a person

oberynmartell:

tumblr staff has small [CENSORED] energy

creeepsley:

Concept: I live in a tiny cabin in the woods. I dry my laundry on a clothes line. I wake with the sun, stay up late reading and nap during the afternoon in a hammock. I have a garden full of flowers, herbs, vegetables and berries. I go on picnics regularly by a nearby river. I rarely need to leave my beautiful home tucked away in the forest.

This is quite literally my life

noshirtnick:

Christmas was pretty weird this year.

Nick’s first (sober) Christmas.    I did not get a lot of presents which feels really good. I don’t want to own a lot of things. I got more really nice expensive yoga pants and that’s really the only thing I desired but could not really afford. 

I left before Christmas dinner because I knew that would really just be a drinking fest. Besides that I just really don’t enjoy conversing with my parent’s friends. I’m not sure why really, but I find it exhaustingly boring.

Now I’m at home drinking sleepy time tea. Is it sad to watch porn on Christmas and go to bed early? I guess it’s probably less sad than whatever embarrassing shit happened last Christmas. I don’t remember the last bit of the evening last year, which is something I was so accustomed to. It’s so strange that that was my life. Whether I was really fine with it or not, I lived it. I left my body on such a regular basis and just trusted someone would keep me safe while I was unconscious. I can look back on that now and I feel less disgusted with myself now then I did the morning after a black out. It’s not really that crazy that I was horribly depressed and suicidal. I left my body to escape my feelings and then when I was forced to return I felt worse and just wanted to leave again. It’s such a scary cycle. 

The fucking scariest part is the cravings, the little thoughts that just pop into my head. They just stroll by, whistling, with their hands behind their back, acting like they don’t mean me any harm. The little memories of how fond I was of drinking wine in the bath, or having a warm rush at the back of my throat at dinner. The way a belly full of booze felt warmer and more full than a belly full of food. It’s nice really, to order an expensive meal at a restaurant and eat all of it, never wondering if the waiter is coming back with another drink for me, or if I ate too much to get as drunk as I’d like to be.

It was never casual with me, ever. I only drank to be drunk, very drunk. I don’t know why and it’s really frustrating to figure out. I just really love to be numb? Do I hate myself? Maybe. I’ve found a lot of love for myself since I’ve been in recovery. I’m really glad I’ve lived through my twenties so far. I really hope I have the strength to keep up this sobriety. It’s so scary when I realize this really is something I’m doing all by myself. It’s all on me. If I don’t keep myself alive no one else will.

That’s fucking real. 

I have to keep me alive but at the same time I have the desire inside of me to end it all. It’s getting smaller, a lot smaller, but it’s still there.

This is a really important post.

ardatli:

the-new-venus:

What they don’t tell you:
Self care sometimes isn’t fun. It’s going to class even when you want to stay in bed and rest. It’s paying bills on time and running errands even when every strand of your being cant stand it. It’s going to therapy and taking your medicine even when you don’t want to. It’s using coping skills even when going back to self destructive ones seems more appealing.

Recovering sucks. It’s hard. But you have to believe in the light at the end of the tunnel. And even on those days you don’t, you fake it till you make it.

Recovery is still worth it.

Sometimes self-care is taking care of future-me. Because she deserves to have someone looking out for her. 

88yeezus:

Be with someone who will take care of you. Not materialistically, but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that’s you.