let's make better mistakes tomorrow. @brawl - Tumblr Blog

my heart is so heavy. even though we just met once, you had great impact on me and made me feel seen. farewell, dearest bettina.

It's my 16 year anniversary on Tumblr! (what the heck!! greets and love to everyone who is still following. in Germany this blog would be legally allowed to drink now)

#16 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

#music #<3 #Youtube

wholeheartedsuggestions

little steps toward better taking care of yourself are not insignificant. getting into a fairly consistent sleep schedule, remembering to take your medications on time, drinking enough water throughout the day, eating things that will make your body feel better during the day, and keeping your space clean before it becomes a depression room again are all amazing accomplishments.

uroko

Ekaterina

chernega

Montenegro. Perast.

slfcare

be proud of yourself for

the progress nobody sees

feeling all of your emotions (and learning how to make peace with them + give them space)

standing up for yourself even though you lost people because of it

making time for yourself

doing better

saying no to people

letting go of people for your own sake

no longer allowing others to decide when you can and when you can’t be proud of yourself

tikkety-tok

Potatoes! 🥔

fan-fares

oh my god the little stomps

#omg!! <3

aridante

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”