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Twenty-something. Former film student. Current artist and baker. Sleeps too much. Loves words. Small town southern gal at heart. Not often original but always sincere.

Muscle is created by repeatedly lifting things that have been designed to weigh us down. So when your shoulders feel heavy, stand up straight and lift your chin – call it exercise. When the world crumbles around you, you have to look at the wreckage and then build a new one out of all the pieces that are still here. Remember, you are still here.

The human heart beats approximately four thousand times per hour. Each pulse, each throb, each palpitation is a trophy engraved with the words ‘You are still alive.’

You are still alive.

Act like it.

—Rudy Francisco, Complainers (via brattylifts)

(Source: aenigmaticus-somniator, via yoconozco)

Inside of me lives a civil war between me and me. It is amazing, because I am all the time winning and all the time losing.

—Bshayer F.R (via bubblegum-styles)

(Source: wnq-writers, via mizzjade)

Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are.

— John Green (via psych-facts)

(via mizzjade)

porcelain-horse-horselain:

cassiedaily:

sautetherich:

#WomenNotUnderstandingTheIssueEvenASmidge

First problem: if you work for a “boss” as in having healthcare through your company, you pay this thing called a premium. As in, you pay. You pay money.
Let me repeat that again: You. Pay. Money. For. Your. Healthcare. Coverage. You don’t just check a box saying “yes I want healthcare coverage” and boom, you never pay a cent.
Your boss does not “provide it for free.” You pre-pay for it EVERY MONTH whether you use your healthcare for birth control, cancer treatment, mammograms, a urinary tract infection, a routine physical, meds for your pre-existing condition (Thanks ACA!) or NEVER GO TO THE DOCTOR AT ALL.
Reason number one that I need not just feminism and sex education in schools but BASIC FUCKING HEALTHCARE RULES TAUGHT IN SCHOOL INSTEAD OF REQUIRING ME TO TAKE THREE YEARS OF FUCKING FINDING THE MEANING OF X. I CAN FIND THE BASIC MEANING OF X BY THE END OF YEAR ONE. TEACH PEOPLE HOW FUCKING INSURANCE, LOANS, HEALTHCARE, ETC. WORKS INSTEAD!
Also reason number one that people need to be taught what “pre-paid” means.

This is the exact same nonsense as calling social security an “entitlement” when it is 100% funded by deductions from our own paychecks.
This, and all the above commentary, only touches the surface of all the ways this graphic is fucking ridiculously misinformed and wrong, btw.

porcelain-horse-horselain:

cassiedaily:

sautetherich:

#WomenNotUnderstandingTheIssueEvenASmidge

First problem: if you work for a “boss” as in having healthcare through your company, you pay this thing called a premium. As in, you pay. You pay money.

Let me repeat that again: You. Pay. Money. For. Your. Healthcare. Coverage. You don’t just check a box saying “yes I want healthcare coverage” and boom, you never pay a cent.

Your boss does not “provide it for free.” You pre-pay for it EVERY MONTH whether you use your healthcare for birth control, cancer treatment, mammograms, a urinary tract infection, a routine physical, meds for your pre-existing condition (Thanks ACA!) or NEVER GO TO THE DOCTOR AT ALL.

Reason number one that I need not just feminism and sex education in schools but BASIC FUCKING HEALTHCARE RULES TAUGHT IN SCHOOL INSTEAD OF REQUIRING ME TO TAKE THREE YEARS OF FUCKING FINDING THE MEANING OF X. I CAN FIND THE BASIC MEANING OF X BY THE END OF YEAR ONE. TEACH PEOPLE HOW FUCKING INSURANCE, LOANS, HEALTHCARE, ETC. WORKS INSTEAD!

Also reason number one that people need to be taught what “pre-paid” means.

This is the exact same nonsense as calling social security an “entitlement” when it is 100% funded by deductions from our own paychecks.

This, and all the above commentary, only touches the surface of all the ways this graphic is fucking ridiculously misinformed and wrong, btw.

(Source: femforlife, via mizzjade)

manasaysay:

rabbrakha:

Parineeti Chopra responds to a male reporter who claims to know nothing about periods (menstrual cycle). [X]

SO IMPORTANT.

I started my period when I was 10 years old. But we didn’t tell my grandma for three years because she subscribed to the “old traditions”, where a woman on her period could not enter the house, not even to bathe. Where she had to sit outside in front of the house (where the whole village could be witness to her shame and isolation) for the entire duration.

My friend started her period unexpectedly while we were at our local temple (in America) for dance class. Asking around if any of the parents had pads (all of them apologized and acted like adults about it), I thought surely the front office has a first aid kit. Don’t they have pads? When we asked, not only did they not have any, when one of the women gave one from her purse, the head secretary told us “There are men who need to use the first-aid kit, ya? So we don’t keep period things there.” Not even ibuprofen (which has so many more uses than period pain).

There are girls in India and Nepal (and other places, but I just read an in-depth piece about the situations in Nepal) who have to go to the “period hut” when their period comes and not leave until its over. They can’t wash and dry their cloth pads in the daylight, so they do it at night when the pads won’t dry properly before their next use, making them vulnerable to infection.

It is incredibly important, especially in India, to break the taboo surrounding periods. Break the secrecy around an event that happens to almost every woman, every month for literally half of her lifetime. Break the hiding, break the cover-up, break the SHAME.

Just break EVERYTHING. So little girls can go to school every day of every month without feeling ashamed. So women can work every day of every month to provide for their families without being glared at. So single fathers can confidently take care of their daughters’ health. So that women can talk about how terrible their period is or isn’t and give each other advice on how to deal with it without looking around to make sure men aren’t listening.
So that Whisper doesn’t have to be called Whisper, it can be called SHOUT. It can be called PROUD. So that we don’t NEED to fucking WHISPER about our bodies and our health.

(Source: baawri, via imjustgonnashakeitoff1989)

"No one will miss me", "I’m better off dead"

after-crisis:

When I worked at a non-profit that handled suicide prevention, I had access to the donation records. Each month, a specific man donated 15$ to our organization. It was like clockwork.. same day, same man, he had been doing this for over 4 years. It always seemed odd to me but I never questioned it… until I saw a note attached one month. "For Noah- Dad"

his donation was once his child’s allowance.

I can promise you, they would miss you for the rest of their lives.


I saw this and literally, instantly, burst into tears. I am someones daughter. I used to contemplate suicide almost daily and virtually never gave a thought to how much my family and friends love me. I know that sometimes love isn’t enough to erase the immense amount of pain and hurt living with depression is, but please please don’t dismiss it. Focus on it like a soft beam of light at the shore line when you’re a ship tumbling in an ocean of darkness. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Don’t eliminate the possibility of things getting better. Someone will care if you’re gone. I don’t know Noah or his father and my heart shattered just reading this. I will care if you’re gone. Stay here with me.

(via fairelatete)