dystopiance reblogged
thegoodvybe
Source: weheartit.com
dystopiance reblogged
Suicidal feelings are not the same as giving up on life. Suicidal feelings often express a powerful and overwhelming need for a different life. Suicidal feelings can mean, in a desperate and unyielding way, a demand for something new. Listen to someone who is suicidal and you often hear a need for change so important, so indispensable, that they would rather die than go on living without the change. And when the person feels powerless to make that change happen, they become suicidal.
Help comes when the person identifies the change they want and starts to believe it can actually happen. Whether it is overcoming an impossible family situation, making a career or study change, standing up to an oppressor, gaining relief from chronic physical pain, igniting creative inspiration, feeling less alone, or beginning to value their self worth, at the root of suicidal feelings is often powerlessness to change your life – not giving up on life itself.
Will Hall, Living with suicidal feelings (via madness-narrative)
(via homoarigato)
i think i'm going to eat cookies and change the url on my links and write a poem or finish some rant on pacifism. i have such a weird relationship to writing goddamnit.
a message sent to me, reproduced here in case it is helpful to others as it has been helpful to me
"Regarding emotional unavailability. i haven’t done serious ‘work’ on this, but as an emotionally unavailable person, here are some things i find helpful:
- no one owes anyone anything and there’s no reason to feel guilty or ashamed about being emotionally unavailable (or about being on the receiving end of emotional unavailability — it isn’t reflective of who you are or what you mean to the person who seems unavailable). actively reminding yourself of this, whether you’re on the receiving end or not, is difficult but super healing and super important.
- building trust (in myself and in others) helps me become more emotionally available/more confident in extending myself emotionally.
- therapy also helps some people.
- when i’m in a position where i want to feel more emotionally supportive to others, it’s helpful for me to active think through the experiences they’ve described and pay attention to even the most minor emotional responses i have to those experiences. i find that this makes it easier for me to empathize with them more visibly, to anticipate their emotional needs, and to respond emotionally to both our needs.
- it helps me to communicate transparently and candidly about the fact that i’m socially anxious and not great at connecting with others emotionally. it also helps me to let people know that i care about them and that emotional unavailability does not correspond to emotional disinterest.
if you’re on the receiving end of emotional unavailability:
- if you can, talk to people super clearly about what your emotional needs are (if you know) or that you’d like some kind of support (if you don’t know).
- remember it isn’t about you.
- remember that emotional unavailability often comes from trauma. being supportive to a person who seems emotionally unavailable helps them heal (and also can break down the unavailability business)
I’ve found that it’s easier to talk about these things with someone who’s in a similar place, even if it feels a little like a clusterfuck of sadness and emotional evasion. not over-thinking and hyper-analyzing helps me too, but that’s a hell of a task."
thankyou.
I would like to write more To share more But I fear being trapped by my own articulations As though that feeling As it is written Will be all that I am
why do i want to blog about feelings
why feelings
dystopiance reblogged
Source: cuas
"all radical and militantly hypervigilent in agitating to smash the state.. and with your feelings you're so shyyyy" YUP.
smh
there are many moments where mind matter is unfiltered chaos and fear becomes easy to admit when it comes to lovethings silence is easy to employ when it comes to feelings when your facing the barrel of a gun the tyranny of a badge the dystopia of reality the fascism of a state seeking to own your body or smash your sweetest dreams into bitter melodies we sing to our self locked inside cells we built ourselves until the day we are held realizing the barriers we build in our minds keep us as guarded as any cement wall every line of thought a cold corridor unable to be comforted by scratchy wool cloth our coping mechanisms are dull here reaching up through the haze the full frontal assault of a fascist state against wanderers and warriors unlearning, decolonizing, deconstructing brutally aware of all our faults our very existence makes us lost pressure builds on pressure taking hands off of wounds daring to feel something, anything sabotaged by thought unable to move when courage has bled the streets red
there will be days like this
today was good. this week was better than last week. the beach was beautiful, the waves were comforting. i had forgotten how easy it was to float, to feel light, and to soak in your surroundings. i have become so immersed in smashing constructs and building alternative reality that i sometimes forget how to enjoy myself with the one i have. mostly because it's become hard to place myself in reality.
but still, i'm here. wherever that is, thinking constantly, feeling constantly, evaluating, analyzing and coping with my ever shifting experience with so called reality. trying to retreat tactically from the daily fervor of organizing and infighting, trying to keep my head above water while the state is pushing me under so that i can emerge stronger.
my day was good. but it was still challenging. everywhere i look there are threats of fascism lurking. you can't imagine the lifeguards.. threatening my comrade with arrest for 'swimming out too far'. yes, this is amerika. the police raided our small bonfire, just looking for someone to harass.. detained me and a few othrs and then asked for my arrest record.
i've never been so disgusted in my life. my stomach was turning at the fact that i could be arrested on the beach right then and there, no riot lines or direct action in sight. just the beach, the waves, the false calm of appeased reality. and the thing is, i needed it. i need these moments of calm, even as i need the reminder that all is not as it seems. we are not safe here. this is why we resist.
we already know how to react- FTP. and as comforting as that is... i am not comforted. i want to know... is this all i will ever feel? will my life be a series of scripts- FTP, organize, protest, rinse, repeat. I am not saying there is no joy in this... there is the most fulfilling joy in the world. But small moments, finding some semblance of lightheartednes, the ability to just be and feel humyn in a world that screams of revolution feels important too. Like i'm not nurturing myself- or maybe this is just me raging against my own disenfranchisement. the way i disenfranchise myself... focusing my passion in a way that makes me serious, intense and socially anxious.
so serious, so intense. and i cannot even help it. i already feel alienated from the capitalist world as it performs and functions today, but this self noted intensity doesn't help. i don't have friends.. i have comrades, though the line is becoming beautifully blurry. and i don't know how to feel about that. i'm disconnected from my family- and i don't know how to feel about that. and i try not to be lonely, but i don't know how to feel about that.
i sometimes listen, from outside myself, to the conversations my comrades and i have. and they are strange, revolutionary, analytical, reflexive, sensitive to energy and mostly always collective. they are also very intense. i'm well aware that our constructs of 'normal' are just that- constructs. but i wonder how to the most open minded progressive person i/we would still just be a fascinating 'other' to observe and analyze. even to people that knew me. and i don't know how to be entertaining, or mysterious or docile/timid.. i just know how to be me.
this is my life, and i'm trying to feel my way through it. i think about getting a job, and i wonder how that could possibly be a prequisite to living because i'm working so hard at just fucking figuring out who i am, what i want, how to be, and how to live. so here i am watching some vapid fantastical interpretation of neverland and i don't even know why. probably to avoid thoughts. probably to avoid feelings.
And now I'm hard, too hard to know.
I don't cry when I'm sad anymore.