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Anaïs Nin, In Favor of the Sensitive Man (via wordsnquotes)

D.D. Barant (via psych-facts)

Me essentially, after having kids. Constant replay of what I could have done better or differently.

(via mentalmentalhealth)

Hey Anon,

Mental abuse comes in a lot of different forms. Mental abuse, also referred to as psychological abuse or emotional abuse can happen in any type of relationship, where the assailant is constantly wearing away at the victim’s self esteem..

Some types of emotional abuse can include:

Verbal - yelling, insulting or swearing at someone

Rejection - pretending not to notice someone’s presence, conversation or value

Put downs - name calling, public embarrassment, calling someone stupid, blaming them for everything

Being afraid - causing someone to feel afraid, intimidated or threatened

Isolation - limiting freedom of movement, stopping someone from contacting other people (like friends or family)

Money - controlling someone’s money, withholding money, preventing someone from working, stealing or taking money

Bullying- purposely and repeatedly saying or doing hurtful things to someone.

Emotional abuse does not leave any physical scars, however, it is a very serious form of abuse as it can fester inside of someone until they can no longer take it.

If you need to reach out to someone, please contact a person you trust, or a professional. If you do not feel up to talking to someone you know, there are plenty of contacts in our Helpful Resources Page who can help you anonymously. 

For more information about emotional abuse, Reachout is a great Australian website.

Wishing you all the best,

(via ohlovequotes)

Never be option B.

CW: suicide, emotional abuse

I remember the way my father hesitated

before walking out the front door,

holding a plastic money bag containing

2 wedding rings.

I was 10 but I knew what it meant.

I don’t remember my parents being in love

but there are the wedding photos.

My father arriving on his motor bike,

sunglasses on. His lean figure, his smile,

his hairline all screaming youth.

My mother a snow covered

fortress in her wedding dress.

Smiling beside her sisters and best friend,

smiling next to the man she’ll come to resent.

I don’t remember my parents being in love

but there’s the video tape of my first birthday.

My mother licks the icing off my fingers and

my father tries to make me clap.

They both blow out the candles for me.

I do remember the fighting, the name calling,

the accusations, the emails, the phone calls,

the using us as pieces in your chess game,

the not talking, the blaming, the denying,

the refusals to be in the same room.

I can see the frost leave my mothers lips

every time she speaks his name.

I can see the part of my father’s heart

that used to love her

completely frozen over in his chest.

I never knew love could turn so cold.

20 years later and here I am:

a combination of a fathers stubborn nature

and a mothers battle for self acceptance.

A fathers love affair with words

and a mothers patience and cautiousness,

a moral compass testament to a beautiful collaboration.

There’s no love here anymore

(but there once was).

There’s no love here anymore

but look what it created.

Water Lilies, 1903