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azuresoma · 2 days
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Unmute !
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azuresoma · 5 days
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azuresoma · 10 days
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In case you missed it
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azuresoma · 1 month
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A very shy maned wolf stopping for a visit at a monastery in Brazil for a bite to eat provided by monks. Because of their super long legs, they walk more like giraffes than typical canines. Maned wolves pose no threat to humans. 
(Source)
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azuresoma · 1 month
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azuresoma · 1 month
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azuresoma · 1 month
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Do not punish the behaviour you want to see
I mean, it seems pretty obvious when you put it like that, right?
But how many families, when an introvert sibling or child makes an effort to socialize,  snarkily say, “So, you’ve decided to join us”?
Or when someone does something they’ve had trouble doing, say, “Why can’t you do that all the time?” (Happened to me, too often.)
Or any sentence containing the word “finally”. 
If someone makes a step, a small step, in a direction you want to encourage, encourage it. Don’t complain about how it’s not enough. Don’t bring up previous stuff. Encourage it.
Because I swear to fucking god there is nothing more soul-killing, more motivation-crushing, than struggling to succeed and finding out that success and failure are both punished.
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azuresoma · 2 months
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WOW!!!
Credit :- JTBC Entertainment Artist :- @j.sankim
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azuresoma · 3 months
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🦜🎶🍷
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azuresoma · 3 months
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The mouth bird
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azuresoma · 3 months
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Self care is watching this with sound
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azuresoma · 3 months
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azuresoma · 3 months
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genuinely in fucking tears over this
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azuresoma · 3 months
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She has a lot to say
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azuresoma · 3 months
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There's something to be said for the strangeness of therapy and understanding not only why you do things, but why certain things make you feel like Death for no reason and sometimes why other people do things as well.
And its all well and good except its... tiring.
You go, you pay, you scoop out the seeds and flesh with a blunt spoon until you hit the rind, and then you sit there across from a sad, kind professional while the two of you try to sort out how to put it back together.
And no one thanks you for it outright. Your mom calls and you actually pick up for the first time in a month and she says you sound clearer. Your brother has nothing to say about the amphetamines in your bag because he knows something changed enough that he says an "I love you" at the end of a visit and gets one back. Your wife pulls you back to reality and you find affection and touch tolerable enough to do the same for her the week after without your skin crawling.
But then you start to feel muscles pull and things strain. Anger comes (real anger, not snapped frustration, not survival fighting, but deep, indignant flares) and it fires like an engine left to coagulate for years. It feels like an unwieldy hammer too large to control and too easy to swing all at once. You're afraid to pick it up. You're more afraid to have it taken away again.
So you start to demolish your own foundation. You find the rotten pylons holding up your childhood and leave them in the mud. You cannot move them now, only balance new beams better than your parents did.
Then the hardest room is next. The cozy sitting room with the day bed you kept open all hours and days for anyone to rest on, it goes down with the rotten floor. You never knew the mold had reached out here--you thought that was hidden behind the other doors, under your own bed, not in this space. Not here in the warm light of pride, of being kind and useful, where you curled up in too small of a chair and basked, knowing you had earned love with your tired limbs and heavy eyes. You drag the day bed to the curb and apologize to everyone who knocks. The new floor is bare and cold, the silence echoes in the empty room, but you start to ponder what color paint you might like to decorate yourself in. The roller is lighter than you expected. Maybe the bedroom deserves a coat.
And you brace for some pushback. Not everyone likes the color. Someone else compliments the new couch (only a couch now, an overnight bed for the cats and no one else) and someone else asks why you took the old one to the dump without telling them first. Some of them leave. Some of them put a crack in your newly painted drywall as they do. Others stay, asking if movie night is still on. You wipe your eyes and sweep the dust and ask if they'd like a drink before starting. The foundation shivers, but the walls remain.
Its mundane and earth-shattering and boring and the most terrifying all at once. No one will stop you from quitting. Healing is voluntary and the easiest responsibility on a long list to drop, and yet now that the mold is gone you understand, maybe, what it might be like to even want a home in your own mind and skin. Not a hotel, carefully crafted with beige walls and fluffed pillows, but a home.
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azuresoma · 3 months
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5 simple exercises to awaken dormant muscles
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azuresoma · 3 months
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self-flagellation and self-bullying are all bad motivators for change BTW. it can be hard to escape from a spiral but genuinely u have to be nice to urself or nothing will change
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