denytilyoudie

[denytilyoudie]

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By Mandyland_viz

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just 2 poison frogs in luv

instagram | prints

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Fritz Bornstück - Match, 2023

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Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus (detail).

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fun fact: a group of starfish is called a galaxy

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“To sit alone or with a few friends, half-drunk under a full moon, you just understand how lucky you are; it’s a story you can’t tell. It’s a story you almost by definition, can’t share. I’ve learned in real time to look at those things and realize: I just had a really good moment.”

— Anthony Bourdain, in his final interview

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And you will see all the tricks, all the dishonesties, that your nature resorts to in order to avoid paying hard cash.

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The Language of Flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems 1857

#flowers #flower #illustration #plant #art #quotes

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CHUNGKING EXPRESS 1994, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

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Seated Dancer in Pink Tights via Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

Size: 52.3x46.5 cm Medium: oil, ink on cardboard

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I have the soul of a rose, the dew of budding flowers

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one of my grandparents’ kittens taking a nap inside a toy truck

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I do my thing and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.

Fritz Perls, Gestalt Therapy Verbatim, 1969

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I received this dreaded diagnosis in a hazy late august. the air was thick with the promise of fall as evenings became cooler, drier; sunsets losing their luster. 

when I look back, I see time in slow motion, as if watching 35mm home movies, fuzzy, crackling, and nearly indecipherable. I was in the middle of my undergraduate psychology major pursuit. I was 5 years in of the 10 year plan to be a therapist. I was also completely debilitated, exhausted, and under the care of an incompetent psychiatrist. one could call it a very perfect storm. 

I often look back in shame when I am reminded of this time in my life. I hurt for this young girl who wanted stability, certainty, and purpose, and who fought hard for it and constantly failed in pursuit of it. maybe I couldn’t see it, or didn’t know how. it is hard to say. I read and reread my diaries looking for answers and find nothing but heartache and grief. in between the pain I wore like an invisible coat with stones stitched in the lining, there were moments of joy and beauty that I carry with me always, documented on paper and in heart. I am able to hold the sorrow and the joy in the same hands, nestled comfortably together now. I stitch threads of this journey into every treatment plan I write and sometimes find pearls of insight when I loosen the grip I have on this past life of mine. 

it no longer feels like a death sentence, 

I rolled my eyes at hearing the words “borderline personality disorder.” i recall the brown leather of the couch and the goosebumps on my skin from the air conditioning. “that’s an old school diagnosis.”

“no, not really.”

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