Chaotic Family Quotes

I want a big, chaotic family to fill the house. I want to step on toys in the middle of the night. I want to break apart fight and bandage up skinned knees. I want the mess. I want the passion. I want to watch you grow our kids.

But Robin: their dear little Robs. More than ten years later, his death remained an agony; there was no glossing any detail; its horror was not subject to repair or permutation by any of the narrative devices that the Cleves knew. And—since this willful amnesia had kept Robin's death from being translated into that sweet old family vernacular which smoothed even the bitterest mysteries into comfortable, comprehensible form—the memory of that day's events had a chaotic, fragmented quality, bright mirrorshards of nightmare which flared at the smell of wisteria, the creaking of a clothes-line, a certain stormy cast of spring light.

And–since this willful amnesia had kept Robin's death from being translated into that sweet old family vernacular which smoothed even the bitterest mysteries into comfortable, comprehensible form–the memory of that day's events had a chaotic, fragmented quality, bright mirror-shards of nightmare which flared at the smell of wisteria, the creaking of a clothes-line, a certain stormy cast of spring light.

People didn't want to think about boarding schools--the era of forced assimilation was supposed to be over. But then again, kids from chaotic families didn't get to school, or get sleep, or real food, or homework help. And they'd never get out of the chaos--whatever brand of chaos, from addictions to depression to failing health--unless they got to school. To succeed in school, kids had to attend regularly, eat regularly, sleep regularly, and study regularly. Maybe the boarding schools of the earliest days had stripped away culture from the vulnerable, had left adults with little understanding of how to give love or parent, but what now? Kids needed some intervention, but not the wrenching away of foster families and outside adoptions.

When read-aloud time doesn’t look like we originally hoped, we begin to doubt that it’s giving us any of those wonderful benefits we discussed in part 1. But here’s the thing: it still works. Even when it’s noisy, messy, and more chaotic than you’d like it to be, it works. Even when kids are grumbling, complaining, and don’t seem to be listening, it works.

That my life can look so perfect from the exterior and feel so chaotic within seeds a deep sense of guilt, as though by living at all, I’m doing something wrong.

Living intentionally ultimately means staying true to yourself and how your family is made.

I was wondering if the scene in the drawing-room had been a triumph or a disaster or merely a chaotic piece of bad taste verging on bathos, but I reflected that the only important question was whether I had communicated my message to my parents. I continued to smoke my cigarette and occasionally I shuddered. I wondered dimly how anyone ever survived their families.

While our life remains more chaotic than not, we continue to land on our blistered feet, drag each other out of the quicksand, beg for forgiveness as we wander out of the doghouse, and dig for the humor beneath our grief. So our family, four-pawed members included, continues to bound forward celebrating our canine connection and sharing hope with all who need healing.

People retreated behind their front doors into the hidden zone of their private, family worlds and when outsiders asked how things were they answered, Oh, everything’s going along just fine, not much to report, situation normal. But everyone secretly knew that behind that door things were rarely humdrum. More typically, all hell was breaking loose, as people dealt with their angry fathers, drunken mothers, resentful siblings, mad aunts, lecherous uncles and crumbling grandparents. The family was not the firm foundation upon which society rested, but stood at the dark chaotic heart of everything that ailed us. It was not normal, but surreal; not humdrum, but filled with event; not ordinary, but bizarre. He remembered with what excitement he had listened, at the age of twenty, to the Reith Lectures delivered on BBC Radio by Edmund Leach, the great anthropologist and interpreter of Claude Lévi-Strauss who, a year earlier, had succeeded Noel Annan as provost of King’s. “Far from being the basis of the good society,” Leach had said, “the family, with its narrow privacy and tawdry secrets, is the source of all our discontents.” Yes! he thought. Yes! That is a thing I also know. The families in the novels he later wrote would be explosive, operatic, arm-waving, exclamatory, wild. People who did not like his books would sometimes criticize these fictional families for being unrealistic—not “ordinary” enough. However, readers who did like his books said to him, “Those families are exactly like my family.

We didn’t live a peaceful life in a small nuclear family. We lived a chaotic life in big groups of aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. This was the life I’d been given, and I was a pretty happy kid.

When you’re healthy, you’re able to better make life-changing decisions that’ll affect everyone in the family. It’s not just a good idea to get in a nap or a good conversation with a friend from time to time. It’s essential for your family’s health.

Parvati has wrathful incarnations surely, As Durga, Kali, Shitala Devi, Tara, Chandi, She has benevolent forms like Katyayani, Kamalatmika, Bhuvaneshwari, Lalita, Gauri. Parvati as the Goddess of Power does be, Who source of all forms and of all beings be, In Her all the power but exists undoubtedly, And She who the destroys all fear clearly be. The apparent contradiction that Parvati be, The fair one, Gauri, and the dark one, Kali, Suggests the placid wife, can change fully, To her primal chaotic nature as powerful Kali.

I’m here, Ben. I’m with you.” He laid his hand over my heart and held my gaze. His eyes said something that my heart refused to accept. I had a moment of panic where I knew I should run, but he started speaking before I could convince my body to move. “Liz, I’ve fallen in love with you … the more I get to know you, the deeper I fall. And it isn’t just you I’ve fallen in love with, but your family, your chaotic life. I cannot imagine my life without you and the kids in it … I don’t have anything hold me back, Liz. I fell for you because that was the only way for me to go…to feel.

Her family was at least as dysfunctional and peculiar as his own, riven with scenes that to other people might've been epoch defining—'it was a month before Daddy torched Mummy's portrait in the hall, and the paneling caught fire, and the fire brigade came, and we all had to be evacuated via the upstairs windows'—but to the Campbells were so normalized they seemed routine.

Fear People When we grow up under volatile, immature, chaotic, and selfish family members, we are nurtured to believe that people are scary and cruel. And when we are raised to question our lovability and worth, how can we trust that others will see us as worthy? Because conflict was so high growing up in our toxic family, many of us learned to agree with the poisonous dynamics as a way to find or keep the peace. We may have also lived our lives trying to please and prove our value to our parents.

The patriarchal authoritarian sexual order that resulted from the revolutionary processes of latter-day matriarchy (economic independence of the chief's family from the maternal gens, a growing exchange of goods between the tribes, development of the means of production, etc.) becomes the primary basis of authoritarian ideology by depriving the women, children, and adolescents of their sexual freedom, making a commodity of sex and placing sexual interests in the service of economic subjugation. From now on, sexuality is indeed distorted; it becomes diabolical and demonic and has to be curbed. In terms of patriarchal demands, the innocent sensuousness of matriarchy appears as the lascivious unchaining of dark powers. The Dionysian becomes "sinful yearning," which patriarchal culture can conceive of only as something chaotic and "dirty." Surrounded by and imbued with human sexual structures that have become distorted and lascivious, patriarchal man is shackled for the first time in an ideology in which sexual and dirty, sexual and vulgar or demonic, became inseparable associations.

JOINT CUSTODY Why did I never see it for what it was: abundance? Two families, two different kitchen tables, two sets of rules, two creeks, two highways, two stepparents with their fish tanks or eight-tracks or cigarette smoke or expertise in recipes or reading skills. I cannot reverse it, the record scratched and stopping to that original chaotic track. But let me say, I was taken back and forth on Sundays and it was not easy but I was loved each place. And so I have two brains now. Two entirely different brains. The one that always misses where I’m not, and the one that is so relieved to finally be home.

The crowds had been unbearable. First at Northgate, where she did most of her shopping and then at the airport. Sea-Tac had been filled with activity and noise, everyone in a hurry to get someplace else. There seemed to be little peace or good cheer and a whole lot of selfish concern and rudeness. Then, in the tranquility of church on Christmas Eve, everything had come into perspective for Cait. There had been crowds and rudeness that first Christmas, too, she reasoned. Yet in the midst of that confusion had come joy and peace and love. For most people, it was still the same. Christmas gifts and decorations and dinners were, after all, expressions of the love you felt for your family and friends. And if the preparations sometimes got a bit chaotic, well, that no longer bothered Cait.

But after it became apparent that the only damage being done was to the town, the townspeople were pretty bitter about it, some directing their bitterness toward the British, some toward the Germans. Many reasoned that their own country had been defeated and surrendered, and they had a right to be left in peace now. Community life was chaotic and families were often split into factions with lethal designs on each other. Many of the old folks, knowing the best part of their lives was behind them were content to live what was left to them in whatever way was the easiest. They had no further interest in the war, one way or the other, after France collapsed. They knew France was dying and hoped to live out their own lives in peace before she did. The younger generation took sides violently. Some through hatred of the British or for

If absolutely everything important is only happening on such a small screen, isn’t that a shame? Especially when the world is so overwhelmingly large and surprising? Are you missing too much? You can’t imagine it now, but you’ll look like me one day, even though you’ll feel just the same as you do now. You’ll catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and think how quickly it’s all gone, and I wonder if all the time you used watching those families whose lives are filmed for the television, and making those cartoons of yourselves with panting dog tongues, and chasing after that terrible Pokémon fellow…well, will it feel like time well spent? “Here lies Ms. Jackson, she took more steps than the other old biddies on her road”—is that the best I can leave behind? Is it all just designed to keep us looking down, or to give us the illusion that we have some sort of control over our chaotic lives? Will you do me a small favor, dears, and look up? Especially you New Yorkers and Londoners and other city dwellers who cross all those busy streets. How else will you take in the majesty of the buildings that have stood there for hundreds of years? How else will you run into an acquaintance on the street who might turn into a friend or a lover or even just recommend a good restaurant that no one has complained about on that app yet? If you never look out the window of the subway car, how will you see the boats gliding by on the East River, or have an idea that only you could have? Just look up for no reason, just for a moment here and there, or maybe for an entire day once in a while. Let the likes go unchecked and the quality of sleep go unnoticed. Que sera sera, my dears—whatever will be will be, whether we’re tracking it on our GPS devices or not.

Civil war had ignited, deadly as that storm in the sky. Families were being torn asunder, from the Citadel itself down to the meanest homes of the commons. And blood painted Kharkanas and there was nowhere to run. Through the gate, and then, even as despair choked all life from Endest Silann, he saw him approaching. From the city below. His forearms sheathed in black glistening scales, his bared chest made a thing of natural armour. The blood of Tiam ran riot through him, fired to life by the conflation of chaotic sorcery, and his eyes glowed with ferocious will. Endest fell to his knees in Anomander's path. 'Lord! The world falls!' 'Rise, priest,' he replied. 'The world does not fall. It but changes. I need you. Come.' And so he walked past, and Endest found himself on his feet, as Lord Anomander's will closed about his heart like an iron gauntlet, pulling him round and into the great warrior's wake.

On the day of Calvin’s arrival, Mark was on a business trip with our high-school kids, so I went to the airport with the younger ones. I greeted Calvin as he got off the plane; mom and son—total strangers. He smiled nervously. I loaded everyone into our van and began driving. As I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Calvin talking with the younger children, a wave of peace washed over me. Everything was going to be okay. When Mark returned with the older kids, Tyler, the same age as Calvin, was thrilled that his long-awaited “brother from the other color mother” had finally arrived. Luke, our seventeen-year-old, had persistently warned us that taking in another child would be too chaotic. Before he went to bed on Calvin’s first night, he told me, “I’m glad he’s here.” I thought we were just trying to be good Christians and help someone in need, but when I learned the rest of the story, I realized that we were the ones who had been blessed.

The case of a patient with dissociative identity disorder follows: Cindy, a 24-year-old woman, was transferred to the psychiatry service to facilitate community placement. Over the years, she had received many different diagnoses, including schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, schizoaffective disorder, and bipolar disorder. Dissociative identity disorder was her current diagnosis. Cindy had been well until 3 years before admission, when she developed depression, "voices," multiple somatic complaints, periods of amnesia, and wrist cutting. Her family and friends considered her a pathological liar because she would do or say things that she would later deny. Chronic depression and recurrent suicidal behavior led to frequent hospitalizations. Cindy had trials of antipsychotics, antidepressants, mood stabilizers, and anxiolytics, all without benefit. Her condition continued to worsen. Cindy was a petite, neatly groomed woman who cooperated well with the treatment team. She reported having nine distinct alters that ranged in age from 2 to 48 years; two were masculine. Cindy’s main concern was her inability to control the switches among her alters, which made her feel out of control. She reported having been sexually abused by her father as a child and described visual hallucinations of him threatening her with a knife. We were unable to confirm the history of sexual abuse but thought it likely, based on what we knew of her chaotic early home life. Nursing staff observed several episodes in which Cindy switched to a troublesome alter. Her voice would change in inflection and tone, becoming childlike as ]oy, an 8-year-old alter, took control. Arrangements were made for individual psychotherapy and Cindy was discharged. At a follow-up 3 years later, Cindy still had many alters but was functioning better, had fewer switches, and lived independently. She continued to see a therapist weekly and hoped to one day integrate her many alters.

Toward the end of the three weeks, I have lunch with a representative from the foundation. She wants to know what could be done to make the girls more “confident.” I rattle on, about girl-only classrooms, giving them room away from the boys, time to talk, permission to question and complain without being afraid of being seen as whiners, complainers, bad girls, tough girls. But I know that all of them, boys and girls both, are still only partly formed, soft as Playdoh. They are like golems — their bodies in full flower and everything else a work-in-progress. I don’t dare say there are essential gender differences here, though I wonder more and more. “But girls have so many more role models now,” the foundation representative says. She is a petite, elegant, beautiful woman in a black suit, perfectly coifed. More role models. Which ones, I wonder? An increasingly impossible physical ideal? A clear-cut choice between career and family? They’ve seen their mothers suffer from trying to do both. They know all about the “second shift” of endless work. When I was 15, my role models were burning bras, marching in the street, starting clinics, passing laws and getting arrested. Role models now are selling diet books and making music videos. The simple fact is, I don’t know. I don’t know how to help them. I know that I have to keep checking my watch during lunch and rush off to make the final bell for sixth period, and that all of these children who are almost grown have spent their entire lives ruled by a clock and the demands of strangers. They have grown up in a fragmented and chaotic place over which they have no control. I know they’ve rarely thought about the possibility of getting out; they don’t see any place to get out to, anywhere to go not ruled by bureaucratic entanglements and someone else’s schedule and somebody else’s plans. If girls are somehow wired toward pliancy, then the helpless role of student in the shadow of the institution is the worst place they can be. If we want to teach them independence, the first thing to do would be to give it to them.

The identification we feel towards the places where we live or were born can give us an anchor in a chaotic world and strengthen our connections to family, community, and the generations that preceded and will follow us. At their best, such feelings are a celebration of culture and all that comes with it in the form of literature, language, music, food, folktales, and even the wildlife we associate with our homelands--the eagle in America, for instance, or in the Czech Republic what's left of our lions, wolves, and bears. There is, however, a tipping point, where loyalty to one's own tribe curdles into resentment and hatred, then aggression towards others. That's when Fascism enters the picture, trailed by an assortment of woes, up to and including the Holocaust and global war. Because of that history, postwar statesmen established organizations to make it harder for deluded nationalists to trample on the rights of neighbors. These bodies include the United Nations--hence Truman's speech--and regional institutions in Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Americas.

DAYS ONE THROUGH SIX, ETC. You keep on asking me that – “Which day was the hardest?” Blockheads! They were all hard – And of course, since I’m omnipotent, they were all easy. It was Chaos, to begin with. Can you imagine Primeval Chaos? Of course you can’t. How long had it been swirling around out there? Forever. How long had I been there? Longer than that. It was a mess, that’s what it was. Chaos is Rocky. Fuzzy. Slippery. Prickly. As scraggly and obstreperous as the endless behind of an infinite jackass. Shove on it anywhere, it gives, then slips in behind you, like smog, like lava, like slag. I’m telling you, chaos is – chaotic. You see what I was up against. Who could make a world out of that muck? I could, that’s who – land from water, light from dark, and so on. It might seem like a piece of cake now that it’s done, but back then, without a blueprint, without a set of instructions, without a committee, could you have created a firmament? Of course there were bugs in the process, grit in the gears, blips, bloopers – bringing forth grass and trees on Day Three and not making sunlight until Day Four, that, I must say, wasn’t my best move. And making the animals and vegetables before there was any rain whatsoever – well, anyone can have a bad day. Even Adam, as it turned out, wasn’t such a great idea – those shifty eyes, the alibis, blaming things on his wife – I mean, it set a bad example. How could he expect that little toddler, Cain, to learn correct family values with a role model like him? And then there was the nasty squabble Over the beasts and birds. OK, I admit I told Adam to name them, but – Platypus? Aardvark? Hippopotamus? Let me make one thing perfectly clear – he didn’t get that gibberish from Me. No, I don’t need a planet to fall on Me, I know something about subtext. He did it to irritate Me, just plain spite – and did I need the aggravation? Well, as you know, things went from bad to worse, from begat to begat, father to son, the evil fruit of all that early bile. So next there was narcissism, then bigotry, then jealousy, rage, vengeance! And finally I realized, the spawn of Adam had become exactly like – Me. No Deity with any self-respect would tolerate that kind of competition, so what could I do? I killed them all, that’s what! Just as the Good Book says, I drowned man, woman, and child, like so many cats. Oh, I saved a few for restocking, Noah and his crew, the best of the lot, I thought. But now you’re back to your old tricks again, just about due for another good ducking, or maybe a giant barbecue. And I’m warning you, if I have to do it again, there won’t be any survivors, not even a cockroach! Then, for the first time since it was Primeval Chaos, the world will be perfect – nobody in it but Me.

It's one thing to see someone with cognitive trouble for a few days as a guest in your home or at quick, chaotic family celebrations. Actually living with him in his home is a whole other plane of reality check.

She was an intelligent and honest woman who knew what she was... and she was no beauty. Her attractions were moderate at best, and that was only if one completely discounted the current feminine ideal. She was short, and while on some days she could be described as voluptuous, on others she was most definitely plump. Her hair was a reddish-brown, wildly chaotic mass of curls- hateful curls that successfully defied any substance or implement used to straighten them. Oh, she had nice skin with no pockmarks or blemishes, and her eyes had once been described as "fine" by some well-meaning friend of the family. But they were plain gray eyes, with no shade of green or blue to enliven them.

As she knows from her own behavior as well as her research, "the more bargain-focused you are, the more money you spend." Bargains, she says, give us a false sense of control over our chaotic lives.

All of us imagine a wedding as the happiest time for a family but that doesn’t cross off the fact that it is also the most chaotic time.

This was what I loved about being a teacher, back then, when I loved it: that every child was some family’s most precious gem, the joy of their hearts, and I could see that, even sometimes when their own parents probably couldn’t; I could see that spark of perfection in every kid, in whatever form it took, a devious sense of humor or a disheveled sweetness, and I loved them all for it. They were grubby and loud and chaotic, and occasionally mean-spirited and dim-witted, sometimes feral and once in a while borderline psychotic. But they had beauty in them.

Take a moment and follow Jerry’s example. Look at your blessings. Do you see any friends? Family? Do you see any grace from God? The love of God? Do you see any gifts? Abilities or talents? Skills? As you look at your blessings, take note of what happens. Anxiety grabs his bags and slips out the back door. Worry refuses to share the heart with gratitude. One heartfelt thank-you will suck the oxygen out of worry’s world. So say it often. Focus more on what you do have and less on what you don’t. The apostle Paul modeled this outlook

Heavenly Father thank you for the breath I take every moment and thank you for the beautiful family and good friends you have blessed me with. Thank you Lord for your blanket of your unfailing love that cover us twenty four seven. Thank you for the drops of your mercy and your grace that shine on us daily. Thank you for your hedge of protection that surrounds us day and night. Thank you Lord for your peace that gives us the sound mind in the midst of this chaotic world. Thank you father for the hope that you have instilled in us so that we can continue with life. Thank you King Jesus for your joy that gives us strength to endure every situation in life. Thank you for the trials and tribulations that make us acknowledge your faithfulness and your presence that surround us at all times. Thank you Lord for your divine direction. We are so grateful for your blessings and promises. Your promises are Yes and Amen in the mighty name of Jesus amen.

Having grown up in an intensely dysfunctional and chaotic family, I never fully learned how to hold the pain of others without internalizing it.

Strategy 4—Against Your Family He wants to disintegrate your family, dividing your home, rendering it chaotic, restless, and unfruitful (Gen. 3:1–7).

hypothesis that psychically sensitive individuals may somehow, through some as-yet-undiscovered “psychic retina,” be detecting large, rapid changes in entropy as bright beacons on the landscape ahead in time.24 May’s argument makes a certain amount of sense given the classical equivalence of time’s arrow with entropy. Things that are very rapidly dissipating heat, such as stars and nuclear reactors and houses on fire, or even just a living body making the ultimate transition to the state of disorder called death, could perhaps be seen as concentrated time. But steep entropy gradients also represent a category of information that is intrinsically interesting and meaningful to humans and toward which we are particularly vigilant, whatever the sensory channel through which we receive it. An attentional bias to entropy gradients has been shown for the conventional senses of sight and hearing, not just psi phenomena. Stimuli involving sudden, rapid motion, and especially fire and heat, as well as others’ deaths and illness, are signals that carry important information related to our survival, so we tend to notice and remember them.25 Thus, an alternative explanation for the link between psi accuracy and entropy is the perverse pleasure—that is, jouissance—aroused in people by signs of destruction. Some vigilant part of us needs be constantly scanning the environment for indications of threats to our life and health, which means we need on some level to find that search rewarding. If we were not rewarded, we would not keep our guard up. Entropic signals like smoke from an advancing fire, or screams or cries from a nearby victim of violence or illness, or the grief of a neighbor for their family member are all signifiers, part of what could be called the “natural language of peril.” We find it “enjoyable,” albeit in an ambivalent or repellent way, to engage with such signifiers because, again, their meaning, their signified, is our own survival. The heightened accuracy toward entropic targets that May observed could reflect a heightened fascination with fire, heat, and chaotic situations more generally, an attentional bias to survival-relevant stimuli. Our particular psychic fascination with fire may also reflect its central role as perhaps the most decisive technology in our evolutionary development as well as the most dangerous, always able to turn on its user in an unlucky instant.26 The same primitive threat-vigilance orientation accounts for the unique allure of artworks depicting destruction or the evidence of past destruction. In the 18th century, the sublime entered the vocabulary of art critics and philosophers like Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant to describe the aesthetic appeal of ruins, impenetrable wilderness, thunderstorms and storms at sea, and other visual signals of potential or past peril, including the slow entropy of erosion and decay. Another definition of the sublime would be the semiotic of entropy.

It’s the residual effects of growing up in a chaotic home where schedules were changed often, and stability came in spurts. The need to feel like I have control over my time and environment is essential to my well-being.

United by love, fortified by loyalty, family remains the sanctuary even in a chaotic world.

United by love, fortified by loyalty, family remains a sanctuary even in a chaotic world.

Strategy 1—Against Your Passion He seeks to dim your whole desire for prayer, dull your interest in spiritual things, and downplay the potency of your most strategic weapons (Eph. 6:10–20). Strategy 2—Against Your Focus He disguises himself and manipulates your perspective so you end up focusing on the wrong culprit, directing your weapons at the wrong enemy (2 Cor. 11:14). Strategy 3—Against Your Identity He magnifies your insecurities, leading you to doubt what God says about you and to disregard what He’s given you (Eph. 1:17–19). Strategy 4—Against Your Family He wants to disintegrate your family, dividing your home, rendering it chaotic, restless, and unfruitful (Gen. 3:1–7). Strategy 5—Against Your Confidence He constantly reminds you of your past mistakes and bad choices, hoping to convince you that you’re under God’s judgment rather than under the blood (Rev. 12:10). Strategy 6—Against Your Calling He amplifies fear, worry, and anxiety until they’re the loudest voices in your head, causing you to deem the adventure of following God too risky to attempt (Josh. 14:8). Strategy 7—Against Your Purity He tries to tempt you toward certain sins, convincing you that you can tolerate them without risking consequence, knowing they’ll only wedge distance between you and God (Isa. 59:1–2). Strategy 8—Against Your Rest and Contentment He hopes to overload your life and schedule, pressuring you to constantly push beyond your limits, never feeling permission to say no (Deut. 5:15). Strategy 9—Against Your Heart He uses every opportunity to keep old wounds fresh in mind, knowing that anger and hurt and bitterness and unforgiveness will continue to roll the damage forward (Heb. 12:15). Strategy 10—Against Your Relationships He creates disruption and disunity within your circle of friends and within the shared community of the body of Christ (1 Tim. 2:8).

The chaotic joy of a desi wedding, the bride and groom’s families with them every step of the way, the noise and colors, the jewels dripping off the bride and pretty much every woman in attendance, now that was a celebration.

26. In intimate relationships is your inability to linger over conversations an impediment? 27. Are you always on the go, even when you don’t really want to be? 28. More than most people, do you hate waiting in line? 29. Are you constitutionally incapable of reading the directions first? 30. Do you have a hair-trigger temper? 31. Are you constantly having to sit on yourself to keep from blurting out the wrong thing? 32. Do you like to gamble? 33. Do you feel like exploding inside when someone has trouble getting to the point? 34. Were you hyperactive as a child? 35. Are you drawn to situations of high intensity? 36. Do you often try to do the hard things rather than what comes easily to you? 37. Are you particularly intuitive? 38. Do you often find yourself involved in a situation without having planned it at all? 39. Would you rather have your teeth drilled by a dentist than make or follow a list? 40. Do you chronically resolve to organize your life better only to find that you’re always on the brink of chaos? 41. Do you often find that you have an itch you cannot scratch, an appetite for something “more” and you’re not sure what it is? 42. Would you describe yourself as hypersexual? 43. One man who turned out to have adult ADD presented with this unusual triad of symptoms: cocaine abuse, frequent reading of pornography, and an addiction to crossword puzzles. Can you understand him, even if you do not have those symptoms? 44. Would you consider yourself an addictive personality? 45. Are you more flirtatious than you really mean to be? 46. Did you grow up in a chaotic, boundaryless family? 47. Do you find it hard to be alone? 48. Do you often counter depressive moods by some sort of potentially harmful compulsive behavior such as overworking, overspending, overdrinking, or overeating? 49. Do you have dyslexia? 50. Do you have a family history of ADD or hyperactivity?

In the cave, things were getting chaotic. Hacker went around saying, “Okay” to everyone, and the family and wardens were getting VERY annoyed. “Hacker! STOP SAYING OKAY!!” yelled Knight. “Okay,” said Hacker, laughing.

No child can avoid emotional pain while growing up, and likewise emotional toxicity seems to be a normal by-product of organizational life—people are fired, unfair policies come from headquarters, frustrated employees turn in anger on others. The causes are legion: abusive bosses or unpleasant coworkers, frustrating procedures, chaotic change. Reactions range from anguish and rage, to lost confidence or hopelessness. Perhaps luckily, we do not have to depend only on the boss. Colleagues, a work team, friends at work, and even the organization itself can create the sense of having a secure base. Everyone in a given workplace contributes to the emotional stew, the sum total of the moods that emerge as they interact through the workday. No matter what our designated role may be, how we do our work, interact, and make each other feel adds to the overall emotional tone. Whether it’s a supervisor or fellow worker who we can turn to when upset, their mere existence has a tonic benefit. For many working people, coworkers become something like a “family,” a group in which members feel a strong emotional attachment for one another. This makes them especially loyal to each other as a team. The stronger the emotional bonds among workers, the more motivated, productive, and satisfied with their work they are. Our sense of engagement and satisfaction at work results in large part from the hundreds and hundreds of daily interactions we have while there, whether with a supervisor, colleagues, or customers. The accumulation and frequency of positive versus negative moments largely determines our satisfaction and ability to perform; small exchanges—a compliment on work well done, a word of support after a setback—add up to how we feel on the job.28

He magnifies your insecurities, leading you to doubt what God says about you and to disregard what He’s given you (Eph. 1:17–19). Strategy 4—Against Your Family He wants to disintegrate your family, dividing your home, rendering it chaotic, restless, and unfruitful (Gen. 3:1–7). Strategy 5—Against Your Confidence He constantly reminds you of your past mistakes and bad choices, hoping to convince you that you’re under God’s judgment rather than under the blood (Rev. 12:10). Strategy 6—Against Your Calling

ABOUT BED OF ROSES, BED OF THORNS: As I read the exciting new novel Bed of Roses, Bed of Thorns by Uta Christensen, the thought suddenly came to me: what a rich many-faceted story of a bygone era it is, a revisiting of the German culture of the first half of the 20th century. While two horrendous wars were unfolding – WWI and WWII – families tried to cope with losing their loved ones, being uprooted, experiencing hardships and depravations, witnessing their cities being destroyed and eventually welcoming their conquerors. In these chaotic times, Ursula Meister was born and is growing up. The novel is an engrossing coming-of-age story, set in a rich family saga of three generations of colorful characters. Simply, but masterfully told, Bed of Roses, Bed of Thorns is a complex, moving, ambitious and interesting work of fiction. I loved every bit of it.

As Isaac Newton observed, objects in motion tend to stay in motion. When writing your first draft, being busy is key. It may feel frustrating at first, but having daily writing periods curtailed by chores, family, and other distractions actually helps you get the thing done. This is partly because the hectic pace forces you to type with a fleet-fingered desperation. But it’s mostly because noveling in the midst of a chaotic life makes “book time” a treat rather than an obligation. It’s a small psychological shift, but it makes all the difference in the world.

It is no mistake that the Creation God entrusted His world to was Man- The finest and best of His creation! If such man then be absent,the created world is in chaos!Look not too far Creation, Fix the Man, the nations are fixed! Check the homes,nations where the Father figures are absent....there is chaotic disorder! This the enemy knows too well, reason he wants that figure to always be in opposition to God... O Lord,restore! Have mercy on our homes! Give us men such as fear you! Fix the nations? Fix the Family! As the Family,so is the nation!!!

I’m guessing this one is about a hundred years old,” he said. “Then it’s ancient.” He nodded. “If I’m lucky, I’ll get twenty thousand feet of board out of it. Twelve feet long by an inch thick. Good solid board.” She took a step away from him, her face a mask of shock. “What’s the matter?” “How could you even think about destroying this glorious, magnificent, beautiful tree?” For a long moment he could only stare at her, baffled. “It’s my job. What did you think we’re doing out here? Digging for gold?” “Oh, I know perfectly well what you’re doing. You’ll take all you can get from this land, and then you’ll leave behind a chaotic mess.” “We parcel off the land and sell it to farmers.” “You know that’s not happening.” “Maybe not everywhere.” She planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve traveled around enough of Michigan this winter to see what the land looks like after lumber companies pull out and head somewhere else.” “Oh, come on, Lily.” Exasperation tugged at him. “What would our country do without the supply of lumber we’re providing? If we stop our operations, we’ll deprive the average family of affordable means for building homes.” She arched her brow. “Affordable?” “Compared to brick homes? Yes.” She obviously didn’t know anything about the industry. “As a matter of fact, hundreds of thousands of people in growing midwestern towns rely upon our boards and shingles for their homes. And on the other products that come from these trees.” He patted the pine. “I don’t care.” She reached for the tree, caressing it almost as if it were a living being, trailing her fingers in the deep grooves of the bark. “These trees, this land—they don’t deserve to be ravaged.

Then I went back into the house and sat for half an hour, marveling at the chaotic din that ebbed and flowed through the house as the rest of my little family got ready. It was really remarkable how complicated they could make the simplest tasks: Astor couldn’t find old socks that matched and flew into a towering miff when I suggested it didn’t matter whether they matched, since she was just going to get paint on them. Then Cody appeared in a T-shirt with a picture of SpongeBob on it and Astor began to scream that it was hers and he better take it off right now, and they fought about whose shirt it was until Rita hurried in and solved it by taking SpongeBob and giving Cody an Avatar shirt, which he wouldn’t put on because he still liked Avatar and didn’t want to get paint on it. Then Astor appeared in a pair of shorts so small they might have been denim underwear and fought Rita for the right to wear what she wanted to wear for another ten minutes.

But in order to keep my family a priority, I have to first prioritize my own needs so that I have a healthy amount in my cup of life to pour out for others.

I want a big, chaotic family to fill this house. I want to step on toys in the middle of the night. I want to break apart fights and bandage up skinned knees. I want the mess. I want the passion. I want to watch you grow our kids.” In his piercing blue eyes, I saw that future. It was full of best days. It was full of love for the man who’d stolen my heart. “Promise?” Knox grinned. “I swear it.

Our journey spirals inwardly towards the central point—our unique Self—contrasted with the separate self. This unique Self represents a perfect equilibrium of immanence and transcendence, particle and wave, parts and whole. It neither rejects nor clings to either polarity, instead guiding from a harmonious balance between the opposing spectrums. The unique Self transcends the ego's constraints and the abstraction of nondual awareness, allowing us to fully embody the human form while recognizing our spiritual nature. Without realizing and gravitating towards this unique Self, we remain subject to the ego's chaotic attempts to manage disparate parts. The unique Self exerts a grounding, centering gravitational force similar to Earth's pull, providing a stable point of attraction. While the transpersonal Self is the boundless, aware presence containing everything, analogous to the limitless expanse of outer space beyond Earth.

I’d missed the feeling of having people living in the house with me. I saw that now. For the happiest part of my life, we’d been a busy, chaotic, family of four, bursting with love and laughs.

I saw that now. For the happiest part of my life, we’d been a busy, chaotic, family of four, bursting with love and laughs.

Russia was not waiting for rapprochement with the United States. They could see that Trump’s chaotic White House was creating numerous financial opportunities worldwide, and they were going to scoop them up. On December 5, 2018, the Middle East and North Africa representative for the Russian state atomic energy company Rosatom went to Riyadh to meet with MBS. Its representative, Alexander Voronkov, said Russia would supply Generation 3+ VVER-1220 reactors for the kingdom, which he said were the most advanced ones Russia offered.26 It’s worth noting here that in 1994 Russia built the first nuclear reactor in Iran, also a VVER model. The reactors in Bushehr nuclear station were to be the same VVER-1220 as those Russia promised to Saudi Arabia.27 Even more interesting, Russian arms exporter Rosobornexport, a sanctioned arms company, sold S-300 air defense systems to Iran to protect Iran’s reactors, and one could imagine this could be part of the package to Saudi Arabia as well.28 The Russians were brilliantly offering regional parity and stability to both Iran and Saudi Arabia if the reactors were bought. It came with a tacit guarantee neither side could attack the other since they would have the same air defense system. On January 22, 2019, the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) delivered a report on what Saudi Arabia needed to do to stay within international norms if it pursued a nuclear power program. Mikhail Chudakov, a former head of Russian nuclear programs and IAEA deputy director, delivered the report that gave the kingdom the green light to move forward.29 The following day, the kingdom received offers from five nations for construction of the project: the United States, Russia, France, South Korea, and China.30 The Saudis originally wanted sixteen reactors but have scaled that back to two as part of a larger effort to diversify its energy grid.31 The “tilt” seems to be toward the Russians, with the Russian IAEA official paving the way and the Rosatom folks working over the royal family. Like their arms sales, the Russians promised a fairly cheap but stable deal that comes with massive long-term costs. But it was Team Trump that started this game, trying to cheat, abuse ethics, and lie its way into potentially gaining billions of Arab sheikdom money under the guise of a major foreign policy initiative. In the end, they got played by Russia, who knew corruption at a master-class level. Trump was a piker. And Russia ate America’s lunch… again.

So, this isn’t going great, and so far I definitely don’t like these guys as much as I enjoyed hanging out with Paloma and Maritza—chaotic as the queens are—but it could be worse. They’re willing to entertain polite conversation, and we have some things in common. Like, they’re gay, we’re gay, they have twin fae babies, we have a little trash baby we found in the woods.

He had the sleeves rolled up on his bathrobe, and it was a fairly jarring, chaotic picture he painted, yet somehow he made it seem lazily elegant. Like a sculptor shaping a lump of clay with muddy hands, like feeling along the edges of rolled-out pastry dough to check its thickness, or scoring a flour-dusted bâtard—something weirdly bold and confident about it. The seductive art of Nutella, as taught by one Tonio Salone. Unnerving.

Chaotic parenting styles can make people commitment-phobic.

I presented my requests to the Lord as I had so many times before, but this time, THIS time, I needed more. And so, using Philippians 4:8–9 as a guide, I found my answer: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true…” What was true in my life at this particular moment? The blessing of all family members eating dinner together. “Whatever is noble.” The blessing of enjoying each other’s presence outside of a hospital room. “Whatever is right.” The blessing of experiencing my two sons’ daily lives. “Whatever is pure.” The blessing of all three children laughing and playing with each other. “Whatever is lovely.” The blessing of watching Rebecca sleep peacefully in her bed at night. “Whatever is admirable.” The blessing of an honorable team working tirelessly on Rebecca’s care. “If anything is excellent.” The blessing of watching a miracle unfold. “Or praiseworthy.” The blessing of worshiping a Lord who is worthy to be praised. “Think about such things.

While Monica’s mind is ferociously orderly and logical, the organization of her day-to-day life is chaotic, a constant searching for keys, shopping lists and the other essential paraphernalia of existence. She is one of the untidiest people I have ever met, a quality which she airily dismisses as being the result of her upbringing, the family having always had a maid to do the tidying up. Monica is the kind of girl who finds it easier to discuss the merits of exculpatory evidence in a law case than to boil an egg.

Surmounting this plateau there had been a walled settlement, small and modest, a chaotic array of attached residences that would have housed perhaps twenty families at the height of its occupation. The defensive walls were solid, with no gates, and for the dwellers within, ingress and egress came via the rooftops and single-pole ladders. Yadeth Garath, the first human city, was now little more than salt-rotted rubble swallowed in silts, buried deep and unseen beneath the marsh. No history beyond the countless derivations from its ancient name remained, and of the lives and deaths and tales of all who had once lived there, not even bones survived.

dealing with ambiguous loss is as practical as it is profound. Some families, especially those of us from secular Western cultures, value mastery of fate over predestination. This causes us to suffer more when facing problems that we can’t solve. But giving in to helplessness isn’t healthy either. To live within this paradox, we must walk a tightrope between our desire to feel in control and our need to endure that which we cannot master. To cope within a chaotic and mysterious world, to truly “solve” the unsolvable case, we may, on occasion

The gentle reaction is one of steadiness, evenhandedness, fairness. It “looks humanely and reasonably at the facts of a case.”3 Its opposite would be an overreaction or a sense of panic. This gentleness is “evident to all.” Family members take note. Your friends sense a difference. Coworkers benefit from it. Others may freak out or run out, but the gentle person is sober minded and clear thinking. Contagiously calm.

Their rise was accelerated by a new crusade. In 1249, Louis IX of France landed with an army that nearly conquered a chaotic Egypt, which was saved only by a blond Turkish Mamluk of Pantagruelian proportions with one blue eye, one totally white, named Baibars. A junta of Mamluk amirs murdered the young sultan and replaced the Saladin family

After the initial, unavoidably chaotic lockdown period in the spring of 2020, we should have paid more attention to the toll of online learning: the terrible equity impacts on lower-income families who didn’t have the tech; the way it left out many students with developmental disabilities who needed in-person supports; the way it made it impossible for single parents to work outside the home and often inside it, with devastating effects for mothers in particular; the mental health impacts that social isolation was having on countless young people. The solution was not to fling open school doors where the virus was still surging and before vaccines had been rolled out. But where were the more spacious discussions about how to reimagine public schools so that they could be safer despite the virus—with smaller classrooms, more teachers and teacher’s aides, better ventilation, and more outdoor learning? We knew early on that teens and young adults were facing a mental health crisis amid the lockdowns—so why didn’t we invest in outdoor conservation and recreation programs that could have pried them away from their screens, put them in communities of other young people, generated meaningful work for our ailing planet, and lifted their spirits all at the same time?

In the bustling, culturally diverse city of Hyderabad, an emerging trend has been steadily gaining momentum - the Hyderabad baby photoshoot. These heartwarming photoshoots are not just a reflection of changing times but a testament to the enduring importance of capturing the innocence, joy, and beauty of early childhood. The Hyderabad baby photoshoot has transformed from a fleeting trend into a celebrated tradition in Hyderabad and around the world. The arrival of a new member in the family brings unbridled joy and wonder, making it the perfect occasion for a professional photoshoot. In the chaotic rush of life, the early days of a child are fragile and fleeting. Baby photoshoots offer a way to preserve these moments, capturing the beauty, innocence, and love that surround a child's arrival. These photographs are not just images; they are a portal to revisit and cherish the most precious moments of early childhood.

After spending the day in a school vaccination clinic, a colleague of mine quipped: “Every time you add a question to a form, I want you to imagine the user filling it out with one hand while using the other to break up a brawl between toddlers.”6 Applications for government benefits might be completed under similarly chaotic circumstances. Users who have a lot else going on in their lives need to be able to apply for the service without an undue burden of time, technology, and cognitive overhead. If they’re asked for documentation, the documents need to be ones they have access to. If they need to correspond with the program, there has to be a way for them to do so even if they lack a stable mailing address. If they have family who are undocumented immigrants, they may need reassurance that applying for a program won’t get them or their relatives in trouble.

As a species, we are very adaptive. If we come from families where parents are depressed or chaotic, we will adapt by not engaging them, and we literally will down-regulate our social engagement system.

An intricately melancholic Persian rug, foisted on June as a family heirloom, had also been consigned to the study, and its unwanted effect was to imbue this chaotic professional mess with the warmth of its perishing reds.

European converts to Islam were more vulnerable to extremist groups because many lacked this lifelong socialization. Many came from deprived social backgrounds and were primed to be drawn to aggressive, militant strains of anything, from local gangs to local extremist ideologues. They were quick to subsume their personal grudges against family and society into transnational political grudges against the West. Cuspert fell readily into the arms of shadowy German jihadist figures who promised that extreme stance. In fact, Cuspert didn't convert to Islam so much as initiate himself straight into a radical Islamist group called The True Religion. It was as though he had pressed a button and changed the aesthetic theme of the WordPress site of his life from gangsta to mujahid; the chaotic structure and violent impulses were all the same, but were now overlaid with Islamist imagery and themes. Suddenly causes like Iraq, Chechnya, and Afghanistan mattered to him deeply, and Germans, Westerners, and a broad swath of humanity became "unbelievers" who were complicit in Muslim suffering. His old friends on the Berlin rap scene were devastated, and furious. They were from "good enough" Muslim families and were adept at living and rapping about the painful contradictions. They didn't turn to violence. They all knew where the lines were. His record producer later complained bitterly about Cuspert's betrayal: "He disgraced everyone, all of the Muslim MCs. He ruined the community. May Allah forgive him. But we don't.

Controlling Families 1. Conditional Love • Parental love is given as a reward but withdrawn as punishment • Parents feel their children “owe” them • Children have to “earn” parental love Healthier Families 2. Respect • Children are seen and valued for who they are • Children’s choices are accepted Controlling Families 2. Disrespect • Children are treated as parental property • Parents use children to satisfy parental needs Healthier Families 3. Open Communication • Expressing honest thought is valued more than saying   something a certain way • Questioning and dissent are allowed • Problems are acknowledged and addressed Controlling Families 3. Stifled Speech • Communication is hampered by rules like “Don’t ask why” and   “Don’t say no” • Questioning and dissent are discouraged • Problems are ignored or denied Healthier Families 4. Emotional Freedom • It’s okay to feel sadness, fear, anger and joy • Feelings are accepted as natural Controlling Families 4. Emotional Intolerance • Strong emotions are discouraged or blocked • Feelings are considered dangerous Healthier Families 5. Encouragement • Children’s potentials are encouraged • Children are praised when they succeed and given compassion   when they fail Controlling Families 5. Ridicule • Children feel on trial • Children are criticized more than praised Healthier Families 6. Consistent Parenting • Parents set appropriate, consistent limits • Parents see their role as guides • Parents allow children reasonable control over their own bodies   and activities Controlling Families 6. Dogmatic or Chaotic Parenting • Discipline is often harsh and inflexible • Parents see their role as bosses • Parents accord children little privacy Healthier Families 7. Encouragement of an Inner Life • Children learn compassion for themselves • Parents communicate their values but allow children to develop   their own values • Learning, humor, growth and play are present Controlling Families 7. Denial of an Inner Life • Children don’t learn compassion for themselves • Being right is more important than learning or being curious • Family atmosphere feels stilted or chaotic Healthier Families 8. Social Connections • Connections with others are fostered • Parents pass on a broader vision of responsibility to others   and to society Controlling Families 8. Social Dysfunction • Few genuine connections exist with outsiders • Children are told “Everyone’s out to get you” • Relationships are driven by approval-seeking The Consequences of Unhealthy Parenting Healthier parents try, often intuitively and within whatever limits they face, to provide nurturing love, respect, communication, emotional freedom, consistency, encouragement of an inner life, and social connections. By and large they succeed—not all the time, perhaps not even most of the time, but often enough to compensate for normal parental mistakes and difficulties. Overcontrol, in contrast, throws young lives out of balance: Conditional love, disrespect, stifled speech, emotional intolerance, ridicule, dogmatic parenting, denial of an inner life, and social dysfunction take a cumulative toll. Controlling families are particularly difficult for sensitive children, who experience emotional blows and limits on their freedom especially acutely. Sensitive children also tend to blame themselves for family problems.

Usually this is a result of having had to be hypervigilant as a child—especially if your family situation was chaotic or frightening—and consequently developing a habit of trying to see problems before they even show up.

Deeply and instinctively, Cilka still often reaches for prayers. Her religion is tied to her childhood, her family, traditions and comfort. To another time. It is a part of who she is. At the same time, her faith has been challenged. It has been very hard for her to continue believing when it truly does not seem that actions are fairly rewarded or punished, when it seems instead that events are random, and that life is chaotic.

Serious illness is chaotic. Illness is not as simple as "I got sick and then I got better," but rather a series of ups and downs, surprises, catastrophes and rescues, and human reactions-some great and some disappointing-from patients, families, physicians, and other professionals. Physicians can acknowledge the chaos to patients. At the very least, they should not contribute to it with ill-chosen words, actions uncoordinated with other colleagues, or inaccessibility.

Genetics Genes are often referred to as the blueprint for human beings. It is well-known that they determine such things as eye color, hair texture, the shape of your nose, and other traits inherited from your parents. Actually, genes are responsible for much more than physical characteristics. You may be someone who cries easily, can’t stand loud noises, and hates crowds, while other people you know don’t seem to cry in any situation, love loud events, and thrive in a crowd. This may result from genetics. Although a specific gene for shyness and social anxiety does not exist, many experts feel that there are genes that control how emotional and sensitive people are. In general, it seems that people with social anxiety are more emotional and highly sensitive to things such as loud noises and chaotic crowds. Because you can’t change your genetic makeup, you probably won’t transform into the most outgoing person in your class or suddenly love to be the center of attention. However, you can learn how to manage your shyness and feel more comfortable. The situation is similar to a characteristic such as body type. If your parents are short with large frames and you are short with a large frame, you might be able to change some aspects of the way you look through diet and exercise, but you will never become tall and waiflike. Evidence that supports the genetic theory is that anxiety often runs in families, just like blue eyes or curly hair. Children who have social anxiety often realize that their parents also have a difficult time in social situations. A genetic influence is tricky to prove, however, because many aspects of social anxiety may be learned behaviors.