#(despite being a weird fat kid i never personally felt alienated by barbie and my memories are extremely fond)

[235uranium]

back from the barbie movie and I certainly have Thoughts on what the movie was doing but overall I do think it's worth seeing! it's fun

#☢️.txt #spoilers in tags! #i think what they did with ken is actually really fascinating and while i do get why the movie doesnt focus on his motivations #or the fantasy politics of barbieland #i AM personally interested in them #like his frustration is coming from a legitimate place and the movie does acknowledge that both barbie (margot) and the barbies overall were #Not In The Right and its not the actual solution to the issue of feminism #in the same way that the movie acknowledged that barbie didnt solve feminism and in many cases ended up playing into #the very ideas that prevent women from pursuing the jobs barbie is often shown in #im sure ppl will critique the movie for not going far enough but like. i dont think their point was to make a massive statement? #so much as it was to make a campy blockbuster that gently acknowledges the ways people can so often feel left out #its not the feminist piece of a generation so much as it is a love letter to barbie that acknowledges how shes #an inherently flawed consumerist brand. but one thats deeply cherished by generations and has left a massive pink stamp on our culture #(its probably worth noting that i have generally positive memories of barbie) #(despite being a weird fat kid i never personally felt alienated by barbie and my memories are extremely fond) #(i didnt like baby dolls bc. i never have liked kids but barbie was a fantasy in sparkly dresses) #(she was married to my dinosaur toys. ive always known what im about yes) #my favorite barbies were swan lake a halloween witch barbie and a halloween ghost barbie #(also idk is this an autistic thing for me to only learn most young girls compared their bodies to barbie at like 14?) #(like it just never dawned on me to compare my looks to a toy tbqh. i was more upset by the actual lack of clothing in my size)

[creepylittlemarvelgirl]

Just some thoughts of a real disturbed person

Hey! My name is Domi, and I suffer from major psychic deseases, such as anxity, depression and self destructive tendencies.

Trying to live a normal life is harder for someone like me than for average people. And I can’t help myselve anymore.

I’m too anxious and mistrusting to talk to doctors and my so-caled friends left me all by myself, misundestanding and disapproving, thinking I’m weird because I’m too sensitive… I feel all alone in this world.

My family is awesome, but can’t help me. I refuse to take pills which change my character and put my brain into a blender working at the highest level. Feels too squishy inside, feels wrong, feels just like being pulled out of myself and something else is being stuffed in, like riding a strange human-shaped vehicle with no real connection to the world around, not being able to think or feel… no pills for me…

All my ‘friends’ - those people I was at school with - are successful, have families, children or a great carrer in wonderful jobs. Someone who loves and appreciates them, or even enough money to travel, or to live well, or at least to buy health - physic and psychologic.

I’m all alone. Every one I had in my live, every man I loved left me. I used to think it was because they were too weak, but it was because I am too sick. Not only psychological but also physical.

I never had much luck in my live. Sometimes I think I consumed all the luck of my life when I was a kid. Or more precisely a tomboy. I allways tried to keep up with the elder boys, trying stunts with the bike - hell, I think I was five or six years old - oh god, I was so fearless. I never thought of consequences, I… just… sort of… DID things. Because I thought it could be fun. Other kids were fun. Being active was fun. Just doing without thinking was fun. I was in hospitals quite often to get stitched together again. Fingers, an eyebrow…but that wasn’t so scary at all.

At elementary school - I suppose - I began to fear other kids. I lived in a small district of a small village. They called it the ghetto of the village, 2 kilometers away from the main provincial town. We were outsiders, aliens, just moved here from another part of the country. We? My sister and I. We’ve allways had a tough time. But she came out of it as the winner. Me instand…I am a real loser. We both were bullied, but she is strong. I am not.

At the age of 8, the pain I felt for about 2 years in my right hip brought me to the hospital, diagnosis: congenital dislication of the hip. And the doctors telling me not to walk one more step or I will have to live a life in a wheelchair. 2 weeks later and they would never had the chance to help me. It means no sports for a long time. No jumping around. No running or riding the bike anymore.

And I got fat…and depressed. At the age of 14 the last ridge broke. No warning, no trigger, no point at which anything could be changed or be done different. Just deep sadness. Pure loneliness. The feeling of having no control over anything. And the painful fear of people, as well as the deep fear of being alone and isolated because noone seemed to care. It was the years of one of the biggest mistakes in my whole life. Rejecting my best friend - my only true friend - telling me to love me for quite a while. Stupid…hurting the only one who stepped in when the others not only bullied but beat me up.

Secondary school was a pain in the ass. The best school in the next greater town was a catholic girls school. Yay…barbies and I-am-better-than-everyone-attitudes. And more bullying. More enemies. More fear. To wake up, to get up, to lose more and more control of what will come next.

The school psychologist told me I was not ill, but there is simply nobody who likes me or cares about me. Just like that. A teen sitting across the table of the liaison teachers room crying her heart out for chists sake and all this woman told me that I am the asshole in my own sad story. And I believed it. I must have been a realy mean person, from my 4th year of my live up to this moment at the age of 16…maybe 17 years. Fuck. I was a monster because everyone hated me. Everyone despite the outsiders. The lonely ones. The weirdos. I seemed to geather them all around me. They never liked me or loved me…but they tollerated me.

After I finished school - I did my ‘abitur’, not bad for me having depression and dyslexia and poor cognitive performance because of the depression - I was too down to chose a way in live. I lost 2 years because I had to repeat. I was unlovable, stupid, a goth/punk/what ever, a kind of outlaw and I never knew what to do. To fullfill my dreams I was to weak. As a child I wanted to become a singer and actor, I was on stage in school theatre and sang at christmas plays. But for that I was too fearful. Not self-confident enough. Not good enough. I liked sewing but no one wanted to educate me so I could go to design school…to become a fashion designer. I tried to become a goldsmith, applied me to nearly every crearive apprenticeship I could think of. But no luck. Used it up as a child, remenber? So I was bold and tried to study, together with my boyfriend. I was 22. He left me shortly after we started. And I lost my courage. I was so deep in my depression…he was a gamer as well as I was…and still am. After that I started an apprentice at a medical supply shop for patients. They gave me a chance. But what a price to pay… without my next boyfriend I don’t think I would have take the chance. The second year he left me - for my best friend. I was devastated. So deep down in my depression…I wanted to die and tried to achieve this…but my sister rescued me…and took me to an asylum.

I was too smart to talk about everything in my mind. I talked about some of my fears, some of my thoughts, some of my problems, but not quite each and everything. They would have never let me go again, I’m quite sure of that. I did all the exercises I had to do and after 5 weeks I could go back home and work again. I fought…again…and again I won. But this struggle exhausted both my last bit of luck and cosmic favor AND my last fighting spirit. I simply never wanted to be forced to fight anymore. I was so tired.

My life went on. My friends who saw what heappened and pulled me out of my deep hole of sadness and disgusting self-pity are long gone now. I never gained the trust too love somebody or to let somebody in again. I am still a lonely child, stuck in a hostile world. About 7 years has passed. And I got nothing quite to live for. I loved to sew, to paint, to tinker, to collect…but I never seem to have enough energy to do both, to live AND to work. My work consumes all my energy.

I cry allot. In the evenings, when my brain runs out of chemical messengers…out of serotonin and other body’s own happy-substances…when I’m all alone in my flat that depresses me even more. The low ceilling, the missing sunlight, the location too far away from my work place. I don’t even have a pet being allergic to cats, dogs, rabbits, birds…and I love animals so much…

Why I write this? I don’t even know! Perhaps because it is much easier to write to an anonymous audiance than to speak to 'friends’ who you know never will understand a thing…a word…and you know will say: don’t be so sensitive! Stop whining! Are you like 4 or what? …I think I write this because I know there are others like me, struggelling every flarking day to just stay alive because of all the problems, the downs, the sorrows, the anxity, the depression…we love life. And some people just see crybabies whining… sure, could be worse… could be homeless, hungry and… well deadly ill… but who says I/we am/are not? I’m living in a cruel world without anyone who wants to provide a shelter. I’m hungry for love and paitence and hugs and cuddling kittens and puppies and the man I love… if there even was one. And having suicidal tendencies IS a fucking deadly illness despite everyone thinking it isn’t. So go fuck yourselfe! We are no crybabies, we are strong BECAUSE we still live! And we simply don’t know how long we can affort the strength to stay alive. That’s just tha way I feel. One girl (or rather a women despite me feeling like a teen anymore) out of 7.5 milliards of human beings. Who knows. perhaps someone will read this. and cries. And smiles. And fells accepted and undestood.

I don’t know you, but you are stong and wonderful. Stay alive and kicking. I know you can. I hope you can.

Love and appreciation from a real disturbed person

#100% mentaly ill #hungry for life #thinking out loud