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what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely. : what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychological trauma in the making THANK YOU I’ve asked parents about this and they always say they are teaching the child responsibility and “respect for other people’s things.” If I point out that the child accidentally broke their own toy they always say “I bought them that toy” or “my sister gave that to them.” The problem is that parents view all possessions as not really belonging to the child. A part of them always seems to think that the adult who provided the money is the real owner If a parent breaks a dish they see it as breaking something that already belonged to them, but if a child breaks it they see it as the child breaking something that belonged to the parents People raising children need to realize that household possessions belong to the entire household. If everyone has to use that plate then it belongs to everyone and anyone can have a forgivable accident with it. It’s okay to deem certain possessions as just yours and ask everyone in the house to respect that, but extend the same respect to your child’s belongings Big mood. I know most of these are talking about little little kids, but here’s a tale from middle school. I had forgotten to charge my phone one night, and this was back when cell phones used to beep loudly when they were low on battery. I kept hearing the noise throughout the afternoon and not recognizing what it was because I’d never heard it before. When I finally did realize what it was, I was in science class and my fellow classmates were making presentations. I reached into my bag to try to turn off the phone, and then the low-battery sound went off, loud enough for the teacher to hear it. She confiscated my phone in front of everyone, and I didn’t get it back until after the weekend because it was a Friday. I was really embarrassed, especially to tell my parents. When I got my phone back that Monday, my teacher said it was important for me to learn this lesson now since in college they wouldn’t tolerate phones going off. Fast forward to when I was in college, any time someone’s phone went off, either the professor would tell them to turn it off, or they would say, “Oh, my bad,” and turn it off themselves, and everyone would move on. I even had a professor who danced around while someone’s phone went off, and it was a welcome moment of levity during the lecture. I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious. God I’ve been reading these posts for a while and each time I am struck with the realization that certainly not all parents were supposed to be a parent “I say all this to say, one of the worst aspects of being a child/teen was adults assuming my intentions were malicious.”YES this The problem is, even if families are forgiving the culture around children still effects the child. I use myself as proof of that. A few times between the ages of 4 and 18 I broke things. I broke my grandma’s favorite Christmas ornament. Her first question was: “Are you hurt?” and when I apologized profusely she said “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” I broke a few plates. I broke a couple glasses. Every time my dad’s first response was “Did you get cut?” the second step was cleaning up the broken bits, and the third was a discussion of what led to me breaking it and how I could avoid doing that in the future. Same with spills. Same with stains. My biggest “punishment” from my immediate family was being taught how to clean up the mess I made and being shown in detail how to avoid the same mistake in the future if it was avoidable. There were consequences for my actions, but they were the direct result of those actions and nothing much beyond that. My family tried so hard to teach me how to deal with accidents in a healthy way. They were patient. They treated every slip-up as a learning opportunity. They showed me a lot of love. The other adults still got to me. Teachers still punished and publicly shamed me and other students for our mess-ups. Extended family members outside of my small supportive circle still yelled at me. My friends’ parents still got mad. To the point where whenever I messed up my first instinct was that my dad or grandparents were going to punish me, or yell at me, or hit me, even though they never did. They just didn’t. They always responded with patience and an attitude of “I’m glad you’re safe and I want to help you learn from this.” And I was still afraid of messing up. Mortified. Expecting the worst every time. It’s like… we need to change the culture around this, man. Completely.

what-even-is-thiss: bobcatdump: jaskiegg: mellomaia: aphony-cree: beyoncescock: gahdamnpunk: Honestly!!! This is just psychologica...

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soft-riddler: honeybuddhahoe: kosherdyke: sugarbutchy: twitblr: Rest in Power to Our Allies Who Risk Their Life Fighting With Us and For Our Rights https://www.clevelandjewishnews.com/news/local_news/osu-graduate-22-dies-after-attending-protests-in-columbus/article_dcadd6b2-a75d-11ea-94c3-e7751ddd6d55.html May her memory be a blessing Z"L it gets worse tho! the original person who reported this on twitter said she did NOT die of asthma related syptoms. Thats what they WANTED us to think!! she died bcause they sprayed so much tear gas in her face that she inhaled too much and DIED. HER DEATH WAS NOT CAUSED BY ASTHMA RELATED SYMPTOMS. Only tear gas. Solely tear gas. They murdered her. And remember not to say Rest In Peace for her. She was jewish. Say “may her memory be a blessing” like it says above. : soft-riddler: honeybuddhahoe: kosherdyke: sugarbutchy: twitblr: Rest in Power to Our Allies Who Risk Their Life Fighting With Us and For Our Rights https://www.clevelandjewishnews.com/news/local_news/osu-graduate-22-dies-after-attending-protests-in-columbus/article_dcadd6b2-a75d-11ea-94c3-e7751ddd6d55.html May her memory be a blessing Z"L it gets worse tho! the original person who reported this on twitter said she did NOT die of asthma related syptoms. Thats what they WANTED us to think!! she died bcause they sprayed so much tear gas in her face that she inhaled too much and DIED. HER DEATH WAS NOT CAUSED BY ASTHMA RELATED SYMPTOMS. Only tear gas. Solely tear gas. They murdered her. And remember not to say Rest In Peace for her. She was jewish. Say “may her memory be a blessing” like it says above.

soft-riddler: honeybuddhahoe: kosherdyke: sugarbutchy: twitblr: Rest in Power to Our Allies Who Risk Their Life Fighting With Us and...

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noctiscorvus: squirenonny: anaryllis: uncommonbish: I can’t count how many times men have humiliated me by “IT’S JUST PERIOD” when looking up this article for clarification i found this one that points out that period pain is actually typically MUCH WORSE than heart attacks - as heart attacks more commonly have dull pains  and, interestingly: Period pain happens mostly because of substances called prostaglandins, Gunter explained in the post. They’re released from the lining of the uterus and make it contract. And during these period contractions, pressure on the uterus can be just as high as it is during the “pushing” stage of labor, she added.“So if you need an analogy to describe period pain,” Gunter wrote, “use labor or cutting your finger off without an anesthetic.” “If you are waiting for terrible, excruciating chest pain to tell you that you are having a heart attack, well, you are going to miss the heart attack,” Gunter wrote. “Heart attacks often produce vague symptoms or mild pain, that is why many people ignore them … In addition, more than 40% of women have no pain with heart attacks. It would be dangerous for women to think that a heart attack should be at least as bad as their menstrual cramps.” ^^^ Important point from that article. It sounds like a dramatic comparison. “Cramps are as bad as heart attacks?!” But not only does it still actually downplay the pain many menstruating people feel, it increases the risk that those same people will ignore a heart attack because it doesn’t hurt enough to worry them. Can I add on that a lot of women think they’re suffering from menstrual cramps and do their best to go about their day when in reality their appendix is seconds away from bursting? This happens a lot. Seriously. : noctiscorvus: squirenonny: anaryllis: uncommonbish: I can’t count how many times men have humiliated me by “IT’S JUST PERIOD” when looking up this article for clarification i found this one that points out that period pain is actually typically MUCH WORSE than heart attacks - as heart attacks more commonly have dull pains  and, interestingly: Period pain happens mostly because of substances called prostaglandins, Gunter explained in the post. They’re released from the lining of the uterus and make it contract. And during these period contractions, pressure on the uterus can be just as high as it is during the “pushing” stage of labor, she added.“So if you need an analogy to describe period pain,” Gunter wrote, “use labor or cutting your finger off without an anesthetic.” “If you are waiting for terrible, excruciating chest pain to tell you that you are having a heart attack, well, you are going to miss the heart attack,” Gunter wrote. “Heart attacks often produce vague symptoms or mild pain, that is why many people ignore them … In addition, more than 40% of women have no pain with heart attacks. It would be dangerous for women to think that a heart attack should be at least as bad as their menstrual cramps.” ^^^ Important point from that article. It sounds like a dramatic comparison. “Cramps are as bad as heart attacks?!” But not only does it still actually downplay the pain many menstruating people feel, it increases the risk that those same people will ignore a heart attack because it doesn’t hurt enough to worry them. Can I add on that a lot of women think they’re suffering from menstrual cramps and do their best to go about their day when in reality their appendix is seconds away from bursting? This happens a lot. Seriously.

noctiscorvus: squirenonny: anaryllis: uncommonbish: I can’t count how many times men have humiliated me by “IT’S JUST PERIOD” when look...

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bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it : bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
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