For Cy - Therapy Blog - Resonant Archive

[cythesuccubus]

[soul-from-another-era]

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

[landsccape]

[feral-ballad]

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “Howl”

[luthienne]

when it’s early evening and the air is turning to dusk and warm lights start blinking on at windows and you can hear cutlery and dishes clattering… yeah. the sounds of people living. it gives me a little bit of heart and hope to live again

[toramona]

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Lina A.

[mollymendoza]

MOLLY MENDOZA / Solo Exhibition

Prints and 20 brand new originals available at the Nucleus House site

January 10 - February 2, 2025 Through their work Molly Mendoza explores the complex emotions of interpersonal relationships and self-love wi

[exitwound]

i think love is when i put myself to bed even when im tired, and i carry myself up the stairs even though my knees ache. and i think love is when i buy myself a coffee when im broke, and i know that ill get myself back later. and i think love is letting myself love someone, even though i am so scared. love is a heavy thing that carries you as much as you carry it.

nothing to add to this you said it all..

[coyoteprince]

Something I didn't think possible

From my meditation journal. 3 years I have been completely free of overwhelming suicidal thoughts. I have wanted a way out of misery since I was shockingly young. I do not remember a time before this. Through hard work I've reached something I didn't know I could have- and I am grateful.

[cythesuccubus]

artist cred: Daniel Liévano

Album Cover to Renacido by Lucas Hill

[theotherkingdoms]

— Megan Fernandes, “Do You Sell Dignity Here?” from I Do Everything I’m Told

[anxeious]

[ellejournelle]

Admire as much as you can.

Most people do not admire enough.

- Vincent Van Gogh

[archbudzar]

you are an individual !!!!!!!

[cythesuccubus]

[apoemaday]

The Want of Peace

by Wendell Berry

All goes back to the earth, and so I do not desire pride of excess or power, but the contentments made by men who have had little: the fisherman’s silence receiving the river’s grace, the gardener’s musing on rows. I lack the peace of simple things. I am never wholly in place. I find no peace or grace. We sell the world to buy fire, our way lighted by burning men, and that has bent my mind and made me think of darkness and wish for the dumb life of roots.