somebody-make-me-stop-doing-things-like-this

“Poor Alex...

… he didn’t get what he wanted, for once.” 

- My sponsor.

He’s a dick (which is why I love him) and he’s also 100% correct. What he means is that I had expectations that I wasn’t willing to be honest with myself about. When those expectations met reality, it hurt. Really badly. But that’s okay because hurt doesn’t mean the same thing to me that it used to. One day, somebody else will experience something like this, and I’ll be able to show them how I stayed sober through it. 

And that’s great. It doesn’t change the fact that this is obviously the singular most painful experience of my sobriety, but it makes it feel worthwhile.

The world doesn’t stop spinning because I got sober and all the damage I caused doesn’t just magically disappear. Unfortunately, neither do the hopes that got me so hurt in the first place… But that’s okay too. Insert “One day at a time”, “easy does it”, and a million other cliches here.

TL;DR  Today was simultaneously the best/most painful day in recent memory. I’m in a lot of pain. But that’s okay.

*Sashays off stage to MCS’s ‘Everything is Alright’*

anonymous asked:

Rose Quartz and Sardonyx

ROSE QUARTZ - What do you think about love? 

(Okay wow I accidentally got deep.)

Love is weird. There isn’t just one kind of it, there’s a lot. Platonic, romantic, sexual. None of those come at ‘first sight’, either. That just doesn’t exist. But, me? I have mixed feelings about love. Sometimes it’s good, and it gives you that sensation of butterflies in your stomach, or like your chest is heavy, but in a good way. But other times, it’s complicated. You might be loving the wrong person. And sometimes, love makes you confused. You can’t distinguish if the love is platonic, or romantic, or sexual, and it messes with your head. And it’s hard to get rid of that, because it’s hard to stop loving somebody. You get caught up in your emotions, and you do stupid things. But it still feels nice, loving somebody. 
It’s hard for me, personally, to love people. Partially because of trust issues, and partially because of some mental illnesses that are hard to talk about. But I know I love people. It’s a strong emotion, and sometimes I can’t help but associate it with hate instead, because of how confusing love is. I hate love, but I also enjoy it. Never would I say, though, that I love love. 

SARDONYX - Do you have someone who makes you feel good about yourself?

Eh. They try. And that’s what matters, right?

The best part of finally getting a job isn’t the fact that I can finally buy the things I want, or finally start putting back for a new car, or finally stop worrying if i’ll be able to put gas in my car. It’s the fact that I can finally start doing things for my family.
Movie out that we want to see? My treat!
Somebody’s birthday? Guess who’s taking you out to lunch!
I can finally pay my own bills, buy my own food, and not make family feel like they’re obligated to buy me something just because I can’t afford it.

alternative--culture asked:

me and multiple people have called out juliet for her racism but ive also called out her use of slurs, misogyny and cultural appropraition. i plan on making a masterpost about her and her shitty behaviour but she just aint worth the time, since shes only doing these things because she knows her vague relevance has shrivelled up and died.

I just want her to be aware of the shit she’s doing and it’s not a fashion statement or trendy it’s somebody’s culture and it really needs to stop like … it’s really not okay at all & I feel like it’s gonna end up with her & andy saying some real racist stuff and >:(

also: you should totally make that masterpiece because I was totally unaware of her use of slurs & misogyny & im guessing lots of other fans are aswell

Literally the worst pain in the world, its not that i dont feel good enough it isnt that, but i hate the fact that some days when shes down there is physically nothing i can do, or anyone can to make her better. I dont know if its just me that see’s how hurt she is sometimes, one thing i know for sure is ill never ever stop trying, and i really hope i will forever be enough always. I know shes ‘happy’ most days, which is great but when she isnt its literally like somebodys slit my throat and i cant breathe

When I get mad at my dad for treating me wrong like with disrespect or saying things that are hurtful and I get mad he always says “grow thicker skin” and I’ve learned that’s what people say when they want to get away with mistreating you. “Grow thicker skins” means learn how to take constructive criticism and some jokes (even though if it bothers somebody you should stop). It doesn’t make it ok for you to walk all over somebody and treat them with disrespect. You do not have to feel ashamed for being angry or upset when somebody blatantly says something to hurt you. You shouldn’t have to “get over it” and “be tougher” because you should not have to put up with disrespect. Yes people are going to disrespect you and you will have to move on but it should NEVER be people that stay in your lives or people that you have to interact with daily. Stand up for yourself and let them know you expect to be treated better as a human being and supposed “friend, daughter, son, co worker,"etc.

SF: Amnesia

I woke up to smell the coffee brewing somewhere close. It was eight in the morning by the alarm clock on the bedstand. I felt uneasy. I tried to recall whether I was working or not and if not what was it that I was supposed to be doing. I did not like coffee and yet I could smell it. Did I know somebody who was more tolerant of caffeine? Why was he/she in my apartment? Do I have a cat? Why not? Atleast they would not be making a cup of coffee in the morning. I need to get a cat.

I tried to move. But I was unable to. For some reason the only thing I could do was move my head. It did not occur to me that I could have made the alarm clock stop beeping ever since it woke me up. But I think my mind was too busy to give it focus. I tried to raise my hand but it felt numb. I must have slept on it again. As a kid I used to love it. It was scary sometimes to wake up and not be able to find a hand to respond to your commands. But the sense of relief afterwards was so satisfying. She was asking me something. Who is she?

I could hear footsteps close by and I was scared. What is her name? Why is she here? Who is she? Why is she making coffee and will she offer me a cup? Can I say no? Why cant I recall anything? The sun from the window opposite to the leg of the bed was shining way too brightly. It did not help that everything was covered in white. Reflections were a chaos and my eyes were in denial.

She opened the door and I could barely see her. She came near the bed and asked in a concerning tone, “How are you dear? Did you sleep well?” Slowly my eyes adjusted and I could see her face. She was my mother. I remembered that slightly wrinkled face. I also remembered how she loved a cup of coffee in the morning. I felt at ease. I was in the right place for now.

She asked whether I would want to sit up. I was confused. Is it a holiday? Should I not be worried about getting to work? I remembered that I was working at a place not too near. It would take me an hour to reach work. I think they won’t mind. I will call them and make an excuse about my cat running away. I hope they don’t ask me difficult cat questions. So I said ok. As she lifted the bedsheet, I saw no limbs. Everything came back like a train on a mission to achieve greatness. The truck never saw me coming. My car never cared about having airbags. My legs never cared about sticking with me. My arms never cared about not letting me go. I used to be someone else.

My first attempt at the prompts given at BeKindRewrite

I’ve been crying and it’s because I think the worst possible thing somebody could do is say that they support you and your transness and then immediately take that support away when it suits them. I felt so at home in the ‘men’s’ clothing that I tried on today. It felt like something clicked into place and I was overwhelmingly happy, but to have the rug pulled out from under me after such a high makes the fall that much worse. I will never stop identifying as female, that’s why I identify as agender, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to belittle my masculinity because of the STUPID gender assignment I was put through at birth. I MATTER AND YOU CARED, YOU’D RECOGNIZE THAT.