We are not allowed this. We are allowed to be deeply into basketball, or Buddhism, or Star Trek, or jazz, but we are not allowed to be deeply sad. Grief is a thing that we are encouraged to “let go of,” to “move on from,” and we are told specifically how this should be done. Countless well-intentioned friends, distant family members, hospital workers, and strangers I met at parties recited the famous five stages of grief to me: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I was alarmed by how many people knew them, how deeply this single definition of the grieving process had permeated our cultural consciousness. Not only was I supposed to feel these five things, I was meant to feel them in that order and for a prescribed amount of time.

Cheryl Strayed, The Love Of My Life

Oh, oh, you should read this.

(But not in public.)

i read this in my kitchen this morning, from start to finish without really taking a breath. at the end of it, i inhaled again and all i could think was my god, ow. ouch. hurt, ow, my god..

(via julyonfire)

This is an essay about a woman’s mother dying and how she copes with it. I read this from start to finish on the N4 last spring, when a lot of things were happening and changing and shit, I almost couldn’t keep it together. You should definitely read this. You should definitely, definitely read this.

(via tsunamis)

1. this is an awesome essay.

2. ten bucks says cheryl strayed is sugar on the rumpus.

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  1. lpremembers reblogged this from michelledean
  2. katelynk reblogged this from tsunamis
  3. tsunamis reblogged this from julyonfire
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  5. julyonfire reblogged this from michelledean and added:
    i read this in my kitchen this morning, from start to finish without really taking a breath. at the end of it, i inhaled...
  6. kjarktooth reblogged this from michelledean and added:
    Strayed is teaching a workshop four hours away RIGHT. NOW. FUCK.
  7. michelledean posted this