you're gonna be wounded. @characterfocus - Tumblr Blog

jennette mccurdy — i'm glad my mom died

[picture text: Brave, kind, loyal, sweet, loving, graceful, strong, thoughtful, funny, genuine, hopeful, playful, insightful, and on and on… Was she, though? Was she any of those things? The words make me angry. I can’t look at them any longer. Why do we romanticize the dead? Why can’t we be honest about them? Especially moms. They’re the most romanticized of anyone. Moms are saints. Angels by merely existing. NO ONE could possibly understand what it’s like to be a mom. Men will never understand. Women with no children will never understand. No one but moms know the hardship of motherhood, and we non-moms must heap nothing but praise upon moms because we lowly, pitiful non-moms are mere peasants compared to the goddesses we call mothers. Maybe I feel this way now because I viewed my mom that way for so long. I had her up on a pedestal, and I know how detrimental that pedestal was to my well-being and life. That pedestal kept me stuck, emotionally stunted, living in fear, dependent, in a near constant state of emotional pain and without the tools to even identify that pain let alone deal with it.]

#q #mothers //#abuse //#words

inkskinned

the illusion was always that we just had to do it. just “do” the homework. the meal prep. the college application. just write the email, send the homework, follow up with that interview, clean your room. these are easy things, one-click things, two-hours-max things. we had so many people in our lives shout it at us. “why didn’t you just do it!”

often my answer was a soft i don’t know. an i-got-tired when actually it was more like - i couldn’t. i just couldn’t. it feels like everything is covered in snow. don’t you know that i’m mad at myself too? i want this stuff just as much as you do. i want to live in a clean house with good food and have an okay job and know i’m not disappointing the people i’m coming home to. i don’t like missing opportunities and having to scramble in a panic about last-minute things.

i’m a fully grown adult. she is posing for a pic on insta. if you want a life like this, go out and get it. it’s 2pm and i haven’t eaten breakfast. i am staring at the space where i should be working.

her video has a laugh. “just do it!”

#words #queue

cowpokeprose

“I want to be loved like a wild mountain river.” You dance in the rain and you take off your shoes to throw them into the pond. You run at a sprint until you drop to your knees in the dirt and breathlessly laugh. I could never keep up. I’m not a wild mountain river.

“I want to be loved like an avalanche.” You slam down your glass after you finish a drink and you throw your darts hard enough to split the wall beside the dartboard. You scream the lyrics to the song and roll all the windows down. You’re in your element but I can’t hear. I am not an avalanche.

“I want to be loved like a tended garden.” You carefully slice the bread into equal portions and spread the honey evenly. You sway side to side and flutter about the room, humming to yourself a beautiful song. I don’t know the tune. I am not a tended garden.

“I want to be loved like…” I want that for you too. I want you to have every type of love you dream of. I want you to find a sailor, a mountaineer, a gardener. I want you to find whatever you are looking for when you peer out at the horizon like that. I want the horizon to come to you. I want you to be loved like that. However I am not a lover.

#queue #words #mmm