I'm Reesa. Queer, nonbinary, autistic spectrum, ace, mental health issues, completely messed up (but in a good way), interested in a whole range of things and passionate about some of them. They/them/theirs (although I keep trying to convince people that "or" would make a fantastic pronoun). Let me know if you need things tagged.
if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them.
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors?
If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.
This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”.
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live.
Thank you for your important commentary! I hope you find someone who can love you for who you are and admire your strength as a survivor.
holy shit this just makes me so immensely disgusted and i actually feel sick to the core??? just. holy shit.
These surgeries save women’s lives. Your wife/family member/girlfriend etc. could die horrifically by not getting this surgery, yet you care about bewbs. My neighbor had to get BC surgery and had inserts put in after, but they’ve caused her so many problems. Pain, inflammation, scars and pieces not in the right places, all because she knew people would shame her for not having them.
I myself have a (benign) cyst in one of my breasts that I’m terrified will turn into something cancerous. I’m hoping that who I’m with will understand if that happens (I think I can safely assume yes). A significant other who won’t even look at you after a life saving surgery is grounds for break-up/divorce.
A life saving surgery should not be seen as a “blow to all men everywhere” as was said when Angelina Jolie was to get surgery.
OK so I can’t be the only person who was a little bit sceptical when Jared said (at Torcon) that Gadreel talked in iambic pentameter (“I bet he just talks in iambs but not in petameter,” I thought) (OH MAN I AM SUCH A GEEK) - but turns out I was being unfair. He only does it in Holy Terror and Road Trip, the two episodes where Gadreel’s true identity has been revealed: but all the lines above are taken from those episodes and all of them are lines of iambic pentameter (there are more but the gifset was getting too long).
[Hopefully this explanatory section isn’t too obnoxious, as everybody everywhere in the world has to do Shakespeare at school (and why not, he’s awesome) so you probably know this; but in case you needed your memory jogged:
Poetry written in iambic pentameter is written in lines of five two-syllable feet (called ‘iambs’). The first syllable is unstressed and the second syllable is stressed: for example, the word ‘comPARE’ makes up an iamb because in natural English speech you stress the second syllable. Shakespeare uses this metre a lot, e.g. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’.
In the gifs I’ve put stressed syllables in red. If you read the lines stressing those syllables, you should find that fits with the natural cadence of the words.
Jared’s performance of the lines doesn’t always stress those syllables with complete regularity - for example, he says ‘But Metatron, would that not make YOU God?’ - but that’s just good reading. If everybody read iambic pentameter with repetitive, exaggerated emphasis it would sound really boring and unnatural. OK, end of English class!]
one of the most insidious things about depression is it doesn’t ‘feel’ like depression. even when you have it, you know you have it, you’ve been diagnosed—you still find yourself thinking, no, nope, this isn’t it, can’t be. it’s like the mental illness equivalent of that knight in monty python that keeps going ‘it’s a flesh wound! i’m fine, really! this is just a scratch, i’ll be up in a moment!’ even after all his limbs have been hacked off and he’s lying there helpless.
one of the most common narratives around it is that no one realizes they have depression until they start checking off what they consider to be normal aspects of their lives—and personal character flaws— against the checklist for depression symptoms. really key symptoms include:
- lack of motivation
- constant tiredness, even exhaustion
- finding no pleasure or satisfaction in activities they used to like, or that they know should feel good
- not seeing the point of doing anything
- increased and even unmanageable anxiety and fearfulness
any one of these symptoms drains away your ability to do work, cope with setbacks, overcome difficulties, or stop procrastinating. multiple symptoms create a pretty perfect storm of intertia and anxious self-loathing. you stop doing anything because it’s hard to get going, unpleasant while you’re at it, and afterwards there’s no reward. why bother, right? and when you’re always tired you get conservative of what little energy you can manage, and when you only feel emotions on the ‘empty to miserable’ spectrum you get really aversive to making mistakes. the whole mess very quickly and very insidiously loads every single thing in your life with toxic emotional baggage.
and then someone says to you— or you say to yourself, ‘stop being lazy’. and that haunts you forever. because you’re lazy! the work is so easy. everyone else does it. everyone but you, you lazy asshole, lying around all day not doing this totally easy thing that you should be able to but aren’t. you don’t have depression! of course not. mental illness is for victims, is for blameless innocent people who can’t be blamed for being so understandably sick. but you can be blamed. you have a character flaw, and it’s getting worse by the minute.
and that is how people who have been diagnosed, who have been medicated, who have been through therapy, can still spend all day hiding in bed and chewing themselves up over their failure to just somehow magically be a good, healthy, useful person, instead of treating themselves to a sick day and saying ‘yup! it’s depression. i need to be kind to myself.’
Fuck this is so important and relevant
Nope reblogging twice in a row because u want to scream this from the roof and plaster it over the walls and never shut up about it
game of thrones will really surprise people next season when in the ninth episode they kill off actual viewers
I was not expecting that, and I laughed entirely too loud.
Somebody up the line said “I bet George would really love actually doing that.” :)
The sun isn’t bright just because I say it is. It just is. It was bright before I even knew the word for bright. I didn’t decide what it is, I acknowledged what it is.
You aren’t worth something just because I say you are. You just are. You were worth something before I even said anything. I didn’t decide that you are, I acknowledged that you are.
This is what I mean when I say “You are worth it.”
This is great.
I have no words.
A tiger mother lost her cubs from premature labour. Shortly after she became depressed and her health declined, and she was diagnosed with depression. So they wrapped up piglets in tiger cloth, and gave them to the tiger. The tiger now loves these pigs and treats them like her babies.
I HAD TO… i felt forced.
Oh god that is so beautiful
Check snopes people.
reblogging again for cute pictures