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The Dove

I don’t know what it is with you. 

I have been more than civil, more that cordial, more than spacious. If I crossed boundaries, how am I to know unless you tell me? Then that aggression can no longer be directed at me; if you don’t say anything, I can’t fix anything. 

Why, then, did you target me?

Why, then, am I your scapegoat? 

So if we’re looking for the truth, it’s all bad. 

I don’t need the answers as to why. Not anymore. You have shown me that change is slow to take, and no matter what you did to me, no matter how bad it was, there was no lesson learned there for you. And that is the most tragic part... was that I hope through all the pain you caused, that you would have learned. 

“I’m sorry that I ruined us again.” 

I am, too. 

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the 2001 oscars are real and this happened in real life. this is something mankind should never forget.

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The Process

The healing process is… complex and confusing.

Never does it take a steady pace, never can it be compared to any other process.

Yours, his, theirs; my experience, my reality, all of it is different.

We perceive things based on how our brains have developed during our lifetime – how we interpret, how we act, how we think, how we love and hate and mourn.

But there are points in time where you find peace.

After the trauma of the incident has passed, once it sinks in, that’s when the pain becomes less of pain and more of a nuisance.

The pain will never go away, you only get used to it.

The sharp, tearing, stinging sensation is replaced by something dull, throbbing, full of longing for fulfillment.

We look for purpose, and in that which is an eventuality, we all seek purpose in another person. We don’t realize until after that has failed that… that another human being cannot do that for us.

We are all responsible for our movement upward. We are responsible for creating our happiness. We are responsible for our growth and our own reality.

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depression

it takes everything away from you. 

and I ride it like a roller coaster - I won't have a touch of depression for months, and then it slams me like a train. Then suddenly, all of the work I’ve done doesn’t seem worth it anymore. I have a house, a job, car, pets, friends. I am doing all the right things, right? Practicing yoga. Growing food. Branching out, making friends. 

But those days still come - those when I lie in my bed with no energy to do anything else. I stare at the laundry on the floor, or the dirty bathroom, or the floor that needs to be vacuumed, and I can’t bring myself to even stand up. There’s a heavy weight in my chest, and I can WANT to be happy all I want, but there is a lingering hole of sadness there right where my heart is supposed to be. 

Depression takes everything from you. It turns your life into a mockery. All the work you’ve done to be better, to make things better. You go outside, you eat right, you make good friends, you help others. 

But then it’s little voice whispers to you: what is the point? There’s not much of one, I don’t think. 

I’m standing right on the edge, looking down at the bottom. And I know it will hurt hitting ground, but I don’t think I mind the falling. 

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I will never, ever not reblog this. Fuckin rooster panTS WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY

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