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why do you want to be submissive to your husband?

There are so many reasons. I’ll list some of the big ones.

1. I believe that men should be the head of the household, and are natural leaders.

2. I think my husband is smarter and more capable than me.

3. I enjoy serving him and letting him make the decisions. I know that he will make smarter decisions than me.

4. I like rules and boundaries. It makes me feel safer.

5. I’d rather spend my time cooking and cleaning than being out in the working world. I’m better suited for domestic tasks.

And yes, I’m being 100% honest. Keep in mind, these are just my personal opinions/preferences. :)

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made this for my grandma

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"pasta only fills you up with empty calories" have you considered that it also fills me with love

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We had a patient last night who was a textbook case of electrolytes imbalance as a result of nausea and vomiting. And I didn’t say this to the patient because I didn’t think they’d appreciate it, but it’s kinda great when the way you are so so sick is like exactly like the textbooks say it’ll be. Like not good that you’re having sudden new onset muscle weakness and tingling, but buddy this is gonna get sorted out with an efficiency you won’t believe. We fixed like 85% of the stuff wrong with this patient by midnight and we marveled the whole time about how this patient was seemingly concocted in a lab so I could walk my trainee through a highly manageable crisis

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the thing about the "um excuse me if you're as poor as you say you are why don't you just sell all your most treasured possessions" thing that people love to trot out as some kind of "gotcha" is that they do not acknowledge how fucking soul-crushing it is to be in a situation that is already destroying your mental health and then be forced to sell one of the few things in your life that still bring you joy

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“Because I said so” teaches your child NOTHING.

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The other day I told a friend of mine that I never forget to take my ADHD meds because I fucking love my ADHD meds. I'm in my late 30s, I didn't finally get a diagnosis and meds until less than two years ago, and they have changed my entire life.

And he raised his eyebrow at me. We'd been discussing addictive medications a few minutes before, like the Tramadol I finally got from the pain specialist to take once a week or so to give me a break from my chronic pain, so I reassured him that methylpenidate (Ritalin/Concerta) is not addictive (at least not in people with ADHD).

His response? To raise his eyebrow even harder and say "Well it sure SOUNDS like it's addictive!"

And I had to explain to this man - who works in a healthcare related job by the way - that just because medication makes you feel good and helps you, just because you look forward to taking it, that doesn't make it addictive or dangerous. And he wasn't convinced.

The simple fact that I was excited to take a daily pill that has literally changed my life, after decades of fighting to get that medication, made him think I shouldn't be taking it so often. That it must inherently be dangerous.

I'm not even in America, but I'm pretty sure this attitude began there and then spread over here to Europe. This Puritan idea of "if something feels good, you must beware of it. Pleasure is dangerous, it is sinful, it is addiction, it is evil."

I know too many people who subconsciously believe that pleasure = addictive = dangerous = bad. Joy is a slippery slope to hell.

So here is your reminder for today that you don't need to be afraid of feeling good. If something improves your life, use it. Even if it is addictive - learn what that addiction means, whether the addiction is inherently dangerous or not, and whether the benefits outweigh the drawbacks and risks.

My ADHD meds are, in fact, not addictive. But I will take them every day because they make my life orders of magnitude easier. I will enjoy them every time I take them.

My tramadol is addictive. I will still take it. I will keep it on a schedule to avoid becoming addicted, primarily because addiction in this case would mean reduced effectiveness. But I am not afraid of my painkillers. They are life changing.

Take your meds, everyone. Don't let anyone scare you away from doing something that improves your life.

#as a doc #PLEASE take the meds folks #they're MEANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER #people don't take insulin to keep on suffering from the damage of diabetes #or heart surgery to keep on enduring the heart issues #medicine is meant to make you happy healthy and functional #especially something as necessary as l #ADHD meds* #addiction is when you feel despair #taking it but not enough effect #more stronger reactions and cravings #so please #YOU NEED TGE MEDICINE #then take it

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I see a lot of posts saying "teach boys about consent".

While that is true, a lot of parents will do that and fail to see how their own actions are the problem.

If you've spanked him, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've forced him to sit on Santa's lap, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've forced him to give hugs and kisses to family members, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've grabbed him in order to force him to sit still, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've labeled him as "too sensitive" for not wanting to be touched, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you've assumed he's okay with something because he technically allowed it even though he felt pressured, he's less likely to understand consent.

If you're only going to criticize his actions but not your own, it won't work.

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I believe part of my desire to be a homemaker stems from my need to be the antithesis to the woman who raised me.

“I put food on the table and a roof over your head,” she’d scream. “You’re so ungrateful.”

But children need love. I needed love.

I needed someone to guide me through the storms of my mixed up emotions, but I had to learn to weather them on my own. I needed a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, open arms to run to.

Instead, I had to be that person for my younger sisters, telling them it would all be okay, walking them through their feelings, and eventually steering them on their confusing journey through adolescence while the woman who was supposed to be raising us was locked away in her bedroom playing Candy Crush.

She made me into a teenage parent and then resented me for it. She didn’t like that my sisters would come to me for comfort, seek my approval, and beam at my encouragement.

She stole my girlhood, but that wasn’t enough. She stole my identity and gaslit me for years about it, and then tried to claim I was blaspheming her when the law caught up with her.

Adopting children with special needs doesn’t automatically make anyone a good parent, but it certainly earned her the praise and validation she was so desperately seeking.

I hold no love for that woman, but stew in deep vats of hatred that I’m funneling into spite her by being the mother I needed, a better mother than she could ever dream of being.

I will love my children unconditionally. When they are sick, they will be cared for. When they cry, they will be comforted. When they are confused, they will be guided. When they accomplish something, they will be celebrated. When they are happy, we will be happy together.

My home will not be that of an animal hoarder, someone who “rescues” animals by bringing them into an ever-worsening situation. My home will be clean yet lived in; nice and cozy for our family’s daily activities.

My children will learn at home, where they can be given the one-on-one attention they deserve to ensure their understanding of concepts instead of being forced through a standardized series of tests with little help. They will be served nutritious meals and taught how to make them. They will learn to contribute to the household in a meaningful way instead of being punished with chores. They will cultivate a relationship with the outdoors by helping in the garden and learn to care for others by helping feed the chickens.

The anger I feel toward that woman diminishes more as my partner and I plan our future together. Talking about how we want to tile our floors and arrange my bookcases heals me in a way I don’t think my partner fully understands. The fact that making choices together doesn’t end in a screaming match and a power struggle is refreshing.

I also take solace in the fact that it’s me my little sisters want to see, and not my mother (who has thankfully lost custody). They’re such smart and beautiful young ladies, and I can’t help but feel relieved that I didn’t lead them astray.

#you are wonderful #praying that you achieve this dream and a lot more #God bless

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She’s left behind her a sweet scent of rose and lilac, and the feeling of two gentle kisses—

Fyodor Sologub, from “The Little Demon,”

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something my mum always taught us was to look for the resources we're entitled to, and use them. public land? know your access rights and responsibilities, go there and exercise them. libraries? go there and talk to librarians and read community notice boards, find out what other people are doing around you, ask questions, use the printers. public records offices? go in there, learn what they hold and what you can access, look at old maps, get your full birth certificate copied, check out the census from your neighbourhood a hundred years ago. are you entitled to social support? find out, take it, use it. does the local art college have facilities open to the public? go in, look around, check out their exhibit on ancient looms or whatever, shop in their campus art supply store. it applies online too, there is so much shit in the world that belongs to the public commons that you can access and use if you just take a minute to wonder what might exist!!!

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The thing about perfect pitch is that it's a combination of having an inherent knack for it, and having that skill honed with a musical education. Someone who could recognise a specific note by the ear but was never taught notes cannot do it, and someone who simply wasn't born with the potential for it can't learn it no matter how thorough of a musical education they have.

I think the same thing applies to what I've come to refer to as "a few raisins is five raisins" type of instruction-giving. The ability to instinctively assess how much information and detail somebody wants or needs when they're asking for instructions. People who cannot do this are enraged by the idea that someone thinks they can, btw. How dare somebody arbitrarily decide to withdraw information and take away someone's agency concerning choices that they don't want to make and whose outcome doesn't matter much.

I'd consider that I have a pretty good knack for it, myself. It's been honed by working both with people who refuse to give exact instructions, my own difficulties in asking for sufficiently exact instructions when I've needed them, and working with people with varying preferences towards instruction-exactness.

People who refuse to give clarifications to their instructions and guidelines in things that they are familiar with leave you no other choice than to demonstrate just how wrong their vague answers can be interprated before they're willing to clarify. If you ask someone "how long does this usually roughly take?" and they just go "I cannot answer that, it varies so much from person to person, every single individual case is different" on and on, refusing to give the roughest of rough estimates, all you can do is say "okay so it can take anything between 20 minutes and 20 years." And only then will they say "oh no, it's more like 3-6 years on average", which was the exact answer you wanted in the first place.

It's not really a comprehension thing, but a moral code to them. I don't believe in having ethical principles that serve no other role than inconvenience absolutely everyone including myself, so I have no qualms about giving simplified instructions. If someone who needs exact instructions is trying to follow a recipe that tells them to add "a few raisins" freezes at the vagueness and asks "how much is 'a few' raisins?" they want an exact number.

Someone who isn't comfortable trusting their own assessment of how much is 'a few' won't be helped by being told to follow their heart and make their own choices. They specifically want somebody to just give some sort of a guideline about this. And being the type that's more comfortable just eyeballing things, I can assess that in this context "a few" means roughly half of a small handful of raisins, and quickly estimate that one half of a small handful is roughly 4-6 individual raisins.

And instead of getting needlessly difficult about refusing to say it, I can just say "oh, that's about five raisins", and everyone can carry on with their day.

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I can suggest books and if you tell me specific issues I can forward some yt videos and stuff which I find helpful

Considering this is a community filled with homemakers I figured this is most likely my safest place to ask about this…

I’ve never lived alone before and I might be soon. I obviously considering my age do not have a lot of money. If anyone has any advice for having to live on a low budget or just for living alone in general, it would be highly appreciated.

Even just stuff as basic as explaining basic household tasks would be good. I have grown up in a household where I haven’t been taught how to do essentially anything beyond school. I know almost nothing. But I don’t feel safe living here, so my only option is to figure it out if I want safety.

I know some of this stuff I could just Google but there’s certain things that people have found better ways to do so I’d rather ask here first.