My Heart Is In The Healing Process @ghost-inside-my-head-blog - Tumblr Blog

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thecommonchick

if you haven’t read this already, it’s worth the read

commongayboy-deactivated2018082

Amber Heard has all of these receipts and people still question her. Johnny isn’t innocent. #IStandWithAmber

badkittyradkitty

‘He’s so sad’.

‘He was crying when he realised he kicked you.’

‘He’s a lost little boy.’

‘HE’S A LOST LITTLE BOY.’

LOST. LITTLE. BOY.

This is abuser talk 101. He hurts you and then makes it about his pain. A grown adult man who chooses to beat a woman repeatedly is not a child. I don’t care if he’s in pain. That’s not an excuse.

It is NOT an abuse victim’s job to forgive and comfort her abuser. It’s part of the cycle of abuse.

#IstandwithAmber

lesbian-lizards

“A lost boy”… he’s in his 50s holy christ.

the-cimmerians

i generally stay out of celebrity stuff despite my fannishness, but i feel the need to reblog this for anyone who a) might be on the fence about this particular instance, and b) might not be immediately able to recognize abusive dynamics. Please understand that your abuser (or their supporters) will try to both invalidate your experience/damage/pain, and also make you ‘responsible’ for the abuser’s experience/damage/pain (and subsequently try to make you responsible for their actions). Stand with Amber, and stand for yourself.

fromproseccotopacifiers

Always funny when I stumble across an old favorite fanfic writer from back in the day on my parenting blog. But. As usual. @the-cimmerians is totally right.

My bridesmaids dresses came in and the contracts for the hotel bookings came in. Today has been a good day in the wedding department. Now if only I could get the DJ to email me back.

actuallunalovegood

i was at a grocery store really late one night and some old guy kind of eyed me as i walked out of the store next to this other lady. She and I made eye contact and i knew she was scared too. we loaded up our groceries into our cars as fast as possible and I had way more bags than her so she got done faster than me. I panicked because i was sure she was going to leave so i just hurried faster, shaking a little, and then i noticed she sat in her car, watching me and making sure nobody came near. She waited not until all my groceries were loaded, or until my cart was put away, or until I got into my car. No, she didn’t drive away until I drove away.

And that was the moment that I realized how much women need other women. That we can’t win this war without each other and we have to be looking out for each other, every second.

ofgeography

my last year in new york city, i got off the subway around 9 or 10p.m. i only lived about 5 blocks from the f train, but i hadn’t gotten more than two before a woman’s hand suddenly touched my arm.

“that guy behind us is following you,” she said. “he was watching you leave the train car and followed you up.”

i hadn’t noticed him, or at least not noticed him following me. when we stopped outside a grocery store, he stopped half a block back and loitered. the woman linked her arm with mine and walked me several blocks out of her way to my front door and made sure i got inside safely.

another time, nocigar and i were walking home and at a stoplight a stranger grabbed my arm when i wouldn’t respond to him and tried to physically drag me over to him. she—who is, by the way, not a very physically imposing girl—ripped his hand off my arm and snarled, “don’t fucking touch her.”

protect your friends. protect strangers. there are good men in the world, but don’t wait for them to do something if you can do it yourself.

edmundo-noches-buckley

I was at a club once and my friend left with her boyfriend so I finished my drink and was heading out to the parking lot when three girls came up to me and basically surrounded me.

“Those guys behind us were talking about following you. We can walk with you.”

I have MMA training but have never in my life had been offered the protection and sanction of my own gender. This is so important.

stele3

GIRL CODE. FUCKIN’ GIRL CODE. LEAVE NO GIRL BEHIND. EVER.

cravefoodie

oatsnjen-deactivated20180225

I friggen love mac n cheese so much frig

that-pansexual-feminist

Hey guess what

Someone else’s abortion is none of your business :)

operation-motherhood-deactivate

Vaccinate your fucking kids.

iwriteaboutfeminism

You're not excited about the prospect about voting for the first Democratic nominee who's a woman that'll bring an end to 240 years of cisgender, straight dude presidents?

I am as feminist as they come, and I feel no excitement or pride at the possibility of Hillary Clinton being the first woman to be President of the United States.

It’s not just about being a woman; it’s about what you represent.Hillary Clinton does not represent the average American woman. She represents capitalism, imperialism, the military industrial complex, and the corporate and criminal justice interests that form the institutional structures which actively oppress average women (and men, and people of all genders) every day.

So no, I’m not excited.

the-baby-journey-deactivated202

attndotcom

Agreed.

thisiseverydayracism

This is rape culture.

This is white male privilege.

This is injustice.

The rapist and the judge are revolting, sociopathic spawns of the devil.

thisiseverydayracism

Rapist: Brock Allen Turner Judge: Aaron Persky

queenaunttifa

Let the Judge know how you feel: Department 89: Honorable Aaron Persky, Santa Clara County (apparently up for re-election next week?) Courtroom Clerk (650) 462-3880 Court Reporter: (650) 462-3885

anti-capitalistlesbianwitch

RAPISTS DESERVE EVERYTHING THAT THEY HAVE COMING TO THEM. This is absolutely sickening.

ihaveabatundermyhat

I have been absolutely livid about this whole thing. Here’s a picture of a statement from the rapist’s father, just to add insult to injury….

Also, the survivor’s statement should be obligatory reading for EVERYONE for years to come. Parents, show this to your kids, EDUCATE THEM.

Read HERE.

Reader’s discretion is advised, there is some explicit writing about the rape.

Again, read HERE.

thisiseverydayracism

[Source: This petition.]

Update: Judge Aaron Persky is running unopposed for Seat 18 so, he is not even on the ballot.

We can file complaints about his ethics violation however.

More info on Judge Persky: This is not the only time he has shown bias in favor of student athletes. He also coached lacrosse at Stanford. His inability to remain impartial in the face of his personal prejudices is well-established and he is unfit to serve.

The powerful letter the victim read aloud in court can be read here.

To file a complaint:

Fill out this form, print out, and mail.

What to write:

Date, Name, Phone Number, Address Attorney’s Name: N/A Attorney’s Phone Number: N/A Court: Superior County: Santa Clara Name of case and case number: THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA vs. BROCK ALLEN TURNER, Case no. B1577162 Please specify what action or behavior of the judge… is the basis of your complaint: Bias/appearance of bias toward a particular class. Sentencing of Brock Allen Turner to an unusually lenient 6 months in jail for 3 sexual assault convictions. Present: Judge Aaron Persky, District Attorney Jeff Rosen, Defense Attorney Mike Armstrong, Brock Allen Turner, Jane Doe, others.

Print out and mail to: Commission on Judicial Performance 455 Golden Gate Avenue, Suite 14400 San Francisco CA, 91402

mamamusement

queercryptidhq

Pregnancy rule #243: your baby will kick the crap out of you until you say "oh, the baby's kicking! Here, feel!"

And then suddenly it will stop.

Because your baby wants you to look like a liar in front of your family.

wild--rainbow

All. The. Time.

princess-bel

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”

aplatonicjacuzzi

Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.

Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.

Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter.

Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.

Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.

Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.

Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.

Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.

Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.

Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.

Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.

Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.

Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.

Imagine a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.

cinematicnomad

#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u)

prismatic-bell

Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing.

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.” Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted.

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

Imagine it.

When we stand, we stand united as one

blueboxbellethethird-deactivate

And then there would be no hope for any uprising of evil, no users of the dark arts would dare to attack. There would be no neglected Slytherins turning to a darker cause. The unity Cassius Warrington’s death caused would come to save the world, time and time again, as would-be-Voldemorts find no followers. No children will ever have to fight their parents, or family. There would always be peace.

peaceheather

oh christ somebody added to it and now i’m a soggy emotional wreck

prozdvoices

me on chopped

I just had the most immense pain that started in the groin, traveled to my thigh, around to my hip, and then my lower back. All on the right side. I don't feel like it was round ligament pain, but maybe it just was, just really severe? Like this pain had me on the floor ready to pass out. My fiancé had to pick me up, and even then it was making the pain worse and I couldn't even scream for him to stop because I was in so much pain. It lasted maybe 10 minutes and then slowly went away? Fuck childbirth. I couldn't even handle this pain for 10 minutes. How in the hell am I supposed to have a natural childbirth? 😥

#pregblr

talesofthestarshipregeneration

I am the ’70s child of a health nut. I wasn’t vaccinated. I was brought up on an incredibly healthy diet: no sugar till I was 1, breastfed for over a year, organic homegrown vegetables, raw milk, no MSG, no additives, no aspartame. My mother used homeopathy, aromatherapy, osteopathy; we took daily supplements of vitamin C, echinacea, cod liver oil.I had an outdoor lifestyle; I grew up next to a farm in England’s Lake District, walked everywhere, did sports and danced twice a week, drank plenty of water. I wasn’t even allowed pop; even my fresh juice was watered down to protect my teeth, and I would’ve killed for white, shop-bought bread in my lunchbox once in a while and biscuits instead of fruit, like all the other kids.We ate (organic local) meat maybe once or twice a week, and my mother and father cooked everything from scratch—I have yet to taste a Findus crispy pancake, and oven chips (“fries,” to Americans) were reserved for those nights when Mum and Dad had friends over and we got a “treat.”As healthy as my lifestyle seemed, I contracted measles, mumps, rubella, a type of viral meningitis, scarlatina, whooping cough, yearly tonsillitis, and chickenpox. In my 20s I got precancerous HPV and spent six months of my life wondering how I was going to tell my two children under the age of 7 that Mummy might have cancer before it was safely removed.So the anti-vaccine advocates’ fears of having the “natural immunity sterilized out of us” just doesn’t cut it for me. How could I, with my idyllic childhood and my amazing health food, get so freaking ill all the time? … My two vaccinated children, on the other hand, have rarely been ill, have had antibiotics maybe twice in their lives, if that. Not like their mum. I got many illnesses requiring treatment with antibiotics. I developed penicillin-resistant quinsy at age 21—you know, that old-fashioned disease that supposedly killed Queen Elizabeth I and that was almost wiped out through use of antibiotics.*

ladymarianor

“If you think your child’s immune system is strong enough to fight off vaccine-preventable diseases, then it’s strong enough to fight off the tiny amounts of dead or weakened pathogens present in any of the vaccines.”