One of the more difficult things about recovery is learning how to take responsibility for your actions.
Learning how to stop using ‘but I’m an addict/but I’m disordered/but I can’t control it’ as excuses to engage in self-destructive behaviors.
Learning how to take back the control that you didn’t think you had and admit that you have every ounce of power to change what you’re doing.
Quote reblogged from with 16,177 notes
I think we can all recognize that the “it’s a joke excuse” is the most dismissive, self-righteous loophole, created by those who refuse to examine their power, and assume they have not only the right to say whatever they want to people, but the right to control how other people react to what they have said.
The problem is that you don’t just choose recovery. You have to keep choosing recovery, over and over and over again. You have to make that choice 5-6 times each day. You have to make that choice even when you really don’t want to. It’s not a single choice, and it’s not easy.
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.
Read the rest of this article - it’s perfect.
I doubt myself and my beliefs so much it’s comforting to know i’m not the only one who struggles in the face of patriarchy.
I hate reblogging just to get help, but the BBC just responded to my complaint about the Doctor/Jenny kiss and I unfortunately don’t yet have fanmail open to copy it to you.
Response from their complaints department is here.
Original message I sent is here.
I understand that it may have been an error for me to basically threaten to abandon the programme; I really thought I would have to and my girlfriend has been screening each episode for safety before I watch, ever since. I also did wind up removing reference to my survivorship in the final version of my complaint, basically out of fear of exposure.
That said, I should not have to include my survivor status in order to be heard, nor should I be treated as less intelligent or devoted a fan because I was so upset that I considered leaving my favourite characters behind. The implication that I did not think things through or correctly is all over this response and I should not be sitting here making excuses for the responder. Goodness knows I have been forced to make excuses for rape culture too many times, already. I am so unbelievably tired of hearing “nothing was meant by it.”
I used to be a very quiet blogger, scrubbed my archive of personal posts once a week, never tagged a thing—all for privacy. I will not, however, sit down and shut up when it comes to this. Neither the episode, nor this response, was justifiable. I feel that the brush-off I received was very typical of the BBC complaints department and would appreciate any help given in exposing it.
Just spreading the word.
A lot of these dudes, when you challenge them, will say that they don’t have any real feelings about this and that they’re just trolling for the fun of it. They don’t really hate women, they just think it’s funny to… treat women as if they hate them. And… well, first of all, you’re lying to yourself, there’s clearly more to it than that. And, second of all, that doesn’t make it any better! Only somebody who hates women and sees them as less than human would even think that’s a meaningful distinction!
Jay Smooth, Ill Doctrine (via nextyearsgirl)
I firmly believe a vast majority of men hate women. I was just thinking about this today. They won’t admit to it, like this quotation suggestions, but in their opinions and actions it becomes clear they truly hate women.
“No, I LOVE women!” they protest.
Yes, you love looking at women. You love fucking women. You love pushing their buttons and objectifying them and letting them do things for you. You love judging them and masturbating to them and having them on your arm on a night out.
But you do not actually have any respect for women. You view them as inferior, you don’t question this.
I explained this to someone I had dated and of course he wouldn’t hear a word of it.
The male “rebel” is a farce; this is the male’s “society”, made by him to satisfy his needs.
I don’t really trust anyone that doesn’t care about politics or social issues, because these are generally the people who have the privilege of being apolitical, and of ignoring those specific issues.
Being a woman in a patriarchal society means knowing that no matter how hard I work or how good I get at something, there will always be a white guy who does a half-assed attempt at the same thing, and gets more credit for it than I ever will for all of my work combined.
Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the thing about open wounds is that, well, you aren’t ignoring it. You’re healing; the fresh air can get to it. It’s honest. You aren’t hiding who you are. You aren’t rotting. People can give you advice on how to heal without scarring badly. But on the other hand there are some people who’ll feel uncomfortable around you. Some will even point and laugh. But we all have wounds.
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