Instagram story viewer> @chetheamericano> Posts

chetheamericano

@chetheamericano

44

followers

554

following

the inchipinchi coffee barista, breast feeding tigers & what have you
pronouns: that

POSTS STORIES REELS TAGGED

Ché the Americano aka Pumpkin aka Rida Reality by @chetheamericano

10

0

2 years ago

Boundaries, yo.

That word is conjuring for me. I instantly well with anger when it's said, or when I find myself using it because it's the easiest route to being understood. I mean, all of us—gurus, Instagram intellectuals, anyone working past their shift— spit the hot fire that is boundaries whenever we talk about self-care, bossing up, and getting our respect.

'Boundaries' is a part of the I-Go-To-Therapy starter pack (right along with "So what I'm hearing you say is..."). Tell someone you have boundaries, and you might as well be vegan. It's supreme goddess talk.

I resent the word because it's come to be the artillery of the unfuckwitable. Those indestructible motherfuckas. Drop it and instantly, a would-be line-stepper knows to fall back; you are not the one.

But I don't have bo&*@$#ies because I'm quick with the hands or quick to show you 'what you not going to do'; I have them because I'm fragile AF. I won't blow up if you try me; I will blow over. And that word just doesn't communicate my vulnerability in a world where, supposedly, everyone can get it.

My bo&*@$#ies are not police tape; they are flowers on the sidewalk. A marker that someone died here. by @chetheamericano

2

0

2 years ago

The bathroom sign says IN USE, but you still use it, right? by @chetheamericano

1

0

2 years ago

There was a time when I desperately needed a label, a diagnosis to understand what happened and who I was before and after it. I would ask my therapists (every last one of them over the years) to share their notes with me. To tell me what hypothesis they had of me and my mental. They had to be withholding telling me the truth about myself because so and so called me crazy and that other person called me psycho.

All said depression. Depression wasn't good enough for me. All said anxiety. That wasn't it either. Complex PTSD was (and still is) on to something. But after hours of reading NIH articles on all types of things and talking to people, I would come to the session ready to talk about my self diagnosis. I'm bi-polar! Nah, nah for real this time, schizophrenic. Wait, wait this one is it: borderline personality disorder. Oh, not to mention the times when I humanized my abusers to the point that I wondered if I was the abuser all along. That was my sort of #BELOVED phase where perhaps I was haunted. My artistic self even labeled me tortured.

I see a lot of people wanting to make sense of themselves through badge of honor pathologies. I know the feeling. Especially when if you can pathologize you, the world may think you're more deserving of going easy on and just might accept you because now they can make sense of your difference.

Nah, chill out on that. Spend more time and more on top of that in the mystery of you. Follow the discomfort. Sit with it. Meet yourself, old and new, again and again. Uncover and rediscover you, then the hurting world around you that needs your self compassion and awareness. Not your clinical cop-outs. The only label you'll find that is truly fitting of all that you are is HUMAN. by @chetheamericano

1

3

2 years ago

mouthy and toothy by @chetheamericano

8

0

2 years ago

reincarnated by @chetheamericano

8

0

2 years ago