For 3 months I had to go through the same thing every weekday. I would go through shock therapy for about an hour which would leave me in tears, then I would start classes which they didn't teach us the normal science math and English. Nope we read the bible, learned about how to get Jesus back into our hearts and we had to sing hymns that some 50 year old made up 100 years ago. We would sometimes go on retreats, which were where we'd go on a hike in the hot heat and someone; usually Michael, would shout at us telling us how God made everything around us and that if we keep up our sin that it would all burn up; then he'd ironically set a bush on fire to show us that this is what happens when people become gay. The therapy was the worst though, not only with …show more content…
She cuffed me to the chair, I was used to this process from Michael but I'd just be shown pictures of guys while getting electrocuted. She unbuttoned my jeans making me quiver, she pulled them down along with my boxers. I'm not sure what she's even going to do? I don't really get pleasure in my dick as much as I do in my ass. She started stroking my dick, I didn't feel anything, I just continued to examine shapes and lines in her office while she tried to get me hard, but failing miserably. That's when the knife came in contact with my thigh, stabbing into me. "You aren't normal you're just some freak." She yelled at making my look at her. She cut across my thigh, it stung like a bitch and I was shaking, "You're going to come to want to be with a women and Jesus." She cut over the next thigh, I pulled at the cuff; tears were coming out my eyes. "That's the problem, you're crying like a girl. Just leave I have more to do with you tomorrow." I got up and walked out, tears pouring out of my eyes and started walking to the door before I felt Ross's arms go around me. "What happened? Are you
It didn’t sound like another Tootsie Pop. Swiftly, I felt something grasp me and then I heard the rip of the sheet. Luckily, I could see again. I was staring up at a Double Stick! I realized all my pain was now worth it. I started to say, “Hi,” but I was cut off as she licked me. That’s strange, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t rude for them to lick us but I found it rude. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my upper pop and my skin felt like it had been removed, I was mortified. Then I felt another lick, my vision started blurring. Lick, lick, bite, suck, lick. My vision went black and the pain started progressively getting worse. It felt as if millions of needles were getting stuck inside me. Then, it all
With electrocution the prisoner had to be prepped, his head and one calf would be shaved, making for better contact of the leads (Powell, 2014). The prisoner is strapped into the electric chair at the wrists, waist...
Narrative therapy is a family counseling approach that continues to evolve and gain popularity in the field of therapy (Chang & Nylund, 2013). Given the continued strides of narrative therapy this is a family counseling approach worthy of research. This paper will detail the beginnings of narrative therapy and those responsible for its development. Although White and Epston are the leading figures of narrative therapy many individuals with varying backgrounds and beliefs influenced their thinking (Biggs & Hinton-Bayre, 2008).
in order to help myself become happy again, but that was going to be difficult since the
Happiness is fake, like something forced upon me; something not real, fabricated and I don’t like it. I’m supposed to like it though. I’m supposed to like everything the government forces on me. I feel like I’m the only person who doesn’t feel content with my life, everyone else seems to be perfect while I’m falling apart at the seams.
During life or death situations people are hectic and stressed; this causes the situation to feel out of control. I will never forget the life or death situation I experienced on April 28th. It's the morning of my shoulder surgery the sky, was dark and cold. My parents walk me into the hospital where I was checked in and brought to my preparation room. Once I was ready the nurse took me to the operating room, there I feel asleep. When I woke up I was checked by the same nurse and was released to go home. We got home and my grandma was there to help so my parents talked with her while I waited on Haley to come home from school.
Using narratives to gain an insight into human experience is becoming an increasingly popular method of exploration. Assuming that people are in essence narrative beings that experience every emotion and state through narrative, the value of exploring these gives us a unique understanding. Narrative is thought to act as instrument to explore how an individual constructs their own identity (Czarniawska, 1997) and explain how each individual makes sense of the world around them (Gabriel, 1998). It may also give us an understanding into individual thought processes in relation to individual decision making practices (O’Connor, 1997). It is evident from studies such as Heider and Simmel (1944), that there appears to be an instinctive nature in people to introduce plots structures and narratives into all situations, with an intention to construct meaning to all aspects of life in its entirety. The value of narrative is that it is a tool that allows us to understand what it means to be human and gives us an insight into a person’s lived experience whilst still acknowledging their cultural and social contexts. Narrative is thought to be significance as it is ‘a fruitful organizing principle to help understand the complex conduct of human beings (p.49)’ (Sarbin, 1990) The construction of a person’s narrative is thought to be dependent on each person’s individual awareness of themselves and the circumstances that surround them. However, a debate to whether a person is able to formulate a valid narrative in the face of a mental illness such as schizophrenia has emerged. Sufferer’s symptoms are often thought to interfere with their abilities to perceive within a level deemed acceptable to their society’s norms and therefore the validity ...
I guess you want to know all the sordid details huh ? Hmmm. Well. Let me start with an introduction to the scenario. I'd already had a slave before but she wasn't behaving so I had to cut the bitch loose. It was a real shame. She was a real looker too. But oh well. I was cruising the bar circuit as is my usual. I went to the downtown core to scope out my next target but from what I saw there was nothing interesting around until the wee hours of the night when I was getting in my car and this young lady asked me for a light for her cigarette. Oh she was a looker, just like the one before. Long blonde hair that cascaded to the middle of her back, a generous pair of tits and wow, what a pair of legs. I was so stunned by her I almost forgot why I went out that night. I remember giving her a light so I'd have an excuse to strike up conversation. Just enough to stall her from leaving. She'd agreed to gab a bit so we both had a cigarette and talked in my car. The night air was a little cool so I turned on the car to keep us
After the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, the question of economic reform was extremely prevalent. Since the Soviet Union had been “defeated,” Communism was consequently defeated. This resulted in Western powers, particularly the United States, and Western banks debating what should be done to the post-Soviet economies. At the same time, however, non-Soviet states were also undergoing economic transitions. The two main modes of economic reform were Shock Therapy and Gradual therapy. Shock therapy consisted of a rapid-fire shift from a Communist economy to a capitalist one. Shock therapy was notably practiced in Russia and Poland, with tremendously different results. The most well-known gradualist transition may have been China, but
"Hello! This is Cornwall ER. How may I help you?" The nurse answered the phone call. Like every Friday, I was volunteering in the INOVA Emergency room. It was a very busy day in the ER, where all the room including the triages were full. The rescue squads were coming with one patient after another, and the doctor, PA and nurses were very busy. I looked at the nurse’s face, and she seemed very concerned. That was because it was a trauma case, and the patient was going in a cardiac arrest. The nurses started preparing the trauma room and I assisted them in the process. That was my first time observing a trauma case after I started volunteering in the ER. I was very anxious. After about 10 minutes, the ambulance arrived. Four rescue squad rushed in with the patient. They were using a defibrillator, and the patient was oozing out blood. One member of the squad was covered in blood, and everyone’s face was extremely tensed. The doctor and the nurses rushed in and started assisting the paramedics. I was praying for the trauma patient as I was delivering a blanket to a patient
I looked over at Ami and wiped away some stagnant tears with the backside of my wrist, but she said nothing. The nurse came back in holding a white hospital band which she fastened to my left wrist. Then finally introduced herself to me as Katie.
Narrative Therapy (NT) is a post-modern approach to Family Therapy (FT), derived from French post-structuralist theory, in particular Foucault’s concepts on dominant and subjugated discourses. This represents a major departure from more traditional FT models (i.e. Structural Therapy, Strategic Therapy, Transgenerational FT etc.) which, due to their overtly modern worldview, frames familial interactions as mechanistic processes and prescribes correspondingly rigid interventions.
I stared in horror at the fearsome needle taunting me to challenge its glinting tip. I closed my eyes, prayed with every cell in my body for the pain to be minimal, and grimaced as she expertly twirled the needle between her fingers and then slid it through my flesh in one fluid motion.
I didn't want to know the 'best' part was. I pushed her off of me as hard as I could, I drew my hand back and hit her right in the nose. Mostly because that was her 'best' feature, according to her. She fell down tears streaming from her eyes, then I noticed the blood. Had I broke her nose? I wondered. Oh well.
She smiled at me and told me that everything was going to be fine. She got me settled into a bed and she handed me a doll wearing a hospital gown. I was still very skeptical, and I felt like getting up from the bed and running away. She and another nurse wheeled the bed into a bright white room that smelled like anesthetic gas and sterile wipes. A nice nurse came in with a syringe of my anesthetic. She injected some into my IV, I was getting sleepy. The surgeon commented on how I was a “fighter” because I didn’t want to go to sleep. The nurse injected another dose of anesthesia, and I was out cold.