17 | english . german

28th July 2014

Photoset reblogged from Clinically Depressed Pug with 331,187 notes

anightvaleintern:

nateswinehart:

kitsiinabox:

nateswinehart:

Ha ha seriously tho.

I needed to hear this right now. <3

Source: nateswinehart

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from namaste,bitches with 82 notes

recovermotherfucker:

"I only have, like, 23 followers!" sighed the black-and-white blogger. "I feel like such a failure. It’s like people don’t realize how much work goes into building a half-assed aesthetic centered around glorifying misery.”
She scrolled through the black-and-white tags, looking for ideas. Her download folder was brimming with weirdly-cropped desaturated photos of slender white girls, but clearly that wasn’t enough. What she needed, above all, was bait. Something to bring the hungry little fishies to her blog.
Her need for followers was insatiable. It was deep and visceral, like hunger.
Hunger.
"Eureka!" she cried. "I’m starving for attention, so maybe I can get some from people who are literally starving!” 
She typed the names of the only two eating disorders she knew and hoped for the best. 
Her Activity squiggle grew ever squigglier, but the black-and-white blogger wasn’t content. Her photos of dead flowers were getting buried by shit that was actually related to eating disorders, and worse — other black-and-white bloggers. She was not about to stand for this. She was my-super-tragic—life-88lbs—-, after all, and she was not about to mingle with such rabble. 
Desperate, she typed her tags in ever so slowly, waiting for the “Popular Tags” section to give her inspiration. Finally, her balm of Gilead — foreign languages and deliberate misspellings. Here, thought the black-and-white blogger, is an exclusive club. These are people with refined tastes. Here I will truly be appreciated.
Her follower count grew.
The reblogs flowed like wine.
Her Activity squiggle couldn’t seem to stop squiggling. 
And finally, one day, the black-and-white blogger saw her own avatar near the top of the tags and sat back, glowing with ecstasy. 
She had done it. She had all the followers. 
She felt electric with power. Still buzzing with energy, she desaturated a picture of some chick’s neck in Photoshop. 
"Black and white blog," she whispered as she uploaded it. "XO, motherfuckers."

recovermotherfucker:

"I only have, like, 23 followers!" sighed the black-and-white blogger. "I feel like such a failure. It’s like people don’t realize how much work goes into building a half-assed aesthetic centered around glorifying misery.”

She scrolled through the black-and-white tags, looking for ideas. Her download folder was brimming with weirdly-cropped desaturated photos of slender white girls, but clearly that wasn’t enough. What she needed, above all, was bait. Something to bring the hungry little fishies to her blog.

Her need for followers was insatiable. It was deep and visceral, like hunger.

Hunger.

"Eureka!" she cried. "I’m starving for attention, so maybe I can get some from people who are literally starving!” 

She typed the names of the only two eating disorders she knew and hoped for the best. 

Her Activity squiggle grew ever squigglier, but the black-and-white blogger wasn’t content. Her photos of dead flowers were getting buried by shit that was actually related to eating disorders, and worse — other black-and-white bloggers. She was not about to stand for this. She was my-super-tragic—life-88lbs—-, after all, and she was not about to mingle with such rabble. 

Desperate, she typed her tags in ever so slowly, waiting for the “Popular Tags” section to give her inspiration. Finally, her balm of Gilead — foreign languages and deliberate misspellings. Here, thought the black-and-white blogger, is an exclusive club. These are people with refined tastes. Here I will truly be appreciated.

Her follower count grew.

The reblogs flowed like wine.

Her Activity squiggle couldn’t seem to stop squiggling. 

And finally, one day, the black-and-white blogger saw her own avatar near the top of the tags and sat back, glowing with ecstasy. 

She had done it. She had all the followers. 

She felt electric with power. Still buzzing with energy, she desaturated a picture of some chick’s neck in Photoshop. 

"Black and white blog," she whispered as she uploaded it. "XO, motherfuckers."

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from namaste,bitches with 24 notes

recovermotherfucker:

That is some embarrassingly bad photoshop.
those ribs be like 

And I know you think we can’t see where you clone-stamped the wall to cover up the terrible job you did shaping her side, but we can see where you clone-stamped the wall to cover up the terrible job you did shaping her side.
Also, be aware the police may be showing up at your door on a domestic dispute call because you have been abusing the shit out of that poor liquefy tool
Oh, and next time, remember to do your shitty fake rib shading on the non-mirror girl, too. 

recovermotherfucker:

That is some embarrassingly bad photoshop.

those ribs be like 

And I know you think we can’t see where you clone-stamped the wall to cover up the terrible job you did shaping her side, but we can see where you clone-stamped the wall to cover up the terrible job you did shaping her side.

Also, be aware the police may be showing up at your door on a domestic dispute call because you have been abusing the shit out of that poor liquefy tool

Oh, and next time, remember to do your shitty fake rib shading on the non-mirror girl, too. 

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from Illusion with 201 notes

Source: smoothiesweetheart

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from Illusion with 3,187 notes

Source: getting-rid-of-this-fat

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from Illusion with 192,307 notes

Source: may-13th

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from namaste,bitches with 4 notes

recovermotherfucker:

All the other tags are shit like “germany” “fucked up” “slavery” and whatnot, so it’s clear they’re just tag whoring, but yeah, Holocaust victim in anorexia-related tags! Cool.

recovermotherfucker:

All the other tags are shit like “germany” “fucked up” “slavery” and whatnot, so it’s clear they’re just tag whoring, but yeah, Holocaust victim in anorexia-related tags! Cool.

9th June 2014

Photo reblogged from We Will Recover with 24,085 notes

fixyourwritinghabits:

creativesocialworker:

Social Worker Tumblrs
Creative Clinical Social Worker
Social Workin’
It Will All Make Sense
The Political Social Worker
Social Work Tech
Social Work Helper
Radical Social Worker
Social Work Memes
Social Werq
Unemployed Social Worker
Student Social Worker
Products of Poverty
SWK 4 Life
What Should We Call Social Work?
School Meet Life
Canadian Social Worker
Joylisamia
Social Justice Solutions
Life as a Social Worker
ACSWA Clinical Social Work
Social Worky Megan
Lauren LCSW
Miss Joan
Heirloom June
The Notorious Amy
The Social Work Network
Social Worker Taking on the World
Social Work Grad Students
Social Work Wisdom
Social Work Sad
School Social Worker Blog
Social Work Psych Stuff
Alison Rae
What Even Is Social Justice?
Chris Talks Social Work Stuff
Southernish
Social Work Bridges
Social Work Wanderer 
Social Workers Online
Tito Tito
Hand Knit By a Failed Feminist
The Social Work Exam
The Running Vegan MSW
Social Worky
Social Work Musings
Geeky Therapist
Connect The Dots Backwards
Other Side of the Couch
Steven Armijo
Social Work, Psych and Counseling
All Things Social
June on the West Coast
Chasing Thunder
Social Work Problems
Ramp Your Voice
Onewomanareme
Jehovahs Thicknesss
Aspie Social Worker
Social Justice Works
Crasstun
Therapist Tumblrs
Creative Clinical Social Worker
The Humbled Therapist
Therapy 101
It Will All Make Sense
Trauma Therapist
What Should We Call Art Therapy?
Connect The Dots Backwards
Passionate Therapist
Therapist Confessions
Tenacious Twenties
Kati Morton
PsyD or Bust
Twin Therapists
So This is Expressive Therapies
Therapist in Therapy
The Angry Therapist
Doctor School Problems
Psychologist Problems
Keep Calm And Psychoanalyze
She Wants the PsyD
Other Side of the Couch
Secrets of a Sarcastic Psychologist
Confessions of a Broke Grad Student
Geeky Therapist
So You’re a Music Therapist
Thrive Music Therapy
Fuck Yeah Therapizing
Misses Torrance
Art Journaling
Therapist at Play
Creative Arts Therapy Rocks
Psychotherapy
Lowery Makes Art
Serious Mental Illness Blog
Psychological Musings
Cognitive Defusion
Chameleon Play Therapy
LaraMaurinoTherapy
Training-Psychologist
Heirloom June
Counseling Inside and Outside
Psych Jim
Mindful Irreverence
The Medicated Therapist
What Should We Call MFT
Therapy Bros
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy
Creative Psychologist
Psychology Tumblrs
Real Psycho
Cognitive Defusion
Science of EDs
Counseling Blog
Psych Majors
Mental Health Resource
Recovery and Mental Health
Psych Health
Tidbits of the Mind
Psychology Humor
Mental Health Reform
The Psychology Blog
Behaviourist at Play
Recovery/Support Tumblrs
List of Recovery/Psych/Mental Health/Inspiration Blogs 
Mental Health Tumblr Directory
Mental Illness Tumblr Directory
List of 50+ Mental Health “Advice Animals” Tumblrs
List of Safe Space Tumblrs
Mental Health Advice
Psych Student In Therapy
Establishing a New Normal
Recovery Awareness
Mental Illness Mouse
My Recovery is a Choice
Believe In Recovery
Confessions of Counseling
Illness to Recovery
Pantelina
We Hug The Internet
Self Care After Rape
The Blogs The Thing
Zen Recovery
Reblogging in honor of the last day of Social Work Month.  These arent ranked in any particular order so check them all out.  If I missed you just let me know!

yo I’m reblogging this because it can seriously help folks out, definitely a list worth keeping.

fixyourwritinghabits:

creativesocialworker:

Social Worker Tumblrs

Therapist Tumblrs

Psychology Tumblrs

Recovery/Support Tumblrs

Reblogging in honor of the last day of Social Work Month.  These arent ranked in any particular order so check them all out.  If I missed you just let me know!

yo I’m reblogging this because it can seriously help folks out, definitely a list worth keeping.

Source: creativesocialworker

8th June 2014

Photo reblogged from Illusion with 74,797 notes

scytise:

gnostic-forest:

californicatlon:

Needed this

Awwww dude, this is so cute.

&lt;3

scytise:

gnostic-forest:

californicatlon:

Needed this

Awwww dude, this is so cute.

<3

Source: calmdownmorrissey

8th June 2014

Post reblogged from Clinically Depressed Pug with 57 notes

When someone asks me ‘WHY?’…

ilostmy30s:

Before starting this Tumblr page, I thought long and hard about what I wanted to write about…likewise, I thought long and hard about starting my new Facebook page (www.facebook.com/ilostmy30s). I wasn’t completely sure I wanted my name and diagnosis and experience so accessible. People told me ‘you’ll regret it five years from now’ and ‘you’ll never get a job or a date if someone does an internet search for you.’

And then, the more people I met going through what I was - depression, hospitalization, endless medication trials, and later, electro convulsive therapy (ECT), and, the more people I met who had been through it before me - made me certain I made the right decision to write about my on-going experience.

So this week, I was taken by surprise when someone I knew as a teenager, then lost touch with, then reconnected with through Facebook said…’but you had such a good life, why would you KILL yourself?’

My surprise was more about not having a succinct answer than the question itself. So I took a moment and started with a very ‘heady’ answer…depression can be situational (like after a loss of some kind) and/or clinical, it effects everyone differently, sometimes depression lifts and sometimes depression dips, some people never see it coming, some people don’t acknowledge it’s there for a myriad of reasons like fear, guilt, shame, unfamiliarity, sometimes it can cause suicidal ideations, feelings of hopelessness, frustration, etc. Contrary to popular belief, people can still live with depression and laugh. I laugh a lot with my friends - even when I am crying. Some people choose to self-medicate with all sorts of things like drugs, over-working, alcohol, shopping, gambling, relationships, etc. Depression can take on a life…’ and she interrupted and said, ‘but your parents were married, you had a nice house.’ Again, I was sort of stumped. So, I went back to my beginning and why (I think) depression found me.

I started smoking pot when I was 15. It was a quick and easy way to check out. It helped my anxiety about school, helped me check out a bit from my social life, helped me not worry about having a boyfriend, not worry about not having a lot of friends. It numbed me up during my exhausting and challenging relationships, got me through very challenging college years, helped me relax when I was panicking about career concerns and responsibilities. Fast forward to 33…still smoking pot, dating a man who, on the side, built pot grow-dens. Then, a break-up and my first hospitalization. This is when my ideations began. The thoughts started, and essentially ‘moved in’ to my brain.

The attending psychiatrist told me if I didn’t stop smoking pot, my depression would kill me, and he was right (I read that sentence and think it sounds so dramatic…but in hindsight, I do believe it was very, very true). I had felt depressed for yearrrrrrs but pot smoking (I think) kept it at bay.

The reality was that I began feeling subtle feelings of depression as early as junior high. What often gets explained away as ‘teen angst’ was likely the beginning of my depression experience. And, it wasn’t that I had a ‘bad’ or ‘rough’ life, if anything it was the exact opposite. And yes, my parents were still married then (and still are!!), I grew up in a beautiful home, I had hobbies and pets and friends…but I couldn’t engage. I couldn’t get into anything I was doing.

I like to think of it as not being able to ‘hook in.’ I wasn’t able to hook in to my life. I felt this way for many, many, many years (and still do much of the time). For a brief time in college, I felt very hooked in - I was involved with a man who brought me an enormous amount of calm and joy, and I was writing around the clock. When both things ended, I hopped from relationship to relationship, job to job.

After that first hospitalization, I chose to stop drinking and smoking (and yes, I miss both!!!) so I could let my new medications work. Ironically, and from what I understand is common, once that happened my depression - and ideations - got much worse because I had to actually deal with my emotions. The ideations came, and then kept coming. They kept coming. So much so that my positive thoughts had to fight to get some brain space. I became so used to them, I functioned with them while I was at work, with my friends, doing dishes, playing with my nieces and nephews. Fast forward to last year, 39 years old. Lying on my bed, music on, my apartment was warm and cozy, I had flowers next to the bed. My cat was with me curled up to my thigh, my Christmas lights were twinkling. It was one of those super comfortable, super relaxing, ‘just me’ evenings. The next thing I know I was standing at my kitchen counter emptying my medicine cabinet. No tears, no anxiety, no fear. I was certain my decision was what was best for me and my loved ones. I was certain that my life was meant to end that way, and I was certain my family and friends would have understood. My actions that night altered my whole life and the lives of people around me. I had no plan, no alternative method. No notes written (apparently I did end up writing something and leaving it on my bed). My actions were entirely impulsive. From the decision to do it to actually doing it is a complete blur. I have no memory of walking to my counter, no memory of going back to my bed. I have no memory of texting my girlfriends who then called emergency services. I think I texted them my computer passwords or bank information. As I was going on with my explanation, I realized it was more for me than my friend. I think she had checked out within the first minute or so…and I just kept trying to “make sense of things” for her and for myself. I found myself saying “oh, you know, we don’t have to talk about this…so how are your kids?” So, when a person asks ‘why?’ - why are you depressed, why don’t you just get a job, why did you do it, why don’t you just think happy thoughts, why didn’t you think about consequences, why don’t you just meditate, why don’t you eat this or that or not eat this or that, why, why, why…the answer can be very complex and multi-layered. There also might not BE an exact answer. Or, the answer might not be what the person asking accepts or wants to hear. And that, my friends, is perfectly alright.

Source: ilostmy30s