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today is her birthday, she hasn’t talked to me in months and it’s not likely that’s going to change today. it’s my monday. i spent my last day of work doing a double shift, after working the night before & spending the small amount of time between shifts coming home to find my shower half-full of sewage, and that my neighbor’s place was completely flooded out with it. my weekend was spent dealing with that mess and I want a weekend to recuperate from my weekend. I’ve never truly understood that saying until now. Tomorrow is a better day, but I’m working on finding some joy in today. The walk with my dog helped, and so will yoga with my girls later, and hopefully the house of teenage angst has chilled out a bit.

anarchetypalarchive

i saw this post earlier about therapists and it reminded me of my old therapist paul, who in my opinion is one of the greatest men alive and who did not put up with my bullshit for even one second

anyway i go in to see paul one week in the summer of 2016, and i’m doing my usual bullshit which consists of me talking shit about myself, and paul is staring at me, and then he cuts me off and says that he’s got a new tool for helping people recognize when they’re using negative language, and gets up and goes over to his desk

and i’m like alright hit me with that sweet sweet self-help article my man, because i’m a linguistic learner and whenever paul’s like here i have a tool for you to use it’s pretty much always an article or a book or something

paul opens a drawer, takes something out, and turns back around. i stare.

i say, paul.

is that a nerf gun.

yeah, says paul.

i say, are you gonna shoot me with a nerf gun in this professional setting.

he happily informs me that that’s really up to me, isn’t it. and sits back down. and gestures, like, go ahead, what were you saying?

and i squint suspiciously and start back up about how i’m having too much anxiety to leave the house to run errands, like it was a miracle to even get here, like i’ve forgone getting groceries for the past week and that’s so stupid, what a stupid issue, i’m an idiot, how could i–

a foam dart hits me in the leg.

i go, hey! because my therapist just shot me in the leg. paul blinks at me placidly and raises an eyebrow. i squint again.

i say, slowly, it’s– not a stupid issue, i’m not stupid, but it’s frustrating me and i don’t want it to be a problem i’m having.

no dart this time. okay. sweet.

so the rest of the hour passes with me intermittently getting nailed with tiny foam darts and then swearing and then fixing my language and, wouldn’t you know it, i start liking myself a little more by the end of the session, which is mildly infuriating because paul can tell and he’s very smug about it

anyway i leave his office and the lady having the next appointment walks in and i hear what’s all over the floor? and paul very seriously says cognitive behavioral therapy tools.

mindless-meanderings

Now I really want to get a nerf gun to take to work.

lafioras-deactivated20170624

love can really save people, and i’m not talking about romantic love. i’m talking about platonic, wholesome, unselfish love that demands nothing in return other than that person’s safety, happiness, and well-being. love for the sake of love. i think this kind of love is wonderful.

mindless-meanderings

I wonder if I’ll always have this constant struggle of wanting a place / people to belong with

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thedailystruggleofapansexualnerd

When you’re a queer girl who keeps getting crushes on straight girls.

studytune

09.10.17 / 11:52am / fc; 10,017

“she who overcomes has determination in her soul, strength in her bones, love in her heart, and thoughts like gentle waves. she truly has a heart full of brave.”

i love this quote & i love you all for 10k followers aaaaa thank you so much!! studygram:: studyingtune

earthtogazelle

Concept: it is the year 2018 and you are no longer depressed. Your skin is clear and you are full of life and love. You’ve found your purpose on Earth.

tkingfisher

Smashing Pots

Every now and then, people ask me if I should go to art school, and I usually say something like “Do you want to go to art school?” and if they say “Yes,” then I say “Yes,” and if they say “No,” then I say “Don’t.” This is why I am a crappy source of career advice.

However.

There is ONE class that I think nearly every writer, artist, and creative type out there would benefit from, and as it happens, it’s ceramics. Preferably with a strong wheel-throwing component.

No, really.

Back in ceramics class, in college, at the end of the year we would gather up all our dishes and pots and sculptures that we had labored over for weeks–and you really do labor for weeks, because you’re sculpting and drying and firing and glazing and firing again–and we would look at them. And what we generally realized was that we had created a lot of things that sucked. There is just a point where you hold this lumpy-ass thing in your hand and you realize that it has not added to the sum total of awesome in the universe–and that you don’t have to keep it. And then you wind up and fling it into the massive dumpster behind the ceramics studio and it smashes against the bottom and a demented exhilaration surges through you and you grab the next one and smash it and it is glorious. Now, there are people who do not smash their failed work, who cannot bear to do it, and so there was always a shelf full of sad lumpy clay things with a little “free to good home” sign on it. Some of them possibly were adopted eventually. Mostly, though, we learned to smash. Pottery, particularly wheel-throwing, is wonderful for this, incidentally. You fail over and over and you fail fast and you are creating quantity to lead to quality. You throw and throw and throw and things die on the wheel and things die when you take them off the wheel and things explode in the kiln and after you have made a dozen or two dozen or a thousand, none of them are precious any more. There is always more clay.

It breaks you of preciousness and perfectionism. You can’t fiddle for two hours with wet clay on the wheel getting it perfect. It’ll be an over-saturated lump of mud long before then. If the walls are thrown too thin, they are too thin. It’s not worth fixing. Start over. Do it again. Finish, don’t fiddle. I can’t do pottery any more because if I tried to hunch over a wheel these days, my back would go out so hard that I would never walk upright again. But I still think it was one of the most valuable classes I ever took, because it taught me to acknowledge failure, not to fear it, and then smash the hell out of it.

linelettering

king of my heart // bethel music

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cwote

Let. Yourself. Rest.

Resting doesn’t mean you’re lazy, it means you are smart enough to take a break when you need one.

I wonder if I’ll always have this constant struggle of wanting a place / people to belong with

vampireapologist-archive-deacti

Being a good person is a choice. Don’t let people fool you into believing that truly good people never have bad thoughts, are never tempted by the easier path, by the low road, never mess up or act out selfishly. Never believe a person can be good without making a conscious effort.

Every single time you do something good, you’ve made a decision to make the world a little brighter.

Goodness is not an inherent trait, it is a choice. Keep making it! I see you, I’m proud of you, and I’m rooting for you!

I think I’m back?

wnq-writers

I fell in love with quotes at a very young age. I guess it was interesting to me that someone else is able to unknowingly express my thoughts when I’m at a loss for words; it has me wasting hours on the simple thought that our minds must have soulmates too.

vigi-la-veris (via creatingaquietmind)

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furubacase-blog

Belongingness (a personal story)

Wanting to belong somewhere is actually a pretty weird phenomenon. Thanks to my miniature crash course in psychology I sort of understand where it comes wrong. Wanting to belong to a group is pure survival. Back in the day we couldn’t survive on our own. But these days we can. I like to think I’m a good example of that. I’ve survived on my own my entire adult life. I’m literally my own bread and butter. But sometimes that feeling hits me in the gut: the feeling that I don’t really belong anywhere. I don’t belong with the people that are in a relationship (for obvious reasons). I don’t really belong with the singles either, because they’ve generally had a relationship. I don’t belong with the people that have large social circles. But I don’t belong with the people that have no social circle either. I don’t belong with the introverts, but certainly not with the extroverts. I don’t even really feel like I belong with other asexuals because I don’t really feel anything towards my own asexuality (it’s just there, like oxygen). I won’t belong with other people that have children, because that generally involves a mum and a dad. And I don’t feel like I’d belong with the other single mothers by choice, because my choice stems from my asexuality and I can’t really talk to anyone about what that feels like. It doesn’t bother me and yet it does. Sometimes the feeling that I should try harder to belong just takes hold of me. And sometimes I’m so happy with my life I can’t imagine I ever feel different. It seems like it’s my lot in life to be on the outside of the big picture, to not fit in with the majority of society. Of course I have people around me that I love dearly and those people make me feel right at home (I’m looking at you lilaface). But sometimes I just feel like something is missing. My biggest fear is that my choice to become a mum has someone been influenced by that feeling. Like this is my attempt to find a group to belong too. All the while already knowing that’s never going to happen. I don’t expact anyone to throw me a babyshower, and I don’t expect a lot of people to show up baby reception (a Dutch thing, I don’t think it translates very well!). But is everything less special or are my feels less valid because of that? I don’t really think so. I also don’t think it’s actually affected by choice to become a mother. But sometimes doubt just gets the better of me, as doubt often does. My kid will be my world. So why care that I don’t or won’t belong anywhere? Won’t I just belong with him or her? Many this uncertainty and unrest just means that I haven’t been able to find my place in life. Because my place won’t exist until I’m a mum

mindless-meanderings

I feel this so much <3 It’s as if I could have written this post.

greenwithenby-deactivated201609

People who prefer hot weather: Snow and ice are a pain, and the cold is just kind of uncomfortable even when you wrap up, you know?

People who prefer cold weather: MY SKIN LITERALLY MELTS OFF EVERY SUMMER I AM A FUCKING HUMAN SOUP AS WE SPEAK

mindless-meanderings

and yet I moved to Florida

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