wetheurban:

ART: Bipolar by Witchoria

One of our favorite emerging artists, Witchoria, encapsulates the inner thoughts of a generational mind in her latest Bipolar series.

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We. The. Urban.

I keep thinking wetheurban on Tumblr is: weather ban.

Then I get confused as to why their marketing dept can afford such boss photo shoots. And why they have the talent to style them.

…Just me? wetheurban

40 degrees in my apt? Feels like it! #bathrobe #ootd 🍁🍃🍂🌼

Excited to try this. Never had Blake’s. Got it at the coop! @abundance_coop

#latedinner #glutenfree #antibioticfree #comfortfood

theniftyfifties:

Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell

(Source: pinterest.com)

If you don’t get it, then forget it.
Lana Del Rey
BiPolar Disorder is the Pit Bull of Mental Health.

Unexpectedly, this Subtraction Project led me on a journey.

Recently, I re-discovered my old high school journal! (That’s over 10 years ago, guys.) My dear friend Laura, who I corresponded with just today, painted this canvas and gave to me on my 17th birthday. We were juniors in high school.

Have you ever re-read your hs journals?

DO IT.

You will find:

  • you were terrified back then … and survived
  • your life was disproportionately busy to what it is now (unless you have children)
  • you hurt

Or at least I hurt. I really, really hurt. 

Back in hs, I wasn’t diagnosed with anything. I was captain of my JV and Varsity soccer teams. I was in 2 elite bands—Wind Ensemble and Jazz Band—as an alto saxophonist. I took mad APs and earned 19 college credits. I graduated 12th in my class out for 360+ one of the years my high school was ranked top 100 in the nation. I also had boyfriends (more than I do now…). I even feel in-love my junior year. 

I was cute. I was smart. I was athletic. I had friends in all sorts of places. And I was miserable. (And, apparently, sleep deprived.)

I started seeing a therapist—the same woman who I see now!—when I was 17. I even met with a psychiatrist once or twice. But I never received diagnosis. …Why would I?

Even my disordered eating wasn’t a red-flag. After all, it’s just 2 years after these journal entries that Regina George captures a generation and states, “I really want to lose 3 pounds.”

My Eating Disorder never technically manifested until sophomore year of college. But, since 7th grade I’d counted calories. I even started to measure my food.

It’s hard to remember how debilitating this warped self-image felt and the havoc that it wreaked. But something deep down inside of me does. Now, when I veer too close to the precipice, my mind goes into safe mode. 

Here are a few Journal excerpts from May, 2002. They’re a mood log I must’ve kept for therapy. 

  • 5/9/2002: [mood about a 4] “…I woke up w/ ‘FAT feeling’ & I haaaaate that.”
  • later that day: [mood about a 3] “PISSED & annoyed (still annoyed w/ ‘fat feeling’ & AP & sleepiness.)
  • After dinner (5:45ish): [mood about a 2] “I also feel like I can’t eat in front of ppl. I dunno why […] We just ate, but I’m still hungry because I didn’t eat a lot […] My parents & brother are leaving soon though, so I guess I’ll eat then. I still be pissed though, because I’ll feel so fat while eating and once I get full. The thing is, I’ll just keep on eating. I hate life. Sometimes I just want some divine intervention to just take me away… ” (sic).

Just 30 minutes ago or so, right after I read this, I wrote a note in my journal.

  • 9/18/2014: Oh … it sure did. On 2/15/2008. But hey! Then you were cured of your e.d. So. <3.

A little heart I drew, black ink.

That’s because a mental-breakdown I suffered in February of 2008 while attending Teachers College, Columbia University as a graduate student with scholarship, and the subsequent diagnosis as BiPolar II Mixed Mania, saved my life.

  • I knew it the moment I stepped out of my 5-story Manhattan walk-up, uncontrollably sobbing and walking to the ER with a nurse from Columbia Health directing me on the other line.
  • I knew it as torrents of pain poured from me while sitting in the back of the NYC ER, awaiting the psychiatrist and social worker.
  • I know it now.

I no longer have an eating disorder. I no longer have disordered eating. I can barely hold my concentration long enough to count a series of calories … and it’s not because I can’t hold my concentration.

The breakdown and diagnosis as the highly stigmatized and misunderstood BiPolar can make life difficult. But—100%—they never took anything away. In fact, they enhanced.

  1. For one, it sort of re-wired my brain.
  2. For two, having BiPolar Disorder has taught me to love myself. Unconditionally.

That’s all I ever wanted. Every night I feel asleep feeling too fat and every morning I woke up feeling not good enough, for years: that is it.

To love myself, unconditionally.

Why, then, am I scared for you to know? Why am I ashamed of who I am? Why am I not proud of my accomplishment?

Why

I love myself, no matter what. Nothing in this universe (trust me) can destroy that. Not even telling the world - Hey world! I have BiPolar!! - can take it away.

  • I can be BiPolar and I can be proud of myself. No matter what.

I’ll be adding that to my journal, next.

In the meantime, ponder this: BiPolar Disorder is the Pit Bull of Mental Health.

Much (unconditional) Love.

Most meaningful Subtraction to date! It’s the “I can…” prompt, and it led me on a journey.

Check Out: MindBarbaraSoul.tumblr.com + look for this photo.

Preview? This statement: BiPolar Disorder is the pit bull of mental health.

#subtractionproject #subtract #letgo #ican #nofear #mentalhealth #bipolar #stigmatized #misunderstood #advocate #empower #unconditonal #love #pitbull #roc


Unexpectedly, this Subtraction Project led me on a journey.

Recently, I re-discovered my old high school journal! (That’s over 10 years ago, guys.) My dear friend Laura, who I corresponded with just today, painted this canvas and gave to me on my 17th birthday. We were juniors in high school.

Have you ever re-read your hs journals?

DO IT.

You will find:

  • you were terrified back then … and survived
  • your life was disproportionately busy to what it is now (unless you have children)
  • you hurt

Or at least I hurt. I really, really hurt. 

Back in hs, I wasn’t diagnosed with anything. I was captain of my JV and Varsity soccer teams. I was in 2 elite bands—Wind Ensemble and Jazz Band—as an alto saxophonist. I took mad APs and earned 19 college credits. I graduated 12th in my class out for 360+ one of the years my high school was ranked top 100 in the nation. I also had boyfriends (more than I do now…). I even feel in-love my junior year. 

I was cute. I was smart. I was athletic. I had friends in all sorts of places. And I was miserable. (And, apparently, sleep deprived.)

I started seeing a therapist—the same woman who I see now!—when I was 17. I even met with a psychiatrist once or twice. But I never received diagnosis. …Why would I?

Even my disordered eating wasn’t a red-flag. After all, it’s just 2 years after these journal entries that Regina George captures a generation and states, “I really want to lose 3 pounds.”

My Eating Disorder never technically manifested until sophomore year of college. But, since 7th grade I’d counted calories. I even started to measure my food.

It’s hard to remember how debilitating this warped self-image felt and the havoc that it wreaked. But something deep down inside of me does. Now, when I veer too close to the precipice, my mind goes into safe mode. 

Here are a few Journal excerpts from May, 2002. They’re a mood log I must’ve kept for therapy. 

  • 5/9/2002: [mood about a 4] “…I woke up w/ ‘FAT feeling’ & I haaaaate that.”
  • later that day: [mood about a 3] “PISSED & annoyed (still annoyed w/ ‘fat feeling’ & AP & sleepiness.)
  • After dinner (5:45ish): [mood about a 2] “I also feel like I can’t eat in front of ppl. I dunno why […] We just ate, but I’m still hungry because I didn’t eat a lot […] My parents & brother are leaving soon though, so I guess I’ll eat then. I still be pissed though, because I’ll feel so fat while eating and once I get full. The thing is, I’ll just keep on eating. I hate life. Sometimes I just want some divine intervention to just take me away… ” (sic).

Just 30 minutes ago or so, right after I read this, I wrote a note in my journal.

  • 9/18/2014: Oh … it sure did. On 2/15/2008. But hey! Then you were cured of your e.d. So. <3.

A little heart I drew, black ink.

That’s because a mental-breakdown I suffered in February of 2008 while attending Teachers College, Columbia University as a graduate student with scholarship, and the subsequent diagnosis as BiPolar II Mixed Mania, saved my life.

  • I knew it the moment I stepped out of my 5-story Manhattan walk-up, uncontrollably sobbing and walking to the ER with a nurse from Columbia Health directing me on the other line.
  • I knew it as torrents of pain poured from me while sitting in the back of the NYC ER, awaiting the psychiatrist and social worker.
  • I know it now.

I no longer have an eating disorder. I no longer have disordered eating. I can barely hold my concentration long enough to count a series of calories … and it’s not because I can’t hold my concentration.

The breakdown and diagnosis as the highly stigmatized and misunderstood BiPolar can make life difficult. But—100%—they never took anything away. In fact, they enhanced.

  1. For one, it sort of re-wired my brain.
  2. For two, having BiPolar Disorder has taught me to love myself. Unconditionally.

That’s all I ever wanted. Every night I feel asleep feeling too fat and every morning I woke up feeling not good enough, for years: that is it.

To love myself, unconditionally.

Why, then, am I scared for you to know? Why am I ashamed of who I am? Why am I not proud of my accomplishment?

Why

I love myself, no matter what. Nothing in this universe (trust me) can destroy that. Not even telling the world - Hey world! I have BiPolar!! - can take it away.

  • I can be BiPolar and I can be proud of myself. No matter what.

I’ll be adding that to my journal, next.

In the meantime, ponder this: BiPolar Disorder is the Pit Bull of Mental Health.

Much (unconditional) Love.

I mean it. I’m going back to being. virgin!
Rose, “Keeping Up Appearances”

furples:

W Korea October 2013
So Ra Choi


wetheurban:

WETHEURBAN ISSUE 8

Photographer: Leonardo Corredor / Stylist: Prince Franco / Hair: Akihisa Yamaguchi / MUA: Yuui Vision / Models: Jillian Mercado (RED), Josh Bartley (Nev), Abdul Kircher, Ramar Jean-Pierre (St. Claire), Chen Yu (RED), Adesuwa Aighewi (One Mgmt), Jordun Love (Major NY)

CLICK HERE TO VIEW THE FULL ISSUE


tribecafilm:

Under The Hood: ‘The Drop’ and Retrospective Payoffs

Liked this just for the puppy!

Detail shot. Can’t see the belt still. (It’s nice.) Love the classic design and texture of this sweater. And the darting on this blouse. It’s also on the sleeves.

(Is that what the stitching is called - darting?)

Thx Aunt Katy!

#vintage #classic #fall #ootd #detail #nofilter #roc #shoplocal

Quite by accident, everything today is thrifted! Or vintage. (Not undergarments … or socks.)

Vintage:
• Cardigan - Aunt Katy
• Blouse - Aunt Katy
• Belt - My Dad’s

Thrifted:
• Levi’s - A Step Apart
• Duck Shoes - Flea Markets in Greece on Ridge Rd

#AStepApart is still open (I think)! Check them out nowww. I’ve 2 pairs of jeans from there, and I almost wear them exclusively. (These are one.) @astepapart

#shoplocal #shopsmall #buylocal #thrift #thrifted #vintage #denim #leather #wool #texture #fall #fallfashion #levis #classic #cardigan #nofilter #roc #ootd #rainyday