EAT

When recovery is not all yoga mats
and tea and avocados, it is work.

It is listening to your body rather
than pretending not to hear her.

It is waking up so hungry, you are
nauseous, but swallowing breakfast

anyways. It is taking an hour to eat a
snack. It is your stomach throwing a

tantrum and telling the acidic voice
in your head she has the wrong address.

Trying to ignore the caloric calculator in my head is like trying to ignore television subtitles.

Every time you asked if I was full, I heard you say fat, and I’m trying, trying so hard not to do that.

This is teaching my body how to forgive.

This is teaching my brain how to apologize.
EAT, by Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)
Darkness is shorthand for anything that scares me—either because I am sure that I do not have the resources to survive it or because I do not want to find out….The problem is this: when, despite all my best efforts, the lights have gone off in my life, plunging me into the kind of darkness that turns me knees to water, I have not died. The monsters have not dragged me out of bed and taken me back to their lair. Instead, I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so there is only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.
Barbara Brown Taylor, “Learning to Walk in the Dark”

I will not always be pretty.
Some nights I will look
like an explosion
that came crashing down
from the sky,
body burnt, hair frazzled,
bones broken.

This is what your soul
looks like after a relapse.

I will not always be beautiful.
There is nothing beautiful
about how the pain in my
heart is the size of the United States,
but I promise that it’s not
as big as Russia,
because I’m still young
and I know that there’s
a chance some days will
hurt more than this one.

I promise my skin will always
still be drunk with warmth
even if my eyes start to grow cold.

I’ve promised many people
that I’d never grow cynical again
no matter how bad it gets
because no matter how bad it gets,
even if I lose everything,

I still have a heart.
That’s more than most people can say.
On days like this,

it has to be enough.

5:08 p.m. (The world will turn you into a cynic, don’t let it)

ISFJ Personalities in Stories

myersandbriggs:

Girls Chase Boys
Ingrid Michaelson - Lights Out
(16,335)

onechoicewilldefineyou:

I got two hands, one beating heart, 
And I’ll be alright

inspired by (x)

Whenever I’m giving advice to myself, I always say the same thing:
Start where it hurts. Start where it started hurting, and then go from there.

So, high school. When I start growing and never stop. When I hear the phrase ‘fat girl’ and immediately know that it isn’t a good thing. When I don’t kiss anyone and no one kisses me. When I know how to keep a crush a secret better than anyone. When I’m so lonely I can’t even feel it, until someone points it out and I realize I’m bleeding.

It hurts when I stop taking ‘you’re pretty for a fat girl’ as a compliment.

It’s like waking up and seeing that everything is on fire. That it always has been. It’s like suddenly realizing that you’re living in a burning house that you can’t leave. It hurts everywhere, and all the time. It hurts like a bad back. It hurts like when my sisters call me turtle because of the way I try to make myself smaller in crowds, and yeah, it gets easier, but no one ever joins the party. No one ever teaches you how to stand up straight.

Caitlyn Siehl, excerpt from Start Where it Hurts