...just us...

18+

[miss--strict]

[moniquill]

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

The tiger

He is in a tube

yes

YES

The tiger can roam

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

It’s so nice of this zoo to add environmental enrichment for their human inhabitants, replicating the feeling of a big cat possibly being above your head.

[nastyangelgirl]

cockwarming + parallel play + chill

reblog if you’re t4t neurodivergent and feel this deeply

[saywhat-politics]

Standing up for truth…

[everythingfox]

Sea kitties

[crabussy]

need everyone to know that the artist who created this iconic artwork:

is STILL creating wolf art TO THIS DAY. TEN YEARS LATER. proof that the world is beautiful. you can find her art right here, and here are a few of her more recent pieces that I absolutely adore:

[deddi-and-beby]

This is the last safe place I have. A place I can put my emotions to page… and maybe not be hated or judged for it.

I’m struggling. I’ll admit it. Out loud. The last 4 months have been like a wrecking ball. And it’s not me… hanging on to the damage. Because trust. I don’t want to. However, I refuse to just stuff things in a box because they don’t “fit” right now, because I’ve learned to do better. I’ve learned that stuffing them in a box just hurts me later.

It’s hard communicating what’s going on sometimes. I don’t want to be a burden or cause anyone to feel like they have to deal with me. I know that body language. I know what that feels like when I’m talking and people are only listening in a form of indulgence for me. You can see the lack of engagement; you can feel it.

It’s also hard communicating when I throw things out there…and it takes hours for a response, if I get an acknowledgment at all. Those instances tell my brain that what I’m feeling doesn’t matter to the person I’m communicating with. That I’m a burden they don’t want to carry.

There’s so much fear in my day to day. In a way that can’t be logicked away. Unpacking childhood traumas, places and times where it wasn’t safe to feel anything other than the forced happy Mama required. I’m scared to talk about my feelings. I’m scared to not talk about them. I don’t want to push you away but I don’t want to fight more.

There are days… when the tension around your eyes soften. Where you’re leading from your heart not your head… those are the days that make me feel safe. But I never know when I’ll get that version of you. The one that loves all of me, including the weird shit. The one that says my name differently. I don’t know how to ask for that version. I don’t know how to get him to come forward. The version of you that stays frustrated with me is usually around more. The one that says “why can’t you just let go and be happy?”

Trust me - if I could I would. I try to all the time. I try to just feel the feelings and set them down instead of letting them run my life. It doesn’t always work that way.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you fell in love with something so very broken. And I promise I’m trying to fix me and rebuild me into something better everyday. I’m trying to be someone worthy of you. But I’m so scared I’ll never do it. That I’ll never reach that. That I’ll always be the wrong kind of weird and broken. That my traumas will always define some part of me, even when I don’t want them to.

I try and send things… share things… ways to communicate or people talking about what resonates because they explain it better. In the past, you’ve told me it was too much information. So now I try really hard to limit what I send. Only send the super important ones. But we never talk about them…so I don’t know if you watched them or just skipped them.

I guess it boils down to… me not knowing how much you want to know about my brain. How much you want to be involved in so far as our partnership in life. Most days it feels like you’re digging your own tunnel in the trenches and I’m digging my tunnel. Not like we are digging together. I don’t know.

I’m struggling with knowing that’s real or not real. Struggling with, what was said during our separation, dealing with how much of that was true…or not true? Was it all true? I feel like it was, but then things have changed or there’s the feeling like you just want to ignore what happened? You don’t want to unpack what was said or what you want our marriage to look like?

And all these things, these questions, cause a lot of fear for me. A lot of… questioning my decisions. A lot of voices in my head yelling to not say anything at all unless I have the perfect reframe to fit inside all these things. To not say things in a tone, but don’t be flat affect either. Don’t say anything that sounds demanding or divisive or dismissive… and if I can’t find the right words and the right tone fast enough, if I can’t trust my mind or my voice, maybe it’s just better to not say anything at all.

And now I’ve left you with a block of text that you probably won’t even read. But at least I tried right?

I’m sorry. Even in trying to do it right, I still couldn’t parcel it down enough. Maybe I should have let you go so you didn’t have to deal with this. This muchiness.

[deddi-and-beby]

You know… I really need to find better coping mechanisms.

I let myself hope. I got excited. Maybe we could 1 off make the dates line up. And then end up pregnant on the first try. And then it be an October baby. And two babies, best friends under the age of 2. And a little girl at that. And while yes, it’s all far fetched and a dream… I let myself hope. I let myself dream a little too hard.

Gosh. 7 more weeks on top of the 7 we just did was going to be hard… but to hear it could be 6 months? And just a, “oh yeah this…” kind of explanation or even feeling in the conversation that I had to demand leave being used to celebrate our boys first birthday just leaves me tilted.

No. I shouldn’t be here crying, rocking my baby sleep. No, I shouldn’t be dreading all the firsts missed. Or trying to brain fitting someone back into our lives or our routines when they’ve been gone for a year.

Everything I held on to… the frequent trips, the potential road trip, seeing my family, making it all work… gone. All I have left to hold onto tonight is my little boy.

My little boy who still doesn’t sleep through the night. My little boy who still reaches back looking for daddy in his sleep. My little boy who sleeps next to me, always within touching distance. My little boy who has nightmares and wakes up scared. My little boy who already loves to run and laugh and explore. My little boy who has become my whole world and my current identity is so wrapped up in. I’m his Mama. Maybe that’s just the safest identity for the next year. His Mama.

Stop trying to be someone’s friend, wife, sister, daughter. And just focus on being his Mama. I don’t even know if that’s possible, or the right thing to do, but I can be a good mom.

[boxessofee3]

[deddi-and-beby]

A girl on tik tok just said "I would rather adjust my life to your absence, than adjust my boundaries to accommodate your disrespect," and I think that a lot of people need to take that and really engrave it into their soul.

[firsttrimester]

“Too “ick” to eat, but not eating makes you sicker.”

—

[deddi-and-beby]

This is the last safe place I have. A place I can put my emotions to page… and maybe not be hated or judged for it.

I’m struggling. I’ll admit it. Out loud. The last 4 months have been like a wrecking ball. And it’s not me… hanging on to the damage. Because trust. I don’t want to. However, I refuse to just stuff things in a box because they don’t “fit” right now, because I’ve learned to do better. I’ve learned that stuffing them in a box just hurts me later.

It’s hard communicating what’s going on sometimes. I don’t want to be a burden or cause anyone to feel like they have to deal with me. I know that body language. I know what that feels like when I’m talking and people are only listening in a form of indulgence for me. You can see the lack of engagement; you can feel it.

It’s also hard communicating when I throw things out there…and it takes hours for a response, if I get an acknowledgment at all. Those instances tell my brain that what I’m feeling doesn’t matter to the person I’m communicating with. That I’m a burden they don’t want to carry.

There’s so much fear in my day to day. In a way that can’t be logicked away. Unpacking childhood traumas, places and times where it wasn’t safe to feel anything other than the forced happy Mama required. I’m scared to talk about my feelings. I’m scared to not talk about them. I don’t want to push you away but I don’t want to fight more.

There are days… when the tension around your eyes soften. Where you’re leading from your heart not your head… those are the days that make me feel safe. But I never know when I’ll get that version of you. The one that loves all of me, including the weird shit. The one that says my name differently. I don’t know how to ask for that version. I don’t know how to get him to come forward. The version of you that stays frustrated with me is usually around more. The one that says “why can’t you just let go and be happy?”

Trust me - if I could I would. I try to all the time. I try to just feel the feelings and set them down instead of letting them run my life. It doesn’t always work that way.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you fell in love with something so very broken. And I promise I’m trying to fix me and rebuild me into something better everyday. I’m trying to be someone worthy of you. But I’m so scared I’ll never do it. That I’ll never reach that. That I’ll always be the wrong kind of weird and broken. That my traumas will always define some part of me, even when I don’t want them to.

I try and send things… share things… ways to communicate or people talking about what resonates because they explain it better. In the past, you’ve told me it was too much information. So now I try really hard to limit what I send. Only send the super important ones. But we never talk about them…so I don’t know if you watched them or just skipped them.

I guess it boils down to… me not knowing how much you want to know about my brain. How much you want to be involved in so far as our partnership in life. Most days it feels like you’re digging your own tunnel in the trenches and I’m digging my tunnel. Not like we are digging together. I don’t know.

I’m struggling with knowing that’s real or not real. Struggling with, what was said during our separation, dealing with how much of that was true…or not true? Was it all true? I feel like it was, but then things have changed or there’s the feeling like you just want to ignore what happened? You don’t want to unpack what was said or what you want our marriage to look like?

And all these things, these questions, cause a lot of fear for me. A lot of… questioning my decisions. A lot of voices in my head yelling to not say anything at all unless I have the perfect reframe to fit inside all these things. To not say things in a tone, but don’t be flat affect either. Don’t say anything that sounds demanding or divisive or dismissive… and if I can’t find the right words and the right tone fast enough, if I can’t trust my mind or my voice, maybe it’s just better to not say anything at all.

And now I’ve left you with a block of text that you probably won’t even read. But at least I tried right?

I’m sorry. Even in trying to do it right, I still couldn’t parcel it down enough. Maybe I should have let you go so you didn’t have to deal with this. This muchiness.

[transmate]

innocent cuddling that turns into ‘accidentally’ moving our hands over each other’s parts… that then turns into “sorry” “don’t be, you can keep going” which turns into rubbing our crotches and asses together turning into “fuck you’re so wet” “don’t stop”

that finally turns into hushed moans and panting under the covers until the early hours of the morning

[pxcketpxssy-deactivated20230906]

Thinking about him fingering me and telling me how tight I am and how good I'll feel around him. Him telling me to be a good girl and cum for him

[deddi-and-beby]

The nightmares… the night terrors… those are the only things left.

I just wish I could sleep without seeing you, without witnessing the deadness in your eyes. The fact that you never really cared and that it was all a lie played out in technicolor over every memory I have.

I just want peace. A place, a memory, a moment that doesn’t have you written all over it. Someplace I can go and just find peace.

[deddi-and-beby]

A view I don’t want to forget.

[deddi-and-beby]

I…there are no words.

Today you’re going to get a lighthouse tattoo. And today I’m crawling back into the nest and closing my eyes.

Her heart? Is shattered. And I feel like that’s even worse that the last 14 days. If I thought I didn’t understand? That little part of me? She’s lost…