Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.

Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

This definitely made me tear up 

(via northernwind-autumnnight)

(Source: justsingyourlifeaway, via tatteredghost)

The greatest gift you can give someone is the space to be his or herself, without the threat of you leaving.

Kai, Lessons in Life #39 (via psych-facts)

(via findingshannan)

thefaultinourspoons:

never tell someone that there is somebody who has it worse than them, because they will think that it invalidates their experience, and it doesn’t it just invalidates you as a friend.

(via recoveryofspockpova)

selfcareafterrape:

The Basics:
Common Responses to Rape/Sexual Assault(ppt)
Talking About Trauma (ppt)
Traumaversaries
Why You Aren’t Bad for Loving Your Abuser.
Need Help With:
Sleep
Nightmares
Surviving the Holidays (ppt)
Overstimulated Nerves
Self-Injury (ppt)
Flashbacks (ppt)
Dissociating (ppt)
Triggers:
I’m triggered- Now What?
More On Triggers
On Purposely Triggering Yourself
Boundaries:
Boundaries (ppt)
Boundaries 101
Boundaries: How to set them
Self-Care:
What is Self Care Anyway?
BACE Method
Self Care When You Lack a Sense of Self
Interpersonal Self-Care
Emotional Self Care
Physical Self Care
Consent/sex:
Intimacy After Rape
Lets Talk Consent
Lets Talk Sex
Sexuality After Rape
For Friends/Family/Partners of Survivors:
How to Help a Friend Who Has Been Raped.(ppt)
Avoiding Awkward- How to talk about rape when we talk to survivors.(ppt)
Sometimes the easiest thing to say is the worst.
A Friend is Self Harming (ppt)
Comfort In. Complain Out.
What Can I Do?
A Friend is Dissociating.(ppt)

(Source: freshkings, via nekropolia)

homosexuallibrarian:

i find it really angering that abusive friendships aren’t addressed as much as abusive relationships. they’re both very much alike, horrible, and do a great deal of damage. its hard to talk to someone about leaving an abusive friend and feel like you’re being taken seriously

(Source: decepticonofficial, via anemasael)

catsandcrisps:

unfortunatesalmon:

sheetmetalsheep:

"No."

"I’m going on an adventure!""No you aren’t, come eat your fruit.""mOOOMMMM"

Pandas are unreal, so fluffy

catsandcrisps:

unfortunatesalmon:

sheetmetalsheep:

"No."

"I’m going on an adventure!"
"No you aren’t, come eat your fruit."
"mOOOMMMM"

Pandas are unreal, so fluffy

(via anxietyproneteen)

spicy-vagina-tacos:

i have training bras more supportive than you

(via satan-sporn)

dontquitjustkeepgoing:

theonemusicmaniac:

mirrorsstartowhisper:

Just because someone’s parents are together, someone has a nice house, has nice clothes, isn’t poor, eats every day and has a loving family doesn’t mean they can’t be depressed, have anxiety, an eating disorder, self harm issues, or any other problem.

THIS. I WISH I COULD FUCKING EMPHASIZE THIS SO HARD.

omg thank you for this

(via leviathans-in-the-tardis)

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