Aida-Na @aida-na - Tumblr Blog

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¿Siempre anhelamos ser bonitas? ¿Luchan los hombres con su propia imagen como lo hacen las mujeres? ¿Se les llenan los ojos de lágrima al ver retroceder las líneas de aire y la panza caída? ¿O simplemente se encogen de hombros y dicen joder y seguir adelante? ...

Dagmara Dominczyk.

empanada2017

Hubo un tiempo en el que te quise un montón y pensé que vos también me querías pero cambiaste, me dejaste de lado eras otra versión y por eso digo que te quise porque no te quiero más pero si no te importó dejarme dudo que te importe si ahora te quiero o no.

#libros #creer #frases #vida #querer #vos #tiempo #cambiar #dejar #importar #importancia

Te joden

Te joden bien jodido tus padres te joden la infancia y también la vida a veces sin querer te joden con sus silencios te joden con sus esperanzas te joden hasta que te convertís un poco en ellos.

Magali Tajes

#MagaliTajes #Magali #frases #libros #caos #ardelavida #padres #joder #vida #infancia #esperanza #silencio

No creerte suficiente para nadie, para nada, para vos.

Me hace mierda diariamente.

#libros #frases #Argentina #amor #vos #creer #creerte #suficiente #frase #libro

Maru Leone

No siento nada

cuando me decís

qué sentir.

#maru #leone #libros #sentir #decir #frases #maruleone

A mí cuerpo lo odio sobre todo cuando lo comparan.

#comparar #cuerpo #cuerpos #odio #odiar #odiarse

thisolddag

They Always Say Good Day

Today I woke up to the sound of my two and a half year old nephew walking downstairs to the room next to our bedroom, to greet his grandmother, his Babcia, my mom.

His voice is so sweet, so small, a voice just finding itself - and it’s an incredibly soothing sound, a reassuring sound, a sound that makes me smile.

There’s a song he’s been singing to himself every day for the whole week he’s been at our house. His little hand taps his little thigh and he stares at pictures of animals and this is what we hear, and what us adults have now been attuned to, and what we sing to each other to be funny.

“When cows get up in the morning, they always say good day, good day.”

It was a nice way to wake up to a new decade.

I told myself I would go downstairs, after reaching for my husband before reaching for my phone (something we’re both working on) and make coffee and write a short blog post. Writing first thing on the first day of 2020 seemed like a good idea.

Oh yes, we live in a time when most people need to weigh in, need to be validated, included, appraised, applauded, and heard online - and it grates on me and I think it’s going to be our downfall - but yes, here I was, fucking blogging at 9:13 in the morning.

That’s part of who we are these days too - hypocrites, well-meaning and otherwise. I’m going to accept it as human flaw. I want flaws to be thing again. I want my kids to be offered the opportunity to make mistakes - with a high chance that their fuck-ups will be documented somehow - and be allowed to evolve, learn, and be forgiven, and to forgive themselves. It’s pressing, this yearning, because I feel like they’re growing up in an age when being perfect, infallible humans is a requisite. Kindness is the currency of the day, but forgiveness is often overlooked. So I am going to be far more accepting in general. I’m going to be open to dialogue, and realness, and I’m going to say shit I want to say, truthfully but mindfully, because it’s all in the delivery.

Over the holidays, I strung two sets of twinkly lights in my office. I wrote NOTHING. I got sad that my novel has yet to find a home. I got angry with my sister and that wasn’t fun at all, but again, we are full of flaws, and sometimes we are incorrigible. I did not make out with my husband, or touch him enough. I did not cook a single meal. I ate comfort food. I played games with my niece and nephews. I read a little each night. I worked on jigsaw puzzles, and spent time with friends, and every time CNN or any news was on, I gave it a glance, a quick listen, and turned that shit off. I cocooned myself a bit, I barely tweeted or posted, I checked out. I laughed, and went around the house singing “they always say good day, good day.” My sister and I drove to Clifton to buy Polish ham and bread. For an hour, I lay on the rug in my office with my ten-year-old niece drawing daffodils and sunflowers, wetting the tips of our colored pencils to create watercolor effects, and talking a little bit about life. I said a super mean thing to my husband without formally apologizing. The whole family ate a big Italian dinner up in the Bronx, a dinner that ended at ten-thirty pm, and left us all feeling satiated, and tired, and really really happy to be together. I counted the days left before school started with a heavy heart. I counted down to midnight with a small group of lovely people whom I call family. And then I cleaned up and worked on the jigsaw puzzle till 2 in the morning.

Some of this was wonderful, some banal, some disheartening. And I will forever look back on the last week with love, gratitude, and a smidge of regret.

There are no resolutions here. There are only small, clear-eyed desires. Like staying off social media as much as I can. Like eschewing trends. Like traveling someplace new. Selling my novel. Spending meaningful time with family, friends, my children. Moving my body every day. Learning a language, or how to bake something. Not worrying too much. Bullet journaling. Reading. Writing. Letting go of bullshit, but not putting up with it either.

I want smallness, intimacy. I want to take care of mine, by not taking what’s mine for granted.

And when I fuck up, I will learn from it, and forgive myself quicker. A wise friend reminded me, it’s the recovery that is more important than the struggle sometimes.

So here’s to the recovery, to forgiveness, and good days, good days ahead.