Ripped things being the fashion these days
you fold a pair of jeans into your overnight bag,
feeling better about the tatters
you can never take off and
off you go, in the shirt you were drying on the radiator,
not quite done
but your face is beginning to melt already
at 11am, high in the sky the sun
blurs the rings around your eyes like the inside of a tree
so maybe you can be beautiful and old
beautiful and old
as there are layers and layers, the
newest taste on your tongue sits sharply
you think that maybe you could see
amongst your tattered things new
colours sprouting between the cracked
peeling greys, unexpected, inconvenient
I can’t say that I have ever received anon hate but lately I’ve been on the receiving end of some very backhanded “compliments”, most of which I have ignored. Let me just say this to my last anon - Irrespective of my weight, I still think I am “so so so pretty” I don’t think my weight should have anything to do with beauty and quite frankly, it is none of your concern. I didn’t “let myself go”…fyi, I’ve suffered from a mental illness (which at times was utterly debilitating) for the past two years, coupled with developing a negative relationship with food and extremely disordered eating. So, my focus deviated from weight loss &the gym to just getting through my days without thinking about wanting to die. Not that I need to dignify you with any sort of explanation.
I wish people were more mindful of the words they put into people’s ask boxes. If you don’t want your face & name attached to your message, maybe don’t send one at all. I think i’m doing just fine, thank you. Still got a smile on my face. I’ll still bombard you with selfies while I figure this whole self love/acceptance thing out.
And you bet your sweet bippy that tonight on my movie date i’m going to get a boysenberry ice-cream! 0 fucks given.
i am more than my body
i am butterfly kisses, the lilac tinge of skin after sleepless nights, the soft whisper of wind in your ear.
i am that feeling between when you jump off a jetty, and when you wash up, like driftwood, on the shore.
i am more than the perfection i crave
i am unshaved legs, a tiny forest growing from my flesh, i am fallen eyelashes, fallen wishes.
i am a complex network of nerve connections and endings, an almost completed puzzle with a few pieces lost, forever.
i am more than my feelings, my thoughts, my mind
i am goosebumps, the excited yet nervous kind, stray curls, the anxious foot that can’t stop shaking.
i am trapped between all three; my body, unattainable intentions and mind.
someday i will realise that I have always been complete
My name is Veronique. I’m 27 and live in The Netherlands. Since I was 12/13 years old I’ve been struggling with depression and binge eating. Last year I finally admitted I needed help and I’m proud to say that I’m on the road to recovery :) In June I’ll be moving to South Africa and that gives me a fair amount of stress. I think this challenge is perfect for making sure I don’t fall back on my old habits.
#1 Exercise at least twice a week. Next week I’ll be running my first 5K and I really want to keep running. It clears my head, I get some fresh air and makes my booty look great.
#2 Cook a healthy meal for dinner and eat it at the table. I often tend to grab a pizza or something microwaved and I’ll eat it behind my laptop without thinking. During therapy I learned that eating at the table without distractions really helps me get in touch with me body. Am I still hungry? Did I have enough to eat? A lot of times I don’t have a clue
#3 Drink more water. I used to drink water allllll the time but these last couple weeks I have not been drinking enough. I have my Plant Nanny app to help me reach this goal.
#4 Turn my laptop/ phone off 1 hour before going to bed :( This is a good goal but I really enjoy spending a lot of time on Tumblr. A lot of times I have trouble sleeping so hopefully this will help me get a bit more Zzzz
I don’t have an accountability buddy yet but My buddy is the gorgeous, amazing and wonderful running-ruba :D
I’m really looking forward to meeting new people. Don’t be surprised if you see me creeping on your blog ;)
Let’s do this! I don’t know about you guys, but I am super excited!
It’s taking me such a long time to figure out why I hate the body I’m living in. I am un- satisfied and disgusted with the skin that wraps around my soul.
My freckles and scars are the bleach stains on my jeans. The road I started walking on, wasn’t my life to live. I’m constantly recalculating my destination.
You know you get so infatuated with sadness and depression you start to Drown you’re self with it.
It’s all bullshit. You can be a happy person, you can allow yourself to be inspired and motivated. You convince yourself that you’re incapable of loving and feeling emotion, that everyone leaves you, and you should just go ahead and leave yourself too; because your worthless piece of shit. It becomes a competition.
“How shitty can I make myself feel?” “How much more weight do I need to drop to be thinner than her?”
It’s an addiction, Just like everything. I got so addicted to swollen eyes and burning skin that it became a routine. I became dark circles, rotting brains and oceans.
Nobody has it easy, don’t fool yourself. you aren’t the only person struggling. One day you will notice the shades of green in one single tree. And how pretty the sky is before rain. You will have wisdom and character. Don’t regret anything in your life. It’s part of what makes you original. And originality is really what the definition of beauty is.
Vab //People fall in love with you’re mind not your body anyway// (my writing is so cliché)
March 31, 2015 at around 12:15am will mark 1 year without a cut
and I am so so so proud of myself. There have definitely been days where it’s been tempting, but I haven’t given in. I originally made the decision to stop hurting myself for my niece and nephews. Now I’m doing it for me. I refuse to relapse and start hating myself again. There’s so much I have planned for myself, and I won’t let self harm hold me back again.
I want to live with him. I don’t care if it’s in a house or an apartment or our parked car in the Walmart lot. As long as I have his strong arms around me and one of my Grandma’s wooden blankets to keep us warm - we’ll make it through. I don’t mind taking it day by day as long as I’m kissing him when the sun sets. Money won’t matter because he’ll look just the same to me whether we can pay off our mortgage or not. I want every kiss to be better than the last. I never want it to turn into a routine or a chore. I want each touching of our lips to be a new promise that my love for him has somehow grown wider. I want beach towels with horses and Blue’s Clues on them. I want our children to wrap themselves in them so often that the towels rip a little more every time they go through the washing machine that is being held together by duct tape. I want our children to wrap themselves in us so often that we get worn out in the best way possible with laughter lines and sore backs from carrying them to bed when they fall asleep on the couch. I want Christmas lights tangled in a box in the basement next to the wedding dress that I’ve outgrown but the promises still fit like a glove. I want a wall in our home dedicated to black and red ink lines to mark the heights of our growing children. I want red mugs from Pottery Barn to use for coffee in the early mornings and to rinse out and fill with hot chocolate in the winter evenings. I want my body to learn his. I want to hold his hand so often that my skin has formed new creases from the familiar movement. I want our house to smell like fresh love and coffee beans. I never want to get too used to the smell. I want to appreciate it every time I walk in through the door that has paint peeling from the sides but we swear we’ll fix it next weekend. I want to sit down in candlelight when the power goes out and drink a glass of red wine while I rediscover his beautiful face. I want to touch him so often that I feel the wrinkles come in before he does. I want him to find my first grey hair. I want to cry about growing old as he fills the bath with lavender. I want him to intertwine fingers with me in the hot soapy water. I want him to wash my hair for me and I want to tie his ties for fun even though it’ll take me so long to make the loops and he’ll end up jogging to his office door. I want surprise lunch dates at work. I want us to laugh when our daughter finds the scissors and gives her hair a disastrous trim. I want to taste his tears when he’s so angry that he cries. I want the taste of salt to remind me of scuba diving on our honeymoon. I want the love to drown out the anger. I want the ‘i love you’s’ to scream louder than the slammed doors. I want to kiss him so deeply that I choose his lips over air. I want to make love so intensely that we need to scatter the floors with blood because rose petals aren’t passionate enough. I want a marriage. I want a life with someone. And I don’t want it with anyone except for you.