Drain My Energy Quotes

My parents had torn through my innocence and left me with a tar-like substance that was corrupting what was left of me. I could feel it at night; slithering and curling around my soul as it slowly devoured me. It was draining my energy and replacing it with an evil I was afraid to confront.

I can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is the energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow. There go the dishes, there goes the grocery store, there goes exercise, there goes bringing in the garbage cans. There goes basic human kindness.

Whenever the need for some pretense of communication arises, those who profit from our oppression call upon us to share our knowledge with them. In other words, it is the responsibility of the oppressed to teach the oppressors their mistakes. I am responsible for educating teachers who dismiss my children’s culture in school. Black and Third World people are expected to educate white people as to our humanity. Women are expected to educate men. Lesbians and gay men are expected to educate the heterosexual world. The oppressors maintain their position and evade responsibility for their own actions. There is a constant drain of energy which might be better used in redefining ourselves and devising realistic scenarios for altering the present and constructing the future.

They have no idea what a bottomless pit of misery I am. They will have to do more and more and more...but they don’t know how enormous my need is. They don’t know how much I will demand from them before I can even think about getting better. They do not know that this is not some practice fire drill meant to prepare them for the real inferno, because the real thing is happening right now. All the bells say: too late. Its much too late and I’m sure that they are still not listening. They still don’t know that they need to do more and more and more, they need to try to get through to me until they haven’t slept or eaten or breathed fresh air for days, they need to try until they’ve died for me. They have to suffer as I have. And even after they’ve done that, there will still be more. They will have to rearrange the order of the cosmos, they will have to end the cold war...they will have to cure hunger in Ethiopia, and end the sex trade in Thailand and stop torture in Argentina. They will have to do more then they ever thought they could if they want me to stay alive. They have no idea how much energy and exasperation I am willing to suck out of them until I feel better. I will drain them and drown them until they know how little of me there is left even after I’ve taken everything they’ve got to give me because I hate them for not knowing.

Boundaries to Consider I say no to things I don’t like. I say no to things that don’t contribute to my growth. I say no to things that rob me of valuable time. I spend time around healthy people. I reduce my interactions with people who drain my energy. I protect my energy against people who threaten my sanity. I practice positive self-talk. I allow myself to feel and not judge my feelings. I forgive myself when I make a mistake. I actively cultivate the best version of myself. I turn off my phone when appropriate. I sleep when I’m tired. I mind my business. I make tough decisions because they’re healthy for me. I create space for activities that bring me joy. I say yes to activities that interest me despite my anxiety about trying them. I experience things alone instead of waiting for the “right” people to join me.

I pledge allegiance to myself and to my Soul for which I stand. I honor my goodness, my gifts, and my talents. I commit to remaining loyal to myself from this moment forward for all of my days.

We know what it feels like to have our energy drained by too much interaction. It feels like my brain is tired, almost like a muscle would be tired. The more depleted my psychic energy is, the slower my thoughts come, the harder it is to speak full sentences or focus on what’s going on around me. My senses become even more sensitive; noise and fuss are more overwhelming. And I become tense, irritated, cranky. That’s when I know I need to stop, sit down, let my brain relax and put up its metaphorical feet.

I must try not to be sucked into other people’s problems when all it does is drain my energy.

Sit down, Lanie, and eat. It’s getting cold.” I took two steps into the room, stopped and said quietly but firmly, “I don’t have the energy to spar with you tonight. I’ve been working for five hours and although not physically taxing, it’s been mentally draining. I just want a quiet night.” I shook my head and amended, “No, I need a quiet night.” “Then it’s good we’re just gonna watch TV. And when I fuck you later, you’re golden. I’ll do all the work.

​He sucked the life out of me. ​He drained me of all my energy. ​He would do it again if I let him. ​If I let him.

I have learned to prioritize my actions into three buckets: things that drain my energy, things I don’t mind and are important and useful, and things that give me energy and bring me joy. My goal is to break my daily actions down so that I spend none of my time on tasks that fall into the first category, 10 percent of my time on the second category, and 90 percent of my time in the final category, the one that Robert Greene calls primal inclinations. When I find myself drifting too far from the goal, I reset my actions.

That’s the difference, a true friend is happy for you no matter what you do and what you have and quite frankly I didn’t have the time for meaningless conversations or friendships that drained me of my energy.

If someone is snarky or critical, I no longer try to “buff them up,” send love, or try to explain my position. If the comment is nasty or a put-down, I just delete it. If it happens again, I simply press “ban user.

I had treated my temporary earthly problems so emotionally and seriously that they became major energy zappers, brain drains, and heart breakers. I knew I was a Christian living in this world, but things didn’t really sink in until the concept of the purple wedge made me ‘see’ it and put things into perspective.

I teach in my life-coaching programs, when you bear a grudge against someone, it is almost as if you carry that person around on your back with you. He drains you of your energy, enthusiasm and peace of mind. But the moment you forgive him, you get him off your back and you can move on with the rest of your life.

My energies have been drained. Masturbating too much will do that.

No time to answer all those questions. Well, maybe there is, but you drain me. Like a straw. Here you come, and--fwoop!--all my energy is gone.

Five a.m. and mooching round Compartments in my brain Every corner occupied By garbage and disdain Down all day - up all night Beneath that energy draining light The Paperboy's Wife

All those losers I’ve crossed paths with have drained me clean from my positive energy. They took all the upbeat goodness right out of me and left me overanalyzing the possibility of dating ever again.

It looked as though the leaves of the autumn forest had taken flight, and were pouring down the valley like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, all the leaves of the hardwoods from here to Hudson’s Bay. It was as if the season’s colors were draining away like lifeblood, as if the year were molting and shedding. The year was rolling down, and a vital curve had been reached, the tilt that gives way to headlong rush. And when the monarch butterflies had passed and were gone, the skies were vacant, the air poised. The dark night into which the year was plunging was not a sleep but an awakening, a new and necessary austerity, the sparer climate for which I longed. The shed trees were brittle and still, the creek light and cold, and my spirit holding its breath.

can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow.

My friend John Maxwell says a budget (for your money) is telling your money where to go instead of wondering where it went. Managing time is the same; you will either tell your day what to do or you will wonder where it went. The weird thing is that the more efficient, on task, on goal you are with your time, the more energy you have. Working with no traction, or for that matter simply wasting away a day, does not relax you, it drains you. Have you ever taken a day off, slept late, wandered around with no plan or thought for the day, watched some stupid rerun of a bad movie as you surfed the TV, and at the end of your great day off found yourself absolutely exhausted? Strange as it may seem, when you work a daily plan in pursuit of your written goals that flow from your mission statement born of your vision for living your dreams, you are energized after a tough long day.

I was never attracted to big things―convertible Porsche's, mansions, fame, and money. I always found those things to be repulsive and energy-draining. Give me the gutters, the junkyards, the bars, the liquor stores, the grimy graffiti-ridden back alleys, the insane asylums, the pimps, the hookers, the preachers, the old, the drunkards, the junkies, the homeless, the madmen, and the madwomen. Wherever the ghetto is, that's where life is. It doesn't matter where you live, United States, United Kingdom, Sweden, you won't find a liveliness like in the ghetto anywhere else. They're the things that refill my energy tank and keep me going. Anything out of that realm is just plain, dull, and boring. Give me the cheap and effortless lifestyle. The factory job, the small one-bedroom apartments, the whores, the Budweiser six-packs, the hand-rolled cigarettes, the Tom Waits vinyls, and the old vintage typewriters. I'll be alright.

Book Excerpt: "What about your family, Abu Huwa? Are you an orphan?” the little girl very innocently asked the Sphinx. “My father and your father are one and the same. However, I do have a brother who has stood as my mirror throughout time on the opposite horizon. It is I who faces east, but it is he who faces west. I am the recorder of yesterday and he holds the records of tomorrow. I am the positive, and he is my negative. I carry the right eye of the sun and he carries the left eye of the moon. He keeps his eye on the underworld and I keep an eye on the world over. Together we have joined the sky and earth, and split fire and water.” Seham stood on all toes to peek over the Sphinx's shoulder for a sign of his brother. “Where is he?” she asked, her eyes still searching the open horizon. “He has yet to be uncovered, but as I stand above the sands of time, he still sleeps below. Before the descent of Adam, we have both stood as loyal Protectors of the Two Halls of Truth.” The girl asked in astonishment, “I've never heard of these halls, Abu Huwa. Where are they?” “At the end of each of our tails is a passage that will reveal to you the secrets of Time. One hall reflects a thousand truths, and the other hall reflects all that is untrue. One will speak to your heart, and the other will speak to your mind. This is why you need to use both your heart and mind to understand which one is real, and which is a distorted illusion created to misguide those that have neglected their conscience. Both passageways connect you to the Great Hall of Records.” “What is the Hall of Records?” “The Great Pyramid, my child. It is as multidimensional in its shape as it is in its purpose. Every layer and every brick marks the coming of a prophet, the ascension of evil, or another cycle of man. It contains the entire history and future of mankind. And, as is above, so is below. Above ground, it serves as the most powerful energy source to harmonize and power the world! The shape of the pyramid above ground is also the same image mirrored beneath it. Underground, it serves as a powerful well and drain. This is really why Egypt is called the Land of Two Lands. There exists a huge world of its own underneath the plateau, a world within worlds. Large amounts of gold, copper and mercury were once housed here, including the secrets of Time, the 100th name of He Who Is All, and a gift from Truth that still awaits to be discovered. It sleeps with Time in the Great Pyramid, hidden away in a lower shaft that leads to the stars.” Dialogue from 'The Little Girl and the Sphinx' by Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (Dar-El Shams, 2010)

Anything that was good for me would feel good in the moment and give me more energy and enthusiasm for the important things in my life. A truly good thing would not pull me away from a project that I felt passionate about. It would not give me an exhilarating high, later leaving me drained, distracted, or guilty. A truly good thing would not dull the shine of the rest of my life.

I can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow. There go the dishes, there goes the grocery store, there goes exercise, there goes bringing in the garbage cans. There

Any place in our lives and heart where we are exerting our will and ways over God’s will and ways will inevitably drain us of energy and resources. Exertion=Exhaustion. On the other hand, death to self requires only that we lay down at the foot of the cross and give up the right to run our lives. We say with Christ, “Not my will but Yours be done Father.” The Crucified life is the entrance into true rest. #ComeAndDie

Reality has always bored me senseless. It drains my energy. Many years ago, I realized I was going to process life though a music purification system. It worked, too. When I listen to music, read or write about music, think about music, everything gets better. Music allows me to travel in my mind. We spend a good part of our lives in places we don’t want to be in and with people we don’t want to be around. I’m trying to keep all that to a minimum.

I can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow. There go the dishes, there goes the grocery store, there goes exercise, there goes bringing in the garbage cans. There goes basic human kindness. I wake up in a sweat so thorough I sleep with a pitcher of water by the bed or I might die of dehydration

Most of the women (and also men) afflicted by energy vampires are compassionate, loving, and deeply concerned about the well-being of the people around them. They interact with the energy of other people to a degree that puts them well past being merely compassionate. They don’t simply feel an observational sadness when they see someone suffer; they feel the same suffering, as if they are having a firsthand experience of the pain they are witnessing. These women fall into a category of people known as empaths. My guess is that if you’re reading

Getting into fights with people makes my heart race. Not getting into fights with people makes my heart race. Even sleeping makes my heart race! I'm lying in bed when the thumping arrives, like a foreign invader. It's a horrible dark mass, like the monolith in 2001, self-organized but completely unknowable, and it enters my body and releases adrenaline. Like a black hole, it sucks in any benign thoughts that might be scrolling across my brain and attaches visceral panic to them. For instance, during the day I might have mused, Hey, I should pack more fresh fruit in Bee's lunch. That night, with the arrival of The Thumper, it becomes, I'VE GOT TO PACK MORE FRESH FRUIT IN BEE'S LUNCH!!! I can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow. There go the dishes, there goes the grocery store, there goes exercise, there goes bringing in the garbage cans. There goes basic human kindness. I wake up in a sweat so through I sleep with a pitcher of water by the bed or I might die of dehydration.

Life sometimes is like tossing a coin in the air calling heads or tails, but it doesn’t matter what side it lands on; life goes on. It is hard when you’ve lost the will to fight because you’ve been fighting for so long. You are smothered by the pain. Mentally, you are drained. Physically, you are weak. Emotionally, you are weighed down. Spiritually, you do not have one tiny mustard seed of faith. The common denominator is that other people’s problems have clouded your mind with all of their negativity. You cannot feel anything; you are numb. You do not have the energy to surrender, and you choose not to escape because you feel safe when you are closed in. As you move throughout the day, you do just enough to get by. Your mindset has changed from giving it your all to—well, something is better than nothing. You move in slow motion like a zombie, and there isn’t any color, just black and white, with every now and then a shade of gray. You’ve shut everyone out and crawled back into the rabbit hole. Life passes you by as you feel like you cannot go on. You look around for help; for someone to take the pain away and to share your suffering, but no one is there. You feel alone, you drift away when you glance ahead and see that there are more uphill battles ahead of you. You do not have the option to turn around because all of the roads are blocked. You stand exactly where you are without making a step. You try to think of something, but you are emotionally bankrupt. Where do you go from here? You do not have a clue. Standing still isn’t helping because you’ve welcomed unwanted visitors; voices are in your head, asking, “What are you waiting for? Take the leap. Jump.” They go on to say, “You’ve had enough. Your burdens are too heavy.” You walk towards the cliff; you turn your head and look at the steep hill towards the mountain. The view isn’t helping; not only do you have to climb the steep hill, but you have to climb up the mountain too. You take a step; rocks and dust fall off the cliff. You stumble and you move forward. The voices in your head call you a coward. You are beginning to second-guess yourself because you want to throw in the towel. You close your eyes; a tear falls and travels to your chin. As your eyes are closed the Great Divine’s voice is louder; yet, calmer, soothing; and you feel peace instantly. Your mind feels light, and your body feels balanced. The Great Divine whispers gently and softly in your ear: “Fallen Warrior, I know you have given everything you’ve got, and you feel like you have nothing left to give. Fallen Warrior, I know it’s been a while since you smiled. Fallen Warrior, I see that you are hurting, and I feel your pain. Fallen Warrior, this is not the end. This is the start of your new beginning. Fallen Warrior, do not doubt My or your abilities; you have more going for you than you have going against you. Fallen Warrior, keep moving, you have what it takes; perseverance is your middle name. Fallen Warrior, you are not the victim! You are the victor! You step back because you know why you are here. You know why you are alive. Sometimes you have to be your own Shero. As a fallen warrior, you are human; and you have your moments. There are days when you have more ups than downs, and some days you have more downs than ups. I most definitely can relate. I was floating through life, but I had to change my mindset. During my worst days, I felt horrible, and when I started to think negatively I felt like I was dishonoring myself. I felt sick, I felt afraid, fear began to control my every move. I felt like demons were trying to break in and take over my life.

We worry so much about negative peer pressure- whether from the toxic coworkers who infect us with their pessimism, the classmates constantly getting our kids into trouble, or the wealthy friends who pressure us into taking vacations we can't afford- that we often forget all about the power of positive peer pressure. Just as being around negative, unmotivated people drains our energy and potential, surrounding ourselves with positive, engaged, motivated, and creative people causes our positivity, engagement, motivation and creativity to multiply. In my work with companies, I created a formula to highlight the basic principle at the heart of this strategy: Big Potential = individual attributes X (positive influences - negative influences)

What else it is but the fate attendant on being human—to suffer one's measure, to drain the cup?—And if the chalice was too bitter for the human lips of the God of heaven why should I play a bragging part and pretend I find it sweet? And why should I be ashamed in the frightful moment when my whole existence trembles between to be and not to be, when the past flashes like lightning over the black abyss of the future and everything around me founders and the world goes down with me—Is it not the voice of a creature driven wholly into itself, losing itself, toppling unstoppably down, in the inner depths of its energies vainly labouring to rise—the voice that asks through grating teeth, 'My God, my God why hast though forsaken me?' And am I to be ashamed of that moment, am I to be afraid of it, when He could not escape it Who rolls up the heavens like a cloth?

Murakami: Had you been listening to Mahler before Bernstein got you started? Ozawa: No, not at all. […] It was a huge shock for me – until then I never even knew music like that existed. I mean, here at Tanglewood, playing Tchaikovsky and Debussy, and meanwhile there’s this guy putting all his energy into studying Mahler. I could feel the blood draining from my face. I had to order my own copies right then and there. After that, I started reading Mahler like crazy – the First, the Second, the Fifth. Murakami: Did you enjoy just reading the scores? Ozawa: Oh, tremendously. I mean, it was the first time in my life I had ever seen anything like them. To think there were scores like this! Murakami: Was it a completely different world from the music you had been playing until then? Ozawa: First of all, I was amazed that there was someone who knew how to use an orchestra so well. It was extreme – his marvelous ability to put every component of the orchestra to use. And from the orchestra’s point of view, the Mahler symphonies are the most challenging pieces ever.

Getting into fights with people makes my heart race. Not getting into fights with people makes my heart race. Even sleeping makes my heart race! I’m lying in bed when the thumping arrives, like a foreign invader. It’s a horrible dark mass, like the monolith in 2001, self-organized but completely unknowable, and it enters my body and releases adrenaline. Like a black hole, it sucks in any benign thoughts that might be scrolling across my brain and attaches visceral panic to them. For instance, during the day I might have mused, Hey, I should pack more fresh fruit in Bee’s lunch. That night, with the arrival of The Thumper, it becomes, I’VE GOT TO PACK MORE FRESH FRUIT IN BEE’S LUNCH!!! I can feel the irrationality and anxiety draining my store of energy like a battery-operated racecar grinding away in the corner. This is energy I will need to get through the next day. But I just lie in bed and watch it burn, and with it any hope for a productive tomorrow. There go the dishes, there goes the grocery store, there goes exercise, there goes bringing in the garbage cans. There goes basic human kindness. I wake up in a sweat so thorough I sleep with a pitcher of water by the bed or I might die of dehydration.

Old Hubert must have had a premonition of his squalid demise. In October he said to me, ‘Forty-two years I’ve had this place. I’d really like to go back home, but I ain’t got the energy since my old girl died. And I can’t sell it the way it is now. But anyway before I hang my hat up I’d be curious to know what’s in that third cellar of mine.’ The third cellar has been walled up by order of the civil defence authorities after the floods of 1910. A double barrier of cemented bricks prevents the rising waters from invading the upper floors when flooding occurs. In the event of storms or blocked drains, the cellar acts as a regulatory overflow. The weather was fine: no risk of drowning or any sudden emergency. There were five of us: Hubert, Gerard the painter, two regulars and myself. Old Marteau, the local builder, was upstairs with his gear, ready to repair the damage. We made a hole. Our exploration took us sixty metres down a laboriously-faced vaulted corridor (it must have been an old thoroughfare). We were wading through a disgusting sludge. At the far end, an impassable barrier of iron bars. The corridor continued beyond it, plunging downwards. In short, it was a kind of drain-trap. That’s all. Nothing else. Disappointed, we retraced our steps. Old Hubert scanned the walls with his electric torch. Look! An opening. No, an alcove, with some wooden object that looks like a black statuette. I pick the thing up: it’s easily removable. I stick it under my arm. I told Hubert, ‘It’s of no interest. . .’ and kept this treasure for myself. I gazed at it for hours on end, in private. So my deductions, my hunches were not mistaken: the Bièvre-Seine confluence was once the site where sorcerers and satanists must surely have gathered. And this kind of primitive magic, which the blacks of Central Africa practise today, was known here several centuries ago. The statuette had miraculously survived the onslaught of time: the well-known virtues of the waters of the Bièvre, so rich in tannin, had protected the wood from rotting, actually hardened, almost fossilized it. The object answered a purpose that was anything but aesthetic. Crudely carved, probably from heart of oak. The legs were slightly set apart, the arms detached from the body. No indication of gender. Four nails set in a triangle were planted in its chest. Two of them, corroded with rust, broke off at the wood’s surface all on their own. There was a spike sunk in each eye. The skull, like a salt cellar, had twenty-four holes in which little tufts of brown hair had been planted, fixed in place with wax, of which there were still some vestiges. I’ve kept quiet about my find. I’m biding my time.

SELF-ASSESSMENT​Are You an Empath? To find out, take the following empath self-assessment, answering “mostly yes” or “mostly no” to each question. •​Have I ever been labeled overly sensitive, shy, or introverted? •​Do I frequently get overwhelmed or anxious? •​Do arguments and yelling make me ill? •​Do I often feel like I don’t fit in? •​Do crowds drain me, and do I need alone time to revive myself? •​Do noise, odors, or nonstop talkers overwhelm me? •​Do I have chemical sensitivities or a low tolerance for scratchy clothes? •​Do I prefer taking my own car to places so that I can leave early if I need to? •​Do I overeat to cope with stress? •​Am I afraid of becoming suffocated by intimate relationships? •​Do I startle easily? •​Do I react strongly to caffeine or medications? •​Do I have a low threshold for pain? •​Do I tend to socially isolate? •​Do I absorb other people’s stress, emotions, or symptoms? •​Am I overwhelmed by multitasking, and do I prefer to do one thing at a time? •​Do I replenish myself in nature? •​Do I need a long time to recuperate after being with difficult people or energy vampires? •​Do I feel better in small towns or the country rather than large cities? •​Do I prefer one-to-one interactions and small groups to large gatherings? Now calculate your results. •​If you answered yes to one to five questions, you’re at least a partial empath. •​If you answered yes to six to ten questions, you have moderate empath tendencies. •​If you answered yes to eleven to fifteen questions, you have strong empath tendencies. •​If you answered yes to more than fifteen questions, you are a full-blown empath.

The definition of morality; Morality is the idiosyncrasy of decadents, actuated by a desire to avenge themselves with success upon life. I attach great value to this definition. 8 [Pg 141] Have you understood me? I have not uttered a single word which I had not already said five years ago through my mouthpiece Zarathustra. The unmasking of Christian morality is an event which unequalled in history, it is a real catastrophe. The man who throws light upon it is a force majeure, a fatality; he breaks the history of man into two. Time is reckoned up before him and after him. The lightning flash of truth struck precisely that which theretofore had stood highest: he who understands what was destroyed by that flash should look to see whether he still holds anything in his hands. Everything which until then was called truth, has been revealed as the most detrimental, most spiteful, and most subterranean form of life; the holy pretext, which was the "improvement" of man, has been recognised as a ruse for draining life of its energy and of its blood. Morality conceived as Vampirism.... The man who unmasks morality has also unmasked the worthlessness of the values in which men either believe or have believed; he no longer sees anything to be revered in the most venerable man—even in the types of men that have been pronounced holy; all he can see in them is the most fatal kind of abortions, fatal, because they fascinate. The concept "God" was invented as the opposite of the concept life—everything detrimental, poisonous, and slanderous, and all deadly hostility to life, wad bound together in one horrible unit in Him. The concepts "beyond" and "true world" were invented in order to depreciate the only world that exists—in order that no goal or aim, no sense or task, might be left to earthly reality. The concepts "soul," "spirit," and last of all the concept "immortal soul," were invented in order to throw contempt on the body, in order to make it sick and "holy," in order to cultivate an attitude of appalling levity towards all things in life which deserve to be treated seriously, i.e. the questions of nutrition and habitation, of intellectual diet, the treatment of the sick, cleanliness, and weather. Instead of health, we find the "salvation of the soul"—that is to say, a folie circulate fluctuating between convulsions and penitence and the hysteria of redemption. The concept "sin," together with the torture instrument appertaining to it, which is the concept "free will," was invented in order to confuse and muddle our instincts, and to render the mistrust of them man's second nature! In the concepts "disinterestedness" and "self-denial," the actual signs of decadence are to be found. The allurement of that which is [Pg 142] [Pg 143] The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ecce Homo, by Friedrich Nietzsche. detrimental, the inability to discover one's own advantage and self-destruction, are made into absolute qualities, into the "duty," the "holiness," and the "divinity" of man. Finally—to keep the worst to the last—by the notion of the good man, all that is favoured which is weak, ill, botched, and sick-in-itself, which ought to be wiped out. The law of selection is thwarted, an ideal is made out of opposition to the proud, well-constituted man, to him who says yea to life, to him who is certain of the future, and who guarantees the future—this man is henceforth called the evil one. And all this was believed in as morality!

[What to do with] Unwanted Gifts This can be a very sensitive issue for many people. However, here’s my very best advice on what to do with unwanted presents: get rid of them. Here’s why. Things you really love have a strong, vibrant energy field around them, whereas unwanted presents have uneasy, conflicting energies attached to them that drain you rather than energize you. They actually create an energetic gloom in your home. The very thought of giving them the elbow is horrifying to some people. “But what about when Aunt Jane comes to visit and that expensive decoration she gave us isn’t on the mantelpiece?“ Whose mantlepiece is it anyway? If you love the item, fine, but if you keep it in your home out of fear and obligation, you were giving your power away. Every time you walk into the room and see that object, your energy levels drop. And don’t think that out of sight, out of mind will work. You can’t keep that gift in the cupboard and just bring it out when Aunt Jane is due to visit. Your subconscious mind still knows you have it on the premises. If you have enough of these unwanted presents around you, your energy network looks like a sieve, with vitality running out all over the place. Remember, it’s the thought that counts. You can appreciate being given the gift without necessarily having to keep it. Try adopting a whole different philosophy about presents. When you give something to someone, give it with love and let it go. Allow the recipient complete freedom to do whatever he wants with it. If the thing he can most useful he do is put it straight in the trash or give it to someone else, fine (you wouldn’t want him to clutter up his space with unwanted presents would you?). Give others this freedom and you will begin to experience more freedom in your own life too.

The turning-point [in Klosters, Switzerland in 1988] [Diana’s sister] Jane’s wonderfully solid. If you ring up with a drama, she says: ‘Golly, gosh, Duch, how horrible, how sad and how awful’ and gets angry. But my sister Sarah swears: ‘Poor Duch, such a shitty thing to happen.’ My father says: ‘Just remember we always love you.’ But that summer [1988] when I made so many cock-ups I sat myself down in the autumn, when I was in Scotland, and I remember saying to myself: ‘Right, Diana, it’s no good, you’ve got to change it right round, this publicity, you’ve got to grow up and be responsible. You’ve got to understand that you can’t do what other 26- and 27-year olds are doing. You’ve been chosen to do a position so you must adapt to the position and stop fighting it.’ I remember my conversation so well, sitting by water. I always sit by water when contemplating. Stephen Twigg [a therapist] who comes to see me said once: ‘Whatever anybody else thinks of you is none of your business.’ That sat with me. Then once someone said to me, when I said I’ve got to go up to Balmoral, and they said: ‘Well, you’ve got to put up with them but they’ve also got to put up with you.’ This myth about me hating Balmoral--I love Scotland but just the atmosphere drains me to nothing. I go up ‘strong Diana.’ I come away depleted of everything because they just suck me dry, because I tune in to all their moods and, boy, are there some undercurrents there! Instead of having a holiday, it’ the most stressful time of the year. I love being out all day. I love the stalking. I’m much happier now. I’m not blissful but much more content than I’ve ever been. I’ve really gone down deep, scraped the bottom a couple times and come up again and it’s very nice meeting people now and talking about tai-chi and people say: ‘Tai-chi--what do you know about tai-chi?’ and I said: ‘An energy flow,’ and all this and they look at me and they say: ‘She’s the girl who’s supposed to like shopping and clothes the whole time. She’s not supposed to know about spiritual things.

When someone goes to the doctor and says, “I hear a voice in my head,” he or she will most likely be sent to a psychiatrist. The fact is that, in a very similar way, virtually everyone hears a voice, or several voices, in their head all the time: the involuntary thought processes that you don’t realize you have the power to stop. Continuous monologues or dialogues. You have probably come across “mad” people in the street incessantly talking or muttering to themselves. Well, that’s not much different from what you and all other “normal” people do, except that you don’t do it out loud. The voice comments, speculates, judges, compares, complains, likes, dislikes, and so on. The voice isn’t necessarily relevant to the situation you find yourself in at the time; it may be reviving the recent or distant past or rehearsing or imagining possible future situations. Here it often imagines things going wrong and negative outcomes; this is called worry. Sometimes this soundtrack is accompanied by visual images or “mental movies.” Even if the voice is relevant to the situation at hand, it will interpret it in terms of the past. This is because the voice belongs to your conditioned mind, which is the result of all your past history as well as of the collective cultural mind-set you inherited. So you see and judge the present through the eyes of the past and get a totally distorted view of it. It is not uncommon for the voice to be a person’s own worst enemy. Many people live with a tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and punishes them and drains them of vital energy. It is the cause of untold misery and unhappiness, as well as of disease. The good news is that you can free yourself from your mind. This is the only true liberation. You can take the first step right now. Start listening to the voice in your head as often as you can. Pay particular attention to any repetitive thought patterns, those old gramophone records that have been playing in your head perhaps for many years. This is what I mean by “watching the thinker,” which is another way of saying: listen to the voice in your head, be there as the witnessing presence. When you listen to that voice, listen to it impartially. That is to say, do not judge. Do not judge or condemn what you hear, for doing so would mean that the same voice has come in again through the back door. You’ll soon realize: there is the voice, and here I am listening to it, watching it. This I am realization, this sense of your own presence, is not a thought. It arises from beyond the mind.

Mikhail didn’t flinch away from the blade. His black eyes snapped open, blazing with power. Slovensky fell backward, scrambling away on all fours to crouch against the far wall. Fumbling in his coat, he jerked out the gun and held it pointed at Mikhail. The ground rolled almost gently, seemed to swell so that the concrete floor bulged, then cracked. Slovensky grabbed for the wall behind him to steady himself and lost the gun in the process. Above his head a rock fell from the wall, bounced dangerously close, and rolled to a halt beside him. A second rock, and a third, fell, so that Slovensky had to cover his head as the rocks rained down in a roaring shower. Slovensky’s cry of fear was high and thin. He made himself even smaller, peering through his fingers at the Carpathian. Mikhail had not moved to protect himself. He lay exactly as Slovensky had positioned him, those dark eyes, two black holes, windows to hell, staring at him. Swearing, Slovensky tried to lunge for the gun. The floor bucked and heaved under him, sending the gun skittering out of reach. A second wall swayed precariously, and rocks cascaded down, striking the man about the head and shoulders, driving him to the floor. He watched a curious, frightening pattern form. Not one rock touched the priest’s body. Not one came close to Mikhail. The Carpathian simply watched him with those damn eyes and that faint mocking smile as the rocks buried Slovensky’s legs, then fell on his back. There was an ominous crack, and Slovensky screamed under the heavy load on his spine. “Damn you to hell,” Slovensky snarled. “My brother will track you down.” Mikhail said nothing, simply watching the havoc Gregori created. Mikhail would have killed James Slovensky outright, without the drama Gregori had such a flair for, but he was tired, his body in a precarious state. He had no wish to drain his energy further. Raven would be in the vampire’s hands for the time it took Gregori to heal him. He couldn’t allow himself to think of what Andre might do to her. For the first time in centuries of living, Mikhail was forced to rely on another being. Gregori. The dark one. A royal pain in the neck. I read your thoughts, my friend. Mikhail stirred, pain shafting through him. More rocks fell on Slovensky in retaliation, covering him like a blanket, beginning to form a macabre grave. As you were meant to. Gregori moved into the room with his familiar silent glide, grace and power clinging to him as he strode through the wreckage of the wall. “This is becoming a bad habit.” “Oh, shut up,” Mikhail said without rancor.

FREEING YOURSELF FROM YOUR MIND What exactly do you mean by “watching the thinker”? When someone goes to the doctor and says, “I hear a voice in my head,” he or she will most likely be sent to a psychiatrist. The fact is that, in a very similar way, virtually everyone hears a voice, or several voices, in their head all the time: the involuntary thought processes that you don’t realize you have the power to stop. Continuous monologues or dialogues. You have probably come across “mad” people in the street incessantly talking or muttering to themselves. Well, that’s not much different from what you and all other “normal” people do, except that you don’t do it out loud. The voice comments, speculates, judges, compares, complains, likes, dislikes, and so on. The voice isn’t necessarily relevant to the situation you find yourself in at the time; it may be reviving the recent or distant past or rehearsing or imagining possible future situations. Here it often imagines things going wrong and negative outcomes; this is called worry. Sometimes this soundtrack is accompanied by visual images or “mental movies.” Even if the voice is relevant to the situation at hand, it will interpret it in terms of the past. This is because the voice belongs to your conditioned mind, which is the result of all your past history as well as of the collective cultural mind-set you inherited. So you see and judge the present through the eyes of the past and get a totally distorted view of it. It is not uncommon for the voice to be a person’s own worst enemy. Many people live with a tormentor in their head that continuously attacks and punishes them and drains them of vital energy. It is the cause of untold misery and unhappiness, as well as of disease. The good news is that you can free yourself from your mind. This is the only true liberation. You can take the first step right now. Start listening to the voice in your head as often as you can. Pay particular attention to any repetitive thought patterns, those old gramophone records that have been playing in your head perhaps for many years. This is what I mean by “watching the thinker,” which is another way of saying: listen to the voice in your head, be there as the witnessing presence. When you listen to that voice, listen to it impartially. That is to say, do not judge. Do not judge or condemn what you hear, for doing so would mean that the same voice has come in again through the back door. You’ll soon realize: there is the voice, and here I am listening to it, watching it. This I am realization, this sense of your own presence, is not a thought. It arises from beyond the mind.

Working out with a bad partner sucks. It drains your energy and motivation and can even cause you to lose enthusiasm for working out altogether. On the other hand, working out with a good partner can go far in keeping you on track and making progress. He helps keep you accountable and wanting to show up every day, and having a spot on certain exercises helps push you for another rep and encourages you to move up in weight as you should. These things can make a big difference as time goes on. Those workouts, additional reps, and progressions in weight that wouldn’t have happened if you were solo add up to real gains. So, I recommend that you find someone to work out with before you start, and the two of you should agree to the following code. 1. I will show up on time for every workout, and if I can’t avoid missing one, I’ll let my partner know as soon as I know. 2. I won’t let my partner get out of a workout easily. I will reject any excuses that are short of an actual emergency or commitment that can’t be rescheduled, and I will insist that he comes and trains. In the case where there’s a valid excuse, if at all possible, I’ll offer to train at a different time so we can get our workout in. 3. I will come to the gym to train—not to chat. When we’re in the gym, we focus on our workouts, we’re always ready to spot each other, and we get our work done efficiently. 4. I will train hard to set a good example for my partner. 5. I will push my partner to do more than he thinks he can. It’s my job to motivate him to do more weight and more reps than he believes possible. 6. I will be supportive of my partner and will compliment him on his gains.

There has to be a more loving dream, a dream that appeals to the hearts of humans. There is I know, a more refined dream, which appeals to the human soul,’ offered Wonder encouragingly. ‘I am not so sure,’ rejoined Double Doubt, responding to the tone of hope in Wonder’s voice. ‘Why choose war over peace? Humankind has trod that path so diligently that they have forgotten that there are other ways of ease.’ ‘True. Tis true! But is it not the dominant actions of the few, who lead the many? Does not the fear of being a voice of reason in the wilderness overwhelm the gentle of heart?’ ‘The gentle of heart are weak! Too weak in energy to perform, to take action, and are drained by the fear of action, a fear which inhibits action. I doubt they will break through the fog of fear.’ ‘The fog of fear you say? Or is it their sense of impotence that overwhelms them from speaking out? Knowing that any attempt to change the consensus reality of their space-time is an enormous task, an overwhelming task, and that just to hold the thought of a breakthrough is about the only choice they have.’ ‘Enormous it may be, in terms of consciousness,’ replied Double Doubt. ‘But consciousness grounded in impeccability, will far outweigh the fog of fear, so why the problem? Humans do not seem to understand that the universal energy supports life-furthering consciousness. Such a waste of human resources! No Doubt. No Doubt.’ ‘I understand what you are propounding Gnome Double Doubt, however, it seems to me that most human beings are still not fully aware of the power of thought, and are still not aware of how energy exists; transforming itself through the power of thought. It is only a matter of space-time before humans come to understand the difficult concept of Universal space-time and energy.’ ‘Your optimism is based on a need for perfection Wonder. Humans also seek perfection, but as yet have not come within a whale’s breath of it, and a whale’s breath is vast! I cannot see why you hold out such great hope for these vulnerable humans. It seems to me that your wonderings about their futures will take you away from the higher pursuits of the experiment. Let us deal with one human at a time. Remember, one action, one thought can change the ways of all,’ encouraged Gnome Double Doubt, now taking on the role of the advocate of hope. ‘It is now urgent that we pull ourselves together and act in a more gnome-like manner and have done with all this wallowing concern for the human race.’ ‘You are always so wise Double Doubt. I know you are on the right path,’ conceded Wonder, knowing that Double Doubt was now out of the foggy mire of confusion and back on the track of practicality. ‘I wish I could let go of seeking something of a higher dreaming for the humans. But alas I know myself,’ sighed Wonder. ‘I am as I am, a wondering wanderlust or a Wonder-last, and the last being to wonder or to lust over a dream of such beauty, that it would vanquish the fear of insecurity in the human realm forever. So near and yet so far! I wonder. I wonder? Is it a possibility, or just a dream, as ephemeral in substance as the gossamer rainbow wings of our dear friends the fairies?' ‘My goodness! You do go on Wonder. It seems to me, but who am I to doubt, that you waste so much energy on a dream without substance, a dream which is based on fear, a dream which is embedded like granite in human thought, a dream that would take earth shattering energy to shift such rigidity of thought. Take my advice Wonder. Begin with the smallest crack in the edifice of human thought, and that lies in the direction of Petunia. Leave the human race to experiencing life as they choose to. Until they validate, that ‘All is connected. All is divine’, then they will not be and cannot be, aware of the realm of All That Is. T.L. Franklin (Excerpt from ‘Wonder and Double Doubt’ - Chapter 9, Page 294)

The ride home seems to take forever. All energy has drained out of me. It's over. The tiny ray of sunshine lighting up my life is gone, and I'm back to the way things were. Except, they can never be the same.

When I’m being love, I don’t get drained, and I don’t need people to behave a certain way in order to feel cared for or to share my magnificence with them. They’re automatically getting my love as a result of me being my true self. And when I am nonjudgmental of myself, I feel that way toward others. In light of this, I’ve learned that it’s important not to be too hard on myself if I’m experiencing challenges. Oftentimes, the problem isn’t the cause of the apparent conflict. Instead, it’s the judgment I have for myself. When I stop being my own worst enemy and start loving myself more, I automatically have less and less friction with the world around me. I become more tolerant and accepting. When we’re each aware of our own magnificence, we don’t feel the need to control others, and we won’t allow ourselves to be controlled. When I awoke into my infinite self, I was amazed to understand that my life could be dramatically different just by realizing that I am love, and I always have been. I don’t have to do anything to deserve it. Understanding this means that I’m working with life-force energy, whereas performing at being loving is working against it. Realizing that I am love was the most important lesson I learned, allowing me to release all fear, and that’s the key that saved my life.

Lack mentality” directed toward time is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Constant worries and fears concerning lack of time are energy draining and creativity blocking! Remind yourself often, “There is plenty of time!” Say it over and over again, and your tension will dissipate. Our schedules feel freer once we release the concern that there isn’t enough time.

Reciprocity styles offer a powerful lens for explaining why some people flourish in teams while others fail. In Multipliers, former Oracle executive Liz Wiseman distinguishes between geniuses and genius makers. Geniuses tend to be takers: to promote their own interests, they “drain intelligence, energy, and capability” from others. Genius makers tend to be givers: they use their “intelligence to amplify the smarts and capabilities” of other people, Wiseman writes, such that “lightbulbs go off over people’s heads, ideas flow, and problems get solved.” My

We are responsible for helping and encouraging others, for guiding them further along. But we are not responsible for their choices. You cannot force a good attitude upon someone. If they want to live in the pits, unhappy, discouraged, and in self-pity, that’s their choice. Do not allow them to drag you into the pit with them. If you spend all your time trying to encourage others, trying to make them do what’s right, trying to keep them cheered up, they’ll drain all the life and energy out of you. You cannot bloom if you spend all your time trying to keep others happy. That is not your responsibility. I learned long ago that not everyone wants to be happy. Some people want to live in the pits. They like the attention it brings them. Make the decision to say: “If you don’t want to be happy, that’s fine, but you can’t keep me from being happy. If you want to live in the pits, that’s your choice, but I’m not diving in there with you. If you want to be a weed, you can be a weed, but I’m a flower. I’m blooming. I’m choosing a good attitude. I’m smiling. I’m happy despite my circumstances.” When you bloom in the midst of weeds, you sow a seed to inspire and challenge the people around you to come up higher, and that’s a seed for God to take you higher. You may be in a negative environment right now. The people in your life may not be going places. They may lack goals, dreams, vision, enthusiasm. You may not see how you could ever rise above. It might be easy to just accept and settle where you are and think this is your destiny. Let me challenge you. This is not your destiny. You were made for more. God has incredible things planned for your future, but you have to do your part and bloom where you’re planted. What does that mean? Develop your gifts and talents. Whatever you do, whatever your occupation is, do your best to be the best. Improve your skills. Read books. Take training courses. Go back to school if you need to. But don’t you dare just sit back and think, I’ll never rise any higher. I’ll never get out of this neighborhood. I guess this is just my lot in life. Your lot in life is to excel. It’s to go further. It’s to make a difference in this world. Take a stand and say, “I will not settle where I am. I was made for more. I’m a child of the Most High God. I have seeds of greatness on the inside. So I am rising up to be the best I can be right here, knowing God will take me where I’m supposed to go.

When spirits manifest there is almost always a physical change in the world around me. It could be as simple as a flickering light or as severe as a complete drain on my equipment, but in almost every piece of evidence I’ve ever captured, it’s there: an unmistakable transfer of energy from a known source to an unknown receiver.

I waited too long to put my foot down and be honest with my parents. It’s something I should have done years ago, but fear kept holding me back. It turns out, though, that facing that fear wasn’t nearly as painful as living with it for so damned long. It was always there, weighing me down, hurting me from the inside, and draining my energy. Facing my fear was a hundred times less painful than that. I mean, yes, I’m sad that things didn’t turn out differently. It feels like someone died and there’s this big hole in my heart, but I know, with time, I’ll be okay. I will heal. I will find my way through this because there is no other option. It’s my life. I refuse to waste it.

I will protect my energy around draining people. I will learn how to set healthy boundaries. I will learn how to say “no” at the right times. I will listen to my intuition about the relationships that are nurturing for me. JUDITH ORLOFF, MD, THE EMPATH’S SURVIVAL GUIDE

Exhaustion means that our vital energies are completely worn out and spent. Spiritual exhaustion is never the result of sin, but of service. Whether or not you experience exhaustion will depend on where you get your supplies. Jesus said to Peter, “Feed My sheep,” but He gave him nothing with which to feed them (John 21:17). The process of being made broken bread and poured-out wine means that you have to be the nourishment for other people’s souls until they learn to feed on God. They must drain you completely—to the very last drop. But be careful to replenish your supply, or you will quickly be utterly exhausted. Until others learn to draw on the life of the Lord Jesus directly, they will have to draw on His life through you. You must literally be their source of supply, until they learn to take their nourishment from God. We owe it to God to be our best for His lambs and sheep, as well as for Him.

Wil shook his head. “He really had you hooked.” “What do you mean?” “You should have seen your energy field. It was flowing almost totally into his.” “I don’t understand.” “Think back to Sarah’s argument with the scientist at Viciente.… If you had witnessed one of them winning, convincing the other that he was correct, then you would have seen the loser’s energy flowing into the winner’s, leaving the loser feeling drained and weak and somewhat confused—the way the girl in the Peruvian family appeared and the way,” he smiled, “that you look now.” “You saw that happening to me?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “And it was extremely difficult for you to stop his control of you and to pull yourself away. I thought for a minute you weren’t going to do it.” “Jesus,” I said. “That guy must really be evil.” “Not really,” he said. “He’s probably only half aware of what he’s doing. He thinks he’s right to control the situation, and no doubt he learned a long time ago that he could control successfully by following a certain strategy. He first pretends to be your friend, then he finds something wrong with what you’re doing, in your case that you were in danger. In effect, he subtly undermines your confidence in your own path until you begin to identify with him. As soon as that happens, he has you.” Wil looked directly at me. “This is only one of many strategies people use to con others out of their energy. You’ll learn about the remaining ways later, in the Sixth Insight.” I wasn’t listening; my thoughts were on Marjorie. I didn’t like leaving her there. “Do you think we should try to get Marjorie?” I asked. “Not now,” he said. “I don’t think she’s in any danger. We can drive out tomorrow, as we leave, and try to talk to her.” We were silent for a few minutes, then Wil asked: “Do you understand what I said about Jensen not realizing what he was doing? He’s no different from most people. He just does what makes him feel the strongest.” “No, I don’t think I understand.” Wil looked thoughtful. “All this is still unconscious in most people. All we know is that we feel weak and when we control others we feel better. What we don’t realize is that this sense of feeling better costs the other person. It is their energy that we have stolen. Most people go through their lives in a constant hunt for someone else’s energy.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Although occasionally it works differently. We meet someone who at least for a little while will voluntarily send us their energy.

My first depression actually started when I was about thirteen years old. Now when I read back what I wrote in my diary at the time, it's quite clear - one page says in giant letters: "I hate this, I hate my life!" I also complained about stomach aches a lot. When I was fifteen, I really hit a brick wall. I was exhausted from copying behaviour, from trying to fit in, from acting "normal". I wouldn't go to school for days and eventually had to transfer to a lower level high school. I had a pretty negative self-image, and I couldn't understand why nothing ever worked out quite right. I was a quiet, shy girl who always stretched herself too thin and gave too much. It felt like a war going on in my head, and it was draining. My parents are still amazed I got my high school diploma, as I never had the energy to study.

What habits make up 80% of my efficiency? What habits drain my energy? What tasks are a complete waste of time? Who can I ask for help or delegate these tasks to?

It has to do with doing work that drains me of my energy, and which, in turn, prevents me from doing the work that gives me energy.

My time as a middle manager was a decade spent in high altitude professional astronomy. I found myself in a ‘Piggy In The Middle’ situation. The management team wanted a well performing telescope that was free of issues and the people I was managing appeared lethargic! I later discovered through research that the high altitude exposures drain them of energy. The high altitude workers end up in a state of mal-acclimatization, where they are never acclimatized to the mountain and they are never acclimatized to sea level. After a decade working at high altitude, I was also lethargic! It was a relief to leave the field of professional astronomy. I spent the following decades characterizing the toxicity of professional astronomy and I discovered a new sickness called ‘Altitude Hypersensitivity’.

I haven’t always been a pain in the ass. A few old friends might even say that I used to be nice—even charming! But that was before. Before moving to the big city to pursue ambitions considered excessive by most of my acquaintances. Before I burned all the bridges that linked me to those who claimed to love me. Before the success and more money than I would ever know how to spend. Before the endless outings to bars and nightclubs, where I drowned my boredom in the infinite sea of fools. Before the one-night stands that drained me of my sexual energy. But, mostly, it was before my diagnosis. Before a little six- letter word derailed my lifestyle.

when I took over my father’s business, when I began to deal with the whole industrial system of the world, it was then that I began to see the nature of the evil I had suspected, but thought too monstrous to believe. I saw the tax-collecting vermin that had grown for centuries like mildew on d’Anconia Copper, draining us by no right that anyone could name—I saw the government regulations passed to cripple me, because I was successful, and to help my competitors, because they were loafing failures—I saw the labor unions who won every claim against me, by reason of my ability to make their livelihood possible—I saw that any man’s desire for money he could not earn was regarded as a righteous wish, but if he earned it, it was damned as greed—I saw the politicians who winked at me, telling me not to worry, because I could just work a little harder and outsmart them all. I looked past the profits of the moment, and I saw that the harder I worked, the more I tightened the noose around my throat, I saw that my energy was being poured down a sewer, that the parasites who fed on me were being fed upon in their turn, that they were caught in their own trap—and that there was no reason for it, no answer known to anyone, that the sewer pipes of the world, draining its productive blood, led into some dank fog nobody had dared to pierce, while people merely shrugged and said that life on earth could be nothing but evil. And then I saw that the whole industrial establishment of the world, with all of its magnificent machinery, its thousand-ton furnaces, its transatlantic cables, its mahogany offices, its stock exchanges, its blazing electric signs, its power, its wealth—all of it was run, not by bankers and boards of directors, but by any unshaved humanitarian in any basement beer joint, by any face pudgy with malice, who preached that virtue must be penalized for being virtue, that the purpose of ability is to serve incompetence, that man has no right to exist except for the sake of others. .

Here are fifteen types of questions you should ask: 1. Is this item useful? Can it save me time, energy or money? Does it fulfill a need or purpose? If not, let it go. 2. Do I like it? If not, let it go. 3. Does it make my life easier in some way? If not, let it go. 4. Have I worn it, used it, found pleasure in it or looked at it in the last year? If not, let it go. 5. Does it energize me or drain me? If it drains you, let it go. 6. Is it broken beyond repair or damaged in some way? If so, let it go. 7. Is the information it provides outdated (e.g., old books, magazines, videos, etc.)? If so, let it go. 8. Am I holding on to it out of guilt? If so, let it go. 9. Have I finished using it and see no reason to use it again? If so, let it go. 10. Does it reflect the person I am today or a past version of me? If it reflects the past, let it go. 11. Do I already own something similar? If so, let it go. 12. Will I complete this (e.g., a knitting project, an unfinished book)? If not, let it go. 13. Am I spending too much time weighing the pros and cons? If so, let it go. 14. If I had to downsize to a much smaller house, would this go with me? If not, let it go. 15. Does this have any historical or potential financial value (e.g., an item passed down for several generations)? If not, let it go.

Earth’s not so bad—” “How would you know?” Tan’elKoth said acidly. “It is only in these past few days that you have had contact with the actual realities of Earth. Are you having fun?” He waved toward the window, where Kollberg now had one hand openly kneading his groin while he leaned one cheek and the side of his open mouth against the glass. Avery flinched and looked away. She hugged herself more tightly. “I don’t understand. If you hate what they’re going to do, why are you helping them?” “I am not helping them!” Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, shaking an enormous fist. “I am helping you. I am helping Faith. I am . . .” The passion drained out of him as swiftly as it had arisen. He let his fist open and fall limp against his thigh. “I am trying to go home.” Outside the window, Kollberg panted like an overheated dog. “Well,” Avery said finally. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck.” “How do you mean?” She shook her head. “You’re such a man, Professional. That’s why you can’t find this link of yours.” “I do not understand.” “Of course you don’t. That’s what I mean: You’re a man. You think this link is with the river. It wasn’t. Faith spoke of it, in the car on our way back to Boston when I first picked her up. She was quite clear about it. Her link was never with the river. It was with her mother.” “Her mother—?” “Her dead mother, now.” Tan’elKoth’s eyes narrowed. “I have been a fool,” he said. He spun and seated himself once again at Faith’s side, bending over her with redoubled energy. “Power,” he murmured. “All that is required is a usable source of power—” “What are you doing? She’s dead, Tan’elKoth. There is no link.” “Dead, yes—but the pattern of her consciousness persists, even as your son’s does within me. It was trapped at the instant of her passing. It is powerless, yes—having no body to inform it with will. It is analogous to a computer program stored on disk, you might say: a structure of information that requires only a computer on which to run, and the necessary power to activate.” “What kind of power?” From the doorway behind her, the soulless rasp of Arturo Kollberg said, “My kind of power.” DURING HIS YEARS of walking the world, the crooked knight came to find himself bemazed within a dark and trackless wood. In this wood, all paths led equally to death. The crooked knight did not lose hope; he turned to various guides for help and direction. His first guide was Youthful Dream. Later, he turned to Friendship, then Duty, and finally Reason, but each left him more lost than had the one before. So the crooked knight gave himself up for dead, and simply sat. He would be sitting there still, but for a breeze that came upon him then: a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains. It was the wind from the dark angel’s wings.

IN QUIETNESS AND CONFIDENCE SHALL BE YOUR strength. When you’re in a tough situation, your mind tends to go into overdrive. You mentally rehearse possible solutions at breakneck speed. Your brain becomes a flurry of activity! You scrutinize your own abilities and those of people you might call upon for help. If you find no immediate solution to your problem, you start to feel anxious. When you find this happening, return to Me and rest in quietness. Take time to seek My Face and My will rather than rushing ahead without clear direction. I want you to have confidence in Me and My ways—patiently trusting in Me even when you can’t see the way forward. Whereas anxious striving drains you of energy, quiet confidence will give you strength. You can trust that I will not forsake you in your time of need. Keep communicating with Me about your situation, and be willing to wait—

People take turns in the effort to explain collective pain, and I’d tapped out plenty of times before, pleading exhaustion, depression, and rage. The fact that I had the emotional reserves to discuss harassment at all implied that it was my responsibility to do so. (“It is the responsibility of the oppressed to teach the oppressors their mistakes,” Audre Lorde wrote in 1980 — “a constant drain of energy.”)

I was used to that sort of pressure by now. Or at least I thought I was. My usual way of dealing with it was to put it out of my mind and focus on getting good workouts. But in Glasgow, leading up to the meet, our training days were so rigorous and long that I began to feel exhausted. Maggie Nichols and I were rooming together, and she admitted to feeling worn out as well. We weren’t the only ones. All the girls seemed fatigued, but no one dared to complain. That would have made us appear weak and unprepared, and might even get us pulled from the rotation. I remember I’d brought a banana back to our room to eat after the first day of practice. But I didn’t eat it that day, or the second day. Day after day, I kept saying, “Oh, I’ll eat it tomorrow.” And then I didn’t eat it because the skin had started to get brown and the fruit was mushy inside. That poor banana just stayed there, deteriorating. Maggie and I made a big joke of it: Every day we’d pick up the wilted thing. “Oh my gosh, this is us,” we’d say, cracking up. “Our energy is just draining away.” A few days later, Maggie’s coach brought a new bunch of bananas, and somewhere there is a phone video of Maggie yelling, “Simone, we’ve got bananas!” and the two of us dying laughing. You know when you’ve had a really long day and you’re so punchy with tiredness that everything seems hilarious? That was Maggie and me.

Every one of Rowan’s products goes down the drain, because my fucking psycho energy is real in the moments when I’m not a snotty, sobbing mess.

these things are designed to instantly drain Will on contact. Not just the portion the Hierarchy usually takes from the millions of Octavii who form its foundation, either. All of your drive, your focus, your mental and physical energy, is funnelled away by these pale stone beds to be received by some distant, particularly favoured Septimus. In my eyes, death would be a preferable fate. And the worst part is that I know many of the men and women in here would agree.

While I wait to heal, I often find solace in solitude. I don't fully understand why, but I know I must be alone. I withdraw from the world, and in that quiet space, I focus solely on my recovery. This solitude forces me to confront my raw emotions, with no distractions to dull their intensity. It is within these moments of despair that my most brilliant ideas emerge. I allow myself to feel deeply, to the point where I can no longer feel. To overcome heartache, it's essential to exhaust every emotion—cry until the tears run dry, feel until you're tired of feeling, talk about the person until even your own voice bores you. When you are drained, empty, and devoid of emotion, you are almost across the bridge to healing. It is only then that true detachment begins. Each time my heart has been broken, I've learned how to heal myself. Heartbreak no longer holds power over me. I've realized that the only way to get over it is to go through it. The longer I deny my feelings to protect myself, the more pain I endure. But if I accept the situation and fully experience my emotions, the pain fades more quickly. At most, they may occupy my thoughts for a few days; if I loved them deeply, maybe two or three weeks. I simply withdraw from society and return when I am better, when I am healed. During my healing process, I commit to self-improvement. I channel my energy into refining the parts of myself that led to unnecessary pain. I acknowledge my mistakes, see where I went wrong, and take responsibility for my role in my suffering. And as long as he makes no effort, I am gone. The quickest way for any man to lose me is to stop trying and to make his intentions clear. While he may think I am suffering, I am actually healing. I am recalibrating, renewing, and rehabilitating. I am resurrecting, realigning, adjusting, refocusing, and resetting. I am fine-tuning. In the midst of this, I give him nothing—no attention, no thoughts, no feelings. Exes thrive on your negative emotions, so silence must be so profound that it echoes. No attention, no access. They may resort to stalking through fake profiles, but let them exert the effort. Block all other avenues of communication. I am reshaping, reorienting, tweaking, reassessing, reconfiguring, restructuring. In my absence, I am transforming. Ducked. I am for all ill purposes and intentions, my most productive and fruitful self when I am hurt or alone. This leads my naysayers, detractors and enemies to learn that for the most part, excluding death, I am by most standards, indestructible. I will build empires with the stones one throws at me. I will create fertilizers with the trash and feaces hurled at me. I will rise like pheonix from the ashes. I am antifragile, I can withstand trials, tribulations, chaos and uncertainty and grow in the face of adversity. I am the epitome of the resilience paradox, trial bloom, adversity alchemy, refiners fire and the pheonix effect. I am fortitude - me. Ducked. What’s even more magical, is what comes out on the other side of this process. It’s a peace, you do not want anyone to destroy. A clarity, you won’t risk blurring. A renewed you, a different version of you, stronger, fierce, centered and certain. A rebirth, refinement. You never saw it coming. Neither will they. Copyright ©️ 2024 Crystal Evans

Most people have been there at some time in their lives. You feel that you have no way out, and it seems like you will stay there forever. Then suddenly, one day, the phone rings. It’s your girlfriend. That’s right, the one who dumped you three months ago. She’s crying as she says, “Oh, my God! Do you remember me? I hope you’ll still talk to me. I just feel so terrible. Leaving you was the worst mistake I ever made. I see now how important you are to me, and I can’t live without you. The only real love I ever felt in my life was during the time we were together. Would you please forgive me? Could you ever forgive me? Can I come over and see you?” Now how are you doing? Seriously, how long does it take you to get enough energy to jump out of bed, clean up the apartment, take a shower, and get some color back in your face? It’s practically instantaneous. You’re filled with energy the moment you hang up the phone. How does this happen? You were completely drained. For months and months, you had no energy. Then out of nowhere, in a matter of seconds, there is so much energy it blows you away. You can’t just ignore these enormous shifts in your energy level. Where exactly did all that energy come from? There was no sudden change in your eating or sleeping habits. Yet when your girlfriend comes by, you end up talking all night and going out to see the sunrise in the morning. You’re not tired at all. You’re together again and you’re holding hands and these rushes of joy just won’t stop overwhelming you. People see you and they remark that you look like a bundle of light. Where did all this energy come from?

Over the next weeks and months, my daughters had to learn to live without their father, and me without my husband. In addition to the overwhelming, everyday tasks like buying groceries, making meals, and getting the girls to their activities, I suddenly had to navigate the legal system and file for divorce. I had to figure out the nearly impossible feat of owning a small business and solo parenting two active, preteen girls. I learned the hard way that you have to remove the leaves from the gutter if you don’t want your basement to flood. I had to muster the courage to pull the hair out of the shower drain. I had to somehow find the time and energy to decontaminate the entire house when the dreaded scourge that is lice made its unwanted appearance. And I had to do it all with the added anger, sadness, and sheer frustration that these were all things John used to take care of. As tempting as it was to collapse, I had two girls who needed me now more than ever. I needed my business to survive. I had a mountain of legal bills—tens of thousands of dollars and increasing daily. As a business owner, if I didn’t work, I didn’t get paid. Stepping away to take care of my mental and emotional state was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to balance what was best for my business in the long term with what the girls and I needed in the short term. I had to get through each day and keep moving forward. This meant I toggled back and forth between dealing with this trauma and running a business. I lived in a constant state of holding it all together, while simultaneously watching it all fall apart.

Conley was not, as they say in recovery-speak, a “jackpot drinker,” prone to big, messy binges that leave disasters in their wake. “It was more of a controlled, low-level draining of my energies and output,” he says. “I could feel my songwriting falling off. I was just having a harder time finishing things, really getting a little stuck.

Maybe the reason I feel so exhausted right now, is not because I'm in desperate need of sleep, but because my mind and soul are craving peace. Peace from the one who makes my world feel nothing but chaotic. The one who constantly drains me, stealing every last shred of my energy. There is nothing as inherently loud as anxiety, not more so than in the still and silent moments.

The strategy of the Gracies' style of Jiu-Jitsu is based around the idea that if you can stay calm and protect yourself without draining your energy—if you can weather the initial storm you face against a bigger and stronger opponent—then eventually that opponent will run out of gas, make a mistake, and you'll have your chance.

When the last drop of energy flicks from my limbs, they feel heavy. I collapse onto X’s chest, our sweaty bodies pressed together, our chests heaving against each other like a heartbeat. I start to drift off as my breathing steadies. I’m so tired, so drained from everything that’s happened. “Thank you,” I swear I hear X whisper before I pass out.

There is a hole in my soul that drains me of all positive energy, leaving behind only emptiness. I know the hole well—I have lived with it for months—but I don’t know how to escape its hold over me.

[fictional speech] As a woman. And as a woman in psychology, I’m expected to absorb the problems of the world. My super power is taking the world’s negative energy and giving that energy back to the world in a new positive form. With great power comes great responsibility. With great responsibility comes a strict commitment. So I’ve committed every day to keeping the world calm. I wake up and pour into the world. Wake up pour into the world. Wake up again and pour into the world. A process I love, but then I come back with an empty cup. So I have to refill, and repeat again. Super woman! We are super women in psychology. But what happens when the world has drained out all of our power? How do we recharge? We know how to pour into the world, but have we forgotten about ourselves? Are we allowed to put our pitcher down and pull out our glass? Are we allowed to be selfish? I want to challenge what we think about the word selfish. I want to change the way that we think about caring for self. As we know it today, the word selfish means being devoted to or caring only for oneself. In other words committed to self care. So if the definition only means this, where did the word go wrong? Being selfless, self....less, is defined alongside words like noble, charitable, and generous; while self interest is looked down upon. We can be self interested without the expense of hurting others. If indeed we change the world by changing ourselves then it is productive to the world to be selfish. If we are constantly meeting the demands of the world, are we satisfying ourselves? I agree that as a society it is more beneficial for the majority for everyone to work together, but the world also works on balance. I want everyone to go out into the world and uplift it, but I also want everyone to put that same amount of energy into themselves. Our place that we call home should be a place where we can be selfish. A place that we can have full peace and not worry about the politics of the world. A place that we are held to our own standard and not the standard that the world sets for us. [time passes] Ladies, you are beautiful. You are strong. You are intelligent; and you are committed. You are the foundation of the world and everything enters through you. You are the nurturers. You are the healers. You are the teachers. Your job is much more greater than your career in psychology. You are magic. While letting the world borrow some of your magic, don’t forget about healing, nurturing, teaching, and providing for yourselves. Thank you.

I see depersonalization regularly in my office when patients tell me horrendous stories without any feeling. All the energy drains out of the room, and I have to make a valiant effort to keep paying attention. A lifeless patient forces you to work much harder to keep the therapy alive, and I often used to pray for the hour to be over quickly. After seeing Ute’s scan, I started to take a very different approach toward blanked-out patients. With nearly every part of their brains tuned out, they obviously cannot think, feel deeply, remember, or make sense out of what is going on. Conventional talk therapy, in those circumstances, is virtually useless.

to escape, Ute had dissociated her fear and felt nothing. I see depersonalization regularly in my office when patients tell me horrendous stories without any feeling. All the energy drains out of the room, and I have to make a valiant effort to keep paying attention. A lifeless patient forces you to work much harder to keep the therapy alive, and I often used to pray for the hour to be over quickly. After seeing Ute’s scan, I started to take a very different approach toward blanked-out patients. With nearly every part of their brains tuned out, they obviously cannot think, feel deeply, remember, or make sense out of what is going on. Conventional talk therapy, in those circumstances, is virtually useless. In Ute’s case it was possible to guess why she responded so differently from Stan. She was utilizing a survival strategy her brain had learned in childhood to cope with her mother’s harsh treatment. Ute’s father died when she was nine years old, and her mother subsequently was often nasty and demeaning to her. At some point Ute discovered that she could blank out her mind when her mother yelled at her. Thirty-five years later, when she was trapped in her demolished car, Ute’s brain automatically went into the same survival mode—she made herself disappear.

I want to tell him my name isn't Kelly, but to be honest I don't really care. I feel like my energy is rapidly depleting. I'm thinking about Uncle Max, and being socially awkward, and how Jamie looked at me like he was making a conscious decision to avoid me. It's draining thinking about so many things all at once, and even more draining to be around so many people. I don't know how other people do it—don't they ever feel like they need to recharge? Doesn't talking to people for so long wear them out?

I want to tell him my name isn’t Kelly, but to be honest I don’t really care. I feel like my energy is rapidly depleting. I’m thinking about Uncle Max, and being socially awkward, and how Jamie looked at me like he was making a conscious decision to avoid me. It’s draining thinking about so many things all at once, and even more draining to be around so many people. I don’t know how other people do it—don’t they ever feel like they need to recharge? Doesn’t talking to people for so long wear them out?

For pacing, I need to envision my target or risk the wrong rhythm. I may start too quickly and exhaust my back and arms, which will inevitably lead to a bad attitude. Or I may proceed too slowly, which, with the sun beating down upon me, will drain my energy and spirit.

They Just Don’t Do That Anymore He used to wake me, oh so often. He’d had a bad dream, or a cough, or something felt funny inside. I would grumble, or be patient, depending on the night and how tired I was. Back to his room and tuck him in. Rinse and repeat, through many moons. But he doesn’t do that anymore. He used to be our pickiest eater. Though we’d always fed all three the same, he turned up his nose more frequently. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the day and all that had happened up until that point. Trying not to make it worse, we encouraged him to taste new flavors. We also honored his preferences and didn’t force it. Now he gobbles down chili, curry, many of his former not-favorites. He doesn’t do that anymore. They used to argue every day: shout, bite, whine, hit. Clamoring for position and power, each in his or her own way. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on the state of my heart and energy level. These days plenty of disagreements occur, but so do apologies, ones I don’t always have to oversee or manage. They don’t do that anymore. The tantrums, oh dear Lord, the tantrums. “Don’t give in and they’ll soon learn that tantrums don’t work.” Ha. I never gave in, but that didn’t stop these daily events that pushed me to my limit and beyond. For years. I would grumble about this, or be patient, depending on how many times we’d been down this road in the past twenty-four hours. At times I found myself sitting through the screaming, my own tears of helplessness running like rivers. Too drained to even wipe them away. Convinced I must be doing everything wrong. But they don’t do that anymore. Some mamas are reading this after multiple times up in the night. Or you’ve stumbled across these words soon after yet another shouting match. Or maybe the dinner you poured weary energy into met with a resounding lack of applause. I don’t want to minimize the stage you’re in. Don’t want to tell you, “Enjoy these days, they go by so fast.” I’m not here to patronize you. Instead let me pour a little encouragement your way: Go ahead and grumble, or be patient. You don’t have to handle all the issues perfectly. Go ahead and cry, and wonder if it’s even worth it. Go ahead and pray, for strength to make it through the next five minutes. Because one day, often when you least expect it, often when you’ve come to peace with the imperfections and decided to be happy anyway, you’ll wake up, look around in amazement and realize: They just don’t do that anymore.

You have to give yourself permission to accomplish your dreams, permission to get out of debt, and permission to overcome the obstacle. Your better days begin in your thinking. Studies show that when you are negative and think said, discouraging thoughts, your serotonin level goes down, and that causes you to feel sad. It’s not just in your head. It affects your moods. But when you get up each day in a positive frame of mind, feeling hopeful and expecting good things, endorphins are released that make you feel happy. You will have more energy, because being positive puts a spring in your step. If you go around with negative thoughts, they will drain you of your faith, your energy, and your zeal. It’s just like a big vacuum pulling out all the good things that God put in you. You’d be amazed at how much better you’d feel, how much more you’d accomplish, and how much further you’d go if you’d just switch over to this positive mind-set. You have to think positive thoughts on purpose. “This is going to be a great day. This is my year. I’m expecting an abundance of favor.” The scripture says, “Put on a fresh new attitude.” I’ve found yesterday’s attitude is not good enough for today. Every morning you have to consciously adopt a fresh attitude by thinking things like: “I’m going to be happy today. I’m going to be good to people. I’m going to go with the flow and not get upset. I know God is in control. He’s directing my steps. No obstacle is too big. No dream is too great. I am well able to do what I’m called to do.” That fresh new attitude will put you in God’s jet stream. You will accomplish things that you could not accomplish on your own. You’ll be more productive. You’ll have more wisdom, creativity, and good ideas. You will overcome obstacles that were bigger, stronger, and more powerful.

You branded my virginity with the Union Jack, your English accent, your Welsh heritage. I look from your face to your genitals…..You look so ugly there! But can’t you make me come, like you do? Can’t I have that too? Words are hieroglyphics for much bigger events. I make light of my disappointment. “I don’t know. I was a virgin a minute ago and don’t know if I still am. What happened?” I caress your penis only to discover I am pulling on your Puritan horrors. I recall all your careers and wonder if you still want to be an oceanographer, journalist, radio-TV newsman, reporter, electrician, electronics specialist or a Star Trek crew member. It is as if I live on Joseph Conrad’s lifeboat and you on Fellini’s Romaluxury liner, insisting you do not need luxury, but find it comfortable. “Is that all you think about? Your precious baby-free sex?” I wonder that what you feel for me (is)… some nebulous middle-class sense of “This is okay for a while relationship but nothing serious.” Color is as necessary to the soul as food is to the body. “When will you learn we were all young then? We’ve grown up and changed. We all hurt each other, but we all loved each other.” “I tried to live how other people say life should be lived, but I tired of it too quickly. It drains the soul to live a conventional life.” “God, I love Americans! They have such damn awful energy! Canadians just sit back on their arses and bad-rap Americans because they’re so jealous.” “I walk around for years,” you say, “for years, a virgin! But now, I am not. And in lovely San Francisco with a beautiful, older American woman!” you say and kiss my mouth.

My feet seemed rooted to the yard. The sound of the screen door hung in the air, as if every door in Coalwood were slamming shut in my face, one after the other. My whole life, I had always been busy with some scheme to make things my way. Now I knew there was nothing I could do to make things right, not now, not ever. At that realization, every ounce of energy in me just seemed to drain away. My arms hung limply at my sides and I lowered my head in hopeless shame. Despite Doc’s caution, I was about to feel sorrier for myself than even I could imagine. Then, as if some thief had sneaked up behind me and robbed me of everything I had always believed to be right and holy, I felt a terrible thing. It took me by surprise and I knew instantly it was wrong but I couldn’t do anything about it. The boy who raised his head and looked around at the ugly old mountains surrounding him seemed far different than the boy had been merely moments before. Perhaps my lopes didn’t curl into a sneer but they could have. The worst thing I had ever felt in my life had taken control of me. I felt: nothing.

The floor bucked and heaved under him, sending the gun skittering out of reach. A second wall swayed precariously, and rocks cascaded down, striking the man about the head and shoulders, driving him to the floor. He watched a curious, frightening pattern form. Not one rock touched the priest’s body. Not one came close to Mikhail. The Carpathian simply watched him with those damn eyes and that faint mocking smile as the rocks buried Slovensky’s legs, then fell on his back. There was an ominous crack, and Slovensky screamed under the heavy load on his spine. “Damn you to hell,” Slovensky snarled. “My brother will track you down.” Mikhail said nothing, simply watching the havoc Gregori created. Mikhail would have killed James Slovensky outright, without the drama Gregori had such a flair for, but he was tired, his body in a precarious state. He had no wish to drain his energy further.

There was an ominous crack, and Slovensky screamed under the heavy load on his spine. “Damn you to hell,” Slovensky snarled. “My brother will track you down.” Mikhail said nothing, simply watching the havoc Gregori created. Mikhail would have killed James Slovensky outright, without the drama Gregori had such a flair for, but he was tired, his body in a precarious state. He had no wish to drain his energy further.

The animals are confident in their sensory awareness and their ability to respond to all provocations accordingly. This awareness allows them to avoid danger, and avoiding danger conserves energy. It is in their best interests to have as early a warning of trouble as possible, not only, obviously, to escape death and live to breed another day, but also to avoid the trauma of the fight-or-flight response, which triggers several biological reactions, all of them energy-intensive. Heart rate increases, adrenaline surges, stored energy is consumed, the body’s overall resistance suffers, and susceptibility to starvation and disease increases. And then either the fight or the flight is hard work. (I’ve chopped a lot of wood in my day. It’s hard work, but nothing compared with the drain of taking a final exam or meeting a production deadline. The mental energy these tasks require, and the anxiety they produce—the adrenaline and other hormonal surges—are even more debilitating for the body than sheer physical exercise.)

You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said, about vampirism being the ultimate oral fixation.” I groaned. “Please, can we give this whole vampire thing a rest?” “I don’t mean vampires as blood suckers or soul suckers. But as oral robbers.” My brow furrowed. “Oral robbers?” “Yes. Those who steal with their mouths—not by way of fangs, but with words.” “I don’t understand,” I said. Grayson turned his back on me and reached back into the cupboard. “What if I told you I was thinking of letting you go, Drex?” My gut fell four inches. “What? Why? What did I do wrong?” He turned back around. “Did you feel an internal shift?” “Internal shift?” I said. “I feel destroyed. Like I want to throw up! Why are you doing this?” “To prove my point.” “What point? That I’m no good?” “No. That in a way, we’re all oral robbers—with our words.” “Huh?” I whined. Grayson studied me clinically. “All I did was utter some particular arrangement of tones through my vocal chords. You interpreted them as words, and applied your own meaning to them.” I was hurt. And on my last nerve with Grayson’s stupid analogies. “Come on, Grayson! Just tell me. Am I fired, or what?” Grayson locked his green eyes on mine. “My words formed images in your mind that sent chemical and hormonal secretions into your bloodstream, causing emotions that shifted your entire world view.” I glared at him. “Fine. I’ll pack my bags and leave with the Triple A guy.” “See?” Grayson said. “Now you’re insecure about your whole future, based on a couple of words that came out of my mouth.” “You’d be undone, too, if you just got fired and had to go back to Point Paradise and work with Earl!” “That’s just it,” Grayson said. “You don’t have to. I didn’t fire you. I only asked you, ‘What if I told you I was thinking of letting you go?’ You did the rest yourself.” I blanched. “So ... I’m not fired?” “No. Like I said before, it was all to prove my point. Every word we say is a psychic vampire, Drex, striking others with the power of suggestion that either drains or boosts the energy of its intended target.” “Oh,” I said, feeling a wave of confused relief wash over me. “In other words, we all live and die by the thoughts and words we chose to believe?

My-way-not-your-way is the most tension-producing, dissatisfying, time-wasting, energy-draining, relationship-breaking, activity known to man, woman or child.

I have become better at saying no to things and people (including friends and family) that drain my energy. This isn’t easy, especially if you are a people-pleaser.