Fuck Busy

AModernUkrainian:

Oh this is going to be my elevator quote this week. Fantastic post!

Originally posted on The Belle Jar:

Late last night I was cruising around on Pinterest because hey I’m a boring 30-something mom and that’s what I do when I can’t sleep. Which, by the way, is every night, meaning that I’ve developed a bit of a Pinterest habit, among other things (my  insomnia-beating arsenal includes such soothing activities as: watching documentaries about the Chernobyl “liquidators,” hate-reading the blogs of conservative white dudes, and sending slightly incoherent late-night messages to my friends and acquaintances). Anyway, I was happily scrolling through pictures of pretty landscapes tragically marred by trite sayings (example: a gorgeous mountain at sunset with DON’T GIVE UP, THE BEST IS YET TO COME scrawled across it in white letters) when I came across this:

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I had one of those moments where I was like, “oh.” And then I was like, “yes.” And then I had this huge mishmash of complicated feelings that I’ve been trying…

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No Apology

Originally posted on Mehreen Kasana:

On my way to class, I take the Q train to Manhattan and sit down next to an old white man who recoils a noticeable bit. I assume it’s because I smell odd to him, which doesn’t make sense because I took a shower in the morning. Maybe I’m sitting too liberally the way men do on public transit with their legs a mile apart, I think to myself. That also doesn’t apply since I have my legs crossed. After a few seconds of inspecting any potential offence caused, I realize that it has nothing to do with an imaginary odor or physical space but with the keffiyeh around my neck that my friend gifted me (the Palestinian scarf – an apparently controversial piece of cloth). It is an increasingly cold October in NYC. Sam Harris may not have told you but we Muslims need our homeostasis at a healthy…

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“I Need A Baby” and Other Things I Thought I’d Never Say

AModernUkrainian:

” “Gottcha, Sucker” said my Ovaries to my Brain. “Ruh-roh,” my Brain replied. “Ruh-roh.”

Originally posted on Hold Me, Don't Hold Me:

I would be lying if I said I always wanted a baby. I was pretty on the fence about it, and felt I could honestly be happy long-term with, or without one. What I wanted was a dog. Badly. I had names picked out, and dreams of my dog and I becoming a talented and sought after search and rescue team. One where we always found the victim before it was too late, and people chanted our names like in the end of that movie “Rudy.” But alas, I already had three unruly cats and a husband who was decidedly less enthusiastic about converting our small apartment into an animal shelter, so a dog was out of the question. What he wanted, eventually, was a baby. Because why commit to 12-15 years of care to something that will worship you, when you can commit your whole life to raising something…

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A thousand little indignities: what it means to be “a service user”

AModernUkrainian:

Yup yup and more yup

“The indignity of being disapproved of. Disapproval of my coping strategies even though they are all quite legal. Disapproval of my overeating, my overwork, my overspending, my oversleeping. Disapproval of my choice to take medication at times. Disapproval of my choice not to take medication at times. Disapproval by some of use of services at all. Disapproval of acts carried out or things said when depressed, when manic or hypomanic, when in a state of panic, when delusional. Disapproval of having suicidal thoughts when I am young, have kids, have a lovely partner. Feeling subject to disapproval for “failing to respond” to a drug or a therapy that is successful in others.”

Originally posted on purplepersuasion:

[TWs for suicidal thoughts, suicide methods and poor mental health care experiences]

Last week a relative I haven’t seen in years watched my hypomania vlog and afterward felt moved to “give me some feedback”. I was interested in his thoughts, as I’m still very much a novice at video editing.

It turned out we were at cross-purposes: he actually wanted to offer me “feedback” on my understanding of and response to my bipolar disorder. He seemed to feel, based I think on childhood perceptions of me as “the clever one” of the family, that I was basing my management on what doctors and the authors of books had told me to do. His idea was that I should stop trying to dampen my elated feelings and borderline psychotic thoughts and enjoy and listen to them. I kept trying explain how dangerous my mood states could be for me but found…

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Do what it takes to make me your gold.

AModernUkrainian:

I’m not usually the God type but…

Originally posted on Hannah Brencher:

descanso

He’s been talking lately.

Like a boy who goes radio silent for weeks before his name starts showing up on your screen again, God has been talking in that way.

I guess I should state the facts: he’s probably been talking all along. He probably has been whispering and trying his darndest to yell above the noise of my life and I just haven’t heard him. That’s usually the case– I am running, and doing, and pulling, and prying, and trying my hardest (my absolute hardest) to make life move without him. And that’s just the second fact: I like to be in control. I like to know the elements around me. I like to know what follows after Step 1. And so the idea of a God of the universe has always, sort-of rubbed up against me like sandpaper because I don’t want to let anything in that might…

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There are moments when the monster wins

AModernUkrainian:

“so, I made my way to my bed. Pulling the covers over my head, I let it come. The pain didn’t disappoint. It was faithful in its ability to crush me and tear at me. I buried my head in my pillow and screamed”

ya that’s about right for a wednesday.. all wednesdays.. sometiems all days in general

Originally posted on Bridgette Tales:

Walking up the stairs with my arms full of laundry and my coffee cup balanced on the top, I tripped.

I didn’t fall, but my knee hit the stairs and I dropped everything. The hot coffee burned the front of me and also managed to get on most of the newly cleaned white clothes I’d been carrying.

On another day, I’d probably laugh or curse. Or maybe I’d do both.

Not today.

Today the tears I’d been holding back came rushing forward violently. Before I knew it, I had to sit as my body convulsed with sobs, the deep kind that take over every inch of your body. I felt like my insides were ripping apart and that nothing could ever be right again.

After a few minutes, I stopped.

Grabbing a white sock to dab my eyes, I started to clean up the mess. I’d have to wash all…

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