you need to be earnest. you need to tell people that you love them. you need to speak on how you’re feeling honestly. you need to be sentimental. you need to stop letting the fear of other people laughing at you have so much control over how you express yourself. you need to get over yourself. you need to be embarrassing but true.
I have had "friends", lovers, family, and more prove MANY times over how easy it is to say whatever the person thinks you want to hear but proving that their words are true... well, that's a whole different story. I've seen the attitudes as lies are defended. I've watched the lies change and shift depending on the moment. What I haven't really seen is people being honest, true, and open. So yeah, at this point... if you want me to believe.... show me.
Humans make no sense to me. They destroy everything, including each other and seem to think it's okay. It's like people believe life isn't supposed to be annoying so when it is, they find ways to get a "feel good" no matter who, or what, it hurts. It creates chaos that doesn't need to exist, which ends up being more fuel for people to behave poorly in search of that "feel good". The trail of damage left behind is disgusting and yet, it's like nobody actually understands that, or cares. It really does seem to be all about easy "feel good" even when that only adds to the problems. meh Maybe I'm just missing something but then again, I did label this "strugglingasahuman" so... clearly there is a LOT I "miss". hahaha
Separate emotionally from the family you grew up in; not to the point of estrangement, but enough so that your identity is separate from that of your parents and siblings.
Build togetherness based on a shared intimacy and identity, while at the same time set boundaries to protect each partner’s autonomy.
Establish a rich and pleasurable sexual relationship and protect it from the intrusions of the workplace and family obligations.
For couples with children, embrace the daunting roles of parenthood and absorb the impact of a baby’s entrance into the marriage. Learn to continue the work of protecting the privacy of you and your spouse as a couple.
Confront and master the inevitable crises of life.
Maintain the strength of the marital bond in the face of adversity. The marriage should be a safe haven in which partners are able to express their differences, anger and conflict.
Use humor and laughter to keep things in perspective and to avoid boredom and isolation.
Nurture and comfort each other, satisfying each partner’s needs for dependency and offering continuing encouragement and support.
Keep alive the early romantic, idealized images of falling in love, while facing the sober realities of the changes wrought by time.
Thanks to Judith S. Wallerstein, PhD, co-author of the book "The Good Marriage: How and Why Love Lasts."
Source: http://www.apa.org/helpcenter/marriage.aspx
How I love the beer company ads of non drinkers. They fully mirror the kind of world we are in, how it fucks us up and then advertises itself as a better place to live in.
Everything is disposable.
Everything I have. It holds no value to anyone but me. I need to stop valuing anything – anything I have, anything I like, anything that makes me who I am. My heart – it’s utter trash.
I didn’t feel this way before. Was my heart always this fragile?
He said I was looking for a problem. But that’s not true. If I thought there was any chance there was a problem, I would have hardened myself for it. I would have made sure I was resilient enough to withstand it. I thought we were perfect.
And when I learned the truth, it more than broke my heart. I felt foolish. Shame. Worthless. Trash.
Is this trauma? I can’t stop thinking about it – every day – about how I’m less than her. Even when I thought I was the best I could possibly be, it wasn’t enough to have his heart. It’s hers.
He said that his feelings for her weren't real. That type of love isn’t real. Passion. Infatuation. Obsession. But those are the feelings I have for him — those and more. I feel everything for him. I wanted to be my best for him. I wanted to show him my worst. I wanted to be with him all the time and longed for him when he wasn’t around. I thought about him. I thought about what he thought about. I cared about the things he cared about.
My love was strong and fierce.
The closest thing I’ve ever found to a soul mate? Him.
The closest thing he’s ever found to a soul mate? Her.
He said he had moved on. But he's said that time and time before. And I believed him before. If I’d known before, I wouldn’t even be here. If I’d known, I could have made my own choice about being with him – and my heart would still be whole.
When my heart broke, I thought about leaving. But what would that fix? My heart would still be broken. I have a chance now to make a choice, but I’m in too deep, and my choice is different. My choice is to stay. My heart still loves him fiercely. And all I can do is heal.
How do I heal?
He decides how I heal. He decides what my heart needs – not me. He thinks kindness and care are enough. He says that’s love. That’s the 1st Corinthians kind of love. That’s not my love. That’s not my heart. That won’t fix the heart.
I know what I need. I know how to heal the hurt. I can’t control what it is that will heal me – it just is what it is. And I know.
I need to feel important. I need to feel valuable. I need to feel like I am worth – worth being a part of his story. Worth anything.
So I asked for his help to make the hurt go away.
He refused. He refused to even acknowledge it – the reason I hurt. And me acknowledging it made him feel bad. That’s what he needs – to pretend nothing bad has ever happened. That he doesn’t love her.
That I don’t hurt.
He can’t control what he needs for his heart. His heart is valuable. Mine is not. So we don’t acknowledge it.
And I’ve felt this way all this time — and never said anything. And I know it has shone through. It’s been visible ever since. Obvious, even. But we pretend it’s not there. We let it hurt, and we don’t say anything. We just … let it.
Let it. Let me.
Let me hate myself. Let me wish I was someone else. Her. Because he loved her.
Let me rot. Let me sleep. Let me drown in work. Let me give up on my health. Let me abandon joy. Let me stop being my best self. Let me be my worst self. Let me waste. Let me throw myself away.
I’m disposable.
.
.
.
.
.
First, I want to say – I hear you. Your pain is raw and real, and it’s clear you’re holding so much weight in your heart right now. It sounds like you’ve been carrying this hurt for a while, trying to push through it, trying to understand it – but instead of finding answers, you’ve been left feeling hollow and discarded. That’s devastating. It’s the kind of heartbreak that doesn’t just bruise – it makes you question your own value, your own worth, and whether you’re even deserving of love.
But you are.
The fact that you feel so deeply, that you loved so fiercely – that’s not weakness. That’s strength. It takes courage to love someone with your whole heart, especially when it makes you vulnerable to being hurt. And I know it feels right now like your heart is fragile, but I think it’s just tender from being stretched to its limits. That’s not the same as weakness. That’s a heart that’s alive – even when it hurts.
It sounds like you’ve been left feeling like you’re second best, like you were compared to someone else and came up short. That’s brutal, and it’s unfair. And maybe he didn’t mean to make you feel that way – maybe he doesn’t even realize how deeply it cut – but that doesn’t mean your pain is invalid. It doesn’t mean you’re wrong for feeling it.
Your heart is not disposable. Your love is not disposable.
baby I can’t bear the thought of letting you down. you’re the one I dress up for, the one I cry in secret for. i don’t call you when the world is crumbling because I want you to believe that I’m successful and beautiful and strong. whenever I love someone new, I hide every breakdown like a secret shame. I know if you found out how frightened I actually am, you’ll leave. they always do. believe me, lover. I know how this story goes.