jesussbabymomma:

crohns-sucks:

neecygrace:

Today’s picture for invisible illness is a personal one. This is one of about 30 notes that my friend has received since using her handicapped placard. I’m going to say this to you, have you ever seen someone get out of a car parked in a handicapped space and said to yourself “they look too young or they don’t look disabled.” I’m going to go with yes you have, because we all have at one time. I can’t remember doing it, but before I understood the difficulties of invisible illness when I was younger I probably did. Let me ask you this though, when you had that thought was it because you knew with 100% certainty that they weren’t handicapped or did you assume that because of their age and/or not seeing a cane, walker or wheelchair? All I’m asking is that we stop and think when we someone need a mobility aid, park in a handicapped space or say they are disabled that we remember this “DISABILITY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH AGE OR APPEARNACE.” #spoonie #invisibleillness #disability #chronicillness #rheumatoidarthritis #lupus #fibromyalgia #myofascialpainsyndrome

If nothing else, this post needs to be seen around the internet more. This harassment is not okay and no one should have to deal with it on top of having an invisible illness. This is just another form of anonymous bullying to add to the internet bullying these TROLLS are capable of.
If you are healthy, please reblog.If you are sick, please reblog.If you have a disability, please reblog.If you have an invisible illness, please reblog.If you know someone with a disability, please reblog.If you are a human being, please reblog.Let’s spread the word and help those of us that may not look like it. 
Ignorance isn’t bliss, ignorance is ignorance. 

I never thought about this wow

jesussbabymomma:

crohns-sucks:

neecygrace:

Today’s picture for invisible illness is a personal one. This is one of about 30 notes that my friend has received since using her handicapped placard. I’m going to say this to you, have you ever seen someone get out of a car parked in a handicapped space and said to yourself “they look too young or they don’t look disabled.” I’m going to go with yes you have, because we all have at one time. I can’t remember doing it, but before I understood the difficulties of invisible illness when I was younger I probably did. Let me ask you this though, when you had that thought was it because you knew with 100% certainty that they weren’t handicapped or did you assume that because of their age and/or not seeing a cane, walker or wheelchair? All I’m asking is that we stop and think when we someone need a mobility aid, park in a handicapped space or say they are disabled that we remember this “DISABILITY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH AGE OR APPEARNACE.” #spoonie #invisibleillness #disability #chronicillness #rheumatoidarthritis #lupus #fibromyalgia #myofascialpainsyndrome

If nothing else, this post needs to be seen around the internet more. This harassment is not okay and no one should have to deal with it on top of having an invisible illness. This is just another form of anonymous bullying to add to the internet bullying these TROLLS are capable of.

If you are healthy, please reblog.
If you are sick, please reblog.
If you have a disability, please reblog.
If you have an invisible illness, please reblog.
If you know someone with a disability, please reblog.
If you are a human being, please reblog.

Let’s spread the word and help those of us that may not look like it. 

Ignorance isn’t bliss, ignorance is ignorance. 

I never thought about this wow

(via livingwithillness)

How do you date with chronic illness??

livingwithillness:

spooniecat:

one-spoon-at-a-time:

talledschick:

karlos86:

talledschick:

Is it even possible?

With great difficulty. :(

Since I got really ill around 8 years ago, I think I have been on 5 dates? First dates I am counting. And really only managed to go for a second date in two.

There was a period in which I gave up on it, where I…

l00k-at-all-that-pain
i used to be fat now im thin and coverd in braces and never leave but in a turtle shell and neck collar (to protect me loosr discs and riba that sublux eaisly) so i dont get out much online was all i had left. as for collage take it one step at a time if you think you can do you can do your best to get as far as you can you will. I only started ill go back whem things get better but it would be great to be around male energy and have there companionship. good luck with school the friends who you should stay in touch with you will there are so many ways to do so now.

This has been a major thing on my mind since my recent breakup…

when eric and i broke up i said to him ‘no one will ever love me im too sick’ and he told me ‘that is not true at all, i didn’t leave you because you were sick’ but i still have kinda gave up in love because i am sick, and i dont think anyone will ever be abel to handle me. 

Breaks my heart :(

This scares me. OMG nobody’s gonna love me? wtf I didn’t sign up for this. How does someone survive on Gods coupled with JUST self-love? I can only love me for so l…OMG. Is this a troll or what? This has to be Satan and if you say no you’re a bloody liar. :( Nobody will ever love me :/

Sometimes I wonder if God has a date for when my life is gonna turn around. When I’ll stop being angry with myself and others. When I’ll grow up. When I’ll be healed wholly. When I’m gonna love me first. When I’ll stop missing church to sit home and mope. When I’ll organize my life. When I’ll stop depending on others. And yet as much as I push others to get right with God I feel like the church usher…just bringing people in and staying somewhere in the back. I need to get serious but the spirit of fear is manifesting and I don’t know how to get it out of me.

"

Ebuka came back
at the back of a lorry
from Jos to Owerri
his was the last stop,
the mother
has been crying
for a week now


Ebuka came back
and his mother
ran outside
screaming at her Chi
as the other women
held her back

Mama Ebuka
threw away her head scarf
as she screamed in Igbo
“chukwu!! Chukwu nna!! Ebuka!!
Ebuka nna m!! Nwa mummy!!
Okpala nna! Biko kulie oto!!”
her husband
slowly watched
as the body
was placed
in his Obi


Ebuka came back
and his mother
ran outside
screaming at her Chi
as she hugged the body
of her dead son
begging for him to stop sleeping
begging for him to wake up.

"
-

after the crisis 

Ijeoma Umebinyuo

(via theijeoma)

This is so sorrowful but yet, captivating and alive. Almost like you’re living there!

"

Chetachi,
for night him go come
tel mi sai mak i no talk
him sai if i sai anything
na village i go go!
i no wan go village
so i let am do me.

Oga go come almst evry night
when all deir pikin don slep
him go leave auntie for bed
to mak mi cri.

Anytme whem him dey on top
Cheta, i go rember when
me and you dey vilage
when we dey laugh with Okwudiri and all of dem
before whn oga strt
i dey cri, i dey beg
now i no say anythn
now i no cri maka chukwu no na-elegwu mara ihe di na obi m.

Cheta
since i comes here
my mind never smiles
madam no let me go school
she go flog me if i no speak good enlish
i wan speaks like her schildren (na schildren auntie dey call dem)
but d dey hard.

For nights when oga no come disturb me
i go read their novels
for boys quarters way i dey stay
i wan read, i dey see how their schildren dey read
i wan read and speaks like them
i dey try,
but
Cheta,
e hard.

For sunday
i go floow dem go uka
madam no like to mis church
she dey get holy ghost for church
she go dey speaks in tnuges!

As madm dey speak
oga dey for alter dey read bible.

"
- Ijeoma Umebinyuo (via theijeoma)

Nne! This one is sweeting me! Nna eh?! This piece is sweet! Chei…unu bia lee nu. Chineke nye’m udo di ka nke gi!

(via theijeoma)

villagewife asked:

I stopped poetry soooo long ago, but your pieces drag me so many years back. Where do you get the inspiration?

Blessed💋 Answer:

theijeoma:

Ijeoma, honestly, i don’t know how i will live properly if i don’t write. I have been writing poems since i was in primary school and for some reason, i keep writing. I have grown with it. It is somewhat political for me now. My pieces are inspired by everything; my culture, colonization, my people, my feminist ideologies, the body of a woman, the body of a man, the walk of a woman, the silence of some and the struggles of human beings who may or may not look like me.

Sometimes, i write remembering Wole Soyinka in his no ‘nonsense’ style. Our people are story tellers. A lot of times, the silliest thing inspires me. I don’t take inspiration for granted, once i feel something, i write it and it may take months to germinate but it is there somewhere, waiting for me. Once i remember something, i write. I remember writing my piece “Chetachi" a few years ago. My cousin read it and sent me a message telling me i must be insane, why would i write in pidgin english? I wrote it in pidgin english and i will never translate it to english. It holds a special place in my heart because it shows the class divide between the rich and the poor in Nigeria. It is also written in a language spoken mostly by those who have endured such. 

When i wrote this piece, it was a free write at night. All i remember was thinking “some women survive” and i just kept going with that. I decided to post it on my blog after i wrote it. I didn’t shift any sentence, i wrote it exactly as it came to me.

I wrote “Ajayi" a few years back. I was inspired by Yoruba mythology, Ibadan and Ifa divination.  Ifa priestess and priests never ever ever lie during divination. That is something i learnt a long time ago. Never. We are not told such, a lot of times, we rubbish the spirituality of our ancestors, so i wrote that and kept peeking into it.

I wrote “Ebuka" because at a time while living in Nigeria, there were dead bodies of Igbos coming home in lorries/trailers from the North. Humans killed like they are not sons and daughters of someone.

Inspiration comes in so many forms, in so many ways, from memories to stories i have been told. I also read. Reading and writing for me goes hand in hand, always have and always will.  My pieces are truly inspired by people who have lived, people who are living and those who will come to earth. Writing to me is a way to never leave others out, to remember others, i really don’t write about me, i am not that interesting of a person. I am inspired by the resilience of others.

My namesake, hope i sorta answered your question.

Ijeoma.

P.S. Answer m nka dika essay. Chukwu nna! :)

Nne odikwa di o! Owero ife omere. Chukwu gozie gi ofuma ofuma! Nwanne’m nwanyi oru gi dikwa egwuruegwu nno! Chai Ijefine. Nkwaro m ne we ubua me nyem nsogbu ka ma na…a ma m na Chineke kere’n uwa nile a gaha hapu m aka. I get a tad frustrated when I try to write because all my thoughts are scattered. So I was trying to see if there was a specially was to de clutter thoughts or at least where your pieces stem from. They all touch the heart and soul. They’re indeed beautiful and moving. God is using you in more ways than one! Be blessed my namesake and my dear sister!


Cheta m n’ekpere. Follow tu’m biko? Lol ❤️