To infinity & Beyond.

Y con estas palabras, rompere mis cadenas. stalker(s)

[fuerza-imparable]

I cannot remember the last time I logged onto my tumblr or posted on it and once upon a time, I could not have imagined a world in which this was not my primary source of "social media" (is this even considered social media? I don't know). but wow, hi hello. I'm unsure how long I'll be here but tumblr feels like whispering into a void of past selves and as I try to better understand my own brain and how to explain brain to my therapist in a way that may help her understand, this felt like the safest and most familiar place to do so. except, it looks nothing like it used to when I used to use it so, familiar might not even be the right word. yet here we are.

[geopsych]

I post this every year but it’s worth it to remind myself to plant flowers, in the garden and in my mind and whenever I get a chance, in the hearts of others.

[godsbyanyothername]

Here is a copy of the original from 2017, with the artist’s name! @geopsych

[geopsych]

The source for that New Years cartoon I posted. Thank you, @godsbyanyothername !

[funnytwittertweets]

[spacelazarwolf]

is he “trauma dumping” on you or have you just not unpacked what the patriarchy has taught you outside of “woman bad” and you think men expressing any kind of emotion or vulnerability is bad actually.

[spacelazarwolf]

LITERALLY LIKE MAAM THIS IS THE TRAUMA PROFESSION WHERE U LITERALLY GET PAID FOR PPL TO TELL U THEIR TRAUMA HELLO????????

[spacelazarwolf]

THIS. this is a bell hooks fan page, bell hooks should be required reading for literally everyone.

[softness-and-shattering]

I’m still not sure when ‘trauma dumping’ became an awful sin separate from venting, or having a vulnerable/intimate conversation. Like yes do check with someone before sharing something heavy if you can, and understand if they’re not in a place to handle that. I dislike the implication that sharing one’s trauma is always irresponsible and a burden upon the conversation partner. 

[capricious-observer]

Ironically it perpetuates toxic masculinity by making even men who consider themselves feminists, progressive or generally in touch with their feelings think twice about sharing experiences with women (or anybody, really) because what if it irresponsibly causes pain to the listener - so many go back to not talking at all which usually leads to mental health issues that can be much more detrimental, and the cycle continues.

Being mindful and kind about what you share is fair enough, but too much worry can make for fragile, shallow relationships.

Or to put it a different way, some people just think men have cooties and want them to shut up forever, about everything, all the time.

[vintagehomecollection]

Like musical notes, black tiles are interspersed among white ones, just as the red dashes of the cabinet handles mitigate the otherwise all-white severity of this modern kitchen.

Rooms by Design, 1989

[rhossie]

[thenordroom]

Scandi studio apartment

THENORDROOM.COM - INSTA - PINTEREST - NEWSLETTER

[fuerza-imparable]

06.22.22

you know, I would decide to do this and log on here on 62222, because angel numbers or whatever. I also definitely have to start with this format because this is how its done, right? its weird, it’s been literal years since Ive done this and posted on here and had a tumblr that was actually up and running and yet, it feels like riding a bike... and its giving me anxiety, which is also how I feel when riding a bike so, 10/10 metaphor, five stars (I dont like riding bikes, like I do, i love it, and yet it scares me always and i stop doing it for a long time and every time i do it again i get super scared to start all over again, lol at this being a truly appropriate metaphor to me and writing and sharing my writing -- even on a site where like, only 3 ppl I knew IRL are still somewhat active but, whatever). I currently have covid and like .... im sorry to back in the day tumblr me reading into future me’s posts and being like, what in the fuck is a covid and holy shit did that really happen? because yeah, yeah even writing that down sounds super wild to me. but yeah, I currently have covid and am on day 3 of being locked in my room/house and needing to find shit to do with myself hence.... tumblr. this is likely not going to become a thing and I am likely not even going to go in depth into, literally anything in this post, but, it feels significant to mark that i’m here or came back here or was here. like in 3 years when I decide to pop back in again because of some other thing making me bored or possibly nostalgic, I’d like this to look back on. but, for now, i think its incredible to think that once upon a time i needed tumblr in order to have a safe space to pour out all of the thoughts and the pain, and its incredible to think of all of the really deep dark places my soul has been and sat in and lived in for so long, and how like ... right now nothing feels like that anymore. I think it’s wild to fucking think of. like, I am not sure if I am still depressed?? i don’t know that that diagnosis is mine to hold any longer?? I even lowkey graduated from therapy and only go once a month now (if that, life has been chaotic for the last 6 months) but... yeah like, the depresso expresso looks real different now and is a lot more closely tied to executive functioning than me actually being depressed (bc, the executive functioning is definitely not 10/10 yet). learning to understand myself under a neurodiversity mind-frame, being diagnosed with adhd 3 years ago and realizing/acknowledging that i’m likely autistic over the last year or two has made a world of a difference in me feeling okay and being able to intentionally accommodate myself *and* other neurodiverse people around me.. and like, yeah shout out to my brain for very obviously deciding life is not that bad now that i understand myself and what I need more as well as how to voice those things and set boundaries and like show up for myself. who would’ve thought man, I know lil 14 year old me tumblring away definitely did not. what a wild wild reality to live in yo, what a time to be alive. I’m turning 27 this year and like ... that’s lowkey old but I remember being younger and hearing people in their 20′s who used to be very depressed teens talk about how life got better and like ... yeah, yeah it really did. that’s wild. I can’t believe i did this for myself, shout out to me and proud of me

xoxo

mb

[purehoneyy]

xo

[one-time-i-dreamt]

As a soft-voiced gal, this makes me feel 🥰🥰🥰

[one-time-i-dreamt]

IMPORTANT SEQUEL!

[soft-butch-cassidy]

depression tips™

shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.

moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over. 

put on clean, comfortable clothes. 

put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.

drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink. 

blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something. 

make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.

go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.

cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.

[astrologynshit]

Reblog as much as you can

[redundantdandelion-deactivated2]

All of this really helps

[manila-automat]

Inside Architecture, 1996 Frederic Schwartz’s Manhattan Apartment

[fleurjardin]

Teuta Matoshi gowns

[anancientheart]

ok universe, i’m ready to feel good things. make me feel good things.

[anancientheart]

whenever i post this it works  reblog if u want to feel good things & the universe will bring u something sweet 

[thechic-fashionista-deactivated]

https://www.instagram.com/p/B75ypJbBOOi/

[lilcowgirl7-deactivated20210223]

Living romantically with yourself 

[thefrenemy-blog]

I Used To Be There, But No Longer

Sitting on the floor of my dorm, crying into the phone, asking where you are. It is voicemail #2.

In the bathroom, with the door locked, wiping away the toilet water that has splashed back onto my face.

Saying goodbye in a nursing home. Quickly walking out.

On line for Space Mountain, with my parents, just tall enough to ride.

The old Yankee Stadium, with my grandmother. She has one large beer and I am annoyed to share my Cracker Jack.

Cleaning up my first New York apartment, where we left one dead rose on the floor and I threw my twin bed onto the street.

Eating one coffee-flavored yogurt and marking in a book: One Coffee Yogurt. 120 calories.

Making small talk at a party to a guy who tries to get me to go in a cab with him, and then calls me a tease when I don’t. I say ‘I’m not a tease, it’s just that I’m tired.’ I feel bad in a way that I cannot untangle.

Drinking wine out of the bottle with new friends, a whole summer in Boston stretched out in front of me like I can be anybody I want–or just a girl in summer dresses who smokes.

On a first date with a guy who says 'I’ll pay for any check that comes in a cup,’ and the first two places we went to had little white receipts in little glass cups.

My first Negroni, on a dark cocktail bar with a friend who is watching me: peering into the glass, afraid to try it.

The doctor tells me to countdown from ten, and I call him a nerd for listening to Dave Matthews Band during a surgical procedure.

On AIM, I tell my friend I have my first kiss. I tell her it is gross, and I tell her I think I am doing it wrong.

I move my tassel to the other side, hooting in a way that doesn’t make my throat hurt.

'You’re beautiful,’ he says. 'No, I’m not!’

I won’t ever say 'No, I’m not’ again.