It's not just a phasor @match-my-freq - Tumblr Blog

57circlesofhell-deactivated2015

I once tried to explain depression to someone as like if one day you gradually started to lose both your sense of taste and your ability to feel full. And you don’t know why, but now everything you eat tastes like mashed potatoes and nothing you eat is satisfying. You keep eating because you must eat to live, but the effort that it takes to prepare food is taxing and there is no pay off. You just know it will taste like mashed potatoes. You just know you will still be hungry. So you stop bothering with seasonings. Then you stop bothering to use ingredients you used to like. Then you start to wonder what the point of eating is because there is no payoff. You still feel hungry and you’re sick of the taste and you don’t know if you will ever enjoy food again and you don’t know why this is happening.

If someone comes up to you in this scenario and says, “Well have you tried spicing your food? Using different ingredients? Eating foods you used to love?” It isn’t necessarily helpful because the reason you stopped doing all that in the first place is that everything…tasted…like mashed…potatoes.

boringkate

Looked in the mirror and it turns out I'm a beautiful woman! You'd think the novelty would wear off at some point, but it feels like a new and life changing discovery every time!

sobcat

ready for what the next week brings...

homunculus-argument

A sick wizard castle with a nondescript van painted on the side. A gothy pin-up girl with the portrait of a random trucker tattooed on her thigh. A bathroom-themed beach vacation. A beautiful brightly coloured cupcake that tastes like soap.

quite-possibly-haunted

Jesus with a portrait of my grandma on his wall. A scimitar-wielding fantasy protagonist reading about the adventures of sixth-grader Kelsey. A National Park with a framed print of somebody’s living room.

boringkate

Anything you do while wearing a sports bra is technically a sport. Scrolling through tumblr might not seem like a sport to you, but it is to your boobs! They're locked in! They're focused! They're competing! They're playing to win!

chrysiridiawings

Hey so someone with chronic migraines is disabled, yall know that right

Like this applies to all “invisible” disabilities in the sense that just bc you can’t see what’s wrong doesn’t mean nothing is wrong or they aren’t disabled but it’s especially the case for chronic migraines

Migraines are NOT just headaches. It’s not just “oof ow my head hurt :(”, Migraines are WHOLE body affair. It’s getting weepy and irritable hours before the pain hits, it’s starting to get clumsy and feeling body aches just before the pain starts, it’s getting stiff because of the aches and sensitive to light and sound because of how heightened senses get.

And when the pain gets, sometimes it is the general image of someone locked in a dark room in bed, which is genuinely awful bc you can’t do anything. You just have to lay there and stew in your pain and no medicine touches it and everything hurts, worst of all your head and there is nothing to focus on other than the pain because any light hurts and any sound hurts.

But sometimes the pain isn’t bad enough for that, or sometimes you have to work or go to school with nails in your head and it’s impossible to focus. Your depth perception gets wonky, you’re clumsy, you slur or stumble over your words because so much of your brain is occupied only by pain. You can’t miss another day of work, you can’t miss the money, but you’re messing up orders or you’re misunderstanding instructions.

And then there’s the after. Postdrome, the migraine hangover. Where the emotional and irritability returns, and you have issues with your stomach, very often leaving you unable to eat or drink without puking. Your neck is stiff, your head feels heavy, your brain is so fogged up that you can barely string together a coherent sentence. Your body aches much worse than before, and you’re exhausted, fatigued to hell and back, and that lasts for 1-3 days after the actual migraine.

Migraines are a multi-day condition that affects EVERY aspect of your fucking life. And medicines that treat the pain very often only lessen the symptoms that occur before and after.

So when I say I am disabled and then I start talking about migraines, I don’t ever want to fucking hear someone say “headaches aren’t disability”. I will actually deck you across the face you fucking prick.

reallyreallyreallytrying

if i was in an alien movie i'd be luring the xenomorph into a hot wok and adding chili, garlic, ginger, shaoxin wine, scallions, white pepper and sesame oil

honeyglazedbabe

nlog-sama

i dont know what love island is but from what ive heard its like danganronpa for people that use snapchat

anton--rayne

brainless-moe-white-lotus

Bitches will be like "prev tags omg" on my post and I check the preg tags and it's like "blorbo from my shows"

world-heritage-posts

world heritage post

tpwrtrmnky

The parachute study is actually a wonderful piece of art because it demonstrates so succinctly the kind of situation where randomized controlled trials are not the gold standard of evidence, and in fact reach misleading conclusions.

Because you can't recruit people to willingly jump out of mid-flight passenger planes for science, you redesign the study to engineer a scenario where the risk to the control group is minimsed. The plane is landed.

And then, because you've removed the main reason to use a parachute, you find that parachutes have "no effect" on mortality or injury.

The constraints of performing an ethical RCT guarantee this result. A result that we obviously know is dangerously wrong to extrapolate to the real-life uses of parachutes.

Now here's the thing: The people insisting that "evidence-based medicine" says we need RCTs of trans healthcare know this is what they're doing. It's extremely well established that you can abuse these "standards" to engineer incorrect results.

SEGM and their ilk are doing this on purpose because they know it's an effective way to dress up science denial in a veneer of scientific rigor.

armeniangenocidehistory

“I learned about it almost by accident. We had received an assignment in school to fill out a family tree. I came home, a bit baffled by the assignment (fill in some names? that’s it?), and became more baffled still when, after asking my parents for help, it turned out that most of those branches on the family tree were going to have to remain blank. I implored my parents to try to remember. I became desperate, begging them to just make up some names. (I was about to receive a lesson in ethics and family history all at once.) As delicately as they could, my parents told me my mother’s parents were orphaned when they were young. That my mom’s aunt, who helped raise her, was not actually her aunt, but a member of the makeshift family that formed in the Beirut orphanage where my grandparents met and grew up. I remember asking what happened and being told that there had been fighting in a country called Turkey, where my grandparents were born (yet another revelation: they weren’t even from Beirut!). That bad things had happened and many people died but my grandparents survived. That they were little when they were found and rescued and taken to Beirut. I thought about my grandpa. My always smiling, cuddly dede, who only had one eye and whom I loved more than anything. Who wore a beret, snuck me candy bars, and sang funny songs to me while the bombs fell that time we visited Beirut. It all suddenly became too much. I just wanted to finish my assignment. I asked for just enough information to include in a note for my teacher. And so, I scrawled on the bottom of that half-empty family tree, “I couldn’t fill in all the names because of the Armenian genocide. One million people died but my grandparents survived. You can ask my parents.””

— Sylvia Alajaji, The Day I Discovered My Grandparents Survived a Genocide (via katherinemansfields)