Really just don't want to be here anymore.
Just know I tried. I really did.
Ruminating.
How do you get to the other side of something that seems endless? (He says I need to get over it. He says it's holding me back)
What do you do when the person who SEES you says you're broken forever? (He says there's such a hole in me, he'll never be able to fill it).
How do you wake up and keep going?
It's stupid to want. It just creates pain.
melissamaynase reblogged
skinny-capricorn
my new roommate said that her last roommate had an eating disorder and then talked to me about her clean eating and weight loss goals and how she buys clothes that are a little snug to motivate her to lose more
and like honestly? i have anorexia but this is why i constantly talk about the dangers of the “health and fitness” industry and diet culture bc we have essentially normalized certain symptoms of disordered eating but it’s ok if it’s under the guise of health i guess???
like how is calling it “clean” eating NOT a way to moralize food
how is intermittent fasting NOT the same thing as skipping meals
how come when i buy clothes that don’t fit, it’s something i have to tell my therapist about because it means i am putting pressure on myself to fit into them, but if a “normal” person does it then it’s just motivation for them?
where is the fucking line???
and more importantly when are we going to start acknowledging that the entire world is pro-ana but that’s too harsh of a description so we slap some health buzzwords on it to make it palatable
when are we going to take responsibility for encouraging disordered behavior instead of labeling those of us with EDs as the crazy/imbalanced ones
your fucking Whole30 or keto or whatever “clean” diet you’re on is just as restrictive as the diets we create for ourselves due to our disorders. but we are the crazy ones, right
harley-likethemotorcycle
Fucking repost.
jo-zee
melissamaynase reblogged
skinny-capricorn
my new roommate said that her last roommate had an eating disorder and then talked to me about her clean eating and weight loss goals and how she buys clothes that are a little snug to motivate her to lose more
and like honestly? i have anorexia but this is why i constantly talk about the dangers of the “health and fitness” industry and diet culture bc we have essentially normalized certain symptoms of disordered eating but it’s ok if it’s under the guise of health i guess???
like how is calling it “clean” eating NOT a way to moralize food
how is intermittent fasting NOT the same thing as skipping meals
how come when i buy clothes that don’t fit, it’s something i have to tell my therapist about because it means i am putting pressure on myself to fit into them, but if a “normal” person does it then it’s just motivation for them?
where is the fucking line???
and more importantly when are we going to start acknowledging that the entire world is pro-ana but that’s too harsh of a description so we slap some health buzzwords on it to make it palatable
when are we going to take responsibility for encouraging disordered behavior instead of labeling those of us with EDs as the crazy/imbalanced ones
your fucking Whole30 or keto or whatever “clean” diet you’re on is just as restrictive as the diets we create for ourselves due to our disorders. but we are the crazy ones, right
harley-likethemotorcycle
Fucking repost.
jo-zee
Truth Hurts
I just took a DNA test, turns out
I'm 100% depressed
Even when I'm laughing, smiling
Yeah I've got mental illness, that's
the trauma in me
SWING SWING, but I hide it - that's
The anxiety
I KNOW YOU THINK IT'S SADNESS
A LITTLE SNIFFLE
BUT IT'S BRAIN CHEMISTRY
NOTHING SIMPLE
I'm not just dowwwwwn
My brain's a dangerous place
Suggest yoga -
GET A PUNCH IN THE FACE
When my parents died, I stopped writing. I don't know if the words dried up, if they were too sharp to touch, or if they just weren't worth the effort of picking anymore.
5 years later, I realize -
I was writing for them. Even when I was telling our secrets, betraying them. I was always writing for them and when they were gone,
I didn't care if anyone thought I was special anymore.
Today I learned
When you Google "painless suicide methods", the first several links are prevention resources.
melissamaynase reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
“Everything I think of is filled with ghosts, even this longing.”
— Meena Alexander, from “Fault Lines,” originally published c. 1993
melissamaynase reblogged
“Explaining to my husband how sex with a woman is just…different than sex with him. 3/30”
—
It’s like when you talk to the valet, babe –
about your car’s little…quirks
When you watch him harpoon the interior
with his ass-keys and wince at their teeth
When he’s a little rough with the key so you say
It slides in gentle, or it’ll stick in the same way a
father tells his son that you only kiss her if
she says yes and then pray to god he listened
Then you move on to the interior light set up with the
replacement LED’s that plug into the cigarette lighter
And the static in the driver’s side door speaker that can be
fixed by clicking the lock/unlock button like you mean it
And how if he isn’t gentle with the key, he has to just yank
it out before cranking it all the way to off and ignore
the ding ding dinging reminder that now he has to
lock the doors from
the inside
It’s like that
A woman, my love –
A woman knows all the ways you have been
broken before
Knows every spot on your body
where the bruise is too afraid
to corrupt the horizon of your flesh
but she tenders it anyhow
A woman knows the entry points
of your trauma without holding
the bullet between her teeth
She can love you out of silence with
a breath held under her tongue and
your name, spoken talisman to what
grows when you are loved well enough
to soften
Making love to you, my husband, is a glorious
and stretching thing, dynamic and stuffed with
full-cheeked surprise
Sometimes I come undone so swiftly I can’t even
catch myself before the fall, but another woman..
Another woman knows how you drive without
having to be told
Salts her tongue with the language of you
burning in her mouth, a prayer that begs to be spoken
We are the mechanical yes of the universe in all
of its glory and thunder and I wouldn’t change
a second of the way we click together
like the happiest key into the most slick
and eager ignition
But a woman does not need to be told
how to hold you in your imperfection
She does not need to read your body
when she has a piece of your spirit
growing summer wild in her own
The older I get
The more I appreciate men.
Their hands, their backs, their
thighs, the way some muscle movements
In sequence make my breath catch.
I realize now, how beautiful
How organized chaos
How much I love them
It's a shame so many of them
are fucking terrifying.
I'm always going to be too much. even for the people who love me most.
Finally
I guess I forgive you now
If this is what forgiveness is, full
to see you smiling even as I tug at the
scars still shaped by you
I forgive against my will sometimes
My heart can't grip grudges between its
pulpy fingers, forgets the way a mother
forgets the million ways she's stretched and
broken to birth something whole,
and perfect, and maybe that's how I'll always
recall you, and maybe that's not as
stupid as it sounds in my head.
But how can you unlove something?
How can I pretend you were just something
and not the whole sky I sang to once?
My need was so naked then, grasping for
your laughter and shrinking inside its safety
Did you know the first time I ever dreamed of
kissing you it was your arm's fault?
How you raised it in worship and I traced
the length of it with my eyes, imagined what your fingers could plant with a devotion
like that and like that I wasn't mine
anymore
But neither was I yours.
And that's okay.
We remember this part differently because we all remember ourselves good.
It's true that I knew you didn't want me
It's also true that you didn't want me to stop wanting you
How you hated my silence and my pull back
How when you asked to kiss me I said no because I knew I couldn't hold you for just a second and call it anything but a lie
How I wanted you to devour me because I was your favorite flavor, not because you were terrified of hunger
I'm not built to love in secret
And your arms weren't mine, weren't mine, weren't anything but arms and this is where
you pretend for the sake of preservation and
that's okay, too
I'll never see chucks with pink laces or hear Collective Soul and not remember your laughter, or your hands
I'll never regret the way I loved you, the way I found that I could stand still in the fire
The way I clawed myself out of our wreckage
Last night I dreamt you happy as we crossed paths on the sidewalk, your wife and kids in your arms
I dreamt I smiled when we passed, though you
never noticed me
I dreamt the kind of contentment that can only be found in disappearing.
I was happy.
I suppose this is forgiveness. Finally.
melissamaynase reblogged
Sensitive people are the most genuine and honest people you will ever meet. There is nothing they won’t tell you about themselves if they trust your kindness. However, the moment you betray them, reject them or devalue them, they become the worse type of person. Unfortunately, they end up hurting themselves in the long run. They don’t want to hurt other people. It is against their very nature. They want to make amends and undo the wrong they did. Their life is a wave of highs and lows. They live with guilt and constant pain over unresolved situations and misunderstandings. They are tortured souls that are not able to live with hatred or being hated. This type of person needs the most love anyone can give them because their soul has been constantly bruised by others. However, despite the tragedy of what they have to go through in life, they remain the most compassionate people worth knowing, and the ones that often become activists for the broken hearted, forgotten and the misunderstood. They are angels with broken wings that only fly when loved.
Shannon L. Alder (via perrfectly)