Voor altijd, Ijsbeer

Ik hou van je.

2 notes

Maybe I’m just being a sensitive foodie

But I have gone through 2 intense emotions in a span of 10 minutes.

First, rage. How can somebody spray toxic chemicals on the food that is going into my precious body? How is this legal? Leftover chemicals from world wars…Really? No one is allowed to take my earthborn rights away.
Now I’m experiencing grief. I cannot simply afford a 100% organic diet, period. I want to give my body the very best I can. My body is worth it. ALL bodies are worth it. We are life… Lives are being destroyed. This is nothing but legal MURDER. Such heartlessness…….pure heartlessness, greed, and sickness in the world. My health isn’t worth a single penny to the world. :’(

FUCK Monsanto, FUCK inorganic food.

Filed under monsanto pesticides dow chemical vegan veganism 801010

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I find it cool how my aunt Margret died more than a year ago and her husband still has all of her make up and nail polishes and clothes. And its not in a box in the attic somewhere gathering dust. It’s in places that she would’ve left them. Her favorite purple nail polish is still on the upstairs bathroom sink next to the nail remover. There is 4 toothbrushes instead of 3, and her winter coat still hangs in the coat closet. And that’s cool because its Sweet

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Witnessing Anger is the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced. How Domestic Abuse changed my Life

It’s like my soul is being ripped out when it is before my eyes. I don’t know what to do. I’m so horrified

It reminds me of every time in my childhood I was in fear. In fear of seeing my dad throw my 1 year old cat across the room, or hiding in another room with my mom because even she, my parent, did not know what to do. The screaming and yelling would last for hours. I remember at an age as young as 6, that I would feel relieved after the storm had ended. That meant I was “safe” for atleast another 5 days. But that was the most time I would have during my grace periods. It was all inevitable to occur again, like it was branded into my depressive fate. Did I know what depression was at 6? Surely I couldn’t put it into words or thought then. But I exhibited obvious signs of it. Especially anxiousness. I didn’t like men anymore, I shyed away from them, and in grade 4 I made my mom change my teacher before the school year started. He was the first male teacher I would have had, up until that point. Women only made me feel relaxed and safe. It was like they were angels and they didn’t have the powerful, threatening voices which reminded me of my dad. I would come home from school afraid that my mom would be in the kitchen, shakng her head at me to indicate that tonight was a “bad night”. Everybody has stress at work, but anger problems rear their heads in ways no one can make sense of. For this, the littlest things would send him into an unexcuseable, obviously quite mentally scaring, tirade. I heard my mom called names that no 3 year old- 18 year old should hear their dad call their mother. The worst, were the days I heard her threaten her life. “….Will be your D-Day”. Once I wrote all of the threats on a pad of paper and hid it in case there were 3 bodies recovered by police in the morning. He could’ve killed her, that is quite honest. But all I hoped was that I would get lucky too and be killed alongside her. 
Abuse wasn’t only verbal and I saw the first physical attacks in my early elementary. Hitting alongside the arms and on one particularly traumatizing day, seeing her thrown into a sliding glass door. Hearing my mom yell Stop still rings in my ears at 22.
She told me once to run to the nextdoor neighbors house if “anything happens”. I was young but I was not stupid. In my too-adult-for-a-child-body’s mind, I knew exactly what she meant. Even if he never killed her, he’s responsible for killing me, my mom and my sister.
My sister was the lucky one because she got out of the house when she went to college. That put me at 14. And of course, in probably the waning of the aggression and abuse. It still happened, and I still cried and sat in a room with my mom when I wasn’t at school. I felt sick alot when going to school. I didn’t want to leave her alone. I felt guilty. Unable to do anything. Why didn’t I do anything? Hindsight is 20/20 but not when you are just a precious babe, 14 years out of your mothers womb.
I hate my dad and all that he has done. I also hate the behaviors I still exhibit, 22 years later. I am anxious, constantly on edge, I am extremely afraid of loud noises. This especially includes male voices yelling not good things. I’m uncertain of myself. And just like my mom, I am silently being hurt, because I do not know how to stop this from happening to me. Do you still call yourself a survivor if you feel dead?

I am 5 years old right now, scared, shaking and lost.

Filed under anger anger issues temper depression anxious domestic abuse domestic violence issues scared lost

1 note

It just dawned on me.

Bio= Life.

Anti-Biotic = Anti Life

More proof. Wake up and see.

Big Pharma..you make me sick. Don’t take drugs of any kind. Unless it grows in its pure form in nature, friends.

ps shr00mz are illegal because they activate the chakras so much that the worlds sick-care corporations wouldn’t be able to profit from our spiritual revolution.

Filed under monsanto vegan big pharma medicine sick care MD pharmacology life alive shrooms drugs conspiracy mushrooms