My special talent is assuming our friendship is a burden on you and you dread hearing from me. So then I stop talking to you to ease the load and ruin what we had
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@relapsingtonight
My special talent is assuming our friendship is a burden on you and you dread hearing from me. So then I stop talking to you to ease the load and ruin what we had

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Sue Zhao
Sue Zhao
“My grandpa sends me his mother’s old recipes for meatloaf; a serving size enough for a full family and I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t know if I’ll ever get to it— The family, not the meatloaf, and I know I’ve been happy for a while, and there’s a girl I’ve been seeing in my sleep that says she’s my daughter and she hopes I’ll wait a little longer, but if we’re going to be honest here, I always knew this would be the thing to kill me. Lately, I’ve stopped writing poems about killing myself. My poems have been about the dog, or how I’m finally working where I want to be, or how happy I am that I didn’t kill myself. But I’m so, so fucking tired. It might be time to sleep.”
— Schuyler Peck, Recipes for Meatloaf
it is a brave, and wounded place - loving in despite of your trauma. it always gets painted as one loop upwards: we go to therapy, we get better.
you will love deeper, you will love kinder, you will love more (in spades, in large swatches of caution tape, free and unbidden; the numb finally slushing away)
but you will still sit on the floor of your apartment and feel heinous little snatches of your mental illness. you will unwind over small things. you will desperately want some-kind-of-validation, but know there's actually-something-else-here, a thirst unable to be slaked, a hunger that causes you to rip open the world so it understands your pain. you'll think about how you want to leave before you get left, how the hurt will be so manageable if you just steal out the back door and run with your bare feet. you will call it a controlled detonation, your tongue dry while you plan relocating to the city.
but you will exit the car fire of your childhood and you will hold the child you didn't get to be and you'll say: shush now. we won't run, we know how to make our home.
and the child will say: it's all sand. there's no foundation. the world isn't safe to build upon.
and we will stretch our hands and our old back and the hips that keep clicking. and we will say: from sand we made glass. and what else is there to say after that? the world isn't safe. the world isn't always kind.
but you have survived it, and it makes it just a little easier, each time, to spread yourself over the water and feel like you are swimming.

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some days are just so fucking hard
tbh for a long time i really resented the advice "pick a partner that you would want to raise kids with" because i don't want kids and i hated that all relationships had to come from this place of procreation-first. what about toxic friendships, after all.
it took me a really long time to realize it's a bastardization of good advice.
many of us are recovering from being raised by parents/caregivers that were in toxic relationships or were toxic themselves. we learned behaviors, thoughts, and patterns from these people, and we spend our adult lives untangling and dismantling the harm done to us.
the advice should be - is this the person you'd want a child to emulate? is this a person you'd want a child even around? is this a person you can trust alone with a kid - any kid, mind you - and know that the child is safe, looked after, loved? is the relationship you're in one you'd want children to see and repeat in their adult lives? or is the relationship one you hope they won't follow, after all?
to be honest, i knew when i was in a bad relationship. i'd tell people - i know, i know, i should break up with him. i know, i know. she's not actually a good friend. but the reality was that it's incredibly difficult to escape the-devil-you-know. it was easy enough to train myself to be okay with it; i have very little regard for the-self and the process of cutting people out was simply too threatening for my mental state.
but i wouldn't put a younger version of myself through the same thing. i'd picture her in the same situation. i would tell her, broody as she is - leave, you're happier outside of it, never let anyone talk to you like that, you're worth more than this. i'd tell her when you let him cross your boundaries, the fault is his, but you need to understand you're rewarding bad behavior if you don't do something about it. i would wish, fervently, i could restart the relationship and do it all differently, be-young-again.
and then i realized: i am the younger version of myself. a future version of myself is begging me to leave. to take my happiness seriously. i am a kid to fifty-year-old-me. and i need to take my own advice. it's okay if that sets me up to grieve.
pick a partner that you would trust a younger version of yourself with. pick friends you'd want your younger self to grow up alongside. pick love that makes you feel like you want everyone to experience in their life and feel with others, something magical and shareable and full of mist. pick a love that feels like you can grow in it. pick a love like: i will be proud of this.
“When doctors stick their fists into the chest cavities of human beings, they leave something behind, some sadness that glues itself to the insides of the operated ribs. It is as if your heart knows it has been exposed to the sky and it is mourning the loss of light. It grows dark when they break you open. For some reason, you know the call is coming before it does. He says it’s over between you and him and you thought you were ready for it but instead you find yourself shaking and sobbing with the same nauseous out-of-control feeling as when you were seven and spun over your handlebars and hit your head against the concrete. His words are a high-speed collision without a helmet. This is what it feels like when you put the phone down: it feels as if you are lying with cold feet on the crinkled paper of a hospital table and there is an ongoing surgery occurring without anesthesia. Every doctor has his face. You picture the small moments that are being carefully plucked from your sternum - no more quiet moments while you sort clean clothing, no more ice cream trips at two in the morning, no more waking up before him to see the sun shift through his eyelashes, no more summer days with bare legs tangled on beaches, no more kissing him, no more curling up near him, no more him. And you hate that you want it all back, that you would take everything you have and trade it for another chance to feel him beside you. You are not someone’s princess and you never were. Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man. But here you are, open-heart operation in progress while he cleanly snips out his connection to you. That’s it. No more future. He leaves you there, bones bent back to make room for the hole he has punched in you. You are the one in charge of your recovery, but you have shaky hands and there aren’t enough band-aids for a hurt like this. Every time you make a peanutbutter sandwich or listen to your favorite music or stare up at the ceiling, you remember him and the stitches come undone again. And your friends grow weary of hearing your story and hearing how you called him drunk and hearing how you hate him and hearing how you love him in an almost impossibly unending way and hearing how you’ll never be the same and hearing how you’re feeling better really and hearing how you’re back in the same sad space and your mouth grows wearing of saying his name like each letter was a prison wall and one day you don’t speak of him at all. You carry the scar but you no longer flinch when the sharpness of this world brushes against your chest. You are wolf, and you might be wounded, but one day you will get over it. You are still waiting for when that moment hits.”
— Soft dies the light (part two of five) /// r.i.d
“I wish there was a way for you to grow flowers where you are, my little love. I hope you still remember their radiance. When you come home to me, they will be waiting - alive and beautiful and unforgettable, just like you.”
— Letters from Demeter to Persephone, Nikita Gill

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old friendship is like: i see pieces of you in every person i meet. you know exactly how i take my tea and i always remember to pick the tomato out of your sandwiches. we don't talk for months on end. your hugs feel like coming home. sometimes i look at you and see a stranger. we know each other's deepest hopes and fears. i get jealous of anyone that makes you smile brighter than i can. your love is the only stable thing i have in this world. we pretend we don't notice how far we've drifted apart. i miss you even when you're right next to me. we know what the other is thinking with a single glance. i'd die for you in a heartbeat.
i think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way really it’s so cute
blocking people has nothing to do with immaturity. with technology the way it is now, sometimes you’re forced to constantly see people you don’t want to interact with. and with the existence of multiple platforms, it’s easier for people to find you and reach out to you. older generations never had to deal with this - once you were done with someone, you could move on and never have to see them again. blocking is another way to curate your experience of social media. you are allowed to protect yourself and prioritize your sanity and wellbeing. some people absolutely should be blocked! you should not have to feel like someone has a constant presence in your life when you want nothing to do with them. don’t feel ashamed for protecting your energy and don’t shame others for doing the same.
When you feel like you can't do something, say an affirmation to the contrary that can shift your mindset into a more positive and empowered state. If you feel demotivated, say "I'm a hussler who never gives up", if you feel unwanted/undesired say "I'm a high quality woman/man whose worth is determined by myself, not others", if you feel like you've failed at something say "I'm a continuous learner in life and the things I fail at serve as a lesson not a defeat, I grow from my mistakes and become stronger and better because of them", and so on. Start to train your brain to become more prone to view the silver lining of things rather than to succumb to a depressive and unproductive state caused entirely by your mindset. Own your thoughts, don't let them own you.
“Sometimes I really believe it, that I am going to save my life a little.”
— Mary Oliver, from section 4 of “The Return,” What Do We Know: Poems and Prose Poems (Da Capo Press, 2002)

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i don't wanna love myself like "buy this feel good". i wanna love myself like i made a sandwich for later because i knew i'd be too busy. i wanna love myself like hang on take a breath do you actually like this. i wanna love myself like okay we're gonna set a reminder to get up and brush our teeth. i wanna love myself like - it's okay to say no, it's okay to take that nap, it's okay to go home.
i don't wanna feel sexy like tv. i don't wanna feel sexy like little black dress. i wanna feel sexy like high note during karaoke. like just got done writing 14 pages of poetry. like let me show you this scarf i've been knitting. i wanna feel sexy like hand on the back of the headrest while you parallel park. like did i tell you about that time i saved a baby bird. like don't tell her but i've been sneaking money into her purse.
i don't wanna feel pretty like expensive. like high fashion. like paid to be here. i wanna feel pretty like a bird in a puddle. i wanna feel pretty like streak of dyed hair. i wanna feel pretty like calligraphy, like new leaves, like a skinned knee bleed, like a dog running at full speed. i wanna feel pretty like lying next to you. i wanna feel pretty like the new album just dropped, i wanna feel pretty like a shower, i wanna feel pretty like a stone wall all covered in moss.
i keep saying body neutrality. that feels negative - no bad things, no good things, just body. but i mean - my body is neutral like a flower is neutral like an oil slick is neutral like a day is neutral, too. my body is neutral so a kiss can feel like lightning so a dance can feel like a hula hoop so a walk to get coffee can feel like - god, i'm so happy to just be around you.
my body is a site. not the source of the joy, just where i can find it. i don't wanna love like - finally got my body tight/forced myself through a diet/whatever trend is the current hype. i wanna love myself like - i go to this river and i find gold every time i shift around inside it. i wanna love myself like - i feel sexy because it's sexy to be alive, and laughing. i wanna love myself like - bitch, i could have died, and i didn't, and if that isn't the prettiest almost in the whole world, than i don't know what is.
mental health awareness also means being aware that mental illness can be ugly, and trying, and hard. that it is often uncomfortable and demanding. it is rarely a perfect, quick, lifetime-movie success story. recovery is a long, difficult path.
mental health awareness also means investigating your sense of what a mental illness "looks" like; questioning how you've seen it represented. it means listening to the communities that experience it, it means making sure that you get your information from multiple sources, not just white cishet activists.
mental illness is recursive; it can return and worsen with environmental stimuli even if someone has previously "seemed fine". mental illness is pervasive; it will affect each person differently but it will affect them. even when it is inconvenient to you, even when you don't "understand" what is causing it, even when it has symptoms that are complicated or unusual.
mental illness awareness is also: just because you are "tired of hearing" about someone's illness doesn't mean they aren't tired of experiencing that illness - all you have told them is that you are not a safe person to confide in. i know, as a person with mental illness, that all people can and should have boundaries about what they can hear from their friends. it is important to know if you are in a good space for empathy. there are things that need to just-be-for-my-therapy. but there are kind, thoughtful ways to tell us that you are not able to hold space for us at the moment - we are usually terrified of being a burden. there is a way for you to not be overwhelmed and for us to feel like you support us. this is going to be different across each relationship - and mental illness awareness is being willing to work with that relationship, too.
mental illness awareness is acknowledging that there are a lot of complicated, difficult situations that arise that aren't clear cut for each person. one person might need physical contact during an anxiety attack; the other might need to remove themselves completely. it isn't always easy-to-understand; there are a lot of factors in each relationship that influences how to support that person. every person, regardless of who they are or how they act - every person you know might be hiding a mental illness.
and it is also saying - yes, it is difficult, but it is still worth doing. because you do deserve help and support. each and every one of you.