taking a big long shit, yo.
my fav self-care ritual? taking a big long shit.
when my blood factory is acting like a total piece of assbust, there’s nothing like lighting a candle in the temple of doo and letting it all go.
sometimes i get a noah’s ark situation or even a triple wrap-around if i’m lucky. huzzah! as a person with porphyria, i gotta find joy in the bristol-4 moments. my burgundy loaves might be stanky like burnt tires, but at least they’re not bristol-7 brickshits every time. and even if they are, i find comfort in my bathroom, and peace in taking my good long shit.
let’s add to the chatter abour SeLf CaRe… finding what works for your mind and bod is what matters. maybe it’s weed, rockstar, and a funny game and/or movie when the depresh hits — like meeeee.
sometimes i need to remind myself: it’s my job to live and survive, not my job to fulfill the endless needs and wants of everyone in the universe. it’s my job to eat, sleep, shit, and fuck. that’s it.
our energy is precious, especially when our bodies are being assholes, our tummies hurt like a mofo, and our heads exploded all over our spaghetti. porphyria bitches know. chronic illness warriors know. we gotta choke our bitch-ass illnesses out second by second just to make it through another day.
true self-care isn’t discreetly wrapping a gold diaper around a stinky e.-coli-laden pile of shit. the real meat of self-care is honoring what your bod and eyeborlz and brain and sacred place need, even when it’s not instagram-worthy. even when it’s downright fugly.
sometimes it’s just sitting down and releasing all of your waste. so take a shit today: a meditative shit, even. it helps!
when my blood factory is acting like a total piece of assbust, there’s nothing like lighting a candle in the temple of doo and letting it all go.
sometimes i get a noah’s ark situation or even a triple wrap-around if i’m lucky. huzzah! as a person with porphyria, i gotta find joy in the bristol-4 moments. my burgundy loaves might be stanky like burnt tires, but at least they’re not bristol-7 brickshits every time. and even if they are, i find comfort in my bathroom, and peace in taking my good long shit.
let’s add to the chatter abour SeLf CaRe… finding what works for your mind and bod is what matters. maybe it’s weed, rockstar, and a funny game and/or movie when the depresh hits — like meeeee.
sometimes i need to remind myself: it’s my job to live and survive, not my job to fulfill the endless needs and wants of everyone in the universe. it’s my job to eat, sleep, shit, and fuck. that’s it.
our energy is precious, especially when our bodies are being assholes, our tummies hurt like a mofo, and our heads exploded all over our spaghetti. porphyria bitches know. chronic illness warriors know. we gotta choke our bitch-ass illnesses out second by second just to make it through another day.
true self-care isn’t discreetly wrapping a gold diaper around a stinky e.-coli-laden pile of shit. the real meat of self-care is honoring what your bod and eyeborlz and brain and sacred place need, even when it’s not instagram-worthy. even when it’s downright fugly.
sometimes it’s just sitting down and releasing all of your waste. so take a shit today: a meditative shit, even. it helps!
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