#femalepain

[browngirl9diary]

River nymph log, day one: ethereal mood ruined by a tampon that thought it was drowning 🧚🏼‍♂️*•`.🫧.𖥔 ݁ ˖♪

(Shout out to my person for saving me)

[blackpromises]

No one sees Bellatrix Black’s suffering when she fails to get pregnant, month after month. No one sees how the soul of a woman who can otherwise control everything — who is not used to failure — quietly breaks down.

It’s easy to say she didn’t want children, that she’s not a mother. But Bellatrix was a mother. She carried many children under her heart, but none in her arms.

And maybe that’s where her destructiveness, her madness came from. She never learned how to process her emotions in a world that only allows mothers to be soft; but not childless women.

[diaryofdissociation]

Entry no. 7

I hate a man who can’t keep his eyes still.

Is it lust, or is that what love looks like to him?

I never feel at peace beside him —

not public, not in private.

Everywhere we go,

I feel the ache of being watched,

but never the one he’s watching.

[diaryofdissociation]

Entry no. 8

You don’t get to make me your mission.

I’m not here to be saved, cleaned up, or managed.

When you say you feel “responsible” for me, it doesn’t sound sweet—it sounds like control. Like ownership. Like ego dressed up as care.

I didn’t ask for that.

I wanted something real. Something equal.

~~~~~~~

But I’ve watched you let other girls’ names pop up, stories slide across your screen like I didn’t see. Like I wouldn’t feel it.

And I stayed quiet. I made myself small. I made excuses for you.

That was my mistake.

You were never protecting me.

I was protecting you—from the truth.

From the parts of yourself you didn’t want to admit: the part that wanted attention elsewhere. The part that liked holding power over someone soft.

The part that says “responsibility” when you mean “control.”

I’m not your burden.

I’m not your little project.

And I’m not staying silent anymore.

I’m done performing gratitude for crumbs.

Burn this. And burn the version of me that let you narrate my worth.

[diaryofdissociation]

diary entry no. 1 pt 2

I disassociate so much I don't even know if anything I ever felt was real. I don't remember how to be present. I can fake it, though - soft voice, tilted head, nodding like I'm here. But inside it's just static. I keep thinking if I look pretty enough, no one will notice the hollow. Sometimes I wonder if I ever had a real self to begin with or if I've just always been the version other people needed. This is just a place to put the parts of me don't fit anywhere else.

[diaryofdissociation]

diary entry no. 1

I keep trying to feel real again.

But everything still taste like the past.

And I don't know if this is healing or just decay.

[beanstyled]

I love the @ovira NOHA device! Check out my reel to see the improved Love Handles! That's what they call their gel pads that conduct to skin to provide the pulse therapy! I use this single device for more than period pains. Check out my website this weekend. www.coach-jill.com I'm restarting my blog and this will be my first device/product review for the new page. ♀️🏋️‍♀️🤸‍♀️💛 . . #ovira #noha #periodrelief #periodpain #femalepain #painrelief #nervepain #cramps #periodcramps #female #arthritis #pcos (at Las Vegas, Nevada) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVOIYbNvQjS/?utm_medium=tumblr

[mellifluousfelicitie]

OHMYGODICANTEVEN

I was looking for femalepains on tumblr. I forgot the 's' at the end and found femalepain on tumblr. Not what I was looking for. One letter made the difference.