#memory association

You need to look up ways to break associative memories (google “break memory associations”). There’s loads of techniques out there and I vaguely remember at uni they taught us how effective of them can be. 

Truthfully I’ve never used them myself with clients - it’s just never come up in casework, so I’m probably not the best person to ask about them. 

I know it's self inflicted but the second half of "Because of the times" by the Kings of Leon never freaking fails to resurrect the urge to start up a game of Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley or Story of Seasons.

Send me a word and my muse will reveal amemory that has to do with it.

Darkness [noun] devoid or partially devoid of light; not receiving, reflecting, transmitting, or radiating light.

We all live in the darkness, in a way - being underplate means that sunshine is but a dream to us all, but there is still some kind of light in the slums - the neon signs, the lamps that never go out. But I remember experiencing true, complete darkness once…

I was still a regular bee-girl; seeing the customers who booked me, entertaining them for the time they paid me to. Until, one day, I saw this man who appeared to be normal enough: smartly dressed, soft-spoken, a textbook gentleman. He was mostly keeping to himself while I undressed, until he removed his tie…

…And tried to choke me.

He was strong, way stronger than I first thought; and for a few brief moments, I started to see dark spots, my own blood beating loud in my ears. Looking back, I know now these were mere seconds, but at the time they stretched forever, turning into actual darkness - no light of any kind, cruel, cold and overpowering.

Send me a word and mymuse will reveal a memory that has to do with it.

Complacent [adjective] pleased, especiallywith oneself or one’s merits, advantages, situation, etc., often withoutawareness of some potential danger or defect; self-satisfied.

I was so damn proud ofmyself when I purchased the inn and got rid of Don Corneo’s influences – or soI believed. I gave a chance to every girl who was a fellow bee to walk away ifthey so desired; I fired all the leering, abusive men who worked there asguards, bartenders and the like. I started doing major renovations with theplace, transforming it in something better, more welcoming, classier.

I let go of the beecostume; after all, I was building myself a kingdom and I’d make sure to carrymyself like its ruler. I established a partnership with the Turks, I improvedmy networking, I started to make a lot of money with the additional informationbusiness. Things were going well – I heard laughter and giggles where painedsilence and forced smiles prevailed in the past.

Until one day.

I was roused from my bed byscreaming and crying girls, who promptly took me to one of the bedrooms of theinn. Inside, I found the mutilated corpse of one of my bees, her blood thenused as paint for a message on the wall.

you’re just a whorepretending to be better than everyone else

Sometimes, when I close myeyes, I can still see her dead eyes staring at me, paying the price for mycarelessness. I became so entranced with my role and so comfortable with itthat I forgot that people wouldn’t gladly accept it. Change is not alwayspeaceful.

Send me a word and my muse will reveal amemory that has to do with it.

Euphoria [noun] a state of intense happiness and self-confidence.

My backgroundhardly allowed for happiness; sure, there were always some cheerful momentswith my sisters when we played; or during the few times we found places toplant and cultivate vegetables and flowers in the slums. But I would not callit happiness, or even label it as intense… We were always surrounded by thepain, the indifference from above plate, the suffering of our neighbors – it wasfleeting and tainted by reality.

But when Ifinally learned how to read… It took me years to get there, of course. Iendured endless rough clients, sleepless nights and injuries, desperation andpain, whether from my colleagues or myself. But reading… That was an abilitymost people surely took for granted, but for me, it was an escape.

It was a door toa new world where anything was possible. The Honey Bee Inn no longer trapped meand I could transform into other people, travel to other places, live in othereras. It was freedom – the kind of freedom I never knew before. It allowed meto dream again, to fight back, to resist yielding even to the most hopelessfight.