#ive earned my personhood
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Dude I just woke up after sleeping for maybe an hour, and the first thing I said, out loud, without even thinking, was, "I have to pee, because I am a person," and then I had to pee???? What the fuck??
#i said it so *urgently*#im kinda scared#i didnt have to pee when i woke up#it was only after i said that did i actually have to pee#what the fuck?#no like literally#what the actual fuck#??????????????#im not sure what to do#im not sure what to make of this#i guess im a person now#ive earned my personhood
4 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sappy and emotional post incoming, be warned
Yesterday I hosted a friendsgiving for a few close peeps at the urging of someone whoâd just rolled into town and wanted to have the celebration. Between this friend, the roommates, and two friends whoâd needed the connection we had a lovely warming evening (and people also really liked my food đ).
Ive been thinking a lot about all the changes in my life over the last year, and 2, and 6 years, and etc etcâŚ
I have spent so much of my life struggling to have food on the table, the couple bouts of houselessness, the hard - hard holidays spent with one parent or another. Being at a point where I can host, and fill my house with the smell of cooking is⌠staggering? Awesome? One of the great fortunes of my life? Being able to share a day of warmth with people I love? Nothing comparable, genuinely.
I dont speak to my mother anymore, and no-contact has been more than earned by her 10 times over. But somewhere around 10 years ago she started taking Thanksgiving and the holiday season more seriously as she worked through med-school and she made the long Sisyphean climb out of poverty. And the rituals and traditions she built as we started being able to afford holiday celebrations again have been often derided and mocked by others in the family- but Ive loved them. The speeches, the announcing what weâre thankful for, the intricate oven schedules for pies and turkey and the million other dishes. I love it all.
Thereâs one ritual in particular for her: on the day of the event she wakes up early, in the blue matutinal light she opens a bottle of brut (in the early days it was a bottom shelf bottle, but now she gets perhaps a bit silly with how much she spends on it) and has a bag of potato chips and opens a small can of Frito Layâs french onion dip (always that can, always that brand) and she both celebrates how far sheâs come, and how thankful she is for the day.
Itâs a bravery to build joy in the face of a world that so often crushes you, and I think I admire my mother for that more than anything else. For all the ways sheâs hurt people, for all her⌠inability to countenance the emptions, needs, and personhood of people around her âthe willingness to seek and build something better even while in hell is inspiring. And learning from her in that regard has been perhaps the most important part of me going back to school, and moving cross-country, and transitioning, and pursuing an embodied life.
Itâs ironic that Thanksgiving 2 years ago was the last straw, and her behavior and treatment of othersâ in the family that finally drove me out of state and home. But in spite of it all, I cant help it, I love my mother.
So yesterday, and last year, i began my days of hosting and cooking with a bottle of brut, and a bag of potato chips with the Frito Layâs can of french onion (not that i like potato chips or french onion dip) because thereâs something about bravery, joy, and celebration that I learned from her, and that I want to honor as I continue through my life. And even though all of her drive to better her life has turned inward and eaten all the bonds with those who used to be closest to her- I still miss her. And I have my morning champagne, and I think of her, and then I start cooking for the people I love
5 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Yeah, anon, Iâm not gonna answer that. I donât want to post graphic descriptions of murder and maiming randomly.
If you donât read anything else Iâve written, legitimately, whatever. Please read this next bit.
I mean this in the most genuine and objective way possible, from someone who has struggled with depression for over half my life: you sound severely clinically depressed and should consider seeing a psychiatrist and/or cognitive behavioral therapist.
If you refuse to get therapy, try a hobby. Hard to have something to talk to someone about if they have zero things theyâre passionate about. Hard to want to leave your bed if thereâs nothing to get up for.
Messaging someone first because you have a crush on them is not the same as reaching out to people you want to befriend. If you do not participate in friendship people will struggle to carry all the weight in any form of friendship/relationship with you.
If you enjoy not having friends, feel free to ignore my advice. No skin off my nose. I only tried to let you know the things I needed bashed into my head at 20, things I wasnât smart enough to learn properly till I was 24. Just know you get what you give.
The rest is just summarizing the previous points made. I donât really care if you read that bit, itâs not particularly important considering your clear mental distress you laid out in the latter half of your message, but itâs there.
Iâve no interest in baring my tragic backstory just so you understand that kindness doesnât mean niceness.
Kindness recognizes that by being alive, a person -EVERY person, has needs - regardless of their actions - and while fufillment of those needs may need to be adjusted based on what someone has done in the past, kindness recognizes those needs regardless and in return treats them as people with needs rather than defaulting to anger or indifference.
Including the need for dignity, self esteem, pride in oneself, bodily autonomy, and the very basic respect that oneâs manners dictate.
Prisons are set up, on their surface, to rehabilitate. I donât know how to explain that the current prison system does not do that, but instead works prisoners as cheap labor for USA made goods, neglects their medical and psychological needs, and allows or even facilitates violence from other prisoners and even guards. Thatâs clearly not an ideal place to learn how to be a better person, hence the attitude that once one is imprisoned they are now completely and permanently regarded as a criminal and nothing else, ensuring that they will not get their needs met and will continue to to be held in the system. The people you listed off that are convicted of their crimes are sentenced to months years or lifetimes of unmet needs and repeated, incessant trampling of their personhood - and kindness believes that to be a punishment much worse than any crime - because I just described government sanctioned torture.
Bigoted folks are still people. I see no positives to be earned from ignoring someone who needs help. Hearts arenât changed by indifference.
Ive never said that you must treat people who have done terrible things nicely. Iâve never said they should be given special treatment. I have said over. And over. And over. That I believe they deserve The Bare Fucking Minimum of their needs met.
In absence of this basic idea that people have needs that should be met as much as possible, it becomes incredibly difficult to champion basic human rights, especially for folks who are not perfect examples of their minorities - disabled folks who are noncompliant with treatment, autistic folks who are nonverbal or high support needs or lack empathy or donât have savant syndrome. Queer folks who donât conform to gender norms. Angry black folks, PoC in general who commit crimes for any reason, poor folks who act like âtrailer trashâ. Without the basic understanding that despite their behaviour, these people have needs that should be met, we set an astronomical standard for who within a minority âdeservesâ to have those needs met.
I am not here to teach you what your parents did not.
You converse like the larval form of Human Pet Guy. I hope you donât turn out like that dude. Good luck đŤĄ
4 notes
¡
View notes
Text
the romancing marisha ray connection: vax'ildan and imogen
you know the post that goes like this: https://at.tumblr.com/dnd-shows-have-my-soul/ive-connected-some-dots/acjtfw7zj9tk
there are so many parallels between imogen and vax and I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THEM and i'm SORRY to all the yasha stans i just don't know her well enough feel free to chime in with reblogs or tags i would love to see the connections go deeper
there are the surface level parallels: the ability to fly, their joint hatred of the briarwoods are the first few that come to mind
but the LAYERS are what are even more interesting.
both are so, so deeply tangled in the webs of fate. both lost one parent at a young age, and were estranged by the second. both, shunned by society for their appearance and for imogen, for her powers.
both, flee where they once called home to chase something greater. to find meaning beyond hurt.
and both, devastatingly loyal. both, tied to the ones they love, to the point where the defining moment in their lives is the moment where their soulmate (because i refuse to believe that vax/vex aren't and that imogen/laudna aren't) are ripped away from them.
both care so deeply, and yearn so desperately, and both hold the first confession of love in their hands (i'm talking about vax/kiki), but both with the heartbreaking perspective-
i'll be whatever you want me to be.
and here's where it gets heartbreaking. i've started thinking- in the infinite multiverses of possibilities for this campaign end, i believe that in more than half of them, imogen does not live to the end.
like vax- she is tied to forces that are so powerful. beings with immense power. like vax, she is so protective. so determined, to keep the people that she loves alive, whatever it takes.
you can almost imagine her saying, in the otohan fight, especially when otohan is about to go after laudna: take me instead.
it's not hard to imagine.
do i want her to live? of course. i think she will have more earned that quiet rest in the fields, with laudna by her side.
but didn't vax earn that, too? and yet the world still took him anyway.
they are so sacrificial, in the very real parallel of "take me instead" and "i'll go with you" but they are also sacrificial in a more minute sense-
in the smaller ways, of advocating for fcg's personhood. for pushing fearne, to reconcile with her parents. in making sure that vex has percy and kiki has vex and turning tragedy into something bittersweet.
separating laudna from delilah. separating vex's fate from the raven queen's. it wasn't even a question, for either of them.
and by doing so- in this whole journey- both of them, even if they don't mean it- are building the world into something worth living for for the people they leave behind.
they are both so good at giving so much of themselves, of lifting others up to the point that there's nothing left for them.
ugh. liam and laura.
they sure know how to make sad bois and they sure know how to make marisha ray fall in love with them.
#imogen temult#imogen temult meta#cr imogen#cr vax#vax'ildan#vax'ildan meta#critical role#critical role meta#cr spoilers#critical role spoilers#laura bailey#liam o'brien#marisha ray#campaign 3#campaign 1
65 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Ive never felt the urge to earn my personhood thru a man. You know the age old tradition of âi can fix himâ. Wanting to be a mans cheerleader. Ive like⌠never looked at a man and thought wow hes gonna be so well respected and bring great honor upon our family đ so hard working.
Like boys are cute distractions to me thats really it? Maybe its the way i was raised but there was never ever ever an expectation of me to find a man or have kids. It was always understood id have a prestigious career despite my very obvious emotional and social difficulties since i was like 5.
And besides a step brother i had for a few years when i was 10-15 i didnt really grow up with boys. So i just naturally dont really yield to men or do the little extra shit women that grew up around men do to make mens lives easier and stroke their ego.
18 notes
¡
View notes
Note
hi momdad ⥠so im struggling with weight/body image issues atm. obsessing over my weight has always kinda been a behaviour of mine but now its a problem. i just weighed myself and ive put on 2 pounds in a day but im well under the amount of calories ive allowed myself for today and i just dont understand and im really upset? im an okay weight atm but quite short so i look stumpy and wobbly so i need to tone up but im scared to join the exercise class im looking into bc gaining muscle will -
- make me appear heavier on the scales. i just want to be tiny. i dont want to die or be unwell i just want to be thin and delicate and to not feel like a whale when im with my friends (who are all skinnier and/or taller than me). i just feel wrong and upset and every time i eat a meal i feel wrong and disappointed in myself. please help me i dont want to get ill but i need to be smaller :-(
Hey, sweetheart, I want you to listen to me really closely right now. Listen to me, and do your best to truly hear me, no matter how much you want to instantly reject what Iâm about to tell you. Hear me, okay?
You do not need to be smaller.
You do not need to be tiny.
Small is not a virtue. Thin is not a virtue. The value and worth of your body and your personhood does not change no matter how much you weigh, whether itâs 100 pounds or 300 pounds. You know how I know that? Because I took some medication that caused me to gain weight so that I hit almost 330 pounds. Now, Iâm a big girl, I have a lot of bone and muscle, but the fact of the matter is that Iâm fat, I pretty much always have been, and even if I was skinny as a rail I still wouldnât be a size 2 because of my frame.
It is hard as all fuck, but I have had to learn that it is the person inside this body that has worth, NOT the body itself.
It does. not. fucking. matter. how much you weigh. It does not matter what size you wear. It does not even BEGIN to fucking matter what a number on a scale says. It doesnât fucking matter.
You matter.
You, the mind and heart and soul and spirit inside that meatsuit, is what matters here. Fuck thin. Fuck delicate. Fuck tiny. Fuck small. You know what you are? You are big. You are immense. You contain galaxies. You take up space in the world because you fucking deserve to, because who the FUCK has the right to tell you that you donât? Who dares to tell you to shrink yourself, when what you must do is grow?
Iâll tell you who. Rich old white fucks who are making billions of dollars selling you self-hatred. Who do you think is profiting off your need to be small? Men. The men who sell you diet products and âweight loss solutionsâ and gym memberships, and the men who run the world around you while youâre too busy hating yourself and obsessing over the size of your waist. The men who capitalize on your lack of self-worth by sitting around without more being demanded from their lazy asses because youâre too preoccupied fearing that YOUâRE not good enough for THEM.Â
Stop calling yourself animal names. Stop. You are a human being. You have intrinsic, inalienable worth simply because you exist. You do not EVER have to earn your existence through beauty. You do not have to justify your life with skinny. You are not a better person thin, or a worse person fat. You have exactly the same value no matter what. No matter what.
Iâm not saying you have to turn around and call yourself beautiful and mean it. Iâm saying that âbeautyâ, as we are sold it, is fake. Beauty is not size zero, contour, stylish clothes, expensive hair, white teeth, no body fat, whatever. Beauty comes from something inside of you. Happiness comes from something inside of you.Â
You cannot - period, end of story, cannot - achieve happiness by losing weight. There is no âskinny enoughâ that will ever make you happy. Read that sentence again. It doesnât work. Thatâs why people with eating disorders die, because there is no amount of thin that is ever enough, because they are never happy, not even when they are literally dying of skinny. The outside of your body cannot ever give you real happiness on the inside. It just doesnât work that way, and anybody who tells you differently is selling something.
Darling, you have a sickness. You have an eating disorder. Even if you think you arenât âthat badâ, from what youâve written I can see that it already has it hooks in you pretty deeply. Itâs not normal to count calories all the time. Itâs not normal to freak out over gaining two pounds. Itâs not normal to be afraid of gaining muscle because it will make you gain weight. Itâs not normal to obsess over being smaller. This is anorexic and disordered eating behavior, and yes, it is really serious, because if you donât stop this right here, right now, it will get worse. And the worse it gets, the harder itâs going to be to ever come back from it.Â
I am not exaggerating when I say that if you do not work to control this illness, it can and will kill you someday, much, much sooner than you think. I donât say that to scare you or shame you, but only to wake you up. You deserve so much fucking more than living like this. You deserve more than living small. You deserve more than shrinking.Â
You deserve to be free.Â
This, what you have now, is a prison. You deserve freedom. You deserve to eat because youâre hungry, and eat until youâre full. You deserve to not count calories. You deserve to forget the last time you weighed yourself, because that number is the last thing on your mind. You deserve to have fun with your friends, not to constantly compare yourself to them. You deserve to put up your middle fingers and say âfuck youâ the next time an ad tell you to lose weight. You deserve to know your worth. You deserve to be free.
But you canât do it by yourself. You need help, and if you listen to anything I say at all, make it this: tell somebody. Go through my hotlines tag and my eating disorder tag and find a number or a message board, find someone to talk to who can help, and tell them everything youâve told me. Unfollow thinspo blogs and follow blogs about ED recovery. Talk to people in recovery, ask them for help and encouragement. Ask your friends for support. Throw away that stupid fucking scale. Throw away your shackles. Listen to the voice deep in your heart that yearns to be free.
I want you to do one more thing, and thatâs to scroll through every single post in my body image tag. Do that for me, okay? Every single one. No matter how long it takes. And then maybe start over again. I need you to put positive input into your mind.
I know this is a lot, but thatâs because this is serious business, and because I care about you. If you still donât feel valuable, I just wrote over a thousand words despite the fact that Iâm sick and fatigued, entirely because I was so concerned by your message and so impassioned to make you see how wrong you are and how much you deserve a better life. If I, somebody who doesnât even know your name, think you have that much worth, then how much should YOU believe in yourself?
38 notes
¡
View notes