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A Preview From A 'Terrifying' Horror Film That Will Not Scare You Even A Little Bit
No, there's not a scary movie coming out with a perfectly normal dude who has schizophrenia. But there is an important point in this 60-second PSA.
10.15.14
When she didn't say "thank you," he accused her of having bad manners.
It might have been pretty universally accepted during our childhood for daughters to be expected to reciprocate affection from adults, whether they liked it or not. A non consensual kiss to grandparents here, a forced “thank you” there. But times have changed.
However, this change in parenting style can sometimes make for some, well, awkward or even downright uncomfortable situations as moms and dads try to advocate for this kid’s autonomy.
Recently, a mom named Liz Kindred detailed just such an incident with her six year old daughter, which has a whole lotta other parents discussing how to navigate these unideal interactions.
As she recalls in a video posted to TikTok, Kindred was waiting in line with her daughter when a grown man turned around and said “My goodness, you sure are pretty” to the child.
“My six-year-old is gorgeous, yes, but she is also very in tune and perceptive, and she's an introvert so she grabbed my leg really tight,” Kindred said.
Doubling down, the man repeated himself, saying “You sure are pretty. Look at those blue eyes,” which only made her shy daughter grab her leg harder.
Noting that being in a 12 step program has taught her to be less “knee jerk reactionary,” the mom bit her tongue and offered a polite smile to the man, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.
@yourejustliz I need to get my brows done
♬ Succession (Theme Song) - The Theme System
“He's a boomer and, God love him, he said, ‘I guess your mom didn't teach you manners.’ And I let out an uncomfortable little [chuckle], and the pause was long. It was long. And under his breath he said, ‘Guess not,’” she said.
In what she called the most ”Jesus loving way” she could muster, while still bluntly making her point, Kindred told the man "If you assume that I didn't teach my six-year-old daughter to say ‘thank you’ to a grown, consenting man when he compliments her appearance, then you would be correct."
What followed was the “longest silence” of Kindred’s life.
The video, which has been viewed over 6 million times now, prompted a ton of parents to share how their own kids have established boundaries in similar situations—with their support, of course.
“An old man called my 4 yr old daughter a sweetheart at the store…she boldly responded ‘I am NOT YOUR sweetheart!’ I was so proud,” on person recalled.
Another added, “My 3 year old says ‘NO THANK YOU MY BODY DOESN’T LIKE TAHT.’”
Still another said “My 2 yo knows the boundaries song and just starts singing that anytime someone talks to her.”
While the response to Kindred’s video was overwhelmingly positive, there were a few comments defending the man as simply being “kind.” This prompted Kindred to do a follow-up video doubling down on her decision.
In the clip, she shared how she herself has dealt with seemingly innocent compliments in her life from men, which later turned into something else. Feeling like she “didn’t have a voice” to say something, “because I’m a nice Christian, Southern girl,” Kindred ended up being in unsavory situations (she didn't explicitly say what those situations were, but it's easy enough to piece together). She doesn’t want her daughter to have the same issues.
@yourejustliz #stitch with @Liz Kindred ♬ Succession (Theme Song) - The Theme System
“Nice is different than kind. The kind thing to do is to teach our daughters and our children in this next generation that when you are uncomfortable with something you listen to your body and you set a firm boundary with that and you provide language around that. And you start that really really young.”
Yep. Well said.
This article originally appeared on 8.8.24
There’s solid science behind the psychology.
A few years ago I had an office job where I sat in a row of cubicles with about a dozen other people. One morning when a coworker walked into the office to start his day, a feeling of dread bubbled up from my subconscious. He was angry and I wasn’t going to be able to escape his feelings.
His desk was about 10 feet from mine and like waves, I could feel his emotions seeping into my body. He wasn’t bothering anyone and was always pleasant to me, but I knew he was angry about something deep down, and I could feel it.
As far as I knew, no one else in the office was having the same experience that I was. I was the only person who found it emotionally exhausting to be in the same room as this person.
I wasn’t sure what to make of this bizarre, unintentional attachment to the emotional states of others until I was listening to a podcast featuring Dr. Drew Pinksy where he mentioned that he was “an emotional sponge” who sucks up other people’s emotions and referred to it as being an “empath.”
That powerful revelation struck me in two ways. I realized that I was probably an empath as well and that I experience emotions differently than others. "One of the hardest things about being an empath is learning not everyone is,” Hannah Ewens at Vice wrote.
PsychAlive describes being an empath as exhausting at times, but not without its benefits.
“Empaths are highly sensitive individuals, who have a keen ability to sense what people around them are thinking and feeling. … often to the point of taking on the pain of others at their own expense,” PsychAlive says.
“On the bright side, empaths tend to be excellent friends,” PsychAlive continues. “They are superb listeners. They consistently show up for friends in times of need. They are big-hearted and generous. Empaths also tend to be highly intuitive and emotionally intelligent.”
As I started to look into the idea that I may be an empath, I began to consider the emotional sway my wife has over me. If she is stressed or tired, it makes me uncomfortable because I cannot escape her emotional state. It’s not that she’s overly emotional, but that I lack the force field that shields me from people’s emotional states, especially people close to me.
That’s why I get a huge feeling of relief when my wife transitions from being in a negative mood to a positive one. But, on the other hand, she doesn’t seem to be swayed one way or the other by my emotional state. It’s not that she’s callous, it’s just that she has a healthy emotional distance from me.
The problem is that it's nearly impossible to explain what this feels like to someone who isn’t an empath, and attempting to do so makes me seem a little unstable. So I keep these disturbances to myself, which probably isn’t healthy.
Caroline Van Kimmenade, who runs courses for empaths who want to understand their power, explained what it’s like to be an empath. "It's like a football match where everyone gets hyped up and starts waving and then the mob things start sweeping you up, and you barely know you're doing it," she explained.
"We can all experience that, but it doesn't mean you're an empath. But for an empath, it's that multiplied and applied to everything all of the time. Empaths are constantly in a giant football stadium where they're reacting to bigger things going on from all directions,” said Van Kimmenade.
When I realized I was an empath it helped me make sense of a part of myself that always felt contradictory. I am a person who has no problem being alone for long periods of time, but I’m also totally comfortable in social situations.
Tod Perry's solitary workspace.
via Upworthy
I work for Upworthy as a writer and the host of its podcast, “Upworthy Weekly,” and do it all from home. Honestly, I love being alone all day because I have a lot more power over my own emotional state than when I'm in an office getting bombarded by other people’s “stuff.”
I also enjoy going to movies, concerts and bars alone, too.
On the other hand, I am an extrovert who’s very comfortable in social situations. Empaths can be very social people because they have the superpower of being attuned to others' emotions and they have a great intuition for other people. We are experts at reading the room and are great at relating to all sorts of people.
Dr. Judith Orloff, the author of “The Empath’s Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People,” says that extroverted empaths “crave the dopamine rush from lively events. In fact, they can’t get enough of it.”
One of the strangest things about being an empath is having a heightened sense of smell. My sense of smell is so keen that I can’t wear cologne because I never go nose blind to the scent and it’ll bother me the whole night. The same goes for scented lotions. The interesting thing is that this isn’t just in my head; researchers have found that the part of the brain that recognizes emotions overlaps with the brain areas associated with smell.
The New Science of Empathy and Empathshttps://drjudithorloff.com/the-new-science-of-empathy-and-empaths/\u00a0\u2026— Judith Orloff MD (@Judith Orloff MD) 1643521266
So what causes someone to be an empath?
“It can be both nature and nurture. Some empaths are born empaths the minute they come out of the womb they are these sensitive creatures feeling the world with the palm of their hands,” Dr. Orloff told Upworthy.
Dr. Orloff says that research shows empaths have different brain chemistry.
“Research is suggesting that the mirror neuron system in the brain is on overdrive with empaths—meaning their compassion is hyperactive versus narcissists who have hypo-active mirror neurons and empathy deficient disorder,” Orloff said.
Orloff adds that even though men and women are both empaths, it can be harder for men to come to terms with their sensitivity. She runs an empath support community where men are much more reluctant to share.
“When the men do share, they express the shame about being sensitive, how it isn't masculine and how they were bullied as children and made to feel ashamed to be crybabies rather than beautiful sensitive beings,” Orloff told Upworthy.
I had never heard of the term empath until about five years ago, but after coming to the realization that I probably am one and learning about the positive and negative aspects of this psychological trait, I feel that I’ve become better at navigating my emotional life. I'm getting better at seeing the difference between my emotions and those of others and making sense of the difference.
On the positive side, I’ve developed greater trust in my own intuition knowing that, as an empath, when I get a sense about someone, I should go with it because there’s a good chance I’m right. I’ve also learned to be less judgmental of those around me who I think aren’t as sensitive as they should be. They’re just not experiencing life the same way.
This article originally appeared 2 years ago.
May we all have a friend who shares our quirks this lovingly and articulately.
Actor Alan Rickman gave us so many memorable characters, from the terrorist Hans Gruber in "Die Hard" to the evil hero Severus Snape in "Harry Potter" to the unfaithful husband who broke Emma Thompson's heart in "Love Actually."
Though he was often cast as a villain, Rickman's distinctive voice and irresistable screen presence made audiences love him. He brought a unique human touch even to his most odious bad guy characters, a quality that makes perfect sense when you hear Thompson, his friend and co-star in seven films, talk about his character in real life.
Thompson is at the top of her award-winning writer game here, and her words about Alan Rickman are filled with heart, wit, respect, admiration and love. It's truly a eulogy for the ages.
Watch (or read the full transcript below):
- YouTubewww.youtube.com
"A close friend of mine bumped into him in a theatre in London many years ago. My friend instantly recognised Mr Rickman and from nowhere, instantly found the courage to ask him for his autograph. Having neither pen nor paper for this, he asked Mr Rickman if he would mind waiting a moment whilst he collected the items from somewhere, anywhere! The moment became at least 10 minutes or so, and when my friend ran back to a now empty theatre foyer, he noticed one solitary figure. Mr Rickman had waited patiently for my friend to give him what he asked for."
"I was lucky enough to work with him on a film. At lunchtime I joined the line for a meal and as I payed and went to turn to look for a table, someone knocked into me from behind and my drink went flying. I turned and it was Alan, he apologized put his hand on my shoulder and said let me get you another. He came back with a cup of tea and I was so overwhelmed. I was shocked how he was so down to earth and a real gentleman."
"I meet him once in Boots and said hello, he realised it was a reflex to recognising a known face. He picked up an item we both were looking at, smiled and said “well hello there are we going to arm wrestle for this?” That deep tone rendered me mute, I realised it was Mr Rickman and instantly denied needing this forgotten thing, apologised for well nothing really, smiled and backed away. He was a giant of a fellow on and off the stage and will be missed."
"Everything she said is true. I was fortunate to have dinner with him and his wife and his drama teacher. He was charming and friendly and shared some great ideas about directing, which I use today in my theater group. He is missed by many."
Indeed he is.
Here's the full transcript of Thompson's tribute:
"The most remarkable thing about the first days after Alan died was the number of actors, poets, musicians, playwrights and directors who wanted to express their gratitude for all the help he'd given them. I don't think I know anyone in this business who has championed more aspiring artists nor unerringly perceived so many great ones before they became great. Quite a number said, latterly, that they'd been too shy to thank him personally. They had found it hard to approach him. And of all the contradictions in my blissfully contradictory friend (hold on, Thompson), this is perhaps the greatest this combination of profoundly nurturing and imperturbably distant.
He was not, of course, distant. He was alarmingly present at all times the inscrutability was partly a protective shield. If anyone did approach him with anything like gratitude or even just a question, they would be greeted with a depth of sweetness that no one who didn't know him could even guess at. And he was not, of course, unflappable. I could flap him like nobody's business and when I did he was fierce with me and it did me no end of good.
He was generous and challenging, dangerous and comical, sexy and androgynous, virile and peculiar, temperamental and languid, fastidious and casual, the list could go on. I'm sure you can add to it. There was something of the sage about him, and had he had more confidence and been at all corruptible, he could probably have started his own religion.
His taste in all things from sausages to furnishings appeared to me anyway to be impeccable. His generosity of spirit was unsurpassed and he had so much time for people I used to wonder if he ever slept or ever got time for himself. A word not traditionally associated with Alan is gleeful, but when he was genuinely amused he was absolutely the essence of glee. There would be a holding back as the moment built, and then a sudden leaning forward and a swinging around of the torso as a vast, impish grin flowered, sometimes accompanied by an inarticulate shout of laughter. It was almost as if he was surprised by himself. It was my life's mission to provide those moments. I remember Imelda Staunton nearly killing him by telling him a story about my mother and an unfortunate incident with some hashish—it's a really good story, I won't tell it now—I've never seen him laugh more before or since. It was a bit like watching someone tickling the Sphinx.
One Christmas Eve party I had a sprig of mistletoe hanging up at home, and I was loitering under it and turned to find Alan bearing down on me. I lifted up my chin hopefully. He smiled and approached. I puckered. He leaned in under the mistletoe and a sudden change came over his face. His eyes started to glitter and his nostrils to quiver. He lifted up a hand, reached in, and pulled a longish hair out of my chin. 'Ow!' I said. 'That's an incipient beard,' he said, handing me the hair and walking off.
That was the thing about Alan—you never knew if you were going to be kissed or unsettled, but you couldn't wait to see what would come next. And the trouble with death is that there is no next. There's only what was, and for that, I am profoundly and heartbrokenly grateful. So the last thing we did together was change a plug on a standard lamp in his hospital room. The task went the same way as everything we have ever done together. I had a go. He told me to try something else. I tried. It didn't work, so he had a go. I got impatient. I took it from him. I tried it again. It still wasn't right. We both got slightly irritable, then he patiently took it all apart again and got the right lead into the right hole. I screwed it in with a screwdriver. We complained about how fiddly it was, and then we had a cup of tea. Took us at least half an hour, this thing, and he said after, 'Well it's a good thing I decided not to become an electrician.'
I'm still heartbroken that Alan's gone, but these diaries bring back so much of what I remember of him. There is that sweetness I mentioned, his generosity, his champion of others, his fierce, critical eye, his intelligence, his humor. He was the ultimate ally in life, art, and politics. I trusted him absolutely. He was, above all things, a rare and unique human being and we shall not see his like again."
Humanity is making amazing progress, but you won't hear it on the news.
It’s unfortunate that humans are wired to notice everything bad going on in the world and to ignore the things that are going right. Our collective negativity bias was illustrated in a 2016 survey that asked people in 17 countries “Do you think the world is getting better or worse, or neither getting better nor worse?”
Fifty‐eight percent of respondents thought that the world is getting worse, and 30% said that it is doing neither. Only 11% thought that things are getting better. However, there is a wealth of data to support the idea that the world is only improving when it comes to the hallmarks of human progress: education, freedom, poverty and health.
In a recent interview with Upworthy, Chelsea Follett, the managing editor at Human Progress, explained why humans have a bias toward negativity, and the media isn’t doing us any favors.
"Historically, obviously our ancestors in a primitive environment who overreacted to danger were more likely to survive than those who underreacted," Follett told Upworthy. "But there is a point where unwarranted panic can actually be detrimental to your survival if you abandon policies or institutions that are actually working, or that have allowed you to make tremendous progress in the past.
"There's also the nature of the media," she added. "Obviously sudden, noteworthy and rare events are the ones that make headlines, whereas long-term slow, steady, incremental progress is just not as interesting."
Our World in Data, an organization that performs "research and data to make progress against the world’s largest problems" has created a revealing document that shows just how far humanity has come over the past 200 years. The graphs show how life has changed for a random sampling of 100 people over the past two centuries.
The graph covers six topics that are cornerstones of human progress: poverty, basic education, literacy, democracy, vaccination and child mortality.
Poverty
In 1820, 84 out of 100 people lived in extreme poverty, and over 200 years that number has dropped more than nine times to just 9 in 100. “The headline could be ‘The number of people in extreme poverty fell by 130,000 since yesterday’ and they wouldn’t have this headline once, but every single day since 1990, since, on average, there were 130,000 people fewer in extreme poverty every day,” Our World in Data wrote.
Basic Education
Two hundred years ago, 83 out of 100 people had no education at all. That number has been reduced to just 14 over the past 200 years.
Our World In Data says that number is only going to get better. “Focusing on the educational breakdown the projection suggests that by 2100, there will be almost no one without formal education and there will be more than 7 billion minds who will have received at least secondary education,” Our World in Data said.
Literacy
In 1820, only 12 people out of 100 could read. In 2019, that number has risen more than seven times to 86. These numbers will continue to rise because a large portion of the world’s illiterate population is older.
Democracy
Only 1 out of 100 people lived in a democracy back in 1820. Now, 56 out of 100 people live in a country where they can select their elected officials. This was a big change that came after World War II.
“In the second half of the 20th century, the world has changed significantly: Colonial empires ended, and more and more countries turned democratic,” Our World in Data wrote. “The share of the world population living in democracies increased continuously–particularly important was the breakdown of the Soviet Union which allowed more countries to democratize.”
Vaccination
Over the past 60 years, the number of people out of 100 that would have been vaccinated against diphtheria, whooping cough and tetanus has risen from 0 to 86.
Child Mortality
Can you imagine living at a time when almost half of all children born never lived to kindergarten age? “In 1800 the health conditions were such that around 43% of the world’s newborns died before their 5th birthday,” Our World In Data wrote. “In 2017 child mortality was down to 3.9% – 10-fold lower than 2 centuries ago.”
This article originally appeared two years ago.
Check out the little grass-averse gymnasts.
When you see a gymnast doing this, you know they've worked for years to train their muscles and perfect their gymnastics skills:
Martin Rulsch, Wikimedia Commons
But when you see a baby hovering in the air, legs in splits, you know there's probably a big ol' patch of grass beneath them.
Grass?!? you may be thinking. Seriously? Aren't babies, the purest among us—unspoiled by the trappings of modern life and technology—naturally drawn to the earth?
Apparently not if that earth is covered in grass, nope. For them, the lawn is lava.
Babies—or at least a good portion of babies—will do pretty much anything to not let any part of their bodies touch grass. Viral videos have demonstrated this fact, with parents holding their wee ones over a patch of lawn and lowering them toward the ground.
The way these tiny tots will twist themselves into gymnast-like positions to keep some daylight between them and the lawn is both impressive and hilarious. Watch:
\u201cBabies instinctually avoid grass. Do they know something we don\u2019t\ud83e\uddd0\u201d— Tansu YE\u011eEN (@Tansu YE\u011eEN) 1663151646
You would think these parents were holding their kids above a pot of boiling oil, not the cool, refreshing grass. So what's happening here? Why are these babies so averse to touching grass?
According to neuropsychologist Dr. Sanam Hafeez, it could be an issue of sensory overload.
“Some babies lift their feet out in the air when a parent attempts to put them down on the grass because as a baby’s nervous system develops, sights, sensations, and sounds are intense,” Hafeez told Romper. “The ticklish, sharp blades of grass can catch a baby off guard, and some babies are often scared of it, as they are used to softer, more comfortable surfaces such as wood, tile, or carpet.”
Pediatrician Gina Posner, M.D offered Parents a similar explanation.
"The prickly texture and feel of grass is far different than softer and more comfortable feeling of carpet, tile, and wood surfaces on their feet, hands, and body, so babies are often scared of it." Grass can also be itchy and cause rashes, she said, which can make babies more averse to it.
Another explanation may be more innate and evolutionary. In a 2014 study published in Cognition, researchers reported evidence that "human infants possess strategies that would serve to protect them from dangers posed by plants."
"Across two experiments, infants as young as eight months exhibit greater reluctance to manually explore plants compared to other entities," the researchers shared. So perhaps babies simply don't trust grass.
According to another study published in 2019, there may be something to that distrust idea. Researchers found that babies between 8 and 18 months old "exhibited more social looking toward adults when confronted with plants compared to other object types." The study authors pointed out that learning about which plants are beneficial and which ones are harmful is something humans can't do alone, and noted that infants tended to look to older adults for social cues about plants they encounter before touching them.
"This social looking strategy puts infants in the best position to glean information from others before making contact with potentially dangerous plants," researchers wrote.
So, we have a few options here. Is it possible that those babies in the video weren't able to glean social cues from their caregivers that the grass was safe? Yes. Is it possible that they'd already touched grass once and found it too "tickly"? Yes. Is it possible that babies do all kinds of surprising, seemingly inexplicable things just to keep their parents guessing and always on their toes? Sure feels like it.
Whatever the reason, watching babies blatantly reject the "touch grass" advice the rest of us keep getting is hilarious. Who says the grown-ups know best? Trust your instincts and do you, babes.
This article originally appeared two years ago.