EXTREMELY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ

The fundraiser organizer for Hazem Mohammed Al-Baradweel has NOT given Hazem the money he was owed.

His name is Mohammed Al Amarein, and I will be looking for any other fundraisers he might be organizing that have been put on our list to place them on a suspicion watch. I have already altered the listing for this fundraiser to reflect its nature.

REPORT THE FUNDRAISER BELOW, IT IS VERY CLOSE TO COMPLETION BUT THIS INDIVIDUAL REFUSES TO COOPERATE:

PLEASE VERIFY WHETHER OR NOT YOU'VE DONATED TO THIS FUNDRAISER, IF YOU HAVE, REQUEST A REFUND ASAP AND REPORT THE FUNDRAISER:

DO NOT DELAY ACTION BECAUSE HE MIGHT TAKE DOWN THE FUNDRAISER AS SOON AS HE GETS NOTICE HE'S GETTING REPORTED AND THE MONEY IS BEING REFUNDED.

If Hazem manages to get a new organizer for his fundraiser I will keep you updated so you can redirect your funds there.

HERE'S THE LINK TO THE NEW FUNDRAISER!! If you would like to help please redirect your refunds to this fundraiser!!

are you a survivor of the troubled teen industry?

do you live on the west coast?

do you seek connection with other survivors?

survivors unrestrained (a registered nonprofit ran by and for TTI survivors) is having their FIRST west coast meet up!!!

i’m not part of survivors unrestrained (maybe someday) but i will be at the portland meet up on april 28th!!

here’s the link to the reddit post with the dates and the information to contact survivors unrestrained

if you can’t join, you can donate to fund these meetups for other survivors here:

is there a way to turn off reblogs on an old post?? an intersex post i made from 2020 is getting reblogs again and I don't Want It passed around because the context i made it in was a very different context of intersex discussions on this website but whenever i go into the editor the option to turn off reblogs doesn't show up, it's only the old editor i don't even see the option to turn off reblogs

okay i think i'll have to private the post? that looks like the only option idk

it is so incredibly unfair that inpatient psychiatrists are given the legitimacy to make sweeping judgements about our madness, twisting and shaping and classifying it into the schema that reassures their worldview when they have only ever seen us in conditions of confinement. if i am locked up, put in restraints, drugged against my will, kept from seeing the outside world for sometimes weeks at a time—my madness will respond incredibly differently to the hostile conditions of a total institution. How in the world can psychiatrists extend their analysis to make judgements about my illness/wellness/way of being in the world/way of being in my head? they have only ever seen the way I am Mad when i am surviving confinement. they have no idea what I look like when i am free.

of course i will start pacing for hours when I am locked up with nowhere to go. of course i will start screaming, and tear apart my room, and hurt myself when i am given no other options for exercising autonomy. of course i will become paranoid and start hearing things when I am under 24/7 surveillance, 15 minute checks, and cameras in every room. but every action i take is then used as evidence to fit me into a system of symptoms and diagnosis that are further used to justify my continued incarceration—it becomes an inescapable labyrinth, it becomes an irremovable cycle. every attempt to argue against their flawed interpretations just ends up as another bullet point on my medical record: "Patient lacks insight."

psychiatrists treat themselves as inherently and perfectly neutral—seeing themself not as an actor who is actively engaging and contributing to our experiences but as a removable spectator who can somehow cordon themselves off from madness (lest they catch it from us—don't you know madness is contagious?) the first confinement of psychiatry is the kind of confinement the psychiatrist does to themself: locking their emotions/perceptions/opinions behind the guise of scientific, objective neutrality. there is no psychiatry without confinement: they are bedfellows who rely on each other from the very conception of the field.

i could make a satirical joke about diagnosing psychiatrists with "Thinks They Can Be Neutral While Ignoring Their Material Conditions" disorder, but i don't want to reify their system of classifications even a little bit. What I want is to destroy the entire fucking system. it drives me crazy to watch this dynamic play out again and again and again with no recognition that putting people in conditions of confinement drastically shapes the way that we can then exist in that space.

it makes me sick—it makes me MAD.

ibuprofen should grow on bushes like wild berries

actually crying + shaking + losing my fucking mind at this letter that my 17 year old self hid for me in a nest of google doc folders that i found after standing up for myself to the unit psychiatrist for the first time in my life

[ID: Several screenshots of white text on a black background. The text reads,

"Right now, you are learning for the first time that the world is composed of crooked parts. You've given up on a God because you fear the competition.  You're starting to realize that living is a destructive act. All you want is disassembly- someone put you together wrong and you're too tired to fix it. Everyone around you wants you to grow up, shape up, cheer up. You don't want to die- not really. There are still books to read and girls to kiss and sometimes, when you squint, you are happy. You've just grown sick of trying. Trying is starting to hurt. Since childhood, you have held your entire life by the throat. Look at your bruising neck. Look at the snapping noose. This is terribly inefficient. Some day, you're going to grow up to be a good person and a terrible patient. You will be content with being the human hurricane. You will forgive yourself for being sick. You aren't going to be Better (the hospital rhetoric, the empty promises of well-meaning acquaintances), but things will be [italics] okay [end italics]. Scars which were once violet now fade to white. You will write less poems about the moon, more about the sun. You are not an inconvenience. You are not a mission, or a burden, or a crime scene. You are a child who will one day grow up to be great and terrible things.  Past the IV drips, past the hospital beds, past the intake forms, you are a person. Don't let them take that away from you. When you are ready, pull yourself from your wreckage. Swab your dripping veins. Fall softer next time." End ID.]

last week two ambulances, a fire truck, a UN vehicle and around 16 rescue workers were dispatched to save people crushed under the rubble after a bombing in rafah (do you remember rafah? one of biden's red lines.) they disappeared, and due to israeli tanks nobody could enter the area and nobody knew what had happened to them.

a few days ago after the tanks left the vehicles were discovered crushed and buried under the sand, and one rescue worker's body was recovered. israel admitted to targeting them. and then yesterday the rest of the workers' bodies were recovered in a mass grave. one of the corpses had wire around one foot, indicating torture and interrogation, several handcuffed, all of them buried in their clearly marked uniforms and gloves.

cnn reported this story alongside like five other incidents of israel targeting humanitarian workers this past week to little outrage because the workers killed were palestinian and not international, and because israel has been regularly killing humanitarian workers.

but for the PRCS (the palestinian red crescent society), the same organization that hind rajab called desperately from her car around this time last year, one of the few that struggled to save lives throughout the war even when it got their workers killed by israeli forces, these are fathers, sons and loved ones who spent a genocide digging people out of rubble with no equipment and trying to save lives:

all of them were buried in a careless mass grave of rescue workers, found after a week of pleading from their loved ones and radio silence from their murderers and those who enable them.

dandelions are magic. literally tiny suns in the grass that turn into the moon and then the stars when you blow on them. fucking insane.

Fucking insane

holy shit

(ID: a colorful drawn comic about dandelions. The first panel shows yellow flowers and says “dandelions are magic. Literally tiny suns in the grass”. The next panel shows the puffy version of dandelions and says “that turn into the moon”. The last panel shows a child blowing a dandelion and the seeds scattering. It says “and then the stars.” End ID)

sunset over bar harbor

[image description: a watercolor painting of a vivid sunset in purple, orange, red, and yellow, over a cluster of dark houses with illuminated windows. Three of the clouds are shaped like the silhouettes of whales swimming over the houses. The skyline is crisscrossed with telephone wires. /end i.d.]

seaglass! acrylic on canvas, 2x2 feet, 2025

for those not in the know - this is a painting of my lucky seaglass, which has been put through the wringer recently. for much of last year it had been lost, but i found it eventually! then on new year's, i shattered it by knocking it off of a counter. it's glued back together now and lucky as ever, but i was devastated when i thought i'd ruined it forever, so i decided to paint it (on this huge canvas!) to immortalize it, should anything else happen to it!

[ID from alt: a large acrylic painting depicting a fragment of green seaglass with internal cracks. the cracks separate the color of the glass into bright greens, oranges, blues, and yellows. three sections have circular rippled glass chipping, in multicolor. the background is canvas white. End ID.]