#Help Yourself

[dailydivergent]

We've all seen a feelings wheel, but have you ever seen a NEEDS wheel?

This was a first for me when my therapist showed it to me—so now I'm sharing it with you.

Like!!

I'm allowed to need "Make"?

And "For"?!

All jokes aside, this thing is changing the way I view my needs.

I hope it changes yours, too.

[breelynnsblog]

Wanna Bite? 🍎🍎🍎

[thereadmind]

Start today ‼️

[krumpkin]

A great quote 🤔

[mylilbunniiii]

SAVING TIPS!

- always put at least 10% away into savings when you get paid or get money!!

- set saving goals! visualize what your saving for!

- create a budget!! it tough to avoid overspending without a proper budget in place!!

- cancel unused subscriptions!!

- don't go out with people that pressure you to spend more money!!

thank you so much for reading if you've got this far!! i plan on starting a rednote acc with vids as well!! it's: mylilbunniiii

[yun-yunera]

Stop revisiting your childhood.

[swan2swan]

hey!!! have u ever done a gif of the scene in camp cretaceous season 2 where yaz tells kenji "thats actually completely your fault" ? ive been looking for it because i think it works so well as a reaction meme but i cant find it anywhere lol

Do I have the "completely your fault" gif?

I've got it in three models! Defensive, Default, and Deluxe!

No fuzz, no stutter, neatly fonted WITH italics included, and sized for any screen!

[thefugitivesaint]

Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), 'Actress Alice White', ''Help Yourself Annual'', 1931 Source

[thefrankshow]

All my selves need help.

Could someone please tell me why this picture needs a content label for mature content? Jeez!!!

[etherealvampire6]

Growing wings

There is a particular kind of longing that corrodes from the inside out—a hunger so intense it begins to rot the very thing it reaches for. At first, it feels like hope: a flickering flame, a promise just out of reach. But as time stretches and the desire deepens, the flame becomes a wildfire. It consumes rationality. It turns yearning into obsession, and obsession into loathing.

You begin to despise the thing you crave—not because it’s unworthy, but because it remains unattainable. Its elusiveness taunts you, and what was once beautiful becomes twisted in your mind. You start to resent the dream, then yourself for dreaming it.

And then comes the quiet, cruel turn inward. You blame yourself—for wanting too much, for needing too deeply, for not being enough to deserve it. The shame grows roots, feeding off your guilt and your helplessness. You scold yourself for every ounce of longing, but the ache never leaves. It haunts your thoughts, staining every silent moment with the sharp sting of inadequacy.

This is the dark side of wanting—not just the absence of what you long for, but the self-destruction that follows. A slow, aching unraveling of your identity, where love and desire curdle into self-hatred, and the only thing you’re certain of is your own unworthiness.

And still, you want.

That’s how I felt for a long time—far longer than I care to admit. Time became the very fuel that kept my desire alive. The longer he lingered in my life, the deeper he rooted himself—not just in my thoughts, but somewhere quieter, more vulnerable. Maybe even in my heart.

It was a slow unraveling. A quiet destruction I didn’t see until I was too far gone to pull myself out. And by then, I was buried so deeply in the wanting, in the illusion of something meaningful, that turning back felt impossible.

I told myself I had to let go. I repeated it like a mantra—whispered it through clenched teeth while my heart ached at the thought of what he was doing to me. I needed to stop wanting him. I knew that. But knowing and doing were never the same.

No matter how often I tried to pull away, no matter how many times I swore I’d walk for good, I kept going back. Over and over again. And though I gave myself reasons—dozens of them—not one was strong enough to justify the way I abandoned myself in the process.

The truth is simple: I wanted him. I wanted him in my life.

But it wasn’t just him I longed for. It was the idea of something more. A future, a feeling, a version of love I could never seem to reach. Even knowing it was never real—never possible—I clung to the dream of it, because the hope felt better than the emptiness that followed.

I kept begging for reassurance, swallowing my pride, shrinking myself down to something small and manageable just to keep him beside me. I sugarcoated every cut, dismissed every ache, and convinced myself that pain was the price of love. I fought for space in his world, even when everything in me screamed I didn’t belong there.

But lately… I miss him less.

Because I’ve realized something. Longing for someone who made me question my worth—that was never love. That was a wound I kept reopening. That was the echo of a need that should have never been placed in his hands.

I wanted him, yes. But hiding in the background, being someone's shadow, pretending my needs were too loud—that’s not love. It took me too long to see how flawed it all was, how wrong we were for each other. I noticed the red flags, the small moments of emotional neglect, the silences that said more than words ever could. I noticed them all. And still, I looked away.

The more I excused, the worse it became. I was always second-guessing—him, myself, everything. But I wanted him so badly, I betrayed my own standards. I quieted my needs. I bent myself until I no longer recognized the shape I took.

I forgot I had worth.

I should never have had to beg for crumbs of affection. I should never have felt the need to earn my place in someone’s life. I ignored the life I wanted to build for myself—the life that once felt full, rich, mine—and traded it for the illusion of being loved.

And now, all I want is me back.

Letting go wasn’t a single moment—it was a thousand little wars I had to fight within myself.

It wasn’t as simple as walking away. I had to unlearn the idea that love was supposed to hurt. I had to rewrite the story I’d been telling myself—that if I just held on a little longer, tried a little harder, loved a little more, he’d finally see me the way I needed to be seen.

It took so much realization—painful, gut-wrenching truth I didn’t want to face. I had to look at every moment I felt unseen, every time I shrunk myself for his comfort, every time I swallowed my pride just to keep a connection that was breaking me. I had to admit to myself that it wasn’t love—it was fear. Fear of being alone, fear of starting over, fear that maybe he was the best I’d ever get. And that fear kept me bound to him like chains disguised as comfort.

Letting go meant breaking those chains one by one. It meant choosing silence when I wanted to beg for his attention. It meant staying away when my heart ached for just one more conversation, one more illusion of closeness. It took more self-control than I knew I had—to not text him when the nights were quiet and cruel, to not reach for him when the emptiness whispered his name.

Every part of me had to resist the pull. The craving. The old habits. I had to sit in the discomfort of my own healing and not try to fill it with him. I had to teach myself that peace doesn’t come from someone else’s validation—it comes from finally choosing myself.

And even though it hurt like hell, I knew I had to do it. Because staying would’ve destroyed me in ways I might never have come back from.

So I let go.

Not all at once. Not perfectly.

But deliberately.

And that choice, no matter how hard it was to make—it saved me.

That relationship ruined more of my life than I could see while I was in it. And truthfully, I wasn't even his official girlfriend. I was a "friend"

It crept in slowly, like a leak in the ceiling I kept ignoring—until one day the whole structure began to collapse. My focus, my friendships, my sense of direction—everything started to erode beneath the weight of trying to hold us together. And the worst part? I didn’t even realize how much I was losing until it was already gone.

I stopped showing up for myself. I stopped dreaming like I used to. I silenced my own voice so often that eventually, I forgot what it even sounded like. The things that once brought me joy started to feel hollow. I was exhausted all the time—emotionally, mentally, spiritually—because loving him felt like a job I could never clock out of.

He made me question my worth, my instincts, even my reality. I doubted myself constantly, wondering if I was too sensitive, too needy, too much. And in trying to prove I wasn’t, I stripped myself down to nothing just to keep the peace.

Now that he’s out of my life, I can finally see the damage for what it was.

It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was depletion.

But I also see the lessons woven into the wreckage. Mistakes were made—I made mistakes. I let it go on too long. I ignored too many signs. I betrayed myself trying to save something that was never mine to fix. And I take accountability for that, because growth doesn’t come from blame—it comes from understanding.

And now, with him gone, I finally have space to reflect. To feel it all. To name it. To learn from it.

I can breathe again.

And every breath feels like a quiet promise to never abandon myself like that again.

[blabbershere]

[breelynnsblog]

Welcome Home! 💋💋💋

[krumpkin]

Wise words 🤔

[dandelionh3art]

1. All politicians lie!

2. Your government is not here to save you.

3. The west keeps thinking Islam is their problem, they are not, look closely because your problem is inside your government.

4. If you can't look at your government and see they are the warmongers causing all the wars, then you are still asleep.

5. I hope the West wake up before it's too late. Even the Roman empire fell.

6. Fact! HISTORY IS A COMPLETE LIE!!!!!

[dinosaurwithablog]

Today....

Every day, you start with a clean slate. The past is behind you. You can't change that, but you can make a positive difference today that will shape the future. Every new day is a gift and a chance to make things better... to make things right... to get what you deserve... to stand up for what you believe... to help yourself... to help another person. Every day, I try to make a positive impact. Sometimes, it's just a small difference, while other days, it's major. Take the gift of each new day and move forward. Every day is precious. Get the most out of your day starting today. That in itself makes a positive difference in the world, and that is major. 🫂🙏🏼💜