Tumblr Mommy

⚡ 👉🏻👉🏻👉🏻 INFORMATION AVAILABLE CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

i come in and lay my head on your knee
and you tell me my dad is angry with me
i lay down my head and wish someone loved me
i try to find sleep and wish someone loved me
One of the hints of how to spot a toxic person is “having to walk on eggshells around them”. True enough, right? My mother uses this statement on me a lot when we argue. Saying she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time.
It made me feel like the toxic person in our relationship for years. Until I realized that there are two different ways to interpret that statement.
There is a difference between having to walk on eggshells around a person for fear of angering them or provoking them into harming you, and having to walk on eggshells around a person to keep from offending them or making them uncomfortable.
My mother has always meant it in the second way. She says she can’t say everything she thinks around me because I apparently get upset all the time. She feels like she can’t talk freely to me anymore. And you know what? That’s okay. If her feeling like she has to “walk on eggshells” around me is what it takes for her to stop making me uncomfortable, then that is well worth it.
I am allowed to get upset when she talks about my weight. I am allowed to get upset when she talks about my style. I am allowed to get upset when she teases me after I’ve told her to stop. I am allowed to get upset when she’s being rude or hurtful. I am allowed to get upset when she’s being insensitive.
Establishing boundaries does not make you the toxic person.
My mom has never loved me or liked me. These are my earliest memories of the feelings that I received from her.
I always knew, even as a little girl, that my mom didn’t like me. I was not wanted in her life and she never failed to make that apparent.
I’ve struggled with this mommy issue all my life.
She’s never cared. Only blames me. I’m the bad daughter, I’m the bad woman, I’m the bad person. She’s spent more time making me feel bad as a human being than she has actually loving me. My issue with her runs deep.
From the time I was so small, I only remember a woman who was supposed to love me…not loving me, not treating me well, not treating me like a child who needed loved or cared for. Not even treating me like I was her precious child – but instead, like I was some random, dirty little thing that walked in off the street and she was forced to endure my presence for a time. That is how I remember being alive…being unwanted in a place, being uncared for by the people, being lonely and feeling alone.
She taught me to hate myself, because she hated me first.
And that’s all I’ve ever known. Hate. Hating me, hating her, hating life. I’ve tried to love so much but love just hurts me.
I am not writing about all the toxic memories I have of my mother, but I will. I think it’s meant to be that I write my words because to do so allows my heart to finally heal.
I’ve always, my entire life, felt like women didn’t like me. Felt like women resented me and were the enemy.
My mother and older sister (her favorite child) taught me this toxic learned behavior because of their treatment toward me. They ganged up on me in the fact that I knew they were close and I knew they didn’t want me being a part of their party. I was never the good little girl. I was never the favorite. I was the burden.
Because my mother and sister NEVER failed to make me feel that way. My sister was cruel. She’s been a cruel sister my whole life. But I do believe both my mom and sister have been jealous of me since I was young, which fueled much of their resentment toward me.
I took my dad’s genetics. I’m like him and his siblings. I’m not like my mom or sister. Even physically, I inherited my dad’s genetics more so than my mother’s. I look like my dad’s sister. My sister took my mom’s genetics and looks more like my mom. That never did fly too well with either of them. They always treated me different – like I didn’t belong. I’ve felt like I didn’t belong since I was old enough to have a memory.
My mother and sister taught me to feel like I don’t belong anywhere anytime EVER…and that toxic lonely sad and depressing feeling has NEVER went away. It’s a self-inflicted burden I’ve carried for forty-five years.
I’m getting rather tired because it’s rather heavy.
I’m ready to rest and be at peace and love and feel joy and let go of all the people and all the triggers and all the negative feelings and all the hate…and just go forward and heal in love and light. To just know in my heart that it can’t bother me anymore, it can’t hurt me anymore, it can’t ruin my present anymore. I am free. I am newborn.
I am me for the first time in my life.
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At this point, I just want someone to watch “Pride & Prejudice” with me every night and to jam to 80′s music all day. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK ?
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the unholy trinity of piss-poor caretakers, tag yourself:
⚠️ tw: emotional abuse, verbal abuse, complex ptsd, bipolar ii, depression, anxiety, nightmares, codependency, narcissistic mothers, religious trauma, sensory issues
📢 cw: negativity, self-destructive thoughts, mommy issues, gender experimentation, sexual content, adult language, paranoia, insecurity, anger
please please please please please please please please please please please pleaSE PLEASE
i wished my mom would smile, growing up.
i’m sure she did at some point or another, but i have no vivid memory of it. not at my birthdays, no matter how young — not at xmas, not on new years. not at my sister’s wedding, for sure. not with her friends. not with her family. nothing.
she had a kind of fake smile, an almost grimace sort of thing she’d do when people talked to us at church. she could make an attentive face, a receptive and listening look to her friends. she always knew how to say she was good, she was doing good. she wasn’t a bright person to be around, but in public, she didn’t let it get too dark, either.
there was always something she didn’t say, around other people. i wouldn’t know what it was until we got home later and she complained, divulged that secret, unsaid thing. how she really felt. what they really meant. what the coded language was. i was fascinated, and unnerved. i’d look to her in every social situation, gauging her expression, wondering when that moment would come and she’d find something to carry home with her. someone would say something wrong, “fake,” however she’d put it. i’d watch and wait. i was careful not to speak first when we came home, not to say “that was fun,” or “she was nice” — not until i found out if i was right or not.
she hid everything under her hat until she got home. and now car rides make me sick inside.
one time, in dance class, i fell. i was young and being lifted by two older girls. i wasn’t even scared. they lifted me and i was fine, and then they dropped me, in front of everyone. and i wasn’t scared. i was embarrassed, but never scared.
i slipped out of the room, back to the restroom, and waited for someone to notice. my teacher did — she knocked on the door. she sat next to me and asked what happened, and i lied, and told her i was scared of heights. i wasn’t. i just wanted her to comfort me. she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me, and i watched it in the mirror and it felt perfect and incorrect at the same time. i savored it and rushed it. she was kind and that terrified me, because if i got to know that feeling, i’d start to crave it. i’d want it from her, or from my mother, or from anyone, all the time.
— how is it possible when they aren’t even yours to miss?
bro quit questioning the nature of your reality you scaring the hoes
i’m exhausted. i’m constantly exhausted. i go to bed exhausted. i wake up exhausted. every day, every hour i’m exhausted. it’s exhausting. 
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Your name is RICHARD LALONDE. You have a passion for OBSCURE LITERATURE. You enjoy creative writing and are SOMEWHAT SECRETIVE ABOUT IT. You are quite fond of the STRANGE AND FICTITIOUS, and are currently studying PSYCHOANALYSIS. Your Pesterchum username is somberPsychoanalyst. ((Male!Rose RP blog)) ((M!A: None))
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everyone's always like oh i have daddy issues, but what about us folks with mommy issues
Something short about Cordelia Sakamaki...
People hate her for being abusive, which is a great reason to hate someone, BUT EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER IN DIABOLIK LOVERS EXCEPT YUI IS ABUSIVE.
When Cordelia threw Ayato in the lake she's evil bitch, which I'm not denying, but when Ayato threw Yui in a pool (and humans can die of drowning unlike vampires) it's romantic?!
And no, "Ayato was abused" isn't an excuse to be abusive nor argument for Cordelia hate if you like Ayato, because Cordelia was abused too, by her husband and father, said by Ayato himself (about Karl)
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Someone: talking about women generally or as a social class
Someone: refers to me specifically as a woman
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Brie🌙 - they/she - future criminal (?) psychologist
Gabriel 16 They/Them I'm in so many fandoms it depends on what I'm hyperfixated on
I'VE BEEN SCARED OF SLEEPING WITH THE LIGHTS ON! NO SHE'S NOT THERE I KNOW SHE'S GOING TO HIS FLAaAaAT! A CAPRICORN, OH FUCK THAT! THEY SAY SEX SELLS I KNOW THAT!
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life has been a major härdelli lately don’t you think
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height: 5'2" hw: 105 lw: 77 cw: 93.5 BMI: 17.1
I’m debating turning this account into a more ed focused blog because I’m relapsing. I just wanted to give a warning so you can unfollow if you don’t want to see that content. If you’re in ed recovery PLEASE UNFOLLOW!!! I will also probably end up deleting my more unpopular posts.
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My mommy issues are Actually Affecting My Life and I fucking hate it, an autobiography of me by me.
Tw: slight vent but nothing too heavy just mommy issues
Another thing I wanna talk about on resident evil 8 is the fact that I wasn’t ready for my mother issues to kick in while playing.
Sure lady Dimitrescu definitely wasn’t the best but she genuinely loved her daughters, and as someone who lacks that figure in my life, I cried at the point when Lady Dimitrescu realises her daughters are dead :,)
Like I’m not going to lie Lady Dimitrescu seems better than my actual mother and my foster mother combined, so that says something and like now I’ve hyperfixated on her and I don’t know what to to do
my best friend’s mom called me her ella and told me that she loved me and when i tell you i almost cried
For everyone who has a tough relationship with their mom, Happy Day After Mother’s Day!
mothers day??? you mean international class of 2013 day?
but michi remarrying after ukano and having a daughter with her new husband would so encapsulate the eldest daughter experience for mai. a newer, shinier girl for michi to destroy as mai sits helplessly trying to focus on her life as her mom totes a new kid around as an accessory
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В середине 20-х годов молодой еврей пришел к известному нью-йоркскому раввину и заявил, что хочет изучить Талмуд.
- Ты знаешь арамейский? - спросил раввин.
- Нет.
- А иврит?
- Нет.
- А Тору в детстве учил?
- Нет, ребе. Но вы не волнуйтесь. Я окончил философский факультет Беркли и только что защитил диссертацию по логике в философии Сократа. А теперь, чтобы восполнить белые пятна в моих познаниях, я хочу немного поучить Талмуд.
- Ты не готов учить Талмуд, - сказал раввин. - Это глубочайшая книга из всех, написанных людьми. Но раз ты настаиваешь, я устрою тебе тест на логику: справишься - буду с тобой заниматься.
Молодой человек согласился, и раввин продолжил.
- Два человека спускаются по дымоходу. Один вылезает с чистым лицом, другой - с грязным. Кто из них пойдет умываться?
У молодого философа глаза на лоб полезли.
- Это тест на логику?!
Раввин кивнул.
- Ну, конечно, тот, у кого грязное лицо!
- Неправильно. Подумай логически: тот, у кого грязное лицо, посмотрит на того, у кого лицо чистое, и решит, что его лицо тоже чистое. А тот, у кого лицо чистое, посмотрит на того, у кого лицо грязное, решит, что сам тоже испачкался, и пойдет умываться.
- Хитро придумано! - восхитился гость. - А ну-ка, ребе, дайте мне еще 1 тест!
- Хорошо, юноша. Два человека спускаются по дымоходу. Один вылезает с чистым лицом, другой - с грязным. Кто из них пойдет умываться?
- Но мы уже выяснили - тот, у кого лицо чистое!
- Неправильно. Оба пойдут умываться. Подумай логически: тот, у кого чистое лицо, посмотрит на того, у кого лицо грязное, и решит, что его лицо тоже грязное. А тот, у кого лицо грязное, увидит, что второй пошел умываться, поймет, что у него грязное лицо, и тоже пойдет умываться.
- Я об этом не подумал! Поразительно - я допустил логическую ошибку! Ребе, давайте еще 1 тест!
- Ладно. Два человека спускаются по дымоходу. Один вылезает с чистым лицом, другой - с грязным. Кто из них пойдет умываться?
- Ну… Оба пойдут умываться.
- Неправильно. Умываться не пойдет ни 1 из них. Подумай логически: тот, у кого лицо грязное, посмотрит на того, у кого лицо чистое, и не пойдет умываться. А тот, у кого лицо чистое, увидит, что тот, у кого лицо грязное, не идет умываться, поймет, что его лицо чистое, и тоже не пойдет умываться.
Молодой человек пришел в отчаяние.
- Ну поверьте, я смогу учить Талмуд! Спросите что-нибудь другое!
- Ладно. Два человека спускаются по дымоходу…
- О Господи! Ни 1 из них не пойдет умываться!!!
- Неправильно. Теперь ты убедился, что знания логики Сократа недостаточно, чтобы учить Талмуд? Скажи мне, как может быть такое, чтобы 2 человека спускались по одной и той же трубе и 1 из них испачкал лицо, а другой - нет?! Неужели ты не понимаешь? Весь этот вопрос - бессмыслица, и если ты потратишь жизнь, отвечая на бессмысленные вопросы, то все твои ответы тоже будут лишены смысла!
Ингредиенты:
Капуста белокочанная - 600 гр.;
Колбаса варено-копченая - 250 гр.;
Горошек зелёный консервированный - 1 банка небольшая;
Майонез, перец черный молотый.
Приготовление:
1. Тонко соломкой нарезаем нужное количество капусты и колбасы. Я сначала нарезала капусту - так легче вычислить нужный объём салата. Затем уже в капусту добавляем соломчатую колбасу и горошек.
2. Немного перчим, смазываем всё это майонезом и перемешиваем:
Всё - салат готов! Обошлись, можно сказать, тремя компонентами, а получилась вкуснятина!
Идея весенних поделок Гнездо с птенцами
ПЫШКИ СО СМЕТАНОЙ И САХАРОМ

Частенько я жарю румяные и ароматные пышки к чаю. Делаются они очень легко, что называется без забот и хлопот!

Для приготовления пышек понадобится:

1 стакан молока или простокваши,

1 яйцо,

1 ч.л. сухих дрожжей,

1 ч.л. соли без горки,

1 ст.л. сахара,

2 ст.л. подсолнечного масла без запаха,

2,5 - 3 стакана муки,

подсолнечное масло для жаренья,

сметана и сахар

Способ приготовления:

В теплом молоке развести дрожжи, добавить масло, соль, сахар, яйцо, муку и замесить тесто. Накрыть полотенцем и отставить на часок для того, чтобы тесто подошло. В это время можно заниматься любыми другими домашними делами. Когда тесто подойдет и будет свободных пол часа времени, можно приступать к жаренью пышек. Тесто обмять разделить на кусочки и раскатать пышечки толщиной 0,5-0,7 мм.
Жарить в раскаленном подсолнечном масле с обеих сторон до золотистой корочки.
Готовую пышку положить на тарелку сразу, пока она горячая намазать сметаной и посыпать сахаром.
Сверху на эту пышку выкладывать следующую готовую и точно так же промазать её сметаной и обсыпать сахаром,
так же поступить со всеми пожаренными пышками.
Получится стопка промазанных сметаной с сахаром пышек.
Сметану можно использовать домашнюю или магазинную, это зависит от вкуса. У меня была домашняя, но мне больше нравится с магазинной, потому что она не такая жирная.
Попробуйте! Может и вам понравятся такие сметанные пышки и возможно станут вашим дежурным дежурным блюдом!
Торт Наполеон с очень вкусным кремом

Ингредиенты:
Для коржей:
80 г. сливочного масла, комнатной температуры;
100 г. сахара;
2 яйца, комнатной температуры;
300-350 мл. молока;
½ ч.л. разрыхлителя;
примерно 800-900 г. муки.

Для крема:
400 г. вареной сгущенки;
600 мл. жирных сливок (от 30%);
500 мл. молока;
4 ст.л. крахмала;
2 яйца;
0,5 ст. сахарной пудры

Приготовление:

Сливочное масло и сахар положить в миску
И взбить миксером
Добавить яйца
Взбить миксером
Добавить молоко
Перемешать венчиком
Отмерить примерно 150 г муки, добавить соду
Перемешать
Просеять в смесь молока и яиц.
Перемешиваем. Постепенно добавляем остальную муку (лучше просеивайте,тогда комочков не будет)
Когда тесто будет достаточно густым…
выкладываем его на стол…
и месим руками. Тесто должно быть эластичным и не липнущим к рукам. Оставим его на столе минут на 30

А сами займемся кремом:
Яйца и крахмал хорошо перемешать венчиком, чтобы не было ко
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