Monday October 13, 2014

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.

You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her

—This Is How You Lose Her || Junot Diaz   (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: 5000letters)

This post was reblogged from heleveeta.



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Saturday October 11, 2014

“Most people are able to blow through the museum in about two hours.”

—Guy at the ticket desk, clearly unaware that he was not talking to most people. (via englishprof)

We spent four hours in there and still didn’t see everything we wanted to see. Pfft.

This post was reblogged from Just an English Professor.



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Today I am 30 years old. 

I was a 24-year-old newlywed when I started this Tumblr. I’ve known some of you since then! My husband was a graduate student, I was working in marketing. (I learned so much from so many wonderful people there, but now as I’m pursuing a career as a social worker, I think it’s clear that marketing wasn’t a good fit for me). We were young and broke and it didn’t matter because we didn’t own a thing or need a thing. Now we have two beautiful boys and a mortgage and he has a very important adult job chairing an English department and I’m a graduate student and pretty much the only thing that hasn’t changed is how much I love this man. 

We are spending a weekend alone together for the first time in a year and a half. He has made this birthday one of the best of my life just as he’s made every single day better than it would be without him since the day that we met. 

There are so many reasons I’m lucky and thankful, and he is the main one and all those other things are better because of him. And sometimes it’s just nice to appreciate that and say so.

My 30s are already the best, you guys.

Today I am 30 years old.

I was a 24-year-old newlywed when I started this Tumblr. I’ve known some of you since then! My husband was a graduate student, I was working in marketing. (I learned so much from so many wonderful people there, but now as I’m pursuing a career as a social worker, I think it’s clear that marketing wasn’t a good fit for me). We were young and broke and it didn’t matter because we didn’t own a thing or need a thing. Now we have two beautiful boys and a mortgage and he has a very important adult job chairing an English department and I’m a graduate student and pretty much the only thing that hasn’t changed is how much I love this man.

We are spending a weekend alone together for the first time in a year and a half. He has made this birthday one of the best of my life just as he’s made every single day better than it would be without him since the day that we met.

There are so many reasons I’m lucky and thankful, and he is the main one and all those other things are better because of him. And sometimes it’s just nice to appreciate that and say so.

My 30s are already the best, you guys.



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Monday October 06, 2014

notnadia:

Wrong again!

The bar against which my 3-year-old measures all things.

(Source: notkatniss)

This post was reblogged from I'm Not Nadia..



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Sunday October 05, 2014

1-year-olds have a lot in common with puppies.

1-year-olds have a lot in common with puppies.

(Source: yellowcomics)

This post was reblogged from emma leah.



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Monday September 08, 2014

This post was reblogged from Squashed.



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Wednesday August 20, 2014

fratboysegs:

my favorite tweet at the moment

fratboysegs:

my favorite tweet at the moment

(Source: patriceberg)

This post was reblogged from Hug 'em all, let god sort 'em out..



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Wednesday August 13, 2014

sesamestreet:

Coming soon to Sesame Street: Frank Underwolf. 

sesamestreet:

Coming soon to Sesame Street: Frank Underwolf. 

This post was reblogged from NPR.



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Suicide and the media

I read a Matt Walsh post titled, “Robin Williams didn’t die from a disease, he died from his choice.” I’m not going to link to it here, because it’s click bait and I hate that guy. But he basically claims that depression is caused by lack of spirituality and refusal to experience joy, and suggests that depressed people should just magically find these things to feel better.

His comments about how the cure for depression is spirituality and “joy” are absurd. It’s true, people who are deeply religious are statistically less likely to commit suicide, but there are many reasons for this. Spiritual people are more likely to be morally opposed to suicide. They are more likely to have strong support and to be optimistic. But spirituality is not something that a deeply depressed person can just suddenly “find.” To say that becoming spiritual will fix your suicidal thoughts is assigning false correlation. Spirituality doesn’t cure suicidal ideation; it’s more likely that the things that make you spiritual also make you less prone to consider suicide.

Showing up at church or trying to tell yourself to be more positive are not cures for depression and certainly not for suicidal ideation. Like Williams, many suicidal people are surrounded by family and friends and colleagues who love them and want to help them, and it’s still not enough.

Changing the thought processes of a suicidal person is possible, but it takes time and work and help from a professional. For people who wish to do this in a way that utilizes spiritual teachings, there are pastoral counselors. But to insist that simply becoming more spiritual will magically cure suicidal thoughts is a profound oversimplification and also shows a deep misunderstanding of mental illness. There is no magic “spiritual” or “joyful” switch that we can flip. If there was, no one would be depressed or suicidal.

But.

He also makes a point about the rhetoric surrounding Williams’ death that is a valid one. I was disturbed by comments about how “he’s free,” “he’s at peace,” etc. The pictures of Aladdin hugging Genie and saying, “You’re free”? That is not the message we should be sending about suicide.

Did you know that overall rates of suicide go up significantly after a prominent public figure commits suicide? Especially among young people. There is a glorification of this terrible tragedy in the media, and people present suicide as a path to peace.

While I do believe that depressed people are ill, I do not see suicide as a path to peace and freedom. There is nothing peaceful or freeing about suicide. Suicide compounds sadness and leaves a trail of devastation that will poison the people who love you. Williams is gone, and his family and friends are left to pick up the pieces; to wonder if they could have stopped this tragedy by loving him more; to wonder why he would do something so devastating and permanent and final. There is no peace or freedom in suicide. There is only destruction.

To present suicide as an escape from the pain of depression is to tell millions of depressed, desperate, impressionable young people that they, too, can be free of the misery of depression if they commit suicide. That’s irresponsible.

Instead, we should be focusing on alternatives: therapy and medication and the hard work required to get through it and, yes, spirituality, but only when it’s combined with the help of a professionally trained counselor.

We should be discussing the devastating legacy that people who commit suicide leave behind. The loved ones of people who commit suicide are far more likely to commit suicide themselves, and likely to fall into deep depression and experience complicated grief.

I do not pretend to know an easy answer. Clawing out of the depths of depression is hard. I have been there myself. We should be open about how hard it is so that people who are going through it don’t mistakenly believe that they’re doing it wrong or that it’s impossible just because it’s not easy. People struggling with depression need to know what successful treatment looks like and see and hear from people who have survived it.

It’s not easy, but as long as you are waking up each morning, there is hope that you will find the treatment that works for you. There is something or someone out there who can help you. Suicide robs you of that possibility.

It’s not possible to just “choose joy” when you are depressed, but I do believe you can choose hope. As Winston Churchill said, “When you’re going through hell, keep going.” Believe that you are loved, you are valued, and eventually things will get better. Don’t leave the people you love to sort through the destruction of your final act of desperation. Call someone and tell them. Give them a chance to help you find hope again. Keep going.



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Tuesday August 12, 2014

My family has always been private about our time spent together. It was our way of keeping one thing that was ours, with a man we shared with an entire world. But now that’s gone, and I feel stripped bare. My last day with him was his birthday, and I will be forever grateful that my brothers and I got to spend that time alone with him, sharing gifts and laughter. He was always warm, even in his darkest moments. While I’ll never, ever understand how he could be loved so deeply and not find it in his heart to stay, there’s minor comfort in knowing our grief and loss, in some small way, is shared with millions. It doesn’t help the pain, but at least it’s a burden countless others now know we carry, and so many have offered to help lighten the load. Thank you for that.

To those he touched who are sending kind words, know that one of his favorite things in the world was to make you all laugh. As for those who are sending negativity, know that some small, giggling part of him is sending a flock of pigeons to your house to poop on your car. Right after you’ve had it washed. After all, he loved to laugh too…

Dad was, is and always will be one of the kindest, most generous, gentlest souls I’ve ever known, and while there are few things I know for certain right now, one of them is that not just my world, but the entire world is forever a little darker, less colorful and less full of laughter in his absence. We’ll just have to work twice as hard to fill it back up again.

—My only statement. My brothers’ are also online. Thank you for all your kindness, and goodbye for awhile guys. xo (via zeldawilliams)

This post was reblogged from apsies.



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