View allAll Photos Tagged selfloathing
man vs hanbanero chilli pepper and pepper wins
man this to be one of the worst ideas i've ever had
to give you some idea of how bad it was a jalepeno chilli pepper is 3500-4000 on the Scoville heat scale
but the Hanbanero chilli pepper is 200,000-350,000 on the Scoville heat scale
and man it hurt like a mother #*&$#"!
it burned for about 30 mins and took me about 15 mins before i could even speak
please do not try this at home
just press "L" on your keyboards to share in my pain :(
Do you feel like sometimes, the past was all a waste?
Like you suddenly turn back and realise you did not know who has been living your life?
we fell off, fell off, fell of the track...
we fell off, fell off, baby, come back.
we fell off, fell off, fell of the track and derailed
im a little sorrowful today in an emotional train wreck sort of way and short on time, but i felt the need to self medicate with my favorite drug, photography and do a quick iphone pic + a quickie PS edit... heres to love and lighter hearts for tomorrow... xo
website | facebook | bluecanvas | 500px | prints | deviantART
Inspired by
Monkeyman (Pierre)
www.flickr.com/photos/pookhy/453883574/
& Dali
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damn i'm sleepy.
k this is for messyowl 'cuz she tagged me & told me i had to write something:
i got in my car & drove it over the hill, down the straight long roads lined with endless vacuous fields, towards the battered body of a house we'd promised ourselves we'd never return to, barely standing on a half-paved road in a ghost of a town.
the sky & the hills & the grass & the asphalt were all saturated with the colors of the setting sun. golden streaks of light like honey dripping over everytihng, & shadows so deep you could dive into them & drown trying to reach the bottom. the warm wind through the unrolled windows was as loud as armageddon, the trees on the roadside rained leaves like confetti. magpies were spinning & diving in the air in razor thin lines, flying frantically away from my oncomming car. i was traveling fast enough to move through time, backwards to a spent summer i've been tryng to forget. those days you reflect on for the rest of your life, the memories that allow you to say "i've been worse off before."
i settled in to a dirty white-walled room, on a mattress in the middle of the floor, bare besides an ill-fitting sleeping bag that was rank of dust & depression & cat piss. greyed with filth, the sheer curtains nailed over the window let all the empty blackness of the night outside spill in.
i sit in this room with my possessions: a beat up suitcase filled with tattered flower-print sun dresses. my car keys. a small fan blowing stale air, circulting the sad little room. some old books & frayed sheets of paper. everything, that's everything i've got. everything else is haplessly packed floor-to-ceiling in various storage units across california. my patience & sanity & self esteem are in an old trunk, burried under a mountain of priceless, beloved junk. the sad little white-walled room is like a personal insane asylum, housing me at one of my lowest lows, echoing the pathetic sobs of my desperate situation.
gotta leave the light on to keep out the cockroaches. smash fast black spiders with my tightly balled fists, throw a tantrum against myself.
throw a tantrum against the house.
the pipes have rusted through, the water doesn't run. we pull the garden hose around the house & through a bedroom window, through a hole in the wall to the yellowed shower stall on the other side. we screw a shower head to the end of it, take cold showers in the town's toxic, undrinkable water.
we run the hose through the kitchen window to wash the dishes.
we wash our clothes with jugs of water in the clogged sink, hang them off the unsturdy balcony to dry.
jagged holes are like harsh little paintings hung awkwardly on the walls, portraits of the dirt & dried grass outside, framed in degraded drywall. the familiar splinters of the wood floor slice into our feet through our dirty socks with every dragging step we take across the houses' gutted rooms. cracks in the walls, water stains on the ceiling, everything creaky & crooked & warped. a skinny stray cat creeps in through a hole in the floor of a bedroom closet, searching for something to eat. i follow him to the kitchen, look up at the exposed wires hanging out of the shredded ceiling. look down at the potholed tile floor. close my eyes & quit looking at anything.
i fall asleep late listening to creaking & banging, wake up early wondering where the fuck i am.
i get up & wander towards the front door, stand outside in the ripping wind under the sunrise. i wanna run 'til i disappear into the horizon, i wanna vanish with what's left of the night. i wanna vanish with what's left of myself, never to be seen or heard or thought of again. i want the wind to tear down the house with the force of all my rage, rage built up with equal fury against everything & everyone on earth. hate that ate away any hope i use to have. this loathing which has replaced my bright future with something dumb & injured, crippled & unwilling to move foreward another inch. something selfish & unmoving that begs for oblivion. my body like an old house neglected, left to rot, abandoned. i want to demolish it, leave no trace of its existence, restore it to flattened dirt.
is that a little mellodramatic maybe? haha XD
165/365
ƒ-Stop | 1.8
Shutter | 1/150
Focal Length | 50mm
I say what I don't mean, and mean what I don't
I need to speak of you and what is real
They will never understand
What eats at our insides
this is the place you'll end up when you lose the chase
where you’re dragged against your will
from a basement on the hill
and all anybody knows is you're not like them
and they kick you in the head
and send you back to bed
isolation pulled you passed a tunnel to a bright world
where you can make a place to stay
but everybody's scared of this place
they're staying away
your little house on memory lane
the mayor’s name is fear
his voice patrols the pier
from a mountain of cliche
that advances everyday
the doctor spoke of cloud
he reigned out loud
"you'll keep the doors and windows shut
and sware you'll never show a soul again"
but isolation pushes you ‘til every muscle aches
down the only road it ever takes
but everybody's scared of this place
they're staying away
your little house on memory lane
if it's your decision
to be open about yourself
be careful or else
be careful or else
I'm comfortable apart
it's all written on my chart
and i take what's given me
most cooperatively
i do what people say
and lie in bed all day
absolutely horrified
i hope you're satisfied
isolation pushes past self-hatred, guilt and shame
to a place where suffering is just a game
but everybody's scared of this place
they're staying away
you're little house on memory lane
you're little house on memory lane
I am often asked why I never post photographs of myself.
The truth is, I've never really liked myself.
At age 27 I hit "rock bottom", after spending my teens and early/mid-twenties trapped in a cycle of self-harm and suicidal ideation.
I hit rock bottom on June 12, 2017. That same day I decided to retool my hatred and self-loathing, using it as fuel to create a new, more fulfilling existence.
Through rational self-analysis, I identified the aspects of my personality I despised and what triggered their manifestation. Through a new-found love of weight lifting, I ground those detrimental aspects of my psyche out of me.
Through sheer force of will I broke myself down physically, mentally and emotionally, and from the ashes I reconstructed an individual I could tolerate, if not fully accept.
While I am still susceptible to episodes of soul-scraping depression and self-loathing, those episodes are few and far between (think every two or three years rather than every waking moment.)
Potentiality is a wellspring of ever-present hope, and that is what keeps me going. Inner peace still eludes me, however, which means there are still loftier and more ambitious accomplishments to strive for.
For now, these words and this photograph are as close to a portrait of O . . .Phuck!™ (a.k.a. Prichard Nixon!) as you get.
"You are allowed to be a masterpiece and a work-in-progress simultaneously." - Sophia Bush
Day 291 -
concealing all breaks upon a granite facade.
Whether it be pouring rain or filtered shine
masking tears or camoflauging your day,
I'll see light amongst shadows you cast
hear truth within any lie thrown past...
For love seeks not to defeat you,
But to free you.
Toasted over a gas ring....how sad is that....but I needed something to make me smile and toasted marshmallows are always good for that
Women, we are all too fat, right?
No.
I mean, its perfectly fine to this world if you decide to whittle yourself down to nothing. On top of that, if you don't do it by sticking your finger down your throat, people almost seem disappointed. and shocked, that in this day, as a woman, you actually care about your health.
There will always be plenty of women who are thin, fat, moderate, healthy. There is no number for healthy, no prerequisite for confidence and no excuse to not love yourself.
I have struggled with my body image for years. I have done things the unhealthy way. You name it, I've probably done it. And for what? It creates many more problems and solves none. It ruins your self-esteem, your teeth and the glow in your eyes.
From a young age, we are all bombarded with images of people like Paris Hilton, or Giselle Bundchen, diet pills, plastic surgery. The glamorization of drugs and the hushed reality of these poisons.
We can't let the world win.
Women, I dare you, as I do me, to love ourselves!
164/365
ƒ-Stop | 1.8
Shutter | 1/200
Focal Length | 50mm
Hold on to my own destruction
I fall face first
Watch me, I'm on display
This cycle of human decay
wearandcheer.com/symptoms-of-depression-and-stress/
‘’People who do not know how to face tension, depression and stress usually they die in young age’’
Read about: Golden milk for cold, flu, depression, and more
DEAL KARNIGI
Tension and depression is very common now days when we can face depression defiantly we get rid of many diseases because d...
by Farida Sarwar on Wear and Cheer - Fashion, Lifestyle, Cooking and Celebrities - Visit Now wearandcheer.com/symptoms-of-depression-and-stress/
You must like it and share it with your friends.
Album art from Rainbow Person's 'T.L.V.' 7″ along with the lyrics “Trade.”
Hand screen printed on 11×17″ acid free heavy weight paper.
Ink colors vary between (very)dark blue and black.
$6 post paid.
Email or paypal to
epifaniosandoval@gmail.com
or
rainbowperson.bigcartel.com/product/taxidermist-poster (it's the same thing.)
I used a photo from google images to make this meme to represent how I feel deep inside, suffering from anxiety and depression but having to keep it together for my children and family.
163/365
ƒ-Stop | 16
Shutter | 1/20
Focal Length | 50mm
I'm not scared that this is happening
I'm not afraid, but this is real
this was the day i fell. i sat there, in that chair, with my coat on, for about an hour, and cried. i probably should have gone to the doctor and got checked out, but i think i turned out all right.
except for all the emotional stuff it stirred up, memories of things i thought i'd moved on from; a rush of blood, a breaking point, and things that can't be changed, no matter how badly you'd like to fix them. today i seem again to have managed to numb myself just enough to function like i'm a normal human. i'm told that everyone goes through times like this, has lived through these traumas and sadnesses. but since no one articulates these things, we all feel alone.