College Algebra

I can’t help but feel that my meager amount of self-confidence is just a show I put on for other people so that I don’t seem so pathetic all the time.

Any time anything even a little bit upsetting happens, I stop eating.
It’s not even a conscious thing. I’ll just start getting dizzy and feel really faint, and then I all of a sudden realize I haven’t eaten anything in two days.
I think that’s why I liked adderall so much. Instead of having to seriously consider my on-going eating disorder, I just chalk it up to the speed.

Every day, I make the conscious decision to eat a meal, to buy a candy bar, to force myself to eat. And if anything distracts me from those decisions, my body suffers for it. I keep telling myself that this will get easier with time, but I know that, in reality, it won’t.
When Josh and I would go to my dad’s NA meetings, one of the big lessons they try to imprint upon you is that “once an addict, always an addict.” There is never a point that a meth-user doesn’t crave meth. That an alcoholic doesn’t want a drink.
And I don’t think there will ever in my life again be a moment that I actuallywant to eat. Hunger is addicting. I love the way my stomach rumbles late at night, sometimes so much that I can feel my stomach twisting in on itself, empty and angry. I love the burn of working my intensely physical job on an empty stomach. Knowing that each 40 pound dog I lift is another calorie burned. When I think about how sick I am, I feel like crying.

But most days I’m too tired to fight it. It’s so much easier to let it consume me.

These are things that I should tell to Gavin that I am too afraid and ashamed of to say out loud. I’ve spent the majority of my life in shame.

Last night, Gavin made this joke about mainstream dubstep. It went something like, “She’s an eight-year-old girl that’s been brutally raped.” And for a second I just waited for him to realize what he’d just said to me, but he never did.
I got really mad and told him, “Yeah. Really great thing to say to the girl that was brutally raped when she was eight years old.” And when he got it he felt so bad. He tried to give me this speech about how strong I am and how he could never deal with what was done to me as well as I have and how sometimes he just forgets that it ever happened. Must be nice.

But I’m not that strong, you know? I have an eating disorder. I’m addicted to adderall. I have my former rapist’s cell phone number, but won’t call him because I’m terrified of him, still.

And I feel like I’m somehow lying to him that he believes that I’m anything more than this pathetic girl that can’t move on with her life.

Making friends is hard. I’ve been at MSAH for four months, and though no one is out-right mean to me, I still get the feeling that most people are just tolerating me.
I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.

itscandidlycara:

iwearthatdress:

magicmurd3rbag:

warningdontreadthis:

itscandidlycara:

Wait, let me back up.

Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a…

Ok, so, my friend already read this to me and while she was reading it, I got angrier and angrier because of the blatan disrespect this person has for men as well as herself.

FIRST: if you have rotting blood coming from your body, then you have a sickness that is not menstruation. 
SECOND: if you have a problem with wearing tampons (because not everyone likes tampons) then don’t wear them; if you have a problem with wearing pads, THEN DON’T WEAR THEM. Jesus, those are the two ways we can hope to stay fucking clean (in a way) during that time of the goddamned month, if you don’t like either one, then go get yourself a hysterectomy. 
THIRD: Regarding the birthcontrol, I understand completely what you’re trying to say, and that’s fine that you can’t afford it because the BC won’t necessarily get rid of your cramps OR your period issues - if anything, they could worsen them and that’s a huge no-no. There are some natural solutions to dealing with your cramps, such as drinking milk, taking a nice warm bath, and masturbating. Things calming. Once again though, if you are bleeding ROTTING BLOOD, you have a sickness that is NOT menstruation.
FOURTH: Ok, this part REALLY got me going. Who are you to assume that men don’t care about the pain women go through with their period? You don’t have to be descrete about it at all, and if you don’t want to be then don’t be. But don’t you DARE sit there and say that it is ALL because of men that you have to be descrete about your period, or that you bleed at all. That isn’t fair. There are plenty of women who are just as against the idea of even speaking about their period - JUST LIKE YOU! You’re as bad as the men you mock.
FIFTH: They call them feminine products because who wants to have it shoved in your face, “HEY GET YOUR PADS HERE! STOP UP YOUR VAGINA WITH YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF TAMPONS!” I’m a female, and not even I would like that in my face. However, once again you generalize men and that is not fair. My dad was the one who picked up my first box of pads and he didn’t act any kind of offended; just because you have some pretty overly-sensitive individuals around you, doesn’t mean that the rest of them are just as insensitive towards your period.
SIXTH: NOT EVERY MALE CAN CONTROL THEIR ERECTIONS EITHER! Some go their whole life unable to control their arousal, and it CAN be the same as a period: something they cannot control. An ex boy friend of mine used to get random boners every day, and it was hard on him because they were just as embarrassing as a leaky pad on white pants, or even jeans. Everyone could see, so there IS a correlation between the two. Get off your sexist high horse and get over yourself. Not every time when a man has an erection does it mean they are getting pleasure, and not every time does their erections end in orgasm. In fact, while on a period, masturbation is the best way to ease the menstrual cramps. But you won’t do that, because apparently, you have rotting blood. Get over it.
SEVENTH: When I’m on my period, I don’t want to talk to anyone about it. Not because it’s icky for anyone, but because I’m not feeling good. I bloat to three times my size, and that hurts when I can’t wear anything other than stretch pants for three days. I understand that not every period is the same, but you have to understand that they don’t want to talk about it because you might not want to talk about it. If you do, then talk about it, if you don’t THEN DON’T. Don’t say that it’s because of MEN that you can’t talk about it, because that is unfair and untrue.
EIGHT: LET ME EXPLAIN TO YOU WHAT VIAGRA WAS INITIALLY USED FOR: heart conditions in both genders. It just happened to cause long lasting erections for men, and thus was a side product. It is a PRESCRIBED medication, and is often used to help with EDs - which DO suck and can be confidence shattering. You can’t just get viagra, you have to prove you can’t get your penis up, that you cannot stay erect during times of pleasure. You can’t fake that - you just can’t.

I have NO problem talking about my period, and my fiance who loves me, doesn’t care if I bitch and moan about my bleeding epidemic. He cares that I’m hurting, and he’ll go get me some pads if I need them - so not all men are horrible regarding your period. Those that are, perhaps you should spend less time around? Maybe? My dad was supportive of my period, my brother is helpful when he can be, my guy friends (who get grossed out when I bleed on the floor) understand that I bleed uncontrollably, and all that. I am a very neutral person, and I can understand why you’re so pissy and upset, and I’m SORRY that you have such a problem with being open about your period, but don’t blame MEN for your insecurities, and don’t talk as if they are the cause of EVERYTHING regarding birth control. You’re just a whiney, insecure bitch on her period.

Get over yourself.

Any valid point you might have had was completely invalidated by you having to resort to personal jabs. Good job on not only missing the point, but also being a belligerent bully. 

I was actually going to go point by point and privately respond to this, I’d outline where we agree and share common ground, point out where we disagree, and re-iterate what the larger scope of my argument was, as I have to dozens of the comments I’ve gotten from this post. Until it turned into pick on who I am as a human being.

I think that conversation and discourse is so important in bringing about progress in our society, but like the above post says, when you resort to personal jabs, almost everything you say prior is completely invalidated.

Maybe I should do a “how to argue on the internet” video this week? I think that so many people censor their opinions out of fear of being personally attacked for what they think, which is not conducive to a healthy, open, and lively conversation over the big topics.

Regardless, to the original reblogger, I did admit and embrace some fallacies I incurred here. If you’re interested. 

I really liked Cara’s post. I thought it was really thoughtful, witty, and appropriate. I think it’s silly that she had to apologize to anyone and point out her love in men because some people ickle feely-weelies got hurt. It IS unfair that men can talk about their boners in public conversation, but women have to settle for whispered conversations in the restroom. Women and our periods are treated as the punchline of disgusting joke. It’s stupid. Furthermore, this is tumblr, not facebook. If you don’t like someone’s post, just keep scrolling. You don’t have to reply in such a rude and ultimately self-degrading manner.

So, Gavin has this belt, see. It’s just a long stip of cloth I guess and has two metal loops at the end, and he does this magic trick that somehow makes it hold his pants up, I don’t really know. When I wear it, all I have to do is give it a gentle tug and my pants hit the floor. When he wears it, it becomes a chastity belt, an impenetrable defense between his penis and I. I’ll like, tug on it, and pull on it, and finally just give up. To recover from the embarrassment of being a 19 year old girl engaged to be married to a man who’s belt is kicking my ass, I just use my sexy voice and say, “Take your pants off. Now.” And that usually does the trick.
But still, you guys. How the fuck do belts work?

John Green said (or, rather, a German cab-driver in a book written by John Green said:) that Amsterdam is not a city of sin, but a city of freedom. Unfortunately, he elaborated, in freedom most people find sin.

I find that true not only in Amsterdam, but in the world at large, and mostly in people. Like, I’m lucky enough to live in America. A lot of Americans take the simple fact that we live in a democracy for granted. Republican or Democrat? Most countries don’t get that sort of choice. It’s really cool that we have Presidential elections. We get to choose the leader of our nation. I mean, do you not understand what I’m trying to say here? North Korea didn’t choose their leader. His dad died and now he’s King. Regardless of his age, morals, ethics, and actual leadership qualities, he know rules North Korea for better or worse.
Presidential Candidates have to be of a certain age, have to be American, have to face constant and persistent scrutiny from the general populace, and do all this and more under the threat of assassination at any moment. What? I’m already a nervous wreck, but to actually know for a fact that there are people in this world that are actively trying to kill me? Come on. That’s ridiculous.

It’s also really amazing to me how many people in the world complain about being miserable. Emotions, for the most part, are a choice. You can choose to be grumpy about having to go to work, and having to pick up dog shit for a living, and having to deal with other grumpy people; or you can wake up thankful that you have a job at all. Or that, you know, you have the miracle of human consciousness. People choose to be miserable just like I choose not to be. Everyone has bad days, but it’s silly to say, “My life is shit and so I am allowed to be angry and depressed.”
YOUR life is shit? Try mine on for size. In any case, there’s always someone with bigger problems. You are not the first person to suffer and you won’t be the last. Get over it.

Some people think that my happiness is caused by naivety or stupidity. As if I’m just not intelligent enough to recognize the issues in the world around me and to be accordingly depressed by them. That has nothing to do with it. Is it really productive to live my entire life feeling like shit because the world sucks? No. I find it much more helpful to try to help the people around me in any way that I can, even if it’s just making someone smile.

Amsterdam is not a city of sin, it is a city of freedom. Unfortunately, in freedom, most people find sin. But I’d rather look on the brighter side.

itscandidlycara:

Wait, let me back up.

Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a week, but considering that my period is pretty…

rocksfalling:

vondell-swain:

8,465 people follow me, and all of you better be watching this video.

if you see this on your dash, right here, put aside a half an hour and watch this, or bookmark it and come back to it as soon as you can.

it’s very important.

I don’t ask you guys to do much, but I will ask that everyone watch this. at the very least, watch it. feel free to reblog this post as many times as you wish, feel free to share it anywhere you want to, and feel free to tell your friends and family about it, to take to the streets and spread the information, but even if you don’t, even if you just keep it to yourself, at the very least I’m asking you to watch.

Watch & Share: http://www.kony2012.com/sharefilm/

Donate: http://invisiblechildren.com/donate

Store: http://store.invisiblechildren.com/

I got involved with Invisible Children in 2006. Now is your time. 
Take thirty minutes to educate yourself and, if you feel you need to do so, take action according to the resources you have. 

(Source: kimpoyfeliciano)

sea-air-ah:

WTF is One Direction….

Okay, because I thought that maybe this was A Thing we were all missing out on, I looked it up. One Direction is just another teenaged-boy-band (re: Big Time Rush) that sings about heartbreak and girl problems as their fangirls attempt to ravish them en masse. They are all attractive kids from good homes with great parents— blahblahblah.

(Source: imgfave)

When people use their life problems as excuses to be shitty people, it really pisses me off.
“Well, of course I’m a woman-beating, drug-using, alcohol-abusing, aggressive person. I watched my mom get beat by my dad as a little kid.”

Yeah, well, I was raped when I was seven, but you don’t see me running around acting like a heathen.
The point that I try so hard to get across every day of my goddamn life is that bad things happen every day but that is not an excuse. Having bad things happen to you does not somehow entitle you to do bad things. Yeah, sure, I am super fucked up mentally and emotionally because of the things that have been done to me, and that sucks, and I will have to deal with those things for the rest of my life, but that’s the point: I will have to deal with them. Every morning, I wake up and think about the horrific things I should not have had to suffer and throw myself a little pity party. Then I get out of bed, tell myself “Tough titties,” and I go on about my life. My goal for each day is to make any other person’s day better. Not because I’m a saint or even a good person, but because it proves to me that the things that have happened to me do not make me who I am.

It took me a long time to realize that you are not the things that have happened to you. You are not the injustices and hurts and trials of your life. At some point, you have to decide how to deal with your issues, and if you choose to abuse drugs and people, then that is your fault. There is no “but I am this way because…” There is only you and the nasty, rotten heart at your core.

Sometimes I just sit here and think about all the things that need doing.
Grocery shopping, uniform store, sweeping and mopping, friends, phone calls, texts, new phones, bill paying, and all the rest.
I think about all this stuff, and I think about how unnecessary it is.

I don’t need a house or a car or a phone or a job.
I just need you to love me.

Knowing that you do is what gets me off my lazy ass and running around like a sheep to complete all the tasks that I’ve set for myself.

Let’s move to Brazil. Or Jamaica. Or Russia or France or Canada or anywhere, as long as you take me with you. Let’s get a dalmatian and live like a Sublime song without the gory end. We can go anywhere and all the things that we could never have imagined doing this time a year ago, before we met each other.

You give me the hope and the inspiration and the motivation to be better, do better, make the world a better place. You give me reason and definition, my lines were blurry before you, but now I know who I am.
We are the same person, one soul in two bodies, and I will always have you to lean on and cry on but also to share all of my joys with. My accomplishments are yours, my failings are yours, and I belong to you just as fully as you belong to me.

I think that people need each other.
We all need our soulmate.
And I am so happy to have found you when I needed you most.