really why do you exist is it to lower my self esteem

Werewolves Don’t Exist - Scott McCall

You were walking through the school corridor, a slight smile on your face as your favorite song began to play in your earbuds.  As you reached your locker, the boys and Allison were already there, and you smiled wider.

“Hey guys” You greeted, shoving Stiles slightly so you could actually get into your locker.  “What’s up?” You took out an earbud, and looked at them.  Allison looked at her phone, Scott stayed silent, and Stiles straight up pretended to be interested in his fingernails.  “Um.. what’s going on?” You asked, taking out your Bio textbook.

“Nothing just… my grades are still bad” Scott sighed, and you gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Well I can help you study tonight, if you want” You offered.

“He can’t!” Stiles butted in, making you jump.  “We-we’re practicing” He added.  “Lacrosse.  Cause… cause I suck!” You bit your inner lip, heart sinking.  Stiles was trying pretty hard to get Scott out of being around you.  It was a little concerning, and your mind went wild with depressing thoughts.

“Oh.. oh okay some other time then” You said quietly, turning back to focus on the inside of your locker.

“I don’t know… we’re sorta busy this week” Scott said.

“Yeah, Scott and I have a lot of work to do” Allison piped up, and again, your heart broke.

“Alright” You said softly, and closed your locker slowly.  “I’ll um.. I’ll see you guys in lunch” You weakly said, and walked off towards your next class.  Which you had with Stiles, but he made no effort to walk with you like he usually did.

Maybe Scott didn’t want to be friends with you.  Maybe none of them did.  Which really hurt, seeing that you’d known Scott and Stiles since the second grade.  But since Allison had shown up in the beginning of the year, Scott seemed to care a lot more about her and Stiles, and not about you.  You wondered if he liked her, or if they were actually dating.  He probably wouldn’t have told you if they were.  Seeing that he was doing anything and everything to stay away from you.

You took in a deep breath, and tried to push away all your negative energy, and focus on your notes.

But your mind kept going back to your thoughts about Scott.

You loved him, you really did as cliche as it was.  But to fall in love with your best friend, is probably one of the worst things someone can do to themselves.  And the worst part, was that you knew it.  You knew he’d never like the way you did him.  He’d never know how you felt either.  Especially now. 

Why bother with him if he won’t bother to at least be a friend?

Lunch was terrible, thanks for asking.  You sat silently, and were paid no attention to.  Scott was too busy with Allison, and Stiles was too busy with Lydia.  Why does she even sit here? We’re not exactly the popular crowd, you thought to yourself.  Not that it mattered, Lydia gave all of her attention to Jackson.  So in reality, you were the seventh wheel.  And your self esteem was just dropping lower and lower today.

So did you stay and finish your sandwich that only had one bite in it? Hell no! You got up quietly, grabbed your bag, and threw your lunch away.  Then walked the hell out of that table of awkwardness.

You decided to just go home.  So maybe you didn’t have a car, and it was difficult to sneak out of the school building, but once you closed the door behind you, you just sprinted.  Wanting to get away from that place as fast as you possibly could.

“y/n!” You slowed slightly, enough to turn and see Scott running behind you.

“Scott?” You stopped completely, and he ran up to you swiftly.  “What’re you- how’re you even- Scott are you okay?” He gave you furrowed brows to express his confusion.  “Your asthma how’re you-”

“I’m fine” He answered abruptly.  “Now why are you skipping school?” You shook your head and began walking again.  Completely ignoring the boy.  “Hey- hey y/n” He reached to grab your arm, but you smacked his hand away.

“Just let me go home Scott, I don’t feel well” 

“You’re lying”

“I’m not”

Scott didn’t push it any further, knowing that the only way he could tell you that he knew you were lying, would be telling you he was a werewolf.  And he couldn’t do that.

“Well… well why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like you were listening” You grumbled to yourself, still walking away.  But Scott heard you fine.

“I would’ve been, it’s not like you tried to talk to me” You rolled your eyes, not even thinking through the fact that from where you were both standing, he shouldn’t have been able to pick up on what you said.

“Would you have Scott?” You whirled around, jabbing a finger into his chest.  “Or were you too busy mister goo goo eyes?” He shook his head, giving you another confused look.

“I don’t know what-”

“Don’t play idiot Scott! Since Allison’s got here, it’s like you’ve forgotten we were friends” You sighed, eyes expressing your hurt.

Scott could smell how depressed this made you feel, and he suddenly felt a huge wave of guilt.  He had pushed you to the side, but not because of Allison, because of his now supernatural based life.

“y/n I-”

“Save it Scott” You said, shrugging him away.  “Allison’s probably gonna wanna hear about it anyway” You mumbled, wet eyes meeting his broken ones.  With that, you turned and walked off.

And Scott let you.

He watched you walk away, until you were barely a a dot on the sidewalk.

“Scott, hey Scotty” 

“Wh-what?” Scott turned to Stiles, who was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Dude, you just got us killed” Stiles waved off to the video game they were playing.  “You always win, you know, keen reflexes and all” Stiles shook his head, and bit into three licorices at once.

“Sorry I’m just… I don’t know” The werewolf boy sighed.  “I should’ve told y/n, she deserves to know-”

“Bro.  I love you.  But you do this all the time.  First you’re all ‘i lover her too much, if she knows she’ll get hurt, and then it’ll all be for nothing I can’t live without her blah dee blah dee blah-’”

I get it Stiles-”

“And then next you’re all ‘she’s probably gonna hate me cuz i keep on lying to her’-” 

Stiles I get it okay? I fucked up!”

“Hey mr moralities watch the language-”

“But I did okay? And now- no she probably does hate me!” Scott scrambled to his feet, and ran out of the room.

“He-hey!” Stiles ran after his friend, finding Scott putting on his jacket and shoes at the door.  “Where are you-?”

“I’m going to y/n’s” Scott said, opening the door.

“Okay well I guess tell her I say-”

Scott jogged out of the house, door slamming behind him.


“y/n! y/n open the door, I know you’re inside!” Scott yelled for what felt like the millionth time.  He knocked rapidly.  “y/n, please! Answer the door” He begged. 

“Heh, McCall, you just continue to prove how pathetic you are” Scott turned abruptly, finding Matt Daehler behind him.  He growled, eyes glowing gold with anger as he stalked towards the boy.

“What did you do to her?” He growled, grabbing Matt’s shirt, and shaking him.  “Where.  Is.  She”

Matt laughed.  He laughed.  He had the nerve.

And Scott silenced his dark chuckle with a hard punch across his jaw.

You blinked your eyes open, and immediately grew afraid.  It was dark, and you were laying down because you were staring up at a ceiling, that you didn’t recognize.  But when you tried to move, none of your limbs made an inch.  Again, you willed yourself to sit up, but you couldn’t.  

Before tears could even form in your eyes, you heard a scratching sound.  You turned your head quickly, in search of the owner of the sound.

“He-hello?” You asked in a shaky whisper.

“y/n” Jackson? He was the one who stepped into view.  You looked up at him, and something was off about his eyes, he was standing above you, so it was sorta far, but they looked big, and… and green.


“How are you dear? Oh right,” he chuckled.  “You’re paralyzed”

“How? What’d you do to me!?” You demanded.

“Well Matt has to get your sorry ass werewolf of a friend here somehow” Jackson said, and you narrowed your eyes, shaking your head.

“How sick in the head are you Whittemore?” You snarled, and he dropped to his knees, waving a clawed hand over your face.  Your eyes widened, watching lizard-like scales appear over his face.

“I’d watch what you say next, very, very carefully my sweet” He growled, and you whimpered, seeing his razor sharp teeth.  “I could kill you in an instant.  And it wouldn’t matter.  No one knows you’re here, I could snap your neck…” A sharp nail trailed down your neck, and further down your body.  You saw it, but couldn’t feel a thing.  Again, you whimpered in fear, which only made him smirk.

That’s when you saw what creeped you out the most.

His skin and clothing seemed to just shred away, body completely covered in the scales, and a long tail practically ripping out of his back, which instantly sealed back up.  You screamed, and the tail whipped around your neck, yellow eyes glowing with excitement.  He held you up in the air using the tail that wrapped around your neck like a noose

“Mm I can smell your fear” Jackson growled out, and trailed a tongue over your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin.  “I can taste it.  It’s delicious y/n-”

“Back off!” A female voice rang, and you barely saw something fly through the air.  Before you could register that someone had shot the lizard boy with an arrow, Jackson toppled over, and your limp body crashed to the ground.

Well, it almost did.  You were caught in a strong pair of arms.  You looked up, finding bright yellow eyes and a furred face.  But you’d recognize that crooked jaw anywhere.

“Scott..?” You whispered.

“It’s me, you’re okay, I’m getting you out of here okay?” You didn’t nod, though you tried.  Your body was becoming overcome with sleep.  “No, no y/n don’t close your eyes, just stay awake for me okay? Stay awake y/n, stay awake…. stay awake… stay awake…”

When you woke up again, you freaked out this time, remembering the last time you woke up, was not a pleasant experience.  Your arms thrashed on a mattress as you desperately pushed yourself up, finally able to move again.

“Hey hey hey, you’re okay, you’re at my house, you’re okay” You looked over, wide fearful eyes meeting Scott’s.  “You’re okay” He repeated, sitting on the bed next to you.  You slowly allowed yourself to nod.

“I was- you had- Jackson-” Scott just nodded, and he ran a hand over your forehead, pushing back your hair.

“I’m so sorry, I thought never telling you would protect you, I swear I was trying to keep you safe-”

“Tell me what?” You whispered, pushing yourself up to sit fully upward, staring back at Scott.  His hands fell to fiddle in his lap.

“I-I’m…this is gonna sound crazy but… I’m a werewolf” He looked up to you, eyes the golden color you’d seen earlier that night.  Your breath hitched in your throat, and you tensed.  “And tonight you were taken by Matt and Jackson, the lizard-uh-guy, yeah that’s called a kanima and Matt is like the contro-”

Scott stopped when you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly, and he hugged you back as quickly as he registered the action.

“Are you okay?” You asked, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Ye-yeah I’m fine” Scott stuttered.  “It’s you I’m worried about-”

“Well I thought you hated me” 

“Hated you? y/n I could never I-… I love you” You pulled back, staring at him with parted lips.

“Y-you l-l-love m-me?” Great now we’re both a stuttering mess.

Yeah of course I do” Scott said, and hand laying overtop of yours, clasping onto it and rubbing his thumb over your skin.  “I always have y/n, the only reason I didn’t tell you was because I didn’t want you getting hurt, or being mad I just.. I wanted to protect you” You slowly smiled at him, finally feeling a sense of safety that night.  

“I love you too you furry weirdo” You said, and Scott smiled back at you, and leaned in a little bit.

“Can I- can I kiss you?” You nodded, licking your lips slightly before his found yours, and his hand laid on your cheek softly.  When you parted, you rested your forehead against his.  “And by the way” Scott whispered, meeting your eyes.  “You’re the only one I have goo goo eyes for”

this one’s for @peter-andhislostgirls *heart*
xoxo ~ jordie

The so called ‘conspiracy’ is really fucking obvious. People refuse to see it because they lack self esteem. We all start out as wonderfully happy, imaginative, and spirited creatures who are totally 'in-sync’ with life. Usually during adolescence, we start to become accustomed to some degree of suffering and thus enter the matrix.

However, you don’t need to dig up arcane government documents or read David Icke to realize that something is off. If you’re smart, even the white washed and heavily censored version of history taught at government schools should set off alarm bells. We study the exploits of fucking Kings and Queens. These are the people who ran states (i.e. tax farms) for their own personal gain and wouldn’t hesitate to kill thousands or millions of people in order to enrich themselves. The costumes may have changed over time but the plot remains much the same.

The State and all these hierarchical systems are enslavement. Any rational person can see that. People shut down (i.e. choose to lower their awareness) in order to avoid the painful reality of this world. But guess what: you don’t get to be the archetypal hero/star/mother/father/warrior/healer or whatever the fuck else you want to be until you take total responsibility for your own life and start to be courageous. Choosing to be ignorant and lowering your perception will result in anxiety/depression/addiction/relationship/health issues. Most people, though, don’t make the connection between these problems and their own actions, instead believing them to be largely random. Give me a break. We have the gift of thought and reason, but you really can’t figure out why you drink too much? Nonsense.

Furthermore, we resonate with archetypes. The “Hero’s Journey” is the blueprint for the vast majority of Hollywood scripts. Little kids intuitively understand the battle between Good and Evil in the Lion King and other movies because this shit is encoded in our DNA. Deep down, we know what life is about and get depressed because we’re failing to live up to our potential. That’s right: your problems aren’t fucking real. What they are actually telling you is that you’ve fallen out of rhythm with life and need to get back into it! Again, there is no debate about the conspiracy. Royalty (i.e. your owners) has and does exist. Pedophiles in government exist. Operation Gladio happened. The Queen fucking hung out with Jimmy Saville constantly, Bill Clinton was a frequent flyer on Jeffrey Epstein’s jet…I mean how obvious can this get?!

I encourage everyone from the bottom of my heart to start being honest with themselves. Remember childhood, remember what it felt like. Why don’t you feel like that any more? Before you start throwing out all the standard excuses, remember: we have the power of reason and thought. We can figure this shit out! Logic can help us become happier, healthier, and more powerful. Once you accept this mindset, suffering about anything becomes irrational and weird. I’d die fighting for my freedom. I intend to live a long and prosperous life while raising empowered and beautiful children! Let’s fucking do this and overthrow the evil motherfuckers that we have collectively manifested and create a new earth.

j-j-jheneaiko  asked:

I constantly feel ugly. I see so many beautiful girls and it really lowers my self esteem 💔

Please my love, never lie to yourself in a such way that you believe them to be true. No one is ugly, unless they have chosen to be, that is a person with a dark heart an evil mind. You are none of these things. Ugliness is not a part of you in any way whatsoever. You are radiant light, a magnificent part of creation, a flower preparing to bloom. All of life is a process of growth, which will come to fruition in the end, there you will rest in eternal life. For now you must only focus on growing, so that you will reach your souls ultimate destination and it’s much easier to do that if you stop looking around at everything that distracts you from your own blooming.

What you refer to as “beautiful” is actually attractiveness, to which there’s a very large difference in philosophically speaking. Unfortunately our use of language has become poor, thus words with different truths have become synonymous. Attractiveness is an instinctual urge, it is animalistic, it helps us find a mate. Male peacocks will make themselves more colourful to attract female counterparts to mate with. Thus humans have the same urge to appeal attractive to the opposite sex for instinctual reasons. Now what one group of people find attractive is going to be different from another, you see this across cultures. But generally speaking, within that persons culture, the more average a person looks the more attractive they’re considered. It’s something to do with fertility and reproduction, for example blue eye people are more like to find other people with blue eyes more attractive because of their genes (you need two people with blue eyed genes to create offspring with blue eyes). Attraction is completely animalistic and instinctual.

Beauty on the other hand is something different. Again thanks to the poor use of language the word has become perverse in its meaning. Beauty is what you see when you look at a sunset, when you see the Sun gleaming on a river, when you look into the wondrous eyes of a baby, when you see a kitten sleeping peacefully, when you look at someone you love with joy. You do not want to mate with any of these things, at least I hope not. No, you simply want to contemplate on their delightfulness of their existence, being completely in awe in their presence. Through beauty were brought into the presence of the sacred and that’s why it’s considered a spiritual law.

Now of course humans are a part of the divinity of creation, thus they’re without exemption from the law of beauty. However there is a confusion between the instinct of attraction and the law of beauty. The way the word beauty is used now would never of been used in such a way that once was, in fact beauty was considered extremely sacred. The word beauty describes a thing, it is something so beautiful you can see the essence of creation gleaming from it. You would of only referred to someone as a “beauty” if they had this essence. Virgin Mary would of been called a beauty, Nefertiti was considered a beauty, High Priestess where usually described as a beauty. These were all women that were considered sacred, meaning the spirit had filled them and was beaming from them. The Greek Sun God Apollo was considered “a beauty”. Beauty is simply an embodied human, it is a human full with spirit, the true pure essence of life. To be in the presence of such women as Virgin Mary, just by being in her presence you would of been brought into the sacred, no doubt about it “The virgins beauty is a symbol of purity, and for this very reason is held apart from the realm of sexual appetite, in a world of its own.” - Roger Scruton

There is a purpose for me bringing this up, it is that every human has the potential to be beautiful, true beauty is the soul itself, the very essence of life. No human is without soul, thus all humans in truth are beautiful. Such beauties where embodied, meaning their soul was present within them. The soul is the key to true beauty. This is what people are referring to when you work on being beautiful within, the without will follow, although they didn’t give any clear indication. Still nonetheless they where right, but it is a process, you have to work on embodying your soul. Your body has to become a worthy container for such divinity, something as a pure as the soul is not going to sit on a throne with dirt all over it. We must rid ourselves of all the things that are negative and no longer serving us, we have to develop that which has been left to gather dust in the attic. It’s a process for sure but it’s the very purpose of your life.

Now you can see there’s a difference between what we find attractive and what is truly beautiful. You may not think you’re very attractive but who cares when you’re beautiful? It makes no sense to succumb to our own lower human nature, in sacrifice of our higher. Yes these girls may spend all their time making themselves more attractive, but if they’re not doing the work within it’s meaningless. Marlyn Monroe was attractive, Mother Teresa was beautiful. It is not a myth that attractive women tend to be the ones who kill themselves in the end, it is said by psychology that it’s because they haven’t developed anything substantial within for they’ve put all their focus on the external, so when their attractiveness fades they have no identity. Where as beautiful women are beautiful even when their attractiveness leaves. You cannot say Mother Teresa was not beautiful just because men weren’t begging to hump her leg. When we stop misusing the language as a collective, women will stop feeling like they’re not beautiful and little girls won’t develop this mindset that you have to be attractive to the opposite sex in order to be beautiful.

Focus on your own soul, not the external bodies of others. By actually realising how beautiful our own soul truly is, you will want to make your body a worthy vessel for such magnificence naturally. The process will actually be fun and exciting, you won’t be comparing yourself to others for you know they have their own soul, no soul is the same. You’ll work on developing your qualities, an illuminated intellect, a warm heart, a face shinning with love and compassion. You’ll subconsciously make more effort to smile, you’ll have a natural warm look on your face that makes people feel soothed within. Now tell me that’s not beautiful? You are beautiful! And you’re growing more and more beautiful everyday! 🕊🌹❤️

A Really Long, but Heartfelt Letter on Epilepsy

Just wanted to address self esteem and epilepsy. (This can apply to other chronic illnesses as well)

Anyway, there are going to be days where you feel like absolutely shit. I’m not going to sugar coat it. I mean you probably already know this.
There will be seizure days; post seizure days; medicine side effect days; and honestly, days you don’t really even know why you feel like crap, nor can you really describe it, but you just do, and it really fucking sucks.

You will be tired. You will ache. Your head will undoubtedly be contorting itself. And to top it all off, this will very likely effect you emotionally.

I mean, how could it not? No one WANTS to feel like this. It’s disorienting, disabling, and “uncomfortable” and a vast understatement. So yeah, it’s a little upsetting to say the least.

Cause you’re not lazy. If anything you’re the complete opposite. You work so ducking hard everyday to live the shit of your life (cause let’s be real here, if you didn’t love living life, you would not try so fucking hard everyday to keep up). You have you dreams, your goals, your aspirations. Hell, you probably have a lot more will power than your peers, but no one would ever know it, since you’ve got SO many obstacles to tackle just to get out the door. It’s completely unfair.

And what’s worse, is if you live with someone, you feel like a dead weight. Unless they really understand what’s going on with you (and really, how could they? Unless they’re a spoonie themselves?) there are so many times where you feel like you have to justify your exhaustion. Or explain -for the 50th time- how the side effects of your pills cripple you at times-but the idea of starting the grail quest of finding the next set of medicines is what has kept you from finding anything better.

Epilepsy sucks. As we all know. Not only for its initial medical reasons, but for the sense of guilt, fear, anxiety, and depression that it can bring with it.

Well let me tell you something else. You, my friend, are amazing. I know you’re best kept secret - that you’re in fact the opposite of “lazy” and kick ass on a daily basis. (Which makes you basically like batman, cause he was a superhero that never took much credit? So congrats. You’re batman, you bad ass, you.)

I know that you have a lot of things to take into consideration on those evenings you go out. It’s tough, it can be scary, but you nail it everytime.

I know that you’ve looked fear and anxiety in the face and said “no thank you. Hmm maybe later? I gotta finish this thing right now. Yes, yes, I know I’m having auras, but we can freak out later, thank you,” because you know that if auras scared you every time you had them, you could not finish school, or go to work, or have that date that you were looking forward to. And of course they’re scary, but the fact that you don’t let them get to you every time makes you the personification of bravery.

And there’s one last thing that I know for sure. It is super easy to get embarrassed over having seizures and whatnot. It’s really easy to feel weak. (Hell, I let it get to me way more than I could admit), but there’s no reason to. It’s medical. It has nothing to do with your character. Your seizures, your pills, those forgotten words or that bit tongue - none of them make you YOU: they are all things that exist along WITH you, but they are not a part of you. And if anyone gives you shit for it, they’re being an ableist prick. You’re not an epileptic. Your a person. A person with dreams, potential, strengths, and weaknesses-one of which so happens to be a lowered seizure threshold. That is all.

I hope you all have a wonderful evening, and an amazing November. Let’s make sure to spread the (self) love and knowledge this epilepsy awareness month. 💜

Captain Fantastic Spastic


Summary: Chris was the best best friend you could wish for. The problem was that you were in love with him and unfortunately he didn’t make it any easier for you. Every time he showed interest in a girl, he came to you asking for advice. How long would it take until you break and what would happen afterwards?

Words: 1973

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Originally posted by master-of-duct-tape

Warnings: None that I could think of

A/N: So this is my first Chris Evans One Shot and I’m really insecure about this, so sorry if I didn’t get his character on point. Also this One Shot is kind of oriented on the movie What’s your number. 
Feedback would be great!

@withoutaplease @thebescht

Loud knocking on your front door woke you up. At first you thought you had only imagined it, but then the knocking was back and you groaned. Forcing your eyes open, you glanced at the clock. It was 3AM who the hell would knock at your door at 3AM?

Slowly you dragged yourself out of your bed and more or less dragged your body to the door. As you opened the door, you didn’t even have a moment to realize what was happening before Chris pushed into your apartment.

“Why the hell are you knocking at my door at 3 in the morning?” you asked him after you closed the door.

“Listen Y/N, I kind of need your advice,” Chris told as he rubbed his neck.

“An advice? You come here in the middle of the night for advice? And that couldn’t have waited until tom.. later today?” you furrowed your eyebrows as you glanced at him.

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Borderline Personality Disorder Symptom # 3

There are many different symptoms associated with BPD, including alternating between idealizing and devaluing other people.  

“I hate you, don’t leave me” is the motto that summarizes BPD perfectly. The symptom of idealizing and devaluing is where we really start to see the departure from the norm. Idealization is just a fancy word for love and devaluation is a fancy word for hate. Those psychologists like making things complicated. Literature out there is confusing to read and understand which is another reason I like to blog as rephrasing forces understanding.

Lets say that I’ve got a new man friend. BPD causes intense emotions and I’m therefore likely to fall very hard and fast for this man, love easily and love hard. I’m likely to fall for him simply because he has shown me some level of kindness. There is not enough space in my head for too many intense emotions and my brain compensates by seeing things in black and white. I can’t see grey. At first he is all white. All good. Ideal. He might have minor flaws, but my mind strips them away. I forget about them ever existing, shove them to the deep recess of my mind. This process is called splitting. I split off the bad black parts and keep all the good white parts. I put him on a pedestal and idolize him.

People with BPD are able to mirror others. It’s like we can adopt another persons whole personality. Because my new man friend is so wonderful, I want him to love and respect me, so I copy him. I like what he likes. I do what he does. I am the female version of him. I am his soul mate. All of this occurs unconsciously. I’m not aware of it. I’m completely 100% believing that he is the one for me because I see myself in him. But actually what is happening is that I’m becoming him. He’s perfect. I’m perfect. We’re perfect and our life will be perfect. 

I go into the relationship with a completely open heart, I’m fun, flirtatious and generous with compliments. I may be in love with him after only the first or second meeting, get needy and demand to spend a lot of time together. I open up my heart and trust this person completely. I share very intimate details of my life early on. The whole experience is very intense, happens quickly and a deep bond develops along with a strong attachment. But there is a dark side. People with this disorder are able to love and nurture with the expectation that the other person is there for us in return. We demand it. My nickname is Amanda the Demand-er for a reason. I expect him to be a role model for me, to motivate me. To do things for me to make my life easier or better. People with BPD look to others to give us what we can’t give ourselves. Love. Self Esteem. Compassion.

The problem is that people aren’t perfect. He is bound to do or say something that I will see as betrayal or abandonment. It is most likely to be something tiny and he may not even be aware of it. Many people with this disorder have experienced abandonment at an early age and are very sensitive to subtle signs that it might be coming again. I’m incredibly sensitive to being ignored, criticized, excluded, rejected, forgotten or not appreciated. When something happens that triggers those uncomfortable feelings, we feel compelled to protect ourselves from the potential pain. Our response is that we subconsciously flick the switch from white to black. From good to bad. From idealized to devalued. There is no grey. I hate him. Entirely. Everything about him is now wrong. Anything he does or says is wrong. He doesn’t care enough about me, doesn’t love me enough. He isn’t there for me enough. All those black bits that got pushed away come flooding back. He has absolutely no value and is worthless to me. He is all black. It’s a long way to fall when you put someone up on a pedestal. In an instant, and for no reason, or because he showed some small sign of affection, that switch flicks back to idealization. All memory of the black times is gone. 

When in a devaluation state of mind, our protection instinct is to push them away first before they can hurt us. I withdraw, give the silent treatment, or talk about breaking up. I feel deeply hurt, and I get angry, really angry. BPD Rage is a term for good reason. Just like at the start of the relationship when I was building attachment, being all cute and funny and flirty, I can be the complete opposite. I turn into nastiest meanest bitch you’ve ever met. I can scream and rant and point out all his faults and go on about how he is a worthless human being, a pathetic excuse for a man who has never and will ever doing anything right. Any evidence he provides to the contrary is dismissed as lies as all the white times have been eradicated from my mind. I have a mountain of evidence at my disposal that I use as ammunition and justification for hating him. I do my best to be a horrible person and push him away so hard that he will leave. Then in an instant, that switch can flick back to white and I’m back to being in love.

How many times do you think this can happen before he is too hurt? Where he can no longer love me the same way he used to? Where he no longer is willing to “ride out the storm” and wait for the temporary emotion to pass. Eventually he may decide to leave, and he abandons me, which is the very thing that I feared would happen and started the whole process. How ironic is that? I’m heart broken because he left, and it further reinforces the fear that all people will abandon me, that they don’t really love me. 

This process is not a decision, it just happens. It’s the disorder. I’m not in control of the emotions. Here comes the kicker. To a person diagnosed with BPD, emotion is fact. Facts are not the truth. How we feel is the truth. If our feelings don’t match the facts, we change the facts! His one tiny indiscretion may not have even existed! We may have just had an uncontrollable mood swing and made up a fact to explain why we felt that way. We may have broken up perfectly good relationships for no real good reason! I bet if you interviewed my ex boyfriends and friends about arguments we’ve had, my version of events will be greatly different to theirs. I have no memory of certain things. It’s some perverted way my mind behaves to protect itself from the intense emotions, from the fear of abandonment, and the sick cycle repeats. Here’s what makes it even worse. People with BPD project their emotions onto others as it’s too hard to deal with ourselves. We are unable to accept that we have flaws so we push them elsewhere. All those things I hated about him? I probably hated in myself. I turned my self-loathing, into him-loathing. To someone who can’t see their own flaws, that’s one hard pill to swallow. 

To aid in understanding, here a great explanation of BPD and idealization/devaluation  from a member of my BPD support group.

My understanding in how I relate to BPD is as follows:

People will tend to believe what they feel as to be true (or their sense of reality). 

People also usually have emotions that range at 20% volume. This lets them feel more than one emotion at a time.  If they are angry with someone, they can still feel loving towards them - as their emotional level only raises to 40% (20% for anger, 20% for care and love). 

BPD sufferers have two areas that make this more difficult.  Our tolerance for emotions may be lower.  Or conversely we may be very sensitive.  This means we feel emotions at 80% volume (if possibly not higher). 

Now take the example of being angry towards someone you love. Both anger and care push you up to 160% volume. Way over the 100% max volume. At 100% coping mechanisms kick in to try to handle the overload (which is why many without BPD can have a hard time understanding this disorder). 

As the coping mechanisms are typically non healthy, this adds further emotions such as guilt and possibly shame. Now with the original emotions you are pushing upwards of over 240% volume. 

So how does this relate to idealization and devaluing, we put these points together. What you feel you believe to be real. BPD sufferers typically can only feel one emotion at a time (there is no room for second emotion). So we may only feel anger towards someone. Or we may only feel love towards someone. Now if you’ve ever witnessed someone really angry, that’s them showing 50% anger (we can go way up from their - hence the term borderline rage). As we only feel anger, we believe we hate the person. Conversely if we feel loving, we are head over heals loving them to the point of idealizing them. Because we can’t handle the volume of more than one emotion, we flip flop between love and hate - hence splitting (I hate you, I love you). 

Now the cycle is what confuses “healthy” people. We respond to an issue not at the 20% anger level typically expected, but at 80%. This scares off the person and we breakdown the relationship because of this behavior. The converse is also true of loving in smothering the person. I won’t go on about attachment, but that’s to do with trusting someone and being open about your feelings with them. Low trust and wanting to hide and suppress emotions at 80% volume just sets yourself up for volcanic eruptions. Relationships breakdown and your attachment trust is broken down to the point you stop trusting people to be loving towards you (you begin to believe they’ll just leave you like everyone else does, and this comes out in our behavior and subsequently drives people away, reinforcing the lack of trust people are loving and will stick around). 

Anyway, that’s my understanding and how I have come to understand BPD.  Hence with Dialectal Behavior Therapy, it helps you to see two sides (if not more sides) to the story. To me, it is helping you to feel more than one emotion at a time.  Hence it allows you to feel many which is what is a “healthy emotional balance”.  Being able to feel many emotions allows you to see the “many grey truths” rather than our one emotion black (typically anger) truth or white (typically love) truth. 

Hold Tighter, Don’t Let Us Go

Sorry, I don’t know how to punk or how to nerd so it’s not that elaborated. I’ve been a potato all my life. Anyways, behold Punk! Nico and Nerd! Will.

They were far too different. The way they dress. Their hobbies. Their taste on almost everything. The way parts of society looked at them.

He’s opposite of what the other was.

And interaction between them, though completely normal and accepted by some, still sends unnerving edge to people who will never understand. Whose understanding are as narrow as it can possibly be. Whose minds are not open with the idea of change and of diversity, let alone of the idea that two opposite individuals can work really well together.

Not that they need to mind. People wouldn’t care on something they have no idea about.

Well, it wasn’t that much of a deal. Most of the time.

“You should stop with the glaring. I am being serious for once, Will” Cecil nudged his friend as both walked through by the hallways, passing by the group of punks currently in the mood of ignoring the rest of the student body and almost fawning on one of their members, dark and mysterious Nico di Angelo who seemed to have gotten a tattoo that weekend but is only showing it off now.

“I am not glaring” Will Solace frowned at his friend. Is it even legal to get tattooed when someone’s barely seventeen? Not that the issue had stopped di Angelo before from having a tattoo or piercing his lips or whatever punks tend to do with their bodies.

“If you’re not glaring, then why are you looking at di Angelo with such intensity?” Cecil raised a brow at the other “Unless, you’re secretly undressing him in your mind and pretend glaring so people won’t find out”

The blond turned scarlet red. “That’s ridiculous! I would never result to that!”

Cecil laughed. “In all seriousness though, what’s with the hate?”

“I don’t hate him”

“You sure about that?”

Keep reading

Thank God I’m not Jamelia.

Jamelia is a pop singer from over a decade ago and now a host on Loose Women. I am a radio 1 DJ and campaigner for women feeling confident at every size.

Jamelia is (deservedly) in the shitter today because she made some socially ignorant comments on the telly, displaying absolutely no compassion towards people who sit outside the “normal” range of body mass.

While she claims to be an advocate of people loving themselves as they are and all people being able to wear nice things… she thinks anyone under size 6 and over size 16 should not be allowed to find their size on the high street as it is “facilitating” them.


Firstly, I am willing to agree with her that extreme body sizes aren’t often a sign of the best health. But they exist for a reason. Those reasons far transcend what they can and can’t find on the bloody high street. Many weight issues stem from illness, be it physical or indeed emotional. And a large portion of people who sometimes struggle to maintain a “healthy” weight deal daily with their own self esteem crises. THE LAST THING THEY NEED IS TO BE OSTRACISED AND SHUNNED FROM SOMETHING THAT WILL BOOST THEIR CONFIDENCE.

Jamelia suggests that they should have specialised stores off the high street. Perhaps Jamelia is not aware of what she is alluding to… but the word we are looking for here, is one of the most damaging words in the human psyche… Shame. By sending people who are “too” small or “too” large to specialist clothing stores, we are shaming them. We are ensuring that they feel different and like outcasts when they are looking for fashion. It’s the ultimate… “YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US.”

This concept is outrageous, and the sort of thing you expect to hear Britain’s biggest disease, Katie Hopkins come out with. We are all different shapes and sizes for our own reasons. Food or the lack there of can at times be coping mechanisms for people. While this isn’t the best approach to good health, it’s a part of people’s realities. And it is nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps addressed, but not bloody Ashamed of! People not being celebrated enough is what often generates the tendencies towards harmful eating habits.

Why should a size 20 or 30 girl not be able to go out and buy the same clothes that her size 10 friends can? What good do we expect to come from it? We have had specialised plus size clothing stores for over a decade now. Has the world buckled and conformed to traditional healthy BMI standards? NO. Is the situation actually worse than ever now? Apparently so. All it did was make a large portion of society feel less enthused about shopping as they felt embarrassed to have to venture into these specialist stores, a lot of which didn’t exactly provide high fashion for women over a size 16…, and therefore… a lot of women who were plus size ended up dressing in a way that was dowdy and unflattering. This can often then further lower one’s self confidence, which can further desiccate someone’s eating habits. What is being achieved here?

Not to mention what if someone has just had a baby, or has a hormone problem, or has been on anti depressants… or like me last year… on steroids… What of them? While they are dealing with serious ailments that actually matter, they are to be hurried into weight loss to avoid social stigma?

It’s passive bullying. We used to only let black people eat in separate establishments and use separate entrances to white people. How does Jamelia feel about that? At the core… it is a prejudice and an attempt to make human beings feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. And it’s fundamentally not ok. Ever.

We are all beautiful and we are all special, and we deserve to feel that way every day. Why don’t we spend more time replacing the disgusting fast food chains that are smothering Britain’s high streets, with health food stores and lovely clothing stores that are inclusive of everyone. Surely that’s a smarter campaign. Why don’t we teach more about nutrition in schools. Why don’t we teach about self love and mass acceptance in schools and encourage it in the workplace? Why don’t we stamp down on bullying rather than find a passive aggressive way of dealing with someone who stands outside the parameter of “normal.”  

I know that when I was unhealthily thin, and when I was unhealthily large, the one thing that guided me towards a better body image and actually a slightly more favourable BMI from a medical perspective, was feeling good about myself regardless of my size. By wearing beautiful clothes that made me feel special. Those were the days I didn’t feel shy and embarrassed. Those were the days that I made better choices for myself. Those were the days I was active rather than shy and hidden in my house.

I wouldn’t want to be Jamelia right now, and I also really really don’t fucking want to be confused with her right now, because we stand on very opposing sides of the spectrum here. I believe in promoting love and acceptance, with understanding and education. A shame free approach to self esteem.

Whatever your age, colour, shape and size, you can come sit with me.

oceanbeam  asked:

I don't want to keep attention to your appearance for very long and if I am prying please let tell but I am very curious in one of the pics where you have on a red shirt in the woods you seem to be a different size, has your change in appearance been something of a change in the perception of you from others I ask because i am overweight and have been most of my life but after letting go of self hate from weight I noticed a change in the way people treated me and I want to hear your experience.

Like most young people I started internalizing patriarchal ideas of desirability very young. From internalizing a cisheteropatriarchal norm of what a “woman” is supposed to look like, her figure, skin-tone, and so forth, I started thinking I was supposed to fit in this box of what a “man” is supposed to look like too. The more I reflect on it the more it’s obvious how binarized my understanding of bodies was. Also, like most young people I did not fit perfectly into the box of patriarchal masculinity – but I sure tried (I still do, it’s something I haven’t fully unlearned).

I started lifting at around 14 years old. I played a lot of sports. Powerlifting was my favorite. It became very empowering to me because I’ve never had a super lean physique (what the fitness industry values), not without extended and acute dieting, so understanding that my body, though built differently, could still be appreciated for its strength and explosiveness built confidence in me. It was cool being “a beast” in the gym. I was stronger than most people my size (one of my friends at the time went as far as using anabolics to catch up to me). It did not last though. 

During my first two years of college a lower-back injury shifted my training away from powerlifting toward bodybuilding. This did not help my self-image issues, it made them a lot worse. What was empowering about lifting, the setting goals of physical feats and smashing through them, a task I am well built for, became intertwined and inseparable from achieving a hyper-masculinized aesthetic that is unrealistic. I used to read Flex Magazine and Muscle & Fitness all the time. This reinforced my binarization of people’s bodies, and it served as a constant reminder that I must be vigilant at all times of my exercise and eating habits because it would impact how I looked. Of course, if other people did not also look how I thought they should they must not be “fit” either. 

Such assumptions happen all the time: Fitness magazines intentionally market bodies within patriarchal norms because patriarchy has a monopoly over what constitutes a desirable body. It is within the parameters of patriarchy that an economy of desirability emerges, an economy that says only a narrow spectrum of bodies are worthy of love while the vast majority must be “fixed” before being loved. But what happens if a person’s body can never be “fixed,” can never attain normalized “fitness”? Unattainability is the world point of it though. This is why gym culture is saturated with imagery that makes us hate ourselves, because self-hatred is essential to a fitness industry centered on patriarchy, without which it would rapidly lose profitability. A fitness culture centered on self-love would eviscerate profit.  

Because of my body-type strength and mass have come easier with age, but my back severely limits what I can do. It is increasingly difficult to see the gym as a place that empowers me. My awareness of ableism has deepened significantly because of my injury (even more after a heart issue I had a few months ago). It has allowed me to push further into deconstructing how patriarchy shapes womanhood, all genders, and desirability, but I have a lot of reflecting to do in breaking down how it has shaped my own self-image and self-esteem. In other words, while I am good about not judging others based on patriarchal ideas of “fitness,” I am still harshly judging myself. I have been wanting to again separate what is empowering for me about physical activity from needing to engage in it to attain a certain physique, a physique that wholly aligns with hyper-masculinity. With bodybuilding the goal is literally to attain a body which reflects the needs and wants of patriarchy, so I need to find exercise where my goals can exist outside its constitution of desirability. I used to kickbox – I’d really like to get back into that but it’s so expensive.

I hope you find happiness in your body. In fact I hope you get past that, I hope we all do. Like my partner might say: There are parts of us that will never be deemed worthy of love within this system. This is the “ugly.” Loving our ugliness then becomes survival – and resistance.