Sandra Cisneros (via fabdivanna)
“ I’ve put up too much, too long, and now I’m just too intelligent, too powerful, too beautiful, too sure of who I am finally to deserve anything less. ”
“ Why struggle to open a door between us when the whole wall is an illusion? ”
Rumi (via fuckyeahrumi)
this made me wna cry.
Here is a list of blogs, websites, or videos that can help you if you are suffering from anything listed below. If you do not suffer from any of these things listed, but do know someone that does suffer from anything listed, these links may also be helpful. Smile, it looks beautiful on you.
If you know of any website that is not listed that would be of help to anyone, please submit it to us here.
Also, our ask is always open, so click here if you ever feel the need to vent.
In case of an emergency, please call the emergency dispatch center.
- Love Is Respect
- Love Is Respect (Digital Abuse)
- Love Is Respect (Emotional/Verbal Abuse)
- Love Is Respect (Financial Abuse)
- Love Is Respect (Physical Abuse)
- Love Is Respect (Sexual Abuse)
- Love Is Respect (Stalking)
Anxiety Disorder/Panic Attacks
- Half of Us
- Help Guide (Anxiety Attacks & Anxiety Disorder)
- Help Guide (Anxiety Medicine)
- Help Guide (General Anxiety Disorder)
- Help Guide (How to Stop Worrying)
- Help Guide (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)
- Help Guide (Panic Attacks & Panic Disorder)
- Help Guide (Social Anxiety Disorder & Social Phobia)
- Help Guide (Therapy)
- Tanya Burr’s Blog Post
- Zoe Sugg’s Blog Post
- Zoe Sugg’s Video
- Half of Us
- Help Guide (Bipolar Disorder Medication Guide)
- Help Guide (Self Help)
- Help Guide (Signs and Symptoms)
- Help Guide (Treatment)
- Half of Us
- Help Guide (Dealing with Depression)
- Help Guide (Depression: Signs, Symptoms, Causes & Help)
- Help Guide (Teenage Depression: A Guide for Parents)
- Help Guide (Helping Someone with Depression)
- Help Guide (Older Adults & Elderly)
- Love is Louder
- To Write Love on Her Arms
- Half of Us
- Help Guide (Emotional Eating)
- Help Guide (Binge Eating)
- Help Guide (Bulimia)
- Help Guide (Helping Someone With an Eating Disorder)
- Help Guide (Treatment and Recovery)
- National Eating Disorder Association
Grief & Loss
- Help Guide (Coping with a Breakup or Divorce)
- Help Guide (Coping with Grief & Loss)
- Help Guide (Coping with Pet Loss)
- Help Guide (Supporting a Grieving Person)
- Help Guide (The Five Stages of Grief)
Suicidal Thoughts/Suicide Prevention
- American Foundation for Suicide Prevention
- Befrienders World
- Half of Us
- Help Guide (Dealing with Suicidal Thoughts & Feelings)
- Help Guide (Helping Someone with Bipolar Disorder)
- Help Guide (Suicide Prevention)
- International Association for Suicide Prevention
- National Suicide Prevention Hotline
“ You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. ”
by Sarah Kay
If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands,
Or windows for mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may not have ever seen one before.
If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle, a door, a sandwich, a Pulitzer, another woman -
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian, or a muse, or a promise, or a victim or a snack.
You are a woman -
Skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat
You are not made of metaphors,
Not apologies, not excuses.
If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
You can let them hold you.
All day they practice keeping their bodies upright.
Even after all this evolving it still feels unnatural,
Still strains the muscles, holds firm the arms and spine.
Only some men will want to learn what it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,
Admit they don’t have the answers they thought they would by now.
Some men will want to hold you like the answer.
You are not the answer.
You are not the problem.
You are not the poem, or the punchline, or the riddle, or the joke.
Woman, if you grow up the type of woman men want to love,
You can let them love you.
Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love,
It is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping.
It is realising you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope after the crowds have all gone home.
Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman men will hurt.
If he leaves you with a car alarm heart.
You learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean,
Even after it’s left you gasping, salty.
So forgive yourself for the decisions you’ve made,
The ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night,
And know this.
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You are born to build.
“ No one wants to be the person who is made fun of for caring too much about something, who treats in earnest a situation that everyone else considers absurd. Even in personal relationships, feeling too heavily invested while simultaneously understanding that the other person couldn’t be more detached is one of the most profound feelings of embarrassment we can experience. Because it isn’t simply the embarrassment of making a mistake or a poor choice, it’s a shame over the kind of human being you are and how you see the world around you. To be shamed for your sincerity is to be reminded that you are dependent on something which is not dependent on you — that you are, once again, vulnerable. ”
(Having to post here because ljapp isnt working…) So here I am now, at London Heathrow, finally for the last time in 3 years… It’s abit unnerving knowing that Bristol is the place that I escape to at the end of every summer, and not having that escape ticket this time round will be hard to get used to.
I am overwhelmed by so many different emotions right now, but sadness pervades most of all, of leaving this place that feels so much, so much like home. I have never known a place quite as beautiful as this, in terms of its environment, ethics, people and culture. And to have to leave this for the concrete jungle, where, from my experience, the city and the people do not inspire much life……sigh, it is hard. Perhaps everything has changed. I know I should give my home-by-default a chance…and yes, i know all my bad experiences may have negatively coloured the way I see Singapore now, but it is not fair to inmediately prejudice against everything that I have yet to discover.
I’ll miss you Bristol, UK. I remember feeling that pull towards you when selecting the city I would end up going, and you turn out to be more than I could ever imagine. Everything was falling into place, everything felt fateful. And i guess, everything still does…
I am incredibly, incredibly thankful for the experiences here, and how they have shaped me and nurtured me. I am grateful for the friends I’ve made, the friendships that were strengthened and the conversations that were had. These past three years have felt like a dream at times- wonderful, sometimes unreal.
Thinking of all the happy times here, and the future that is to come, I sit in this waiting room with a heavy heart… leaving home for home. But nevertheless, I try to hope, and keep my faith. Most of all, i feel resolved to strive to emulate the beauty i see here and want so much to experience… and to be the change i want to see so that i can call my home ‘my home’.
For a young girl
That has folded her words into origami birds
Bereft of the gift of flight
Articulating emotion is a constant battle
When other children tear these words to shreds
And demand that you form only definitions
From the scattered confetti
Your truth will always be disparate
Difficult to grasp as its countless paper pieces
Float through the hushed air
Your mothers and mothers’ mothers
Could not dream of the sphere of experience
You now inhabit
How you would only find your reflection
In a sea that kisses a different shore
From that of Singapore
Do not be scared or ashamed
Of the failure to express the burning
That resides in your chest
The itch for change that worries at your skin and ribs
The women in your family will learn to love you
Though they may not understand you
Just as water and sand
Must always return to each other
Despite their clashing compositions
Love, like the tide, meanders
And it may seem that it has evaded
Or escaped you
But it is there
In the loyalty of friends
The earnest lilt of late night conversation
The passion you have in your work
And the open shape of your hands and eyes
There is endless romance in the every day
Men worthy of your soul
And it’s sweet, silent chaos
Do not walk freely in the streets every day
Patience lends a certain glow to the skin
A cooling balm to spirit
But you, of course, know this
Despite people’s best efforts to shred
Your voice into minute specks
You collected them
One by one
And put it back together
And for all the gaps and tears
It is undeniable
Your steadied hands
Have made a masterpiece
I look upon it
And see mine and many other faces
Reflected in its many shards
You give a shape to the amorphous void
Residing in so many silent places and people
Whenever you speak
You redefine what it is
To speak a language
That breathes and sighs with you
That envelops you
So you know that you have reached home
After finals, it’s usually like this:
“ It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind. ”