Polish has two versions of “to get married” depending on whether you are marrying a man (wyjść za mąż) or a woman (ożenić się)
they are of course “meant” to be used by women and men respectively, and when someone mixes them up – which happens very often in common speech – it’s usually a matter of seconds before some smartass goes “haha, ożenić się, she’s a girl, what is she, a homo, you meant wyjść za mąż!”
same thing happened at the shop today, one local drunkard wanted to wish me all the best and that I marry well – and he said “ożenić się”
the second drunkard obviously started laughing “what, a woman! you meant-”
“and who are you to tell her what she can or cannot do, Heniek? She’ll want to marry a girl she’ll marry a girl!”
I have an urge to give him a beer on the house next time he’s here.
Day: July 9, 2018
Abusers don’t come with warning labels.
Abusers don’t hit you on the first date. They don’t write “I will humiliate and belittle you” on their Tinder profiles. They don’t wear “I break things to intimidate my partner” t-shirts. People don’t get trapped in damaging relationships because they saw an abuser coming from 20 yards away and decided “I’m going to date that person anyway”. That’s not how any of this works.
In the beginning, abusers can be some of the most thoughtful, attentive people you’ll ever meet. They’re obsessed with you; that’s what makes them so toxic and deadly as time goes on. Abusers buy you flowers. They remember your birthday. They remember to text you “good morning” and “good night”. They listen to your problems, confide in you and share silly inside jokes. They can keep that “loving, doting partner and best friend” mask in place for months or years if they have to.
So the first time they scream at you or hit you, you don’t see an abuser. You see your best friend, your confidante, the person who brought you soup when you were sick and always laughs at your stories about your nutty coworker. You tell yourself they just had a bad day. Maybe they were tired, sick, hungry, or under a lot of stress. You know them. You’ve made a life with them. And they’re so sorry and so ashamed of what they did. This isn’t who they are.
And so things go back to back to normal for a while. Wonderful, even. This is still one of the best relationships you’ve ever been in, even counting that one incident. You go back to date nights, cozy nights in and 5-hour-long conversations that feel effortless.
And then it happens again.
And you still don’t see an abuser. You see the person who means the most to you in the whole world. You decide that maybe they’re just struggling. Maybe they have mental health issues. They’ve told you every horrible thing that’s ever happened to them as a child, and maybe it has something to do with that. But either way, they’re not an abuser. Not yet. They’re just a person who needs you more than ever.
Then things are good for a while. Then something bad happens. Then it’s good again. Then it’s bad. Good. Bad. Good. Bad. And every time it happens, it gets a little harder to get out. The time you’ve invested in the relationship goes up, and your self-esteem goes down. By the time you realize that, yes, the person you thought you knew is an Abuser with a capital A, you’re in deep. You’re a frog that stood in a pot of water so long it turned you into soup before you even noticed it was getting a little warm. But you didn’t ask for this. And you certainly didn’t know it was coming.
We have this image in our heads of what abusers must look like. We picture brawny men with low foreheads and stained white tank tops, screaming at their wives while they drink beer in front of the TV. We think they’re like wildlife, as if we could spot them with the help of a guidebook and know to stay far away from them. But they’re not. Abusers can be anyone. They can be female. They can be accomplished. They can be well-groomed. Queer. Politically far-left. Politically far-right. Artists. Athletic. Charitable. Intelligent. They can come from any walk of life, any spot on the gender spectrum, any religion, any background. It’s not the abused person’s fault for not spotting them – they can’t always be spotted. It’s the abuser’s fault for abusing.
God my mum needs to read this shit so bad
I needed this in my life when I was younger
Don’t forget it means having to leave the country for some people..
do u ever feel like you’ve accidentally tricked certain people into thinking you are smarter and have more potential than you actually do and do you ever think about how disappointed they’ll be when you inevitably crash and burn
Fun fact: Impostor Syndrome is ridiculously common among high-achievers, particularly women. If you identify with this post, odds are pretty good that you’re exactly as smart as people think you are, and the failure you’re afraid of isn’t inevitable at all.
and don’t forget this is one of the psychological barriers placed in by thousands years of patriarchy and male supremacy.
My computer science professor actually talked about this on the first day, it was really cool.
Funbrutal fact: in addition to the existence of imposter syndrome, being “twice exceptional” (also known as 2e) is also a thing. That means being intellectually gifted AND ALSO having a disability that affects your ability to succeed at study or work. Such as ADHD, autism, dyslexia, dyscalculia, etc etc etc. A lot of people believe that it’s not possible to be both, but it very much is.Society tends to have very high expectations for how well gifted people will perform. Society tends to have low expectations for how well disabled people will perform. Society tends to attribute invisible disabilities, including mental illness, to a failure of willpower or effort or a bad attitude.
So if you read this post and went “no, but seriously, this is not just low self esteem on my part, people keep thinking I’m smart and then I keep crashing and burning and disappointing them and they can’t understand why I didn’t live up to their expectations, it happens again and again and when I tell someone how I feel and ask for help, they just tell me to stop being so hard on myself and that I’ll succeed if I have more self-confidence,” it is not just you.
(Also, one of the previous posts in this thread buried the lede a little. Imposter syndrome is ridiculously common in people from underrepresented groups in academia and other high pressure/high status fields, particularly women and people of colour. Maya Angelou did not only feel out of place because she was a woman.)
This essay also totally changed my view on the intersection of impostor syndrome and mental illness.
I will mention again my favorite story about impostor syndrome. Cuz if that guy got impostor syndrome, fuck it must be ok for me to get it.
one of the ways i know this culture has a massive issue with consent
is the sheer amount of people I’ve known that just lie & tell people they’re deathly allergic to foods they dislike
because otherwise people will hound them, mock them, coax them, harass them, try to force them to eat it, or even trick them into eating it, and they will never hear the end of it
your coworkers will bake it into a fucking pie, call it something else, and wait til your birthday, gather everyone and their first cousins to sit around in a circle waiting for you to put a forkful into your mouth and then point rhythmically at you in a chanting, glaring, sweating, unholy circle like SWISS CHARD SWISS CHARD YOU JUST ATE SWISS CHARD HA HA HA SWISS CHARD NOW YOU LIKE SWISS CHARD
Because forcing someone into a situation where they don’t feel safe declining putting something into their body they’d rather not be there is totes 100% wholesome American fun
And this is something so known that it’s infinitely easier to just lie and tell people that you’ll die if you eat that food…which actually doesn’t always stop it from happening
On a similar but unrelated note, I’ve actually had this happen before with doctors and medication. I’m allergic to Sulpha, which is an antibiotic along the lines of penicillin. Now I’m not super duper terrible allergic, but my throat with swell up, get itchy, and my neck will get super stiff. So I’m college I had a mild bacteria infection in my hoo-ha, so I visit the local med-ex clinic. Finally get in to see the doctor. “It says here you’re allergic to Sulpha?” “Yes” he continues to question me about it, like he didn’t really believe me, “what happens” blah blah blah. Barely questions me about the infection, which I’m THERE FOR, and sends me on my way with a prescription that, unbeknownst to me, contained Sulpha. He didn’t even tell me. Neither did my pharmacist. I wasn’t feeling terrible and my hubby and I had a road trip planned that day to the middle of nowhere to the woods to take pictures. I take my medicine. About 10 minutes later I start coughing, feeling itchy, throat tight. Now I was thinking back to how the doctor had questioned my allergy, and I was growing suspicious. Google the ingredients for the medicine. Sure enough, it’s Sulpha based. We have a half hour to go before we get anywhere near a gas station or civilization so that I could get some Benadryl to at least bring the swelling down. Now, keep in mind that the reason I know I’m allergic to this stuff was when I was getting my hep c shot when I was a kid. I was out for days and I remember what an absolute horrible feeling it was. But I had no idea if they’re given me prescription medication then to combat the allergies, and here me is now, sitting in the car with nothing, my throat quickly swelling up, not sure if I’m about to fucking die because some asshole doctor didn’t believe me about my fucking allergy and wanted to give me fucking Sulpha based fucking medication because fuck you.
Anyway, we got to a gas station just in time for me to start coughing up blood in the bathroom while my hubby buys benedryl, which thank God they had and at the time I wasnt even sure if it would work. Which it did. Thankfully.
Anyway. I’ve had a hard time trusting doctors ever since then.
That doctor gave me no warning, no “this has what you’re allergic to so be careful and monitor your reactions,” I did not give my consent to have my allergies put to the test, nothing. I could have fucking died because some doctor was too lazy to find an alternative for me and didn’t believe me.
Anyway, this shit happens even when it’s not food allergies, and this whole “are you sure” “but have you tried it” culture needs to fucking stop. No means no. An allergy is an allergy. You don’t have the right to “test” it, or to sneak someone food they explicitly didn’t ask for or even said they’re allergic to, it’s not your job to sniff out whether or not someone’s lying, it’s not your job to introduce them to things they don’t like. Just accept some people don’t like certain things, some people are allergic to certain things, some people may have different dietary requirements than you.
It’s really just an extension of the whole “sniffing out fakes” culture that says, oh, you’re not in a wheelchair, you don’t deserve that handicap spot, etc. Etc. Just believe people and realize that no means no
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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