WHATEVER HAPPENS TONIGHT IT HAS BEEN A FUCKING HONOUR TO COME TOGETHER WITH SEXUAL ASSAULT SURVIVORS ACROSS THE NATION.
Fuck #CarterHart and fuck the #VegasGoldenKnights.
aber wie unfassbar traurig muss eine beziehung sein, wenn jede kleinste form von (körperlicher) aufmerksamkeit, süße liebkosungen und sanfte berührungen direkt dazu führen, dass sex erwartet wird? warum können so viele menschen keine zweisamkeit und liebe teilen ohne dass es zum sex führen muss? gerade dieser süße und entspannte part und das tiefe vertrauen machen beziehungen doch erst so unfassbar schön
a male customer in our drive thru asked for my # and i said “oh- i’m into girls only” and he says so nicely “right on, happy pride then” and i go “yeah you too ☺️” out of instinct and he just looks at me 🤨 before driving off 😭😭
Me gusta mucho que el mensaje actual de personajes icónicos como Superman y He-Man sea que ser un gran hombre implica ser bondadoso y tener empatía. Algo muy necesario hoy en día
My husband died three years ago, and I've been paralyzed by everything that reminds me of him.
His tools sat untouched in the garage. His truck stayed parked exactly where he left it. I couldn't move forward because moving forward felt like erasing him.
Then last month, our HOA sent a violation notice about my trash cans being visible from the street. Something about that letter just broke me. After everything I'd been through, this is what mattered? Trash cans?
I almost hired someone to build a screen. But then I walked into the garage and saw his miter saw sitting there, waiting. And I thought, he would've built this himself. He would've made it beautiful and functional and exactly what I needed.
So I did it for him. For us. For me.
Watched tutorials, measured twice, cut once like he always said. Added the flower box because I knew he would've. Planning to grow clematis up the lattice because those were his favorite.
It's not perfect. The cuts aren't as clean as his would've been. But I built something with the tools he left behind, and for the first time in three years, I felt like I could breathe.
Posted it in a DIY grief support group on the Tedooo app, and the response has been overwhelming. So many widows and widowers saying they've been stuck in the same place, afraid to touch their spouse's things, afraid to move forward.
This trash can enclosure isn't just hiding garbage. It's proof I'm still here. Still building. Still becoming someone he'd be proud of.