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RADICAL SATURDAY

Today’s Friday, though.

THE LAST RADICAL SATURDAY OF THE DECADE!!!!!!!!!

LAST RADICAL SATURDAY OF THE DECADE

do it.

bitches reblog if ur going into the next decade single 

That has to be done!

female version of miles morales, just for fun

Once again WHOEVER RUNS THIS ACCOUNT DESERVES A RISE ASAP BECAUSE..

Let us just appreciate that this person’s dad didn’t know when they would be home and so he couldn’t plan for them to be able to join the family for dinner, but he knew with no doubts that dear sweet Meatloaf staying in that exact position for hours was an absolute in this scenario. Truly, that cat was named well.

one of my favorite posts on tumblr over the course of 5 fucking years.. clearly i need a life

Meatloaf is a reliable cat and did not steal the money for selfish reasons. A rare friend.

I love Meatloaf. :)

Bless Meatloaf

Reblog Money Meatloaf to get surprise $40

Sometimes I say self loathing things to my therapist and he looks at me dead in the eyes before saying “You fucking moron.” and tbh same

Me: I think I don’t exist.

Therapist: Listen, you do exist, and if you didn’t, someone would have to create you because the world would be a much sadder place.

Me: Jerome, how dare you saying something so sweet when I’m dissociating.

Me: Honestly, (thing that is totally fucked up for any ‘sane’ person) is normal, right?

Therapist: No.

Me: Wow.

Therapist: You’re just a fucked up bitch.

Me: I do agree with the fucked up bitch part.

Therapist: That’s a start!

Me: I guess he’s still my friend?

Therapist: Considering what you told me and how much you wanna beat him to death, he’s not. You pretty much hate him despite knowing him for years.

Me:

Me: Why did I need to come here to realize that.

Therapist: Because that’s my job to help you to understand some stuff. Also because you’re way too kind and you would let someone punch you in the guts and still consider them as your friend while they stab you.

Me: I don’t need that kind of call out, Jerome.

Me: Hey, I brought you coffee. And croissants too, but I ate them. *puts Starbucks coffee in front of him*

Therapist: Oh that’s nice!!... Oh my name is on it!!

Me: Yeah!!

Therapist: It’s wholesome but... *very confused and silently*... How do I drink it?

Me, not being able to come to my appointment and having to call him: I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I’m so so so sorr-

Therapist: I dare you to say sorry one more time. I dare you.

Therapist: Hey I wanna show you this super funny image I found the other day.

Me: What-

Therapist: *turns his screen and show me THIS* 

Me: 

Me: Jerome.

Therapist: You went to the gaypride?

Me: Yeah, I went.

Therapist: Was it something you enjoyed?

Me: Mh. Yeah. Sorta.

Therapist: Did you see some bears?

Me:

Me: Jerome wh-

Therapist: That’s the only term I know outside of the LGTB one, I wanted to use it. 

Therapist: Are you sure you’re not becoming roommate with (name) because of pity? Kinda sacrificing yourself?

Me: No, I want it!!

Therapist: Finally, you’re not forcing yourself for the others! And you’re doing something you want! I’m proud of you!

Me: You’re more of a dad than my own father.

Therapist: That’s not very hard.

Me: I always wondered, are you queer?

Therapist: I am not.

Me: Ooh.

Therapist: Or am I?

Me: Ooh!

As an update, Jerome gave my appointment to someone’s else today so we were both in the waiting room, confused and he walked in, patted my head and said sorry but honestly it was hilarious.

The secretary came to tell me that Jerome actually forgot to write me down on the appointment list.

This is a 100% normal situation with Jerome as my Therapist.

As an addition, more than half of my friends want Jerome to adopt me and refer to him as “Therapist dad”.

He’s aware of it and think it’s hilarious.

Me, after complaining for the 25 times about my birth father: Idk if you noticed, but I’m full of anger against him.

Therapist: Oh, really, I never noticed. You know, you should turn that anger into indifference. It would help you.

Me: Unholy gods, I wish it was me.

Therapist: You know, people will still love you even if you don’t offer them things all the time. You don’t have to do that.

Me: What??

Therapist: Why don’t you send a mail to your psychiatrist when you have a bad mood swing?

Me: Like what? ‘Hey Joël wassup, I’ve been very suicidal lately last night I wanted to die. Hope you have rad vacations and the weed is good save some good kush for me, kissy kissy.’ ?

Therapist: Exactly.

Me: You’re as bad as me with human interactions Jerome, y’know.

Me, heavily dissociating: I don’t exist-

Therapist: Can I touch you to prove you that you do?

Me: Dinner first.

Therapist:

Therapist: Damien, you moron.

Therapist: You need vacations.

Me: I’m broke.

Therapist: Oh yeah.

Therapist: You still need vacations tho.

Me: Jerome, I am still broke.

Me, by text: Hey, you just walk by me!

Therapist, by text: Oh sorry. I didn’t see you.

Therapist, by text: Wait. Were you at the tattoo shop?

Me, by text, totally at the tattoo shop: You have no proof.

For a bit of context here: Around two months ago I went to a friend’s who happened the live on the same street as Jerome, which I didn’t know. He was really surprised to see me and came to check on me, asking me why I was here with a bit of concern on his voice. And this take place earlier this month:

Therapist: So your friend lives in the same street than I?

Me: Yes. Town’s short I guess.

Therapist: Were you really going to your friend...?

Me: Yes?? Why else would I be here?

Therapist: A lot of drug deals happen in this street and I see often teenagers and young adults coming and buy stuffs. I was a bit worried for you.

Me, at 2pm: I’m sorry I’m going to be late!

Therapist: Your appointment was this morning at 11:30am, Damien.

Me:

Me: What.

Jerome is still not aware of his fame and idk how to announce him.

Therapist; What’s up with you and wanting domestic rats.

Me: I’m gonna get a rat and call him Jerome just to piss you off.

Therapist:

Therapist: How dare you.

Therapist: Weed doesn’t do much on me and I must admit I’m kinda disappointed.

Me:

Therapist: Do you smoke?

Me: Jerome.

On hard days I wonder how Jerome is doing

He’s doing fine, last time he shown me his fav pic of a red panda which is this one

I FOUND IT I FOUND IT I FUCKING FOUND IT AAAAAAAH YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THIS MADE ME FEEL

It’s really amazing how happy people get when they find this post omg

Always reblog Jerome.

Is he now aware of his fame?

After months, he is, and he just told me “Haha, this is funny. I’m happy it’s helping people!”

I think he doesn’t realize that he’s known *worldwide*

i am a bright and colourful piñata and god is a 13 year old birthday boy whose parents have just announced their divorce.

this reads like a john mulaney bit

How is that renowned Republican brand working for you? The pictures above are a reminder of past and ongoing Republican actions and inaction so that people will remember them when they get ready to vote.

one of the more valuable things I’ve learned in life as a survivor of a mentally unstable parent is that it is likely that no one has thought through it as much as you have. 

no, your friend probably has not noticed they cut you off four times in this conversation. 

no, your brother didn’t realize his music was that loud while you were studying. 

no, your bff or S.O. doesn’t remember that you’re on a tight deadline right now.

no, no one else is paying attention to the four power dynamics at play in your friend group right now.  

a habit of abused kids, especially kids with unstable parents, is the tendency to notice every little detail. We magnify small nuances into major things, largely because small nuances quickly became breaking points for parents. Managing moods, reading the room, perceiving danger in the order of words, the shift of body weight….it’s all a natural outgrowth of trying to manage unstable parents from a young age. 

Here’s the thing: most people don’t do that. I’m not saying everyone else is oblivious, I’m saying the over analysis of minor nuances is a habit of abuse. 

I have a rule: I do not respond to subtext. This includes guilt tripping, silent treatments, passive aggressive behavior, etc. I see it. I notice it. I even sometimes have to analyze it and take a deep breath and CHOOSE not to respond. Because whether it’s really there or just me over-reading things that actually don’t mean anything, the habit of lending credence to the part of me that sees danger in the wrong shift of body weight…that’s toxic for me. And dangerous to my relationships. 

The best thing I ever did for myself and my relationships was insist upon frank communication and a categorical denial of subtext. For some people this is a moral stance. For survivors of mentally unstable parents this is a requirement of recovery. 

If it wasn’t stated outright - it wasn’t said.

This is really one of the most important reads

this is fucking good advice