Like depression or anxiety or trauma, and that didn't apply to me, I wouldn't downvote their confession just because I can't relate to that particular struggle. It's not helpful and they may be feeling extra fragile and vulnerable.
I really do. I love dogs and cats so much. But I can’t afford one. I can’t afford an expensive vet bill if something happens to them. I can’t afford to buy my own place that allows pets. So I do without one in spite of how much I miss having one in my life. So I confess to being really frustrated with people who get a pet because it’s what they want and not because it’s the best thing for the animal. The same people who expect other people to pay the vet bills in an emergency, or whatever else that animal might require along the way. The fancy food because the cat has digestive problems. The special shampoo because the dog has a skin condition. All of those things. If you genuinely love animals, you put their needs above your own, and if you can’t afford all of what they might potentially require, then you’re not supposed to get one. Simple but unpopular truth.
I spent the morning collecting all the things given to me by an ex, putting them in a trash bag, and throwing them in a dumpster. Normally I wouldn't be so wasteful and would opt to donate these items. However, I wanted to know what it feels like to dispose of something of value – a process that happened to me repeatedly during our time together. I was expecting to feel sad and cry, but you know what? It felt good. It felt powerful. I realized that was how they felt while treating me as a disposable object. And I realized I should have locked that door and buried the key in an unmarked grave a whole hell of a lot sooner. Phoenix rising from the dumpster, burning that bridge and not looking back.
When someone tells you what happened in their relationship, remember that they’re only telling you half of the story. Rarely will they mention anything they might have done to contribute to whatever went wrong. If they do, wonderful! But I think that most people don’t.
“I don’t know how you do it and stay so strong.” I’ve had that said to me by a few people. But just because someone is soldiering on through something really painful and difficult doesn’t mean they’re not crying in private. I learned very very early in life that no one was going to comfort me or save me, so I had no choice but to get tough. Some things have been absolutely brutal to go through alone, but I’ve dealt with those times by compartmentalizing. I just get kind of distant and numb so I don’t fall apart and then I can do what needs to be done. But I’ve paid the price just like everyone else who’s had to cope with hard times. You just won’t see it because I isolate until I feel strong enough to face the world again.
I wonder if I’m the only one who’s sick to death of hearing about Donald Trump. So what if he looks like he’s going to kill someone in that mugshot of his. I don’t care. If only Canadians would just stop preoccupying themselves with the US and pay more attention to what’s going on inside the ghettos of Vancouver, Surrey or Abbotsford.
I like how everyone flocks to Onlyfans but it's strange too. You can see how different men and women live their lives. Men cannot easily make money this way. Women can. It also depends on the beauty of the woman. I'm not crazy about how different things are for different sexes in society, but I admit they have strong biological underpinnings. It's just too bad. It's easy to see why these trends can result in unequal work. Some people, whether an only fans girl or an engineering lad, have it pretty easy. They are gifted with the interest and abilities to succeed in these areas.
Maybe I'm dying !
Change in weather maybe. Broken heart ?
I don't know !
Just tired I guess :(
Do you think things ever really work out ?
Rock and a hard place again. It's like it never ends. Maybe you just get to the point where you just stop trying. Like nothing you do ever works out or makes a difference anymore. Great !
But there's always tomorrow.
The old Doves song hits differently when I think about my own addiction. Work. It’s an embarrassing affliction that is often met with admiration without acknowledging its insidious impact on the individual if not addressed properly. I was reared to keep my head down, work hard. If things got rough, I worked harder. It didn’t matter if my body rebelled. I willed myself to survive at the detriment of connection with my own body and dangerous consequences. I wondered why I never felt attraction or able to date unless I was on vacation or between jobs. It’s hard to put down this inherited survival strategy passed down like a precious family heirloom. It’s hard to know who I am without a job. A recovering addict I suppose. Learning how to have a healthy relationship with work feels overwhelming but necessary.
when you have Major Depressive Disorder and Body Dysmorphic Disorder. All you can do is hope no one comments on the baggy hoodies you wear in the searing heat and count down until cooler, calmer autumn days.