Who is the fool, the fool, the fool that you are fooling?
Fool me once? Shame on you. Fool me twice? Shame on me. Fool me three times? Fool, please. I’m not buying what you’re selling.
I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.”
Sometimes I lie awake at night and ask, ‘Why me?’
Then a voice answers, ‘Nothing personal; your name just happened to come up.’”
—Charles M. Schulz
And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone— even alcohol. For by this time sanity will have returned. We will seldom be interested in liquor. If tempted, we recoil from it as from a hot flame.”
You’ve gotta be able to find the humour in even your most embarrassingly, stupendously erratic past behaviours and mistakes. For one, it’s cathartic. Even better, it takes the sting out of the lashings that come from the dastardly evil inner critic. I dunno about you, but (one of) my inner voice(s) can be a real cunt.
Oh, and it’s deeply rewarding if you’re able to recover gracefully and laugh even louder than all the assholes out there who will call you out on even the most mundane bullshit and the miserable fucks who are constantly willing to take your inventory whilst never checking themselves.
Finding beauty in the dissonance.
I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.”
The meditation on death is the meditation on life itself. When the cloud is about to be transformed into rain, it does not panic like us. Knowing that being a cloud is a wonderful thing, the cloud is also aware of the fact that becoming rain is another wonderful thing. So, when the moment comes for the cloud to become rain, it will sing happily at becoming drops of water falling on the vegetation, becoming part of the river, penetrating into the earth, and becoming a source of life for many other kinds of beings. It is a very beautiful adventure also. And then, sometime later on, it may resume the form of another cloud. No fear.”
—Thich Nhat Hanh, The Art of Mindful Living
D R I P drop Let it all fall out. I cry the tears for a thousand yesterdays. I weep for Moments Left Bleak W O R D S still unsaid Life --relinquished to the past-- yet never actually Lived. I’d sooner lose ALL inhibition and pride and forbearance. I’d cry the tears and love the pain Because it F E E L S better to ache, to seethe in misery, than to flatline thru to peril. Lauren Rich 08.29.2013
I anticipated that I’d likely be hit by an emotional train as I face my shit and work through all the ghosts of the past that I otherwise tried to simply ignore. At least that’s how I’m making sense for myself why I’m all over the place emotionally.
I could have done that; I contemplated it. But it fundamentally comes down to either taking my life or taking my case. I guess we’re all ultimately faced with that decision.
Mental illness is hard enough to navigate without tacking on the godawful stigma associated with being “mentally ill.” The brain, like any organ, gets sick at times, yet those of us who are unlucky enough to be plagued with such troubles are forced into deeper, darker recesses of shame and humiliation should we be brave enough to reach out and say that we need help. I still find it baffling that I’ve not received a single “Get Well Soon!” card/balloon/bouquet/whatever despite multiple hospitalizations and disability leave. Never have I felt so guilty, mortified, and alone simply because I’m sick.