ASH AMBIRGE

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Self-Care Isn’t Always Glamorous.

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

Sooooo, it’s the holidays, and you know what that means?

We all need to figure out how the hell we’re going to take care of our drooling, forgetful, overwhelmed selves, come the new year. (Oh, you’re not drooling and forgetful? GET OFF MY YARD.)

Which brings up the topic of self-care.

Jesus christ we’re bad at this, aren’t we? We’ve got more awareness around the importance of, you know, taking a minute to sh*t without our phones, and yet, it seems to be harder than ever.

*She sings to the tune of walking down the wedding aisle*:

More stuff to do.
More stuff to do.
More stuff to do.

Enter: the desperate need for self-care, AKA yoga, candles, tampons made of soy and about 300 Tibetan prayers.

But, you know, I don’t think we’ve got the right idea. I think the concept of “self-care” has been trivialized into mud baths and Bridget Jones marathons, when in reality, it’s not just a self-indulgence: It’s self-preservation.

And self-preservation isn’t always glamorous. Actually, most of the time, it’s really, really uncomfortable.

:: It’s doing the thing you least want to do.
:: It’s letting the fuck go.
:: It’s forgetting about the money.
:: It’s stopping what doesn’t work for you—finally.
:: It’s prioritizing joy.
:: It’s letting other people down.
:: It’s coming through for yourself.
:: It’s making a goddamn budget.
:: It’s sticking to your guns.
:: It’s giving up…sometimes.
:: It’s being selfish.
:: It’s acting on your curiosities.
:: It’s being selective.
:: It’s choosing differently…despite the past.
:: It’s doing the things you want without regard for how it will seem, or appear, or be talked about by others.

We’re leading these lives we all want to escape from—that's why self-care has been having such a moment.

But what if self-care was in creating a life you don’t want to run away from?

What if the biggest, most difficult, unpleasant things you could do…are actually the most beautiful?

260

READS

Prayer for a Modern Girl

Her face is soft and at ease; serene and unhardened. She looks at the world through fresh, rosy eyes, while her lips unravel themselves easily at the sight of a stranger. Who are those who hold bitterness in their hearts? She walks past Round Pond, befriending the crisp July air, twirling twigs between her fingertips, […]

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

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362

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Pleasure Doesn’t Need an Appointment

In the mornings, I let myself linger underneath the covers, twisting the full, fluffy comforter up and around my face, letting my feet dance in the cotton. It feels so good, to slide your soles through the cool material—almost sinful. When I shower, I surrender to the warmth of the water, letting it caress my […]

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

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359

READS

OH, NO, SORRY TO DISAPPOINT. All Fucks Are Currently on Backorder. We’ll Alert You When This Item Is Back in Stock.

So there’s this tall, spiky, sassy-ass house plant on my balcony—the thing looks like a punk rocker troll, or maybe a pile of swords, planted upright. (Scratch that, it’s definitely a pile of middle fingers. Oh, how apropos! THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING.) Anywauurrrrryyyyy, if I don’t water this motherfucker for just one day. Just ONE day. All […]

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

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605

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For My People-Pleasing Babes Running Themselves Ragged (In Which The Phrase “Suck an Eggplant” Totally Makes an Appearance)

There’s a dirty little question I’ve been asking myself a lot, lately—and some might condemn me for it. In fact, this question is so controversial, I suspect 50% of the population may show up at the door with axes and sledgehammers, knives and crowbars. It is not a very Christian thing to think—then again, I’ve […]

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

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5,269

READS

You Are Not a 7-Eleven.

“People need to understand what the fuck BUSINESS HOURS mean. I’m not 7-eleven, folks. I am not. If I wanted to be, I’d just run a 7-eleven. Big Gulps all the fuck around.”– Got that email from a frustrated business owner yesterday. I laughed so hard I almost spit wine on my bed. (I said almost. […]

In: WTF, Why So MISERABLEEEE

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