Jenny Holzer Inflammatory Essays (excerpt) 1979–82 Offset lithograph on colored paper Published by the artist; printed by Millner Bros., New York Each sheet: 17" x 17"

I once said to my therapist after a particularly hard week, “I wish I could just fix all of my problems and move on to live a normal life” And he looked at me and said, “There is no finish line”.

Those words felt like a stab in my heart, but they were words that I desperately needed to hear. There is no finish line to my problems. It’s not possible to get through a certain point in life and have my problems simply disappear. And it’s unhealthy to think that way. Up to that point in my life, that’s what I though recovery was. I thought it was like working your way forward until it seems like your problems never existed in the first place.

The finish line does not exist. Instead, everyone has a capacity for recovery. You may never completely rid yourself of whatever causes you pain, but you will move miles from where you started. Don’t set your expectations too high and create that theoretical finish line in your life, or you will only end up chasing it. Instead, focus on your own capacity for recovery, and be proud of yourself for every step you take.

(randomly gets sad at 2 pm instead of 11 pm like i usually do) variety is the spice of life

Shes a goddess!!!

soft feels. Sarah Zucker, 2018.

Columbia River Gorge, OR

me: I should go to therapy probably (later at therapy) therapist: so how are you? me: fine! I’m great actually I don’t know why I’m here I’m so great

this is literally going to be my wedding song this sounds like the end of the world i want it to be on a starry moonlit night on a stone cliff by the sea and everything is a deep blue and i literally just forget every negative thing that has happened prior

letters so hard to mail feeling like the wind from the sea lately got to thinking that how I long to have you here with me

Don’t tell me that they’re all the same ‘Cause even the sound of his name Carries me over their reach Back to some golden beach Where only he remains