots out an onslaught of stress chemicals like adrenaline and cortisol that elevate your heart rate and blood pressure, narrowing your focus to the thump of the impact and the pain and the sound of an ambulance. But at the same time, your brain is subconsciously taking in thousands of other pieces of stimuli: the foggy weather, the Krispy Kreme at the intersection, the color and make and model of the car, the Midwestern accent of the guy who hit you, his blue Wolverines T-shirt. And your brain imprints deep inside itself the powerful connections between these stimuli and this pain. These associations are stored in your brain along with the corresponding emotions from that day. And they often do not come with full stories. Therefore, your brain might not encode the logical connection between the Krispy Kreme and the car crash. It might simply encode: KRISPY KREME. DANGER. The result is that when you see a glazed doughnut or a blue Wolverines T-shirt, you might become uneasy without understanding why. Your brain is recognizing a pattern that it has flagged with life-or-death importance, and reflexively shoots out what it believes to be the appropria emotional response. This reflex might manifest in a big wa like a panic attack. Or it might manifest in a smaller way, like suddenly feeling very grumpy. You might decide that you’re irritated at your girlfriend for a mildly stupid thing she said that morning and text her to say so. None of this, of course, is reasonable or rational. But your brain is not trying to be reasonable. It’s trying to save your life. If someone pulls out a gun near us, we shouldn’t need to ponder for a few minutes about the make and model of the gun and how guns work and what caliber the bullets might be and the amount of damage they might do. If we see a gun, we need to know one thing, and we need to know it fast: GET DOWN. MOVE. RUN. What we might think of as emotional outbursts—anxiety, depression, lashing out in anger—aren’t always just petty, emotional failings. They may be reflexes designed protect us from things our brain has encoded as threats. And these threatening inputs are what many people call triggers. No, having triggers doesn’t make you a fragile little snowflake. It makes you human. Everyone has them, or wi have them eventually, because everyone will experience some form of trauma. That annoying blank stare your ex used to give you. The sound of the ventilator your grandmother was hooked up to in the weeks before she died. Having an emotional response to a trigger is perfectly healthy. Those triggers are only considered PTSD when an event is so traumatic that its triggers cause symptoms like panic attacks, nightmares, blackouts, and flashback when the emotional response becomes debilitating. And here’s what makes complex PTSD uniquely miserable in the world of trauma diagnoses: It occurs when someone is exposed to a traumatic event over and over and over again—hundreds, even thousands of times—over the course of years. When you are traumatized that many times, the number of conscious and subconscious triggers bloats, becomes infinite and inexplicable. If you are beat for hundreds of mistakes, then every mistake becomes dangerous. If dozens of people let you down, all people become untrustworthy. The world itself becomes a threat. PT 2

#urdu aesthetic #urdu stuff #urdu poetry #urdushairi #urduthoughts #urdu poems #rekhta #hindi poetry #sad poetry

important-animal-images

ink-feathers-and-paper

This cat looks so much like mine I though it was her for a minute !!

Her back is white though.

that-weird-skeleton-bastard

#motherhood #mother #existence #existential thoughts #existentialism #existential dread #existential crisis #mental health advice #childhood

gingernutsenthusiast

a foreigner is a foreigner everywhere (variations on the theme of home)

[ Clementine von Radics, ‘Courtney Love Prays To Oregon’ // The backyard of my family home with my parents’ first dog, in Boda, Hungary, early 2000s // Fatimah Asghar, ‘How’d Your Parents Die Again?’ // Brandon Melendez, ‘How to Write Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle into a Promise to Return Home’ // My dad on the main street of the village I grew up in, 2005 // Melendez, ‘How to Write Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle into a Promise to Return Home’ // Keleti Railway Station in Budapest, 1900 // Melendez, ‘How to Write Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle into a Promise to Return Home’ // The hills of my childhood landscape, the Mecsek mountain range in South-West Hungary // Casey McQuiston, Red, White & Royal Blue // My childhood home in Hungary, 2004 // James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room // My parents’ first house being built by friends and family members, around 1995 // @wvterways on tumblr // The iconic 25-story high-rise building of Pécs, my birthplace, 1985. The building became a ghost town in 2003 (incidentally, the year of my birth) and was then demolished in 2016 // @waitineedaname on tumblr // Uránváros, (a city district in Pécs, Hungary) in 1960, the neighbourhood of my grandparents’ apartment // @ohevoyev on tumblr // Danez Smith, ‘from “summer, somewhere”’ // Hungarian Parliament Building, 1896 // @electraheart2012 on tumblr // Analogue picture of Kőbánya-Alsó (Budapest X. District), the neighbourhood of our Budapest apartment // @cruellesummer on tumblr, lyrics from taylor swift’s my tears ricochet // Barbara Cassin, ‘Odysseus and the Day of Return’ in Nostalgia: When Are We Ever at Home? // Stage design of the 1975’s 2022 ‘At Their Very Best’ Tour // Bohemian Betyárs, Lebegő // The campsite of the summer camp I used to go to as a child, Óbánya, Hungary // Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves // Cassin, ‘Odysseus and the Day of Return’ // Trinity College Dublin (my university), covered in snow, 1994 // Neil Gaiman, American Gods // Esterházy, Péter. ‘A mi a bánat’, Élet és Irodalom, 1996. 51–52.]

#writerscreed #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writers #writing #booksmart #books and libraries #female writers #depression #mental illness

#writerscreed #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writers #writing #desi things #rekhta #urdu stuff #urdu poems #urdu literature #urdupoetry #urdu ghazal #urduposts

dastur-e-ishq

"Sometimes life brings back to you everything that was once lost to you, including “love” but by that time, you manage to become self-sufficient."

Bano Qudsia

#writerscreed #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writers #writerslife #writing #female writers #writer things #motherhood #mother #mother wound #child psychology #mental abuse #emotions #daughter #desi things

#rekhta #urduadab #urdu ghazal #urdu poems #urdu literature #urdupoetry #urdu poetry #urdu aesthetic #desi aesthetic #desi things

#typography #excerpt from a book i'll never write #writeblr #writerscreed #writerslife

mossbawn

you dont like reading you despise reading thats why youre constantly shitting on the classics and ‘literary’ fiction because when confronted with these profound works of art you become uncomfortably aware of how narrow your own world view is, how shallow the depths of your emotion. you want books you can squee about with other people like you and you want porn that fills your bookshelf and makes you seem quirky and well-read and intelligent even though you can’t read any fiction of a high standard bc the big words make ur head hurt. you want collectors items you want badges that signify your acceptance into the soulless echo chamber of booktok. you believe books should only ever make you feel turned on or compelled to write a viral tweet and when people challenge this way of reading even slightly you lash out bc you are incredibly insecure and deep down are keenly aware of how performative your entire way of being has become. same music same books same clothes as everyone on your fyp and you dont *like* any of it not really you like fitting in you like being a part of the ingroup and live in absolute terror of being othered in any way. its fine tho the first step of getting out of this cycle is learning to love ‘ugly’ people and reading some ursula le guin

Dil mera beqarar rehta hai

Jaane kya intezar rehta hai

Sookhe patton sa bikharta jaata hun

Khud pe na ikhtiyar rehta hai

Uski aadat fareb dena hai

Par mujhe aitbar rehta hai

Main to bas sabaat-e-sehra hun

Aur woh sadabahar rehta hai

Roz likhta hun aur mitata hun

Raaz-e-dil barqarar rehta hai

Mujhe koi gila nahi lekin

Woh kyun sharmsar rehta hai