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“Sometimes it takes a meltdown to cool down.”
― Evinda Lepins

“Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books.â€�
- Bell Hooks”
― Win Quier, Jeremiah's Journey: Gaining Our Autistic Son by Losing Him to the System

“I'm not making sense, and I'm so tired of having to make sense. I've even more tired of talking about how OK or not OK I am. I'm not. I've failed. That's it. People should stop going on about it.”
― Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone

“But I had to admit that maybe the reason I'd had a meltdown wasn't just about the shower. I think the shower door was, like, a metaphor. It represented everything that was bad.”
― Sarra Manning, Adorkable

“I have spent my life clinging to my own shores for safety. Flying like a bird above the storm waters of my own body, too scared to land. I guess that is why the sea floods in to visit me. I have been too frightened to venture out into her depths alone. The central core of me is dark and churning, I can only sense it vaguely. It scares me with its power. As a late-diagnosed autistic woman, I realise that this experience is partly neurological…my sensory abilities are all hyper-aroused on the surface, and my nervous system melts down when it becomes overwhelmed in everyday places. But my ability to know what is going on within is flawed. Instead of an accurate information readout, there is a big, dark, unknowable mass within. I am sailing blind without map or lighthouse within my own skin. It feels a very scary place to have a life sentence. This is why I write: to attempt to find words for what this big scariness is, to try and find images to give form and name to the wild churning expanse.

Pearce, Lucy H.. She of the Sea”
― Lucy H. Pearce, She of the Sea

“I have spent my life clinging to my own shores for safety. Flying like a bird above the storm waters of my own body, too scared to land. I guess that is why the sea floods in to visit me. I have been too frightened to venture out into her depths alone. The central core of me is dark and churning, I can only sense it vaguely. It scares me with its power. As a late-diagnosed autistic woman, I realise that this experience is partly neurological…my sensory abilities are all hyper-aroused on the surface, and my nervous system melts down when it becomes overwhelmed in everyday places. But my ability to know what is going on within is flawed. Instead of an accurate information readout, there is a big, dark, unknowable mass within. I am sailing blind without map or lighthouse within my own skin. It feels a very scary place to have a life sentence. This is why I write: to attempt to find words for what this big scariness is, to try and find images to give form and name to the wild churning expanse.”
― Lucy H. Pearce, She of the Sea

“But Hannah's friend didn’t understand the volatile balancing act between art and sanity, that the act of creation was like walking a tightrope during an earthquake. She didn’t understand Hannah’s stupid need for validation, or that the size of the audience increased the stakes and multiplied the fear. She didn’t understand that creativity was dangerous, that, yes, there were some people who could stand before a canvas, paint a sunset that would bring the world to its knees, and return to their loved ones as a complete person who didn’t hurt, didn’t cry, didn’t spill blood to appease the host of fickle muses. But Hannah did. Hannah’s best ideas—sometimes her only ideas—were buried beneath the skin.”
― Jake Vander Ark, The Day I Wore Purple

“We are expected to function, to go on with our lives, to carry on and repeat the exact same behaviours that got us into this rainbow-loading screen in the first place because 'everyone else can--so suck it up!' And we'll fall. And we'll crash. And we'll keep on crashing. We'll crash again and again and again as we're forced into these scenarios to be washed, rinsed, repeated and spat back out again.

Until we can't anymore.

Our bodies can only take so much, and after too long of too much, we can't continue anymore. We go into safe mode.”
― Chloé Hayden, Different, Not Less: A Neurodivergent's Guide to Embracing Your True Self and Finding Your Happily Ever After

“If we accept the generally agreed date of between AD 350 and 550 for the end of the -- at least semi-historical -- 'Third Sangam', then this gives us a fixed reference point on which to anchor the chronology of the myth [...]. The date of 9600 BC for the formation of the First Sangam (or 9800 BC or 9400 BC for that matter) coincides closely enough with Plato's date for the inundation of Atlantis -- also 9600 BC -- to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.
And the question continues to be this: how could Plato less than 2500 years ago, or Nakirar less than 1500 years ago, have managed by chance to select the epoch of 9600 BC in which to set, on the one hand, the sinking under the waves of the Atlantic Ocean of the great antediluvian civilization of Atlantis and, on the other, the foundation of the First Sangam in Kumari Kandam -- a doomed Indian Ocean landmass that was itself destined to be swallowed by the sea?
If Plato and Nakirar were pure 'fabulists' working independently of any real tradition or real events, then isn't it much more likely that they would have chosen different imaginary epochs in which to set their flood stories?
Why didn't they choose 20,000 or 30,000 years ago -- or even 300,000 years ago, or three million years ago -- instead of the tenth millennium BC?
And was it just luck that this slot turns out to have been in the midst of the meltdown of the last Ice Age -- the only episode of truly global flooding to have hit the earth in the last 125,000 years?”
― Graham Hancock, Underworld: The Mysterious Origins of Civilization