Hello! I know a lot of people out there are diagnosed with life altering diseases or disorders, and I wanted to share a way to possibly relieve your stress or worries, even if for a few minutes. It is called ASMR. It stands for autonomous sensory meridian response. I’ve been on tumblr for a while and I have yet to see a single person reblog/make any post to do with ASMR, so I decided to make a masterpost.
Here is a brief explanation: You know when you hear noises/sounds or see movements that make you feel relaxed or feel good? Or you would like to hear/see them again because it is pleasurable for your eyes/ears? That is what ASMR is. It is videos or audio that people create with a series of quiet events that help relax your brain. Also, if you are very sensitive to ASMR, it gives you a light tingly sensation in the back of your neck, on your scalp, down your spine, etc. If this explanation wasn’t sufficient or you would just like to know more, click here to read the Wikipedia article on ASMR.
What it does: ASMR can relax you, help you sleep, relieve stress, calm your nerves, temporarily ease your disorders, and boost your self esteem if you watch the right videos. Hereis an article of someone describing their personal experience and some more benefits of ASMR.
Now let’s talk about triggers: ASMR “triggers” are specific noises that make you feel good. You know that person with the soothing voice you couldn’t stop listening to? Or when someone tapped their nails and it gave you goosebumps? That is considered ASMR. Some more examples of sounds people enjoy include:
Yo dawg, I heard you like roleplays, so go HERE for the roleplay Queen of Serene. She will do your makeup, align your chakras, cook for you. You are part of her kingdom now.
Do you want more clean cut videos? Something therapeutic? Go HERE for stress relief central.This guy is an expert. It may not be as warm, but boy will it get the job done. You know, I love stress relief. Who doesn’t? So HERE is another relaxing channel. He specializes in massage techniques, whispering, and like any other artist he dabbles in a bit of everything. Plus he has a nice accent :D
3. Specific ASMR Videos
Maybeyou’re still tentative about this whole experience. Maybe you don’t want to swim through a sea of videos to find one or two that you like. I’m here for you. I have compiled a list of specific videos that I enjoy. I’ll put them into categories for you. I’ve lumped them together as I see fit, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you feel that they fit into these categories. Feel free to click whichever ones you want.
TINGLES FAST: This category is if you do experience those delicious “tingles”. Sometimes you just don’t have time for a twenty minute ASMR video. This link will direct you to a playlist consisting of nine videos that are FAST TWO-MINUTE TINGLES, HERE.
QUICK TIP: It really helps to wear headphones. Some ASMR videos are “Binaural”, which mean the sound moves from ear to ear. This will not work without headphones, so I would wear them.
This concludes my ASMR masterpost. PLEASE REBLOGbecause somebody with anxiety, depression, insomnia, any other disorder, or someone that just wants to be relaxed may need to see this list because it could help them. SIGNAL BOOST THISbecause I feel ASMR doesn’t get any recognition and it could potentially relax someone who is in very desperate need of it. This list is very short when it comes to the ASMR videos I watch, so if you need any help or want video suggestions please message me.
There also is the possibility that this isn’t your cup of tea, and that’s perfectly fine, even though I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. But if you haven’t tried it you should really give it a go. Stay safe, stay relaxed, and stay calm, sweet babies.
uh i wanted to add my favorite artists!!!
some of them may have been(and have been!!) mentioned in this post but its nice to always have a second opinion agreeing with the first isnt it?
but it may save someone a hellish future. If you are having a gluten issue and have lactose intolerance please try to use lactaid only. I have had issues with an off brand of lactaid and it didn’t end well I was up all night trying not to throw up and I’m still feeling like shit so please be careful out there.
The brand I used was ‘quality choice' and I def recommend you, if you haven't already, to switch to lactaid.
only use lactaid if you have a lactose and gluten intollerance! DON’T GO CHEAP OFF BRAND!
i hate when people say that women should dress more modestly in order to “leave something to the imagination”. leave what to the imagination? what do people think is under my clothes? a mass of algae? memes? shinji ikari?
Hello! I just wondering about your prints, doesn't it have to be CMYK in order for the colours to be shown well? If you work only in SAI (which doesn't support CMYK), how does the colour of your prints turn out well? Do you edit it in Photoshop, if so, how? Sorry if this has been asked before, and thank you for reading!
Heyo! Sorry for this belated response. Cmyk printing is something I’m still trying to figure it out myself so I can only give tips from personal experience. Yes, I only work in SAI and it doesn’t support CMYK unfortunately. I always edit in Photoshop afterwards. What you can do it ideally test print your images at home with your own printer or there are some online printing companies that allow you to order actual hard copy proofs of your images so you can edit accordingly which is super helpful!
In Photoshop (I’m using Photoshop CS6), there are several ways to do this. One method is to covert image to CMYK mode under Image > Mode > CMYK Color. This usually merges all your layers though.
Another is if you’re working in RGB profile you can go under View > Proof colors. This sets the profile you want to simulate or test with overriding normal display color management so basically it’s showing you the CMYK colors as it would print on paper. Not super exact but gives you an idea. It appears duller than RGB profile.
You can edit your colors as and keep checking the Proof Colors option on and off to try to get it to how you like.
Something to keep in mind while you’re working with cmyk printing is the gamut colors. Gamut is basically the range of colors that a color system can display or print. Most RGB colors are too vibrant, thus out-of-gamut, and are unprintable.
You can see which color won’t print under View > Gamut Warning. Click and Unclick to see which colors are out of range.
You can also color pick a color in your drawing, open up the color picker and it should give you this warning icon that shows you it is out of range. Clicking on it will give you the CMYK substitute which is usually much duller. You can also So in regards to my illustration, the bright blue color of the sky will not print and will be replaced automatically with a color replaced within the CMYK scale.
Clicking View > Gamut Warning while in color picker, shows you exactly where the printable color range is (image below). So in regards to the blue sky of my sousuke drawing, that color will not print.
OH Another thing… my colleague gave me some tips with Color Settings when I printed out assignments for school. In Photoshop, go to Edit > Color Settings and select Adobe RGB (1998) for RGB. It provides a larger gamut range for RGB which helps when you’re converting to CMYK! And it prints fairly true to what I see on my screen! YAhoo!!!
Adjusting colors is complicated and it takes some experience to get right! T_T GOOD LUCK! I hope this was somewhat helpful! There are way more helpful links and explanations online too so yeah don’t…take my word on it because I’m still learning myself…. Eep.
please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.
all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.
Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher.
Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts.
We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day.
Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it)
That is, until Ms. Mormino came along.
Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!”
Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance.
The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl.
At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up.
We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though.
Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy.
"I have a shoe."
Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit.
A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him."
Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away.
A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside.
"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone.
Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris.
Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind.
Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.
"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing.
”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino.
”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded.
"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled.
Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter.
"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.
Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.
Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino.
And pissed right in his pants.
The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb.
We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided.
Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed:
”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!”
A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.
"That’s what she said."
Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.
This is the big, scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as “getting over it.” The five stages of grief model marks universal stages in learning to accept loss, but the reality is in fact much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.” You are different now, full stop.
This is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strength and joy. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve or present things as normal. It is to acknowledge and wear your new life — warts, wisdom, and all — with courage.
2. Presence is always better than distance.
There is a curious illusion that in times of crisis people “need space.” I don’t know where this assumption originated, but in my experience it is almost always false. Trauma is a disfiguring, lonely time even when surrounded in love; to suffer through trauma alone is unbearable. Do not assume others are reaching out, showing up, or covering all the bases.
It is a much lighter burden to say, “Thanks for your love, but please go away,” than to say, “I was hurting and no one cared for me.” If someone says they need space, respect that. Otherwise, err on the side of presence.
3. Healing is seasonal, not linear.
It is true that healing happens with time. But in the recovery wilderness, emotional healing looks less like a line and more like a wobbly figure-8. It’s perfectly common to get stuck in one stage for months, only to jump to another end entirely … only to find yourself back in the same old mud again next year.
Recovery lasts a long, long time. Expect seasons.
4. Surviving trauma takes “firefighters” and “builders.” Very few people are both.
This is a tough one. In times of crisis, we want our family, partner, or dearest friends to be everything for us. But surviving trauma requires at least two types of people: the crisis team — those friends who can drop everything and jump into the fray by your side, and the reconstruction crew — those whose calm, steady care will help nudge you out the door into regaining your footing in the world. In my experience, it is extremely rare for any individual to be both a firefighter and a builder. This is one reason why trauma is a lonely experience. Even if you share suffering with others, no one else will be able to fully walk the road with you the whole way.
A hard lesson of trauma is learning to forgive and love your partner, best friend, or family even when they fail at one of these roles. Conversely, one of the deepest joys is finding both kinds of companions beside you on the journey.
5. Grieving is social, and so is healing.
For as private a pain as trauma is, for all the healing that time and self-work will bring, we are wired for contact. Just as relationships can hurt us most deeply, it is only through relationship that we can be most fully healed.
It’s not easy to know what this looks like — can I trust casual acquaintances with my hurt? If my family is the source of trauma, can they also be the source of healing? How long until this friend walks away? Does communal prayer help or trivialize?
Seeking out shelter in one another requires tremendous courage, but it is a matter of life or paralysis. One way to start is to practice giving shelter to others.
6. Do not offer platitudes or comparisons. Do not, do not, do not.
“I’m so sorry you lost your son, we lost our dog last year … ” “At least it’s not as bad as … ” “You’ll be stronger when this is over.” “God works in all things for good!”
When a loved one is suffering, we want to comfort them. We offer assurances like the ones above when we don’t know what else to say. But from the inside, these often sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.
Trauma is terrible. What we need in the aftermath is a friend who can swallow her own discomfort and fear, sit beside us, and just let it be terrible for a while.
7. Allow those suffering to tell their own stories.
Of course, someone who has suffered trauma may say, “This made me stronger,” or “I’m lucky it’s only (x) and not (z).” That is their prerogative. There is an enormous gulf between having someone else thrust his unsolicited or misapplied silver linings onto you, and discovering hope for one’s self. The story may ultimately sound very much like “God works in all things for good,” but there will be a galaxy of disfigurement and longing and disorientation in that confession. Give the person struggling through trauma the dignity of discovering and owning for himself where, and if, hope endures.
8. Love shows up in unexpected ways.
This is a mystifying pattern after trauma, particularly for those in broad community: some near-strangers reach out, some close friends fumble to express care. It’s natural for us to weight expressions of love differently: a Hallmark card, while unsatisfying if received from a dear friend, can be deeply touching coming from an old acquaintance.
Ultimately every gesture of love, regardless of the sender, becomes a step along the way to healing. If there are beatitudes for trauma, I’d say the first is, “Blessed are those who give love to anyone in times of hurt, regardless of how recently they’ve talked or awkwardly reconnected or visited cross-country or ignored each other on the metro.” It may not look like what you’d request or expect, but there will be days when surprise love will be the sweetest.
9. Whatever doesn’t kill you …
In 2011, after a publically humiliating year, comedian Conan O’Brien gave students at Dartmouth College the following warning:
"Nietzsche famously said, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ … What he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.”
Odd things show up after a serious loss and creep into every corner of life: insatiable anxiety in places that used to bring you joy, detachment or frustration towards your closest companions, a deep distrust of love or presence or vulnerability.
There will be days when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.
10. … Doesn’t kill you.
Living through trauma may teach you resilience. It may help sustain you and others in times of crisis down the road. It may prompt humility. It may make for deeper seasons of joy. It may even make you stronger.
It also may not.
In the end, the hope of life after trauma is simply that you have life after trauma. The days, in their weird and varied richness, go on. So will you.
”—Catherine Woodiwiss, “A New Normal: Ten Things I’ve Learned About Trauma” (via wow-united)
I'm married and I'm messing with a married man. A few days ago he told me he has caught feelings. I did fall in love with him but I can't bring myself to tell him in fear that he may be playing with my emotions. We've been messing around for almost three years, is it possible he is telling the truth?
It’s possible. But you shouldn’t get a divorce because you caught feelings for the person you’re cheating with. Here’s why:
This analogy may seem weird at first, but humor me for a second.
You know how children always love their aunts and uncles? Aunts and uncles are fun because they buy you stuff, they’re always happy to see you. They’re not always on your case about shit like your parents.
Aunts and Uncles are fun because they only have to see you when they want to. They don’t have to deal with you 24hrs a day, feed you, clothe you, discipline you, make you do homework. They aren’t your parents so they don’t have the responsibility of the dirty work. That’s why they seem so great.
This nigga you’re cheating with is an “uncle”.
He’s not tasked with the dirty work. Managing bills with you, running a home with you. Smelling your period farts when its that time of the month. Seeing you looking busted when you take that sew in out and don’t have any makeup on.
Your husband deals with that shit on the daily. Your husband represents real life and the not-so-fun things that come with it. That’s why the side nigga seems so great. Your side nigga is a vacation from the responsibilities in your real life.
I’m not telling you not to cheat. I’m just telling you not to throw away your marriage for greener pastures. Because if you do… your side nigga won’t be the “uncle” anymore… Things won’t be so great. And you might regret your decision.