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annasellheim · 1 month

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Next part- MRI shenanigans

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the-entity-down-the-street · 4 months

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Idk how to self promote for shit but I'll tell you Tumblr.Com I'm very excited about my weird little novella that's half-memoir and half cosmic horror comedy and its about the existential dread of overcoming suicidal ideation as an autistic trans bitch but now idk what the fuck to do with my life in this rapidly crumbling capitalistic hellscape

The answer is be loud about existing in spite the statistics, love my friends, and suck goblin dick

#book #autistic writer #autistic voice #trans voice #trans writer #own voices #book promotion #am i doing this right?#i put my heart and soul into this #memior #fantasy #tw horror #horror novel #important to me

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addamsology · 3 months

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Wednesday Addams, Edgar Awards and Shirley Jackson Award winner, released her memoir 'Wednesday's Child' earlier this year.

Known for the psychological horror & mystery series 'Vipe De La Muerte', fans were surprised to see the author to write something so different and personal.

So, today I sit down with Wednesday and her wife, Enid Addams, to discuss her life, marriage, and memoir.

Wednesday and Enid Addams Talk About Wednesday's Memoir: Wednesday's Child

#wednesday #enid sinclair #wednsday addams #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wlw #fanfiction #interview #Married AU #married wenclair #they're so silly #memior

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fatasselmerfudd · 2 years

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I’m reading Jennette McCurdy’s memoir and she does such a good job describing the depression and anxiety of living in a hoarder’s house. I really resonate with having to be grateful for shelter, but that shelter harboring all of your fears about the world. The sense of melancholy that comes from a house without order or rules. On a more personal note, she lived, at one point, exactly like my siblings and I used to. It was kind of nostalgic reading about their sleeping arrangements. We also went a couple years without beds or bedrooms so we slept in the living room 🥹 as far as celebrity memoirs go, I wouldn’t even call it that. I’m not singing the praises or anything, but it feels more like a child recalling her turbulent relationship with her mother, and less like a former actress trying to make headlines again. It just seems really authentic, down to how casually it’s written.

#i’m glad my mom died #memior #jennette mccurdy

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horsesarecreatures · 1 year

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Book review: The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady by Edith Holden

This is a facsimile copy of Edith Holden's nature journal from 1906. It was published posthumously (she sadly drowned in the Thames, supposedly while trying to reach for chestnut branches) . It contains short entries about the fauna and flora she saw while wandering the English countryside, along with beautiful illustrations of them. Interspersed throughout are also facts about the organisms featured and various bits of poetry. It doesn't contain much about her personal life other than the surroundings she observed, but nevertheless it gives a very clear idea about the kind of person she was. I'm glad I bought this at the used bookstore and wish I had a nice coffee table to display it on.

#memior #biography #nature journal #nonfiction #book #book review #bookblr #poetry

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elysiamus · 2 months

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Has anyone read this yet? I’m not far along in it yet but so far it’s good! I mean, it’s just his diary but it’s very interesting nonetheless. 🍂

#alan rickman #madly deeply #books and reading #memior #booksbooksbooks #alan rickman x reader

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laukrskegg · 6 months

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Matthew Perry, 1979–2023, aged 54

I grew up with Friends, which I got my sense of humour from Chandler; The Whole Nine Yards was one of my favourite movie in my teenage years. The Odd Couple were good reboot. I have his memoir, haven't read it, now is good time.

#Mattew Perry #Friends #The Whole Nine Yards #The Whole Ten Yards #Fools Rush In #August 19 #October 28 #Canadian #Comedian #Actor #memior #rip

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c-a-l-l-i-e · 5 months

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I need some good books to read… any recommendations?

#books and reading #books #queer books #fiction books #fanfiction #memior

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6ofwandz · 16 days

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Right now I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. In the distance I see the new me, the life I have been working so hard to obtain and yet have still not been able to grasp. I know I want to jump, to make the leap to the dreams I have had my whole life, but I'm terrified. My inheritance did not include faith in myself. Instead, I spent countless hours worshiping at the feet of Jesus, begging him to make me a vessel, to give me the courage to have the faith in him I wasn't allowed to see in me. And now, at 35, I am finally on a journey of self-discovery I have not yet given myself the permission to explore. But it is time. I must take the first brave steps into a new perspective, a new chance at a beginning just for me and I must be courageous in my terror.

If there's one thing my mother taught me, it is how to hold on to something and never let go. The funny thing is I didn't even realize that my soul was clinging in the same ways she was until I found myself in the second domestically abusive romantic relationship of my life last year. I didn't even realize that I was, actually, emulating her marriage to my father by allowing myself to sacrifice who I was for the best interest of someone else just to be loved. I became the thing I was most terrified of. I started to see her in the mirror. After a while, it became hard to see myself there--every time I gave up another part of myself to a man bent on hurting me to better himself I saw my reflection shrinking. I began to see more and more of her wrinkles, her personality, her emotional distress in my reflection. I knew something needed to change.

And so here I am now, standing on the precipice of the most terrifying leap of my entire life, acknowledging that this time I must do this alone, this time I must be willing to risk everything to get where I want to go. The old methods won't work anymore. I can't continue to entertain patterns of behaviors that are harmful to me because those pathways simply lead me back to the same spots. I have to start over. Truly. I have to empty myself of the me I have come to know because that isn't me anymore. It can't be. I was always just a collection of the pieces other people left behind when they were done with me, but this time I am taking back my power even if it terrifies me.

I'm writing here because this time next year I won't even recognize myself. I'm finally ready to start laying down the way others perceive me . I am tired of limiting myself to the small-minds of those who benefit from me staying on their level. It is time that I finally take back control of my own life and start living it for myself and not for all the ways in which other people want me to express myself. I am sick of being a shadow because I'm afraid of shining too much. For so long I was afraid as I watched (over and over again) my light reflecting the insecurities of those around me, only for them to turn around and project those emotions on to me as though they were truth. It lowered my self-confidence because after a while I just started to believe it was all my fault.

So, I start again. I am going to continue purging the parts of themselves they left me with and discover my own self for the first time. I am extremely codependant because I spent my entire life never having someone to rely on, even as a child, and now as an adult I still believe I cannot lean on other people because time and again they break my trust.

I'm sharing this journey here because something is calling to me to impart the wisdom I have gained on this treacherous journey I call life. I firmly believe that right now, with the solar eclipse arriving on April 8th, 2024, Monday, and the intense astrological changes happening at this time things are headed in a new direction as a collective. I just feel like pulled against my conscious mind to this entirely new path, and I know that there have to be other people out there who relate to me.

I also remember how it felt growing up as a teen reading tons of other people's stories on their blogs because it helped me feel so much less alone. I desperately want to be able to be the light for other people that I wasn't able to find in the darkest parts of my life. If this resonates, I hope you'll stay. You deserve a place to rest your head.

Either way this is my journey and i'm so excited to share this with you.

Hi, my name is Danger.

#memior #spirituality #spiritual awakening #spiritual journey #healing #gratitude #trauma #complex ptsd

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annasellheim · 19 days

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Next part- this is how autobio works

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indigoxnoodles · 2 months

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Fleas memoir “ Acid for the children “ has been such a good read.

#personal #flea #red hot chili peppers #bass #bass guitar #trumpet #acid for the child #memior

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rogue-indshadows · 2 months

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FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC 🙌🙌🙌

I loved this book ALOT, LIKE a crazy amount. Mindy kaling is a mastermind 😎 genius and her book - Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and other concerns) truly undoubtedly delivers. This book 📖 is really enough to prove that she is an phenomenal writer. The book consist of many fun elements like humor, comedy, sometimes memoir, biography, childhood and coming of age book, essays, sometimes like informative article or a magazine or interesting questionaree.

this is an extremely funny book, simple and delightful, relatable, It's nearly impossible to put down.

Mindy kaling's writing never fails to amuse me and I was not a bit bored at all while reading this 💎 diamond of a book 💖🙂

HIGHLY RECOMMEND... READ THIS BEAUTY ✨

#2024 #book lover #bookblog #bibilophile #booklr #mindy kaling #the office #never have i ever #humor #memior #biography #comedy #best books

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hellogirlslikegirlslikeboysdo · 4 months

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You ever regret an idea that was never yours? - A Flash Memoir

Summary: In 5 billion years, all of the lights will go out, and all of this will be all the less nasty and all the less disappointing.

All we can hear is the clang of my fork against the measuring cup (I've just realized that you've served me ramen in a measuring cup, ramen because in a house overflowing with farmer's market-looking ingredients, you wanted instant ramen that you didn't even want because the green packaging looked too unfamiliar, and in a measuring cup because you're fucking hilarious and the array of kitschy, bright bowls that I'm sure are lining the shelves behind those high cabinets simply do not appeal to you in this moment).

I don't know if you can hear the football game 10 feet away, you probably can, but I can't. I usually hear everything, all the time, at all volumes, simultaneously. Simba's panting. The shuffling of the cushions we're suffocating. The crunch of gummies (well, really I just smell that one, but I smell loud enough to hear it). For some anxiety-induced reason, I only have access to dishware unwillingly mingling (I can practically hear my dad's complaint at the sound) and the sound of my own voice.

All dinner, it's been asking you questions, but the only one I remember is what you do in your free time, which transforms into what you look forward to on a day off in search of a more satisfying answer. I ask to start conversation, and to be an interesting guest that you actively want to bring over again, and because you like getting philosophical during 1am manic episodes and I lack the awareness to consider those being special circumstances, and because I'm vaguely worried about how much time you spend scrolling memes you've already saved and already scrolled.

Probably something that can be dealt with later, but this is your weekend trip and you're quiet, and I'm worried, even if it's the ever-encompassing buzz of worry that floats around whenever I'm...around.

You don't respond to "Luc, do you ever..." (a pause of regret) "...do you ever feel...trapped by where you are in life? Like, what you have to do, and all that?". I apologize and regret spoiling your trip and you tell me that your "...social battery is kinda low?"

"[Oh, fuck,] really?" (I don't swear outside of my writing, but the fuck is implied).

Hunched into yourself and tiptoeing like you're headed to timeout, You scurry off to your room at my request and assurance to go talk your boyfriend to sleep, giving me a chance to inhale the rest of a ramen like a vicious animal and chat your mother's ear off about historical creative nonfiction and get worried (sensing a theme, yet?) about your social battery having enough juice for him. It's jealousy, probably, burning the back of my throat more than the accidental heap of chili flakes I threw into the broth, because I've never met a friend's lover that I haven't wanted to eat alive and envy is one of the deadlier sins.

Same face, though. Same itchy voice, same manufactured laugh as punctuation, same brain to pick apart. Same scalp to soothe.

(He's judgy, foul-tempered, foul-mannered, and calculated, stubby pointer finger in hand at all times. So am I. I'd probably want a fresher face to look at too.)

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horsesarecreatures · 1 year

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Book Review: An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness by Kay Redfield Jamison

This was a relatively short memoir about what it’s like to live with manic depressive illness. The author is a Professor of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, and is the coauthor of the standard medical text on manic-depressive illness. She grew up in a military family and moved around a lot. It wasn't until high school that she started having manic episodes, though her sister showed symptoms much earlier. It was implied that her father and sister also had manic depression, but she never said what happened to them in the end, probably for privacy reasons.

One of the major focuses of the book was the necessity of taking lithium in combination with psychotherapy, and why the author and so many others struggled to stay on the medication. When lithium first started being prescribed to treat manic depression, the typical dose was a lot higher than what is standard today, and the pills were not in slow-release form. This really caused the author to feel ill, struggle with concentration, and lose coordination. Once an avid athlete, she had to give up sports, including riding horses because she had accidents such as falling over jumps. In addition to this, she also stopped taking lithium because she felt that she was at her happiest and most productive state when she was slightly manic.

It wasn't until financial ruin from many irrational manic shopping sprees (one of which caused her to buy over 30 snakebite kits, among other things), numerous ruined relationships, and an almost successful suicide attempt that left her in a multi-day coma that it finally sank in for her that she had to take lithium as prescribed. Luckily, after lowering the dose and invention of the slow-release form, she no longer had the side-effects she used to have from it. However, she said that while she thinks it is highly unlikely that she would go off lithium again, she still has the temptation sometimes because she misses the highs she used to have.

She also talked quite a bit about her education and career. Throughout her college and graduate student years, she was not taking lithium and unsurprisingly went through frequent major depressions. Her transcripts were filled with Fs, but when she was feeling more euphoric, she published an almost unhuman amount of scientific research papers, and these saved her. When she was hired as a teaching professor of psychology at UCLA, she still was not taking lithium. Despite her major depressions and manic episodes, she never got herself fired or involved in a malpractice suit, though she did often take self-imposed leaves. She even managed to get tenured, which was not an easy thing for a woman to do during that time period.

Initially, she told very few people (except those that directly supervised her) about her illness for fear of professional repercussions. But as the years went on and she stabilized from taking her lithium as prescribed, and the stigmas somewhat lessened, she told more people and the responses she got were largely positive. When she switched to teaching at Johns Hopkins, the chairman even said, “Kay, dear, I know you have manic-depressive illness. If we got rid of all the manic-depressives on the medical school faculty, not only would we have a much smaller faculty, it would also be a far more boring one.”

All in all it was a very interesting read with a wry sense of humor spread throughout.

#an unquiet mind #kay redfield jamison #book #memior #bookblr #book review

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the-entity-down-the-street · 5 months

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So I'm working on a book about my experiences as an autistic trans person overcoming suicidal ideation in a world that would still rather have me dead. It's half memior, half Alice-in-Wonderland fever dream.

Here's a rendition of the cover I have in mind. I quite like it. Might add a couple more details but this gets the point across, I hope.

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ninamewrites · 1 year

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Excerpt from “Memoirs of a Slut”

I had always thought of myself as strong. Not strong as in physically, of course, but mentally. I come from a long line of fierce Italian women, and thought of that as my shield against the world. I came from a childhood of my great grandmothers taking the slippers off their gnarled feet and beating you with them.

The first time I met Mike was in seventh grade. I took to calling him Michael just because I thought it sounded more sophisticated and he hated it. There was nothing attractive or likeable or even good about him. His stomach distended over the waistband of his pants and his face was, even then, permanently marked with acne scars. I was sure, and thought I didn’t know at the time would eventually happen, a girl would find his humor and ways endearing but to me, it was painful. Everything he said and everything he did made me instantly angry. Perhaps that’s why I did it. Because a challenge to me was like a great burning in my chest, one I couldn’t ignore, and the image of what he could be, what I could make him into, settled in my mind and wouldn’t leave. I was the kind of girl who could see through what he was, and make him something different. So I tried.

It started off slow. I introduced him to literature and art, begging him to have some semblance of culture. I shook my head whenever he pulled out his card games and looked away whenever improper grammar spilled from his crooked teeth. I sucked on my teeth watching him eat with his mouth pressed into the food, shoulders hunched above his ears like a wild dog.

On a school field trip, I ignored him and sat in a tree for hours, watching birds flit past the sky and stayed until the cool air brought goosebumps to my skin. He found me, as I knew he would, and I beckoned him closer into the trees. I was something to show him, and I saw the almost predatory glint in his eyes. Leading him through the grass, I suddenly stopped short and let him catch up with me. On the ground beside my shoes lay a dead bird, maggots rolling their way through its flesh. It’s decomposition had made the life around it, the grass and the dirt grow dry, and flies warmed in a cloud around its wings. It’s neck was broken, its beak spread wide, insects curled besides its tongue. Michael looked at me then, and understood that I wasn’t like the other girls. I was fearless and abrasive and unapologetically myself. He saw that, and at the time, he welcomed it.

The first several times he asked me to be his girlfriend, I refused. When I finally did agree, it wasn’t because he had done anything different or because I had changed my mind. I had made my point that I was unpredictable. He took to following me around, joining the art club and moving his way into my favor.

I was better than him. I didn’t love him but loved my station above him, a thing I could hold over him without ever actually speaking the words. I loved his duty to worship me simply because when people looked at us, they wondered why I was with him. To worship me, as a queen and as a person worth worshipping. I would tell him I loved him and that no, I wasn’t embarrassed of him. But I was. Because I was me and he was painfully and unapologetically himself.

#original writing #memior #writers on tumblr #poetsandwriters

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