Lyrische Therapie

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑. — L. | Made in 94 | RLP sagittarius c-ptsd poetry 420 🌱 — Meine Gedanken findest du unter #eigenes

[auszeitstille]

…

I’m a survivor of abuse, rape, physical violence and an eyewitness to a violent crime.

Survival is not poetic. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ It’s breath after breath after breath. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ But I chose words over silence.

—

In May 2023, I was further diagnosed with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME/CFS). Millions more around the world suffer from this disease.

Unseen. Still sick. Still fighting.

—

All that I am you will never see

And all that I know is hard to tell you

But at the end of my descent

With the hardest winter inside me

I will survive this

You will see

- Lilly Lindner

[dafancyuhinspiration]

[poetryatmost]

I know the danger of finding myself in someone else, and still, I seek it.

-Poetry At Most

[brokenroseinthedirt]

“I’m sick of this” me when I wake up in the morning

[preservable]

[cheruib]

on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

[kathis-world]

Pass auf, dass die Mauer, die du dir zum Schutz gebaut hast, nicht zu deinem Gefängnis wird.

[derasozialemarokkaner]

Ich hoffe, du verstehst eines Tages, dass Heilung nicht bedeutet, wieder so zu sein wie früher. Sondern ganz neu zu werden. Anders vielleicht. Aber nicht weniger ganz. Dass du erkennst: Nicht jede Wunde muss für andere sichtbar sein, um echt zu sein. Manchmal heilt man in Stille. Ohne große Worte. Ohne Applaus. Nur mit der leisen Entscheidung, sich selbst endlich ernst zu nehmen. Heilung ist kein Ziel, sondern ein tägliches Wieder-Zuwenden. Zu dir. Zu deinem Schmerz. Und zu der Hoffnung, dass da mehr auf dich wartet.

[stay-close]

“Stop asking me to trust you while I’m still coughing water up from the last time you let me drown.”

— Unknown

[paper-wounds]

[promisesofamazing]

“Having to tell myself “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m gonna be okay.” wasn’t beautiful or poetic. Sitting on my bathroom floor, crying begging someone to help me even though no one could hear me wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t something worth going through. The pain wasn’t worth it, it was fucking painful. It was fucking painful to wake up the next morning when all I wanted to do was die and that’s the fucking truth. The truth isn’t beautiful or poetic. It’s not a John Green book or a Notebook love story, it was real. The pain and the tears and the hurting was real. The aching was real and it was more than painful but painful is the only word to use because what I felt was something that didn’t have a definition. So don’t tell me that this pain will be worth it some day or that I should turn my hurt into something beautiful because you don’t have to go through something painful to learn something. I don’t have to force my pain to be beautiful because it wasn’t.”

— Deeply Feeling Series 

[imightjustbegone-deactivated201]

@ august please be a little gentle with me I’m so tired

[wowlookwhosspirallingagain]

trying to heal & wanting to get as worse as possible at the same time is so silly because it feels like there are so many sides of me constantly fighting with each other

[resqectable]

“The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.”

— Juliette Lewis

[remanence-of-love]

[beingmentalisgood]

You will heal

[dunkelundunbekannt]

"Du kannst den schweren Tagen nicht entkommen, du kannst nur lernen, sie zu überstehen."

[gwyndisabilityblog]

Taking care of the disabled and injured is human nature actually. We have evidence of our ancestors caring for folks with disabilities. We're a cooperative species that takes care of their own. If our starving, weary, and hunted ancestors could care for the disabled members of their tribe, in this era of modern medicine and abundant resources we absolutely can afford to do the same.