This Was My 4th Christmas Without My Mother. Every Year, I Am Struck By How Much Of A Fucking Relief

i dont like it when the task avoidance gets to the scary part

Alright I’m curious, how much make-up do people use normally in their day to day life, for example, when you open almost any YouTube video or shorts, there are people getting for school, dates etc. with layers and layers of makeup and tbh I’m not sure how much of that is actually true

I made up a way to explain fatigue!

I need everyone, literally every human, to know:

YOU NEED A FUCKING ADVANCED DIRECTIVE.

I don't care if you're young. If you're old. If you think your kids know what you want. If you think your spouse knows what you want.

DO THE FUCKING PAPERWORK SO YOUR FAMILY WON'T HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS.

Carissa Potter Carlson  

People talk so often about wanting to go back to the "good old days" of childhood and I can't help but feel some kind of way about it. When I think about my childhood, in an overall general sense, all I feel is fear and dread and relief that it's over.

It's like reminiscing about the good old days is so unrelatable that my brain just turns off. I hate navigating those conversations.

Continuar lendo

Here's something that's been mindfucking me for the past two damn weeks. So not only do I need surgery to have my colon and rectum removed & to get an ileostomy, but I also have to see a pelvic floor reconstruction surgeon.

Because with my Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, I'm high risk for prolapses, and guess what being sex trafficked for the majority of your childhood does to your developing pelvic floor? Spoiler: nothing good.

So because of this blessed combination of genetics and abuse, I have multi-pelvic-organ prolapse, and no ability to withstand pelvic floor therapy. I tried. I just literally cannot fucking do it. And there's the fact that pelvic floor therapy might not even work for the severity of my issues anyway. Ergo, surgery.

Now I get to have two surgeons argue over the best way to butcher my body into something livable and I can't even explain how fucking tired I am. I don't even know what to feel about it beyond exhausted.

And then I have friends who are also going through things and I want to be supportive & I try to be, but I just can't do all the things I want to do because I'm spending half my fucking day in a dissociative fog because I just don't know how to process any of this.