July 25, 2012
"Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation. If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.

It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too. No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged."

EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ THIS.

Depression is not a synonym for being sad or having a bad day/bad week.

It’s not a PHASE. It’s not a CHOICE. It’s not LAZINESS.

(via general-grievous)

(Source: sherunsfromdarkness, via vexelle)

March 8, 2012
Dear people of tumblr,

Please stop making fun of Benedict Cumberbatch’s chin. 

For that matter, please stop making fun of everyone ever for any arbitrary part of their body or physical appearance. 

Because that is a douchey thing to do. Because that perpetuates a culture wherein those things are done, and can be done to you. Because you are participating in your own marginalization and the marginalization of those you love when you do so. Because upholding a narrow beauty standard is shitty. Because it’s impossible to comment on one person’s appearance without also commenting on someone else’s.

Which brings us back to Benedict Cumberbatch and his chin. 

I like Benedict Cumberbatch’s chin. My favourite part of it is that he’s gorgeous while having it. 

See. I have a weak chin. My chin has two settings. 

Setting 1: No Chin. Where’s the chin? There is no chin. I am a q-tip head.
Fun bonus question: can you tell if I am wearing clothes? 

And 

Setting 2: ALL THE CHINS. Use them to teach your preschoolers to count!
True story: I took this picture while reading anti-choice bullshit, and that is the face I was making.

This has been true about me my whole life. Even while thin! Which I am not any more! But even when I was thin, I was still Girl Of The Nonexistant Or Overexistant Chin.

It also would not be in any way an exaggeration to say that for most of my life it was (and is) the single greatest point of physical self-consciousness for me. That if a magical fairy came and said I could change only one part of my body, even as I started getting fat (generally [and wrongly] considered THE WORST THING TO BE) this chin would have been the thing I asked to change. 

It made me hate photos of myself. It made me believe no one could ever find me pretty. And since it’s not something easily fixed by plastic surgery I couldn’t even fantasize about if it were different. 

I used to, age 6 and 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 and 11 and 12 and on, grab the tiny and unavoidable little stip of fat under my chin and pull it as taught as possible to see if I could make my chin look different. 

When people like the way Benedict Cumberbatch looks, it makes me feel good about myself. I don’t need the kinds of boosts I could have used when I was younger any more, as I’ve worked hard for many years to help myself to feel better about my looks, but still. When I see that Benedict Cumberbatch, with his funny chin like my funny chin, can still be sex on legs - Not even despite it, perhaps because. Because it adds to his whole look. Because he’s just overall attractive. - it makes reminds me that I can be attractive too.

And when people make fun of him, they are also making fun of me. And the way I look. Because when people make fun of Benedict it always comes down to that chin. And I feel 8 year old me already learning to hide from cameras. 12 year old me trying to pull her face into being something else in the mirror. 

And that sucks. 

So knock it off. 

Because I may be old enough and wise enough to take it. 

And Benedict may be a public figure who chose a career where he knew he would be scrutinized. 

But I can promise you I’m not the last little kid who’s had these kinds of anxieties. 

And it’s very possible the eleven-year-old version of me is on tumblr right now. 

And she’s about to give up dating and give up boys and give up everything romantic and run away from photos and not try out for those roles in the play and give up figure skating and dance because she believes she isn’t pretty. 

Because you just told her she isn’t.

And this goes for every other actor and every other physical trait you think is funny/unattractive. 

Knock it the fuck off. 

Liked posts on Tumblr: More liked posts »