Stories

HiFit  HifiT, Sistema de Entrenamiento Integral, es un sistema ecléctico, basado en cientos de estudios científicos realizados en pro de atletas de alto rendimiento así como de la salud y del bienestar físico y emocional. HifiT posee: - Objetivos específicos  - Estructura altamente planificada - Está apegado a más del 90% de los principios de entrenamiento propuestos por Joe Weider.  - Ejercicios únicos, que se suman al universo de ejercicios existentes. - Técnicas de entrenamiento, aplicables a cualquier ejercicio propuesto.  - Rutinas específicas del sistema, que tienen un tiempo estimado de duración de entre 35 a 50 minutos y con las cuales se consiguen mejoras en todas las capacidades biomotoras y por ende en la forma física y en la salud. HifiT, fue evaluado, probado y aprobado por La Federación Venezolana de Fisicoculturismo como un sistema de entrenamiento seguro y efectivo, tal que cuenta con el aval de dicha institución.  Así mismo cuenta con una escuela de formación de instru

  Photograph by @domingo_cabrera  Dead Friendships and Learning to Cope  When I was very young 2-3 years-old my parents had to take me to speech therapy. Well, my kindergarten had a therapist who helped me with some of my initial symptoms. I always had the problem of thinking faster than I’m able to speak, write, or able to communicate. When I was a child this made me angry and frustrated because the other kids didn’t understand me.   My mom told me that I even punched once I kid on the noise. I used to cry a lot. But tantrums weren’t acceptable for my dad. He used to tell me “if you are going to cry I will give you a good reason to cry.” After a couple of spanks, I learned that he meant business. He didn’t have much patience but also he really hated seeing me cried. He truly loved me. I was the light of his eyes. Everyone that knew him well tells me that, and I explain these because I know these practices aren’t well seen today. But my parents did the best job they could and I’m not g

The Morning after Tikkie!   I can’t take credit for this story. It’s too unique and too specific. When my friend told me about it the first time I laughed until I couldn’t breathe anymore. I was in shocked. For all of you that are confused by the title, it is a game of words “the morning after pill” “the morning after Tikkie,” got it? A small joke. But if you are like me and don’t live in Holland. You probably have never, ever heard about the application Tikkie. Let’s change that! Tikkie is a very popular app among the Dutchies. It speaks a lot about the culture of the country. It’s an app that allows you to divide a check after a night out with friends in equal parts including the cents! I’m not sure if I’m a fan of this philosophy. But they love it. You can ask for money for a gift, a dinner party, (I think you get the point) without revealing your personal bank account information. This last part is useful.   So now that we have that part clear. Let’s get to the juicy side of the st

Dear Lover,   My love, you want to come back home. You want once more to sleep in my bed. To be inside my head and be the main character in my dreams. How can that be? How can’t you see the pain that your words and actions had caused me? Aren’t my scars big enough? Isn’t my heart broken enough?   You want me to forget about your misdoings, to let the past go, so we can move on as nothing had happened. Has if that was possible. Has if my fears can vanish with the same promises you have broken over and over again. There is nothing you can say that I haven’t heard already from your own lips. You praised your own memory but how can’t you remember your own lies?   The money you said spent on me, you actually spent on poison. That only corrupt the love you said you had for me. Talking about poisons, mine was grass yours was snow white but our heads weren’t in the right space of mind. You say you didn’t enjoy seeing me weak and fragile but the moment I started to grow you panicked and more an

The King Jyn  A young King,  the faceless king who watches in the crowd.  Misery and corruption are everywhere,  also the traces of the grim reaper.  Heartbroken crying, followed by a prayer,  to the gods and forces beyond their own,  to the saints who seem to boast before him bathed in power,  while in his mind the King disputes  'Why if they have so much power they don't do anything?  Still figures, dolls at last ...  heroes of legends never before ...  All fake and made of clay!  and then if they exist,  Why the agony that his people live?  A gasp of helplessness, I am as useless as one more!  The tragic faceless king slave of anonymity.  An avatar that like a coward must hide his face.  How much misunderstood agony,  a dilemma that must remain secret ...  Dear King,  you are like a wandering god,  it is nothing more than a being without a compliment,  or a beast wandering between copies of itself.  How will you get to your throne, if you do not use yourself?  The imperfecti

  CHOP, CHOP, CHOP Ryan has just read a verse in the Bible he has recently bought, this verse that says that the Christians are children of light, not of darkness. He thinks that it’s sort of weird, to have to belong to this “Inner Light” faction or whatever it is. Light? It’s okay, but it’s got nothing on the night, like now. He’s reading on his Kindle, the only light coming from the clip-on lamp. Feeling thirsty, Ryan turns off the Kindle and makes his way to the door, not bumping into any of the objects scattered around the room. His eyes are rapidly adjusting to the darkness; it’s a gray sort of illumination which gives him just enough direction to make his way around, almost like what a cat or dog might see. Lights would be much too harsh. Then he’s in the hall, padding silently down it as he heads to the kitchen. Except, it’s taking more than just eleven paces to get there. Much more. Almost like it’s become a never-ending hallway. But that’s silly, Ryan knows. Total rubbish. Has

  Living in the Midst of Depression Hi, my name is Nathania, I am a person who suffers from depression and has been diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). So here I just wanted to share a bit about my depression. Since on the 10th of October that mental awareness is raised worldwide. To give you a bit of background info. The World Health Organization (WHO) done worldwide research in 2019 that 13% which is about 197million people of people suffer from any kind of mental disorder. Mental disorder is not only depression but also suicide, bipolar disorder, mentally disabled, PTSD, PPD, etc. There is a long list to be named. But let's keep that short.  Coming back to depression it is one of my worst nightmare next to being diagnosed with PTSD. But PTSD is a story for another time. If you haven't been through it you will never understand what it means. The darkness, pain, confusion, anxiety, spiraling down with no way out. So yes suicide is for some people than the onl

Photograph by @domingo_cabrera   Fearless Child  In my previous story, I said that I was diagnosed when I was 20, this isn’t common. Nowadays, children are getting diagnose younger, and younger. My psychiatrist explained to me that I learned to cope with my symptoms. She was impressed. It wasn’t my parents who forced me to go to therapy, it was my who screamed for help. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed help.  I have been showing symptoms of my condition since I was a child. I learned this in therapy, after analyzing my life. I have an excellent memory and what I don’t remember my parents filled the gaps by telling me stories about my youngest years. I remember being fearless. Things that to a regular child scared them to death, to me were extremely exciting.  I had a very dark, morbid, and clear concept about death from a very young age. Suicidal thoughts are a common symptom among bipolar people. Young children don’t understand the concept of death. Especially at the age of 4/5-ye

Photograph by @domingo_cabrera   Diagnosis: Bipolar  When I was 20-years-old I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 2. Suddenly my life made sense. One word explained why I was the way I’m. It was a pill hard to swallow. Especially for my family. My mom hasn’t completely accepted and it’s been 9 years since the diagnosis. I don’t think she will ever fully accept it. I guess is very hard to hear that your only child will need to take medication to be able to function like a regular person for the rest of her life.  I’m very open about my condition with my friends and the people who knows me. But my family, uncles, and aunts, don’t know about it. My parents kept it secret. I guess they didn’t want them to judge me. Also, they didn’t want the world to judge me. Because even though I’m happy and I don’t see why I should keep it a secret, I know people judged people like me.  That’s the reason why I’m writing a series of stories about the reality of how truly is to be a person with bipo