Wreak Havoc Love Quotes

Don't be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It's the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.

Tell me that the purpose of life is to have fun, and without a care in the world I'll begin wreaking havoc on everything I pass. Now that's what I call pure, honest fun.

She wept for her hardheadedness, and for a world that couldn't just let her be both, a woman in love and a woman with a career, without flares of guilt and self-doubt seeping in and wreaking havoc.

Sometimes being crazy is a demon. And sometimes the demon is me. And I visit quiet sidewalks and loud parties and dark movies, and a small demon looks out at the world with me. Sometimes it sleeps. Sometimes it plays. Sometimes it laughs with me. Sometimes it tries to kill me. But it’s always with me. I suppose we’re all possessed in some way. Some of us with dependence on pills or wine. Others through sex or gambling. Some of us through self-destruction or anger or fear. And some of us just carry around our tiny demon as he wreaks havoc in our mind, tearing open old dusty trunks of bad memories and leaving the remnants spread everywhere. Wearing the skins of people we’ve hurt. Wearing the skins of people we’ve loved. And sometimes, when it’s worst, wearing our skins.

There’s something helpless about truly being in love, the kind of love they write songs about, that inspires poetry and launches ships and wreaks havoc. It leaves you slightly off balance, controlling when you mean to cherish, smothering when you mean to hold close.

People thought I was one of those people who beats their kid in department stores.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It’s the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.

Addiction to alcohol is also a neurological phenomenon, the result of a complex set of molecular alterations that take place in the brain when it’s excessively and repeatedly exposed to the drug. The science of addiction is complicated, but the basic idea is fairly straightforward: alcohol appears to wreak havoc on the brain’s natural systems of craving and reward, compromising the functioning of the various neurotransmitters and proteins that create feelings of well-being.

Love loves anarchy. It loves to wreak havoc. It loves to dance atop the ruins.

But it's a curse, a condemnation, like an act of provocation, to have been aroused from not being, to have been conjured up from a clot of dirt and hay and lit on fire and sent stumbling among the rocks and bones of this ruthless earth to weep and worry and wreak havoc and ponder little more than the impending return to oblivion, to invent hopes that are as elaborate as they are fraudulent and poorly constructed, and that burn off the moment they are dedicated, if not before, and are at best only true as we invent them for ourselves or tell them to others, around a fire, in a hovel, while we all freeze or starve or plot or contemplate treachery or betrayal or murder or despair of love, or make daughters and elaborately rejoice in them so that when they are cut down even more despair can be wrung from our hearts, which prove only to have been made for the purpose of being broken. And worse still, because broken hearts continue beating.

She, better than anyone, knew that a soul’s sore spots didn’t really disappear. They could be buried, defended, and denied, but until they were loved, they wreaked havoc with a person’s peace.

Mrs. Pott's beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! I've taken a chance on you..

Moonlight wreaks havoc on an otherwise sane thinking mind. It makes you think that the impossible is possible, and your dreams, reality.

This man was overwhelming. He had everything in excess and it wreaked havoc on her senses.

Love stories aren’t always perfect. They can wreak havoc on the heart and distort the soul. I’d gotten lost in love and found the reality at the end of it where I lived in the truth. Not all love stories come with happy endings.

Some individuals have what can be considered to be an ‘abusive personality.’ Although they can be somewhat charming at times and sometimes manage to put on a false front in public when it is absolutely necessary, their basic personality is characterized by: 1. A need to dominate and control others 2. A tendency to blame others for all their problems and to take all their frustrations out on other people. 3. Verbal abuse 4. Frequent emotional and sometimes physical outbursts, and 5. An overwhelming need to retaliate and hurt other for real and imagined slights or affronts They insist on being ‘respected’ while giving no respect to others. Their needs are paramount, and they show a blatant disregard for the needs and feelings of others. These people wreak havoc with the lives of nearly every person they come in contact with. They verbally abuse their coworkers or employees, they are insulting and obnoxious to service people, they constantly blame others when something goes wrong. When this type of person becomes intimately involved with a partner, there is absolutely nothing that partner can do to prevent abuse from occurring. Their only hope is to get as far away from the person as possible.

Dysphoria is that bitch who visits the family and wreaks havoc. Sometimes she plucks away, needling and poking, whispering doubts and lies and pulling at the threads of resolve. Sometimes she is in full-on assault mode, attacking the very core of belief, ego and confidence. Sometimes she lingers. Sometimes she disappears as rapidly as she appears, but not before she has darkened things, unsettled all and left a tumultuous mess.

Mrs. Potts beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am!

Serenio had been right, his love was too much for most people to bear. His anger, let loose, could not be contained until it had run its course either. Growing up, he had once wreaked such havoc with righteous anger that he had caused someone serious injury. All his emotions were too powerful. Even his mother had felt forced to put a distance between them, and she had watched with silent sympathy when friends backed off because he clung too fiercely, loved too hard, demanded too much of them.

... that eternally restless, eternally unquenched desire for naked paganism, that love that is the supreme joy, that is divine serenity itself- those things are useless for you moderns, you children of reflection. That sort of love wreaks havoc on you. As soon as you wish to be natural you become normal. To you Nature seems hostile, you have turned us laughing Greek deities into demons and me into a devil. All you can do is exorcise me and curse me or else sacrifice yourselves, slaughter yourselves in bacchanalian madness at my alter. And if you ever has the courage to kiss my red lips, he then goes on a pilgrimage to Rome, barefoot and in a penitent's shirt, and expects flowers to blossom from his withered staff, while roses, violets, and myrtles sprout constantly under my feet- but their fragrance doesn't agree with you, So just stay in your northern fog and Christian incense. Let us pagans rest under the rubble, under lava. Do not dig us up. Pompeii, our villas, our baths, our temples were not built for you people! You need no gods! We freeze in your world!

Self-centeredness is a havoc-wreaking problem in many marriages, and it is the ever-present enemy of every marriage. It is the cancer in the center of a marriage when it begins, and it has to be dealt with. In Paul’s classic description of love, in 1 Corinthians 13, he says,   Love is patient and kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. (verses 4–5) Repeatedly Paul shows that love is the very opposite of “self-seeking,” which is literally pursuing one’s own welfare before those of others. Self-centeredness is easily seen in the signs Paul lists: impatience, irritability, a lack of graciousness and kindness in speech, envious brooding on the better situations of others, and holding past injuries and hurts against others.

«This summer's been a dream,» Ethan murmured. «I know.» «I just hate that we've only got one week before it ends.» «You've got it all wrong, Eth,» Alek said, gently running his hand through Ethan's surfer hair. «This summer's not the dream. We are. You and me. And it doesn't matter what time of the year it is, as long as we're together.» «I like that, Polly-O.» Ethan smiled. «We'll wreak havoc, you and me.» Alek told him.

It is good to remember in community, and even better to practice individually, that light trumps darkness. If you’re concealing a dark struggle, you guarantee its power if it’s shrouded in secrecy. Buried, it is free to hinder you, grow in your imagination, and truncate your future. It can hold you back, destroy relationships, and break your spirit. It can absolutely wreak havoc on your authenticity, as the inside contradicts the outside day after day, month after month. Secrets are wild and free in the dark.

There are two ways to turn devils into angels: First, acknowledge things about them that you genuinely appreciate. Uncle Morty took you to the beach when you were a kid. Your mom still sends you money on your birthday. Your ex-wife is a good mother to your children. There must be something you sincerely appreciate about this person. Shift your attention from the mean and nasty things they have said or done to the kind and helpful things they have said or done—even if there are just a few or even only one. You have defined this person by their iniquities. You can just as easily—actually, more easily—define them by their redeeming qualities. It’s your movie. Change the script. Perhaps you are still arguing that the person who has hurt you has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. She is evil incarnate, Rosemary’s baby conceived with Satan himself, poster child for the dark side of the Force, destined to wreak havoc and horror in the lives of everyone she touches. A nastier bitch never walked the earth. Got it. Let’s say all of this is true—the person who troubles you is a no-good, cheating, lying SOB. Now here’s the second devil-transformer. Consider: How has this person helped you to grow? What spiritual muscles have you developed that you would not have built if this person had been nicer to you? Have you learned to hold your power and self-esteem in the presence of attempted insult? Do you now speak your truth more quickly and directly? Are you now asking for what you want instead of passively deferring? Are you setting healthier boundaries? Have you deepened in patience and compassion? Do you make more self-honoring choices? There are many benefits you might have gained, or still might gain, from someone who challenges you.

Redemption from the disease of addiction is entirely possible—but it has to be done alone. And yet, addicts constantly search for love and approval, and when their expectations aren’t met, they become resentful. Drugs and alcohol become their intimates. These substances may wreak havoc in users’ lives, but they’re constants. And they’re always there.

Pattie helped me understand that you can provide someone with food and shelter, train them in a skill for employment, even offer professional treatment for an addictions, but these acts don't necessarily reach down to that place inside a person where fear, shame, guilt, hurt, and hopelessness wreak havoc. Pattie's greatest need was to be seen, and then to be loved, accepted and validated.

American cold war culture represented an age of anxiety. The anxiety was so severe that it sought relief in an insistent, assertive optimism. Much of American popular culture aided this quest for apathetic security. The expanding white middle class sought to escape their worries in the burgeoning consumer culture. Driving on the new highway system in gigantic showboat cars to malls and shopping centers that accepted a new form of payment known as credit cards, Americans could forget about Jim Crow, communism, and the possibility of Armageddon. At night in their suburban homes, television allowed middle class families to enjoy light domestic comedies like The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, and Leave It to Beaver. Somnolently they watched representations of settled family life, stories where lost baseball gloves and dinnertime hijinks represented the only conflicts. In the glow of a new Zenith television, it became easy to believe that the American dream had been fully realized by the sacrifice and hard work of the war generation. American monsters in pop culture came to the aid of this great American sleep. Although a handful of science fiction films made explicit political messages that unsettled an apathetic America, the vast majority of 'creature features' proffered parables of American righteousness and power. These narratives ended, not with world apocalypse, but with a full restoration of a secure, consumer-oriented status quo. Invaders in flying saucers, radioactive mutations, and giant creatures born of the atomic age wreaked havoc but were soon destroyed by brainy teams of civilian scientists in cooperation with the American military. These films encouraged a certain degree of paranoia but also offered quick and easy relief to this anxiety... Such films did not so much teach Americans to 'stop worrying and love the bomb' as to 'keep worrying and love the state.

If you are part of the male population that believes that expressing emotion is for pansies, going to a psychologist is for the weak, receiving mental health treatment is for sissies, or that people who experience suicidal thoughts should suck it up; you are part of the reason why so many people bottle up or mask their emotions. It’s okay, you probably have been raised that way, but you are wreaking havoc. I’m pleading for you to be part of the solution. Don’t let your narrow-mindedness, ego, and ignorance ruin the life of your child, partner, colleague, friend, or family member. If you don’t attend to a loved one’s mental health, the next thing you might attend is their funeral.

Clearly historical events have varying degrees of intensity. Some may almost fail to impinge on true reality, that is, on the central, most personal part of a person's life. Others can wreak such havoc there that nothing is left standing. The usual way in which history is written fails to reveal this. '1890: Wilhelm II dismisses Bismark.' Certainly a key event in German history, but scarcely an event at all in the biography of any German outside its small circle of protagonists. Life went on as before. No family was torn apart, no friendship broke up, no one fled their country. Not even a rendezvous was missed or an opera performance cancelled. Those in love, whether happily or not, remained so; the poor remained poor and the rich rich. Now compare that with '1933: Hindenburg sends for Hitler.' An earthquake shatters sixty - six million lives. Official academic history has nothing to tell us about the differences in intensity of historical occurrences. To learn about that, you must read biographies, not those of statesmen but the all too rare ones of unknown individuals. There you will see that one historical event passes over the private (real) lives of people like a cloud over a lake. Nothing stirs, there is only a fleeting shadow. Another event whips up the lake as if in a thunderstorm. For a while it is scarcely recognisable. A third may, perhaps, drain the lake completely. I believe history is misunderstood if this aspect is forgotton (and it is usually forgotton).

After staring at photographs of very attractive faces, men show less desire to date an average-looking woman. Exposure to extremely beautiful bodies in visual erotica can wreak havoc on some men's judgement. In one study, men shown pictures of women's beautiful bodies in erotica rated a previously attractive nude as less exciting. Some men even claimed to be less in love with their wives! ... We have a chance to calibrate faces against real-life faces all the time. Everyone sees hundreds and even thousands of faces, but most people have not seen hundreds of nude bodies. Given a much smaller database, nude or minimally clothed bodies in the media may get disproportionate representations in our minds and skew our ideas of the possible or even of the average.

Losing a mother is a unique kind of loss. A mother understands your heartbeats when you cannot even interpret their sounds. They see you as magnificent even when you feel like you’re so unworthy of love. They calm the doubts that wreak havoc on your soul. They show you what unconditional love is from the day you take your first breath. Sometimes it feels like they know you better than you’ll ever know yourself, and then, one day, they are gone. You feel cheated. Cheated on the things that they haven’t yet taught. Cheated on the lessons you still needed to learn. Cheated out of laughter, and smiles, and comfort, and love. But what I’ve learned with time is that my mother is still around me. I see her in everything. Whenever there is beauty, that is where my mother exists. I know she’s never gone, no matter what reality tries to tell me, because my heart is crafted from her love, and as long as it beats, she lives on.

One: These losses shape your psyche; they lay down patterns for all your interactions. If you don’t understand them and actively work to form new emotional habits, you’ll act them out again and again. They’ll wreak havoc on your relationships, and you won’t know why. There are many ways to confront them, some of which we’re exploring in this book. Two: No matter how much therapeutic work you do, these may be your Achilles’ heels for life: maybe a fear of abandonment, a fear of success, a fear of failure; maybe deep-seated insecurity, rejection sensitivity, precarious masculinity, perfectionism; maybe hair-trigger rage, or a hard nub of grief you can feel like a knot protruding from your otherwise smooth skin. Even once you break free (and you can break free), these siren songs may call you back to your accustomed ways of seeing and thinking and reacting. You can learn to block your ears most of the time, but you’ll have to accept that they’re always out there singing. The third answer is the most difficult one to grasp, but it’s also the one that can save you. The love you lost, or the love you wished for and never had: That love exists eternally. It shifts its shape, but it’s always there. The task is to recognize it in its new form.

Lies flee in the presence of truth. And the Devil turns powerless when our minds turn to our all-powerful God. Here’s where I become quite fascinated. Jesus had access to thousands of scriptures from the Old Testament. He knew them. He could have used any of them. But He chose three specific ones. I’ve decided I want these three to be at the top of my mind. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Empty Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD. (Deuteronomy 8:3) My soul was hand designed to be richly satisfied in deep places by the Word of God. When I go without the nourishment of truth, I will crave filling my spiritual hunger with temporary physical pleasures, thinking they will somehow treat the loneliness inside. These physical pleasures can’t fill me, but they can numb me. Numb souls are never growing souls. They wake up one day feeling so very distant from God and wondering how in the world they got there. Since Satan’s goal is to separate us from the Lord, this is exactly where he wants us to stay. But the minute we turn to His Word is the minute the gap between us and God is closed. He is always near. His Word is full and fully able to reach those deep places inside us desperate for truth. I Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Deprived “Fear the LORD your God, serve him only and take your oaths in his name” (Deuteronomy 6:13). Another version of this verse says, “Worship Him, your True God, and serve Him.” (THE VOICE) When we worship God, we reverence Him above all else. A great question to ask: Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? What is holding my attention the most is what I’m truly worshipping. Sacred worship is all about God. Is my attention being held by something sacred or something secret? Secret worship is all about something in this world that seems so attractive on the outside but will devour you on the inside. Pornography, sex outside of marriage, trading your character to claw your way to a position of power, fueling your sense of worth with your child’s successes, and spending outside of your means to constantly dress your life in the next new thing—all things we do to counteract feelings of being left out of and not invited to the good things God has given others—these are just some of the ways lust sneaks in and wreaks havoc. Two words that characterize misplaced worship or lust are secret excess. God says if we will direct our worship to Him, He will give us strength to turn from the mistakes of yesterday and provide portions for our needs of today. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (PSALM 73:25–26) And I Certainly Want a Promise for My Problem of Feeling Rejected Do not put the LORD your God to the test. (Deuteronomy 6:16)

My mum once told me that the bravest sailors weren’t the ones who sailed through the storm, but the ones who remained in port whilst it raged out at sea. I never really understood what she meant by that, until now. For seventeen years I succeeded in standing back and watching that storm wreak havoc, never once venturing into the expanse of the ocean like a large proportion of kids on my estate had done. Unlike me, they were drawn into the glamour and the notoriety of joining a gang. Some did it for the promise of a family unit that they didn’t have at home. Some did it because they were too weak or too vulnerable to say no, while others did it because they were bored. And some, like Eastern, joined out of sheer desperation. I chose to stay away. It’s true, I might’ve been the delinquent kid that everyone saw when they looked at me. I might’ve gotten into trouble with the law, but I refused to set sail into a storm that wasn’t of my own making. I refused to join a gang. The way I saw it, whatever trouble I got into was on my terms and not for some self-proclaimed gang leader with a skewed view of the world and their own set of rules. I never wanted to be beholden to anyone but myself, and above all else, I always wanted more out of life than the hand I’ve been dealt. Maybe it was my mother’s fault for filling my head with far-fetched stories, but I wanted what was on the other side of the storm. I wanted what lay far, far beyond the horizon. Deep down I’d craved the life my mum used to tell me about in her stories. It gave me something to focus on, to dream about, even if it wasn’t real. Ironic then, that I’m now a part of the life I worked so hard to avoid, trying to protect the people I love from falling victim to it. And all because my love for a makeshift family meant I couldn’t stand back and watch the storm anymore. I must set sail right into the heart of it because I love Eastern, Tracy and Braydon enough to do something about their situation. They might not be my blood, but they are my family and I won’t abandon them in a time of need. Pity the same couldn’t be said for my own parents.

I learned to hold my compassion for Daddy and my wounds from him in the same heart. I learned that I was seeking approval and love in every man I met, and I slowly began to teach myself a better way. I learned that we all have wounds, and we can either open them up to the light of day so they can heal or we can keep them buried, where they will fester and one day wreak havoc on us.

Love is also a way of forgetting what the question is. Using love to escape love, groping for love outside the home to assuage the letdowns of love at home - it's kind of like smoking and wearing a nicotine patch at the same time: two delivery systems for an addictive chemical substance that feels vitally necessary to your well-being at the moment, even if likely to wreak unknown havoc in the deepest fibers of your being at some unspecified future date.

Using love to escape love, groping for love outside the home - it's kind of like smoking and wearing a nicotine patch at the same time: two delivery systems for an addictive chemical substance that feels vitally necessary to your well-being at the moment, even if likely to wreak unknown havoc in the deepest fibers of your being at some unspecified future date.

Love is also a way of forgetting what the question is. Using love to escape love, groping for love outside the home - it's kind of like smoking and wearing a nicotine patch at the same time: two delivery systems for an addictive chemical substance that feels vitally necessary to your well-being at the moment, even if likely to wreak unknown havoc in the deepest fibers of your being at some unspecified future date.

A damaged woman is like a hurricane. A force of nature. You will have to show her that you can ride the waves. That you can survive and grow with her in the fury of her winds. However, during all of that, you will also have to remain calm, gentle, and comforting. Sometimes, her tears may fall like the softest rain. When that happens, just love her. Other times, she will be thunder and lightning. She will wreak havoc, and the viciousness of her winds will be nothing compared to the rage within herself; your job is to just simply love her harder. And that, my son, is the only way to love and build a future with a woman who has been hurt.

Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey A Little Party Never Killed Nobody- Fergie Gangsta- Kehlani You Don’t Own Me- Grace Bonnie and Clyde- Kellie Pickler Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore I Feel a Sin Comin’ On- Pistol Annies Raise Hell- Dorothy Renegade Runaway- Carrie Underwood Black Widow- Iggy Azalea Hard Out Here- Lily Allen Fix- Chris Lane Make Me Wanna Die- Pretty Reckless Natalie- Bruno Mars Grenade- Bruno Mars Criminal- Fiona Apple Hunter- Ella Fence Gunpowder & Lead- Miranda Lambert Addicted to Love- Florence & The Machine Titanium- David Guetta & Sia Talking Body- Tove Lo Tornado- Little Big Town Fastest Girl in Town- Miranda Lambert Just Tonight- The Pretty Reckless Ready Set Roll- Chase Rice Till I Collapse- Eminem Remember the Name- Fort Minor Kill!Kill!Kill!- The Pierces Hard- Rihanna Cherry Bomb- The Runaways Bad Romance- Lady Gaga Gasoline & Matches- Julie Roberts Loca- Shakira My Medicine- The Pretty Reckless Fake It- Seether Psycho- Puddle of Mud All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman Next to You- Buckcherry Better Dig Two- The Band Perry

Papa suggested you had some options to put before me. What have you to offer besides this lunatic proposal that I should join myself to a man who is not much given to vice and not at all given to stealing kisses?” Now he was watching her mouth. “The only other option I see, Louisa Windham, is for you to marry me.” He braced himself for her to whip away, to laugh, to pucker up with the presumption of it. “Say something, Louisa. I mean you no insult, I hope you know that.” “You think I’d take insult because you raise swine and I am a duke’s daughter?” She still had not moved away, and a distracting olfactory tickle of clove and citrus wended its way into Joseph’s awareness. “There is that salient reality, but it’s also the case that I must have children, Louisa, there being the matter of that da—deuced title. I could not offer you the cordial union you might seek.” “By cordial, you mean unconsummated.” He managed another nod. Merely standing near her, her arm twined with his, their fingers linked—when had that happened?—was wreaking havoc with his composure. She stared past him into the fire, her brows knit. “I like children. They’re honest. They might lie about whether they stole the pie, but they don’t deceive themselves about enjoying every bite. Children love a good story. They don’t twitch their noses at a lively tale because it does not ‘improve the mind.’ Eve and Jenny adore children.” What was she saying? “Louisa, I am offering a marriage in truth, though I am not the better bargain.” This

People will come in your life and bring instant joy like a rainbow or wreak havoc like a hurricane. And once their duty is done the presence will away leaving you to live alone.

Such a shame that I didn’t get to say good-bye to my fellow inmates,” he said sarcastically. “Actually, Puchalski was the only guy I liked. I still can’t figure out what got into him.” As Jordan used her chopsticks to pick up a piece of hamachi, she decided it was best to get her brother off that topic as fast as possible. “Sounds like he just snapped.” “But why would he have a fork in his shoe?” Kyle mused. “That makes me think he was planning the attack, which doesn’t make sense.” Let it go, Kyle. She shrugged. “Maybe he always keeps a fork in his shoe. Who understands why any of these felon types do what they do?” “Hey. I am one of those felon types.” Grey tipped his glass of wine. “And who would’ve thought you would do what you did?” “It was Twitter,” Kyle mumbled under his breath. Maybe we should change the subject,” Jordan suggested, sensing the conversation could only spiral downward from there. “Okay. Let’s talk about you instead,” Grey said. “I never asked—how did Xander’s party go?” Now there was a potential land mine of a topic. “It went fine. Pretty much the same party as usual.” Except for a little domestic espionage. She threw Kyle a look, needing help. Change the subject. Fast. He stared back cluelessly. Why? She glared. Just do it. He made a face. All right, all right. “Speaking of wine, Jordo, how was your trip to Napa?” Great. Leave it to her genius of a brother to pick the other topic she wanted to avoid. “I visited that new winery I told you about. We should have a deal this week so that my store will be the first to carry their wine in the Chicago area.” Grey’s tone was casual. “Did you bring Tall, Dark, and Smoldering with you on the trip?” Jordan set down her chopsticks and looked over at her father. He smiled cheekily as he took a sip of his wine. “You read Scene and Heard, too?” she asked. Grey scoffed at that. “Of course not. I have people read it for me. Half the time, it’s the only way I know what’s going on with you two. And don’t avoid the question. Tell us about this new guy you’re seeing. I find it very odd that you’ve never mentioned him.” He fixed his gaze on her like the Eye of Sauron. Jordan took a deep breath, suddenly very tired of the lies and the secret-agent games. Besides, she had to face the truth at some point. “Well, Dad, I don’t know if you have to worry about Tall, Dark, and Smoldering anymore. He’s not talking to me right now.” Kyle’s face darkened. “Tall, Dark, and Smoldering sounds like a moron to me.” Grey nodded, his expression disapproving. “I agree. You can do a lot better than a moron, kiddo.” “Thanks. But it’s not that simple. His job presents some . . . challenges.” That was definitely the wrong thing to say. “Why? What kind of work does he do?” her father asked immediately. Jordan stalled. Maybe she’d overshot a little with the no more lies promise. She threw Kyle another desperate look. Do something. Again. Kyle nodded. I’m on it. He eased back in his chair and stretched out his intertwined hands, limbering up his fingers. “Who cares what this jerk does? Send me his e-mail address, Jordo—I’ll take care of it. I can wreak all sorts of havoc on Tall, Dark, and Smoldering’s life in less than two minutes.” With an evil grin, he mimed typing at a keyboard. Their father looked ready to blow a gasket. “Oh no—you do not get to make the jokes,” he told Kyle. “Jordan and I make the jokes. You’ve been out of prison for four days and I seriously hope you learned your lesson, young man . . .

Fine. The wife hates the goat. I traded for it for the novelty of goat’s milk, but it ran dry three weeks later. It is an old, cranky nanny who loves climbing on the roof and eating the thatch when she isn’t in the kitchen garden wreaking havoc.” Oris groaned. “I promised the wife I would kill it soon, but I can’t bear to do it to the creature. It can’t help it if it’s bored.

Whenever love is translated into hatred, we know that sin has entered and wreaked its havoc.

Try not to beat yourself up when you have trouble handling the OCD. This is normal, and attacking yourself over it will only make the OCD worse. - Choose to live as though you do have certainty, even as you are plagued with uncertainty. -          Remember to be loving, affectionate, and understanding with your partner, especially as it relates to your ROCD, because it is as painful and confusing to them as it is to you. - Remember that with treatment, it gets better, and that you are doing this for you, your partner, and your relationship.

Some common compulsions in ROCD are: ●        Checking for arousal when around one’s partner or checking for arousal when around people other than one’s partner, in order to see if one is “more attracted” to one’s partner ● Comparing one’s current relationship to past relationships to try and determine which one “felt more right” ● Checking to see if one feels “in love” with a partner at a given moment ●        Trying to remember times when one was happiest in the relationship, in order to be reassured that the relationship is “right

It’s worth mentioning that obsessions often take the form of questions (OCD used to be known as the “doubting disease”), typically “what if” questions. Some examples include: ● “What if my partner loves me more than I love him/her?” ● “What if this is not the right person for me?” ● “What if I am stuck in the wrong relationship?” ● “What if I made a mistake in getting together with my partner?” ● “What if there’s some with whom I would be more compatible?” ● “What if I’m attracted to someone else?” ● “What if I am leading my partner on?” ● “What if I am secretly a cheater?” ● “What if I hurt my partner by staying together?” ● “What if my partner is not as smart as I am?” ● “What if that other person is more attractive than my partner?” ● “What if I am deluding myself and/or my partner?

common obsessions in ROCD are: ● Wondering if the relationship is “right” ● Wondering if one’s partner is “the one” ● Wondering if one is less “in love” than their partner ● Fearing not being really attracted to one’s partner ● Feeling anxious about whether or not there’s compatibility between the two ● Fearing that one might be missing out on someone better ● Worrying incessantly about hurting one’s partner by staying in the relationship ●        Fearing that they truly must want to be with another person if they find anybody else good-looking or attractive ● Fixating on perceived flaws or defects in one’s partner ● Worrying about one’s partner’s appearance, intelligence, and overall personality ● Comparing one’s partner to other people ● Feeling terrified of commitment and the possibility of a long-term relationship

had the confidence and the willpower to begin actively treating my ROCD with ERP. I was willing and ready to face my anxiety, and I did so again and again by choosing to be affectionate and loving to Sophia even when I was terrified and confused. It wasn’t a journey without bumps, but by the end of the month, my attitude and actions had drastically changed for the better.

the usual fear, anxiety, and guilt, and has introduced myriad painful intrusive thoughts, such as: - Am I not as attracted to Sophia as I should be? -          Is there something wrong with our relationship or with me because I don’t feel that “rush” that comes with masturbating to porn? - Do I prefer that “rush” to making love? - Do I wish I was still looking at pornography? - Would I get that rush if I was with another partner? (This one is particularly painful.) - Am I some kind of incurable sex addict or sexual deviant? The answer to all of those questions, as is generally the case with ROCD, is no.

Be patient with your partner. This can be hard to do sometimes, because ROCD, like all forms of OCD, is persistent. But the more patient and understanding you can be with your partner, the easier it will be for them to treat their disorder. That said, be firm. By now, you should have a pretty good understanding of what your partner needs to do to treat their ROCD. If you see that they’re just giving in to their compulsions, remind them that it’s important to both of you for them to continue treating their OCD. Patience is all well and good, but there’s no sense in being patient with your partner when they’re actively worsening the disorder. Above all, be supportive. In any relationship, partners have to support each other. ROCD naturally can be extremely painful for you as the partner, but it is also a very personal struggle for the OCD sufferer. And as with any struggle, one of the best things you can do as their partner is provide love and support. Remind them not to be so hard on themselves when they do fall into the traps of their ROCD.

my porn habit was already causing Sophia pain. When we watched porn together, she noticed how easy it was for me to get an erection and reach orgasm, and she felt that I preferred watching other women being dominated to making love with her. This alone should have been a reason for us to talk and for me to drop the habit entirely, but because of how irritable and distant I could get due to my ROCD, Sophia felt that she couldn’t talk to me about how she felt for fear of me getting angry and breaking up with her. Eventually, the more overt manifestations of my ROCD became less present, due to consistent and effective CBT and, more specifically, ERP.

In the deepest abyss of fears lies a soul bereft of self-love, a potent force poised to wreak havoc upon its own existence and the lives it intertwines.

But if she found out the lengths to which I’d gone in order to wreak havoc on those responsible for my family’s death—no matter how much they deserved it—she would never forgive me. There are some lines you never cross.

We can see this in Homosexual Obesessive-Compulsive Disorder (HOCD). It’s worth mentioning that this abbreviation does not really express the nature of the disorder in this manifestation, as it can happen to anyone who suffers from OCD, independently of their sexual orientation. So it might be more appropriate to refer to it as Sexual Orientation OCD. In Sexual Orientation OCD, the person is plagued by doubts regarding their sexuality, fearing that they might be attracted to somebody of the opposite sex (if they’re gay) or of the same sex (if they are straight). At the heart of this suffering, there’s the fear of never being able to feel fully attracted to their partner, or of having a fulfilling, loving relationship with someone they love and for whom they know, with absolute certainty, they feel attraction. When the disorder is in full-swing in this manifestation, the resulting anxiety can distract the sufferer from enjoying intercourse, which prompts them to believe they must be of a different sexual orientation. Here is when the OCD finds, yet again, a good disguise. To the sufferer, the notion that their obsessions are turning them off sounds absurd, and it seems much more probable that they are just in denial by telling themselves that they have OCD. A similar, but in many ways more extreme form of OCD is POCD, or Pedophilia OCD. As the name suggests, this OCD is characterized by the fear of being a pedophile

couldn’t stop praying! I would hide behind doors so as to be able to pray unnoticed when there were people around. My siblings, naturally, made fun of me. This particular compulsion only subsided some years later, as a gradual realization and acceptance of my being not always entirely good and possessing some darker sides to my personality as a whole (such as vanity, envy and jealousy, among other vices) took place in me. More on the acceptance bit later. For my part (Hugh), I still struggle quite a bit with scrupulosity. As with Sophia, it started as something religious. I went to a Catholic elementary school, and for a time was terrified of accidentally thinking that I “hated God” or “loved the devil.” So, I would repeat that I loved God and hated the devil ad nauseum in my head. Eventually that particular form of religious scrupulosity went away, but it was replaced with a general fear of sinning and going to Hell, reaching a point in middle school where I had to stop making Lenten promises, even simple ones like giving up ice cream or candy, for fear of accidentally breaking my promise and being punished by God.

Then I got on the OCD Center of Los Angeles website, almost by accident--I had been googling a description of this behavior and it was one of the top results--, and there I read for the first time about Relationship Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I have to admit, I felt somewhat relieved. This meant, to me, in my love-addled mind, that there was a chance he truly loved me.

Examples of ROCD’s manifestations include: - Wondering if one is truly compatible with one’s partner - Wondering if one might be missing out on a relationship with someone who they would be more compatible with - Wondering if one is leading one’s partner on - Wondering if one’s partner is more “in love” than oneself - Wondering if one is truly attracted to one’s partner - Perceiving mild negative feelings, such as irritation with one’s partner, as a sign that the relationship isn’t right - Comparing one’s relationship to those of one’s peers, or to those found in movies, TV, and books - Obsessively comparing one’s partner to other people - Nitpicking the personality or appearance of one’s partner, or questioning their intelligence There are of course many more manifestations, but this should provide a decent overview

You can see how pain can pass from generation to generation, and how unaddressed mental health challenges can wreak havoc in a family.

Two major motives fuel the spree killer’s final, hate-filled act: revenge against the world and a desire to show that—all evidence to the contrary—he is a person to be reckoned with. Tormented by his failure to achieve those things that seem to come so easily to others—satisfying work, loving relationships—he will prove that he is special in at least one regard: in his power to wreak havoc.

wasn’t even really heavy back then. I would love to get back to that weight! Why did I think I was too fat then?” Unfortunately, yo-yo dieting wreaks havoc on metabolism, not to mention on self-esteem. When you consciously try to eat less, especially when you restrict your food considerably, you lower your metabolism. The body needs those calories (our fuel, our gasoline) to run efficiently. If we don’t get enough calories to meet our needs, we don’t just drop dead (at least not right away); the body just does what it does slower.

A mother understands your heartbeats when you cannot even interpret their sounds. They see you as magnificent even when you feel like you’re so unworthy of love. They calm the doubts that wreak havoc on your soul. They show you what unconditional love is from the day you take your first breath.

Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, people love the parents who beat their kids in department stores. It’s the ones who just let their kids wreak havoc that everybody hates.

She did not know how long he stood caressing her before he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth to the bare skin of her wrist. Her eyes closed against the flood of sensation that came with the touch- the softness of his lips, parted just enough to breathe a hot, moist kiss upon her before he scraped his teeth against the sensitive spot. She heard her own gasp and opened her eyes just in time to feel his tongue soothing the skin. He boldly met her gaze as he wreaked havoc on her senses, and she couldn't help but watch him, knowing that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The spoken and unspoken thoughts of others can wreak havoc on your best efforts to stay the course. “What was she thinking of, why would she even bother again, what’s she trying to prove?” All thought is powerful, for better or for worse.

Deceitful, inauthentic individual existence is the precursor to social totalitarianism ... Repression contributed in a non-trivial to the development of mental illness. And the difference between repression of truth and a lie is a matter of degree, not kind ... It was lies that bred sickness ... Lies warp the structure of being. Untruth corrupts the soul and the state alike, and one form of corruption feeds the other. The barely manageable crisis of a parent's terminal illness can be turned, for example, into something awful beyond description by the unseemly and petty squabbling of the sufferers' adult children. Obsessed by the unresolved past, they gather like ghouls around the deathbed forcing tragedy into an unholy dalliance with cowardice and resentment. He broods in his basement imagining himself oppressed. He fantasizes with delight about the havoc he might wreak on the world that rejected him for his cowardice, awkwardness and inability. And sometimes, he wreaks precisely that havoc and everyone asks why. They could know but refused to. Any natural weakness or existential challenge, no matter how minor can be magnified into a serious crisis with enough deceit in the individual family or culture. The honest human spirit may continually fail in its attempts to bring about paradise on Earth ... With love, encouragement and character intact, a human being can be resilient beyond imagining.

I did not come here so that Council could discuss my love life," Hades said. "No, but unfortunately for you, your love life is wreaking havoc upon the world." "So is your dick," Hades countered. "And no one's ever called Council about that.

Often when painful situations occur, we bury them down in our subconscious believing that if we do not think about them they will not harm us. For us, it often feels less painful if we don't have to think or talk about it. This is the absolute wrong way to manage pain because if we don't deal with our hurts they resurface in our relationships and wreak havoc causing us to harm the people who are closest to us. It may sound crazy but the saying is true that we hurt the ones who love us the most.