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Keep Calm And Love Yourself

I have so many new and different followers that I don’t even know if any of you remember the video I made about Darren Criss a few years ago, but my Shane has been bothering me to make a video so I went ahead and did a response to that since so many things have changed.

It’s basically me with no make up on rambling about how I recovered. I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND if you don’t want to watch it!

fuckyeahlgbtqartists:

Ross- A Transgender Short Film

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM, GENDER DYSPHORIA, TRANSPHOBIA

Stuff like this reminds me of my trans man and it makes me so sad to know he went through struggles similar to this. Transphobia is so ugly and awful and needs just as much attention as anything else.

oh i forgot to mention this is the coworker who called me a crazy emo the first time he saw my self harm scars and then proceeded to offer me sharp objects the rest of the night and told me to “make some more.”

i was one week out of the hospital for a suicide attempt.

and this guy still has a job…

this summer, i’m starting a war against fat shaming. we’re expected to wear long sleeves, pants, baggy clothes, and fucking wet suits even though it’s five million degrees outside JUST because people are uncomfortable with seeing some flab. well fuck that shit. i want to be cool and comfortable and i want to show off my beautiful body. this is the first summer in five years that i haven’t been covered in cuts. so i’m going to wear short shorts and bikini tops and short sleeves and there’s not a fucking thing anyone can do about it. who’s with me?! 

i work at a tiny Subway in a crappy mall food court. there’s not much else for teenagers to do on weekends but go to the mall, gather in the food court, and annoy everybody in a ten mile radius. more than once i’ve had teenage boys come up to me and harass me. i guess you could say i’m an easy target. i’m 20, 5’6, and weigh about 300 pounds, give or take. i’ve been teased my entire life, mainly by boys my age or younger. there’s nothing funnier than making fun of the fat girl, right?

tonight as i was closing up the store i had a teenage boy come up to me, stand a little to the side, and loudly say “hook it up, fatty!” he proceeded to laugh and quickly walk away to a group of laughing teenage boys. i just clenched my teeth and kept cleaning.

i usually don’t let shit like this get to me, but for some reason, it really upset me. i’ve had low self esteem my entire life. i’ve tried every diet you could ever think of. i’ve tried starving myself a few times. a mixture of mental illness and self hatred caused four years of self harm. i cut up my fat arms, my fat thighs, and my fat tummy. i punished myself until i was shaking and i couldn’t breathe. how dare you be so disgusting. how dare you be so fat. how dare you be so worthless, worthless, worthless. 

but tonight, instead of going home and carving the word fat into the fattest part of my stomach, i decided to take this picture:

what about this body is so awful that i was convinced i needed such punishment for so long? why does everyone let my body impact their opinion of me more than my character? why is “fat” the worst thing someone can be? you know what would have hurt me even more than being called fat by a low life teenage boy tonight? being called selfish, mean, arrogant, manipulative, controlling, jealous, vindictive, cruel, etc. 

my body is not the worst thing about me. my body is not reason enough to harass me, call me names, and try to make me feel worse about myself than i already do. my body is the only body i’m ever going to get and i’ve spent 20 years hating it because society has taught me that i should.

i’m putting my foot down. enough is enough. i am beautiful. i am beautiful from the top of my head all the way down to my orange painted toe nails. i’m beautiful from my scarred, chunky thighs to my big, hanging stomach. i’m beautiful from the fat under my chin to the flab under my arms. i’m beautiful to my D cup boobs to my flat as hell ass. i may not have a flat stomach and a thigh gap but i’ve got killer hips and legs that should be shown off. 

i am damn lucky to have this beautiful body and anyone crazy enough to put up with my bullshit would be damn lucky to have my beautiful body as well. and if you disagree, i am no longer choosing to give a single fuck. this is my body. this is my life. the only opinion that matters is MINE. 

i have choices in my life. if i’ve learned anything through my long, extensive recovery process, it’s that. i choose body love. i choose body positivity. i choose to love the only true home i’ll ever get. 

and you know what else i choose? 

happiness.

because i fucking deserve it.

As time goes on, you spend less time thinking about the exact seconds you’ve gone without it. You spend the first few months obsessively opening the app and staring at that number because you saw the razors at the store and got a cut at work and the anxiety meds aren’t working and you just need a release. But then triggers become less and less powerful and you spend more and more time between break downs and before you know it you’re almost 8 months clean. So here’s to not realizing I’ve made it this far. Here’s to forgetting important milestones. Here’s to living a life devoid of obsessive thoughts of razors and pain and torn apart flesh. Here’s to finally moving on with my life and leaving my sick obsession in the dust.

As time goes on, you spend less time thinking about the exact seconds you’ve gone without it. You spend the first few months obsessively opening the app and staring at that number because you saw the razors at the store and got a cut at work and the anxiety meds aren’t working and you just need a release. But then triggers become less and less powerful and you spend more and more time between break downs and before you know it you’re almost 8 months clean. So here’s to not realizing I’ve made it this far. Here’s to forgetting important milestones. Here’s to living a life devoid of obsessive thoughts of razors and pain and torn apart flesh. Here’s to finally moving on with my life and leaving my sick obsession in the dust.

he told me he wanted to fix me. when i told him i wasn’t broken, he reminded me that i can’t look at a razor without breaking down.

maybe i am broken.

posts like these piss me off so bad that i can’t even stand it.
EVERY SCAR ON MY BODY IS THERE BECAUSE I MADE A DECISION TO PUT IT THERE. IT DOES NOT MATTER IF SOMEONE UPSET ME BEFORE I PUT THE SCAR THERE. THEY DID NOT PHYSICALLY PUT THE RAZOR IN MY HAND AND FORCE ME TO MAKE THE CUT. 
SOMEBODY ELSE IS NEVER THE REASON FOR YOUR OWN CHOICES. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CHOICES AND TRYING TO BLAME YOUR CHOICES ON SOMEONE ELSE IS RIDICULOUS AND PATHETIC. 

posts like these piss me off so bad that i can’t even stand it.

EVERY SCAR ON MY BODY IS THERE BECAUSE I MADE A DECISION TO PUT IT THERE. IT DOES NOT MATTER IF SOMEONE UPSET ME BEFORE I PUT THE SCAR THERE. THEY DID NOT PHYSICALLY PUT THE RAZOR IN MY HAND AND FORCE ME TO MAKE THE CUT. 

SOMEBODY ELSE IS NEVER THE REASON FOR YOUR OWN CHOICES. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CHOICES AND TRYING TO BLAME YOUR CHOICES ON SOMEONE ELSE IS RIDICULOUS AND PATHETIC. 

(Source: weheartit.com)

SOS!!!!

Please go help my friend Joy, she’s about to cut!!! Her cuts get really bad and she could end up in the ER. please send love to healing-the-broken-butterfly. She really needs it. Please help.

I had an extremely vivid dream about cutting last night and ever since then I’ve been aching for it. I know it’s sick but I miss the pain. It was always there, pulling me back when I withdrew from life too much. I just feel like I’m in a cloud without the pain there to remind me that this is real.

When did it become so miserable to let my skin be whole?