an unbalanced mix of original (fewer) and reblogged (more) posts
Alexa Linboom was five years old when she arrived at the hospital in Johnson City, Tennessee. It was New Year’s Day, 2012. She was blue and paralyzed, rigid in a posture indicative of severe brain damage.
Linboom’s father and stepmother allegedly forced her, District Attorney Berkley Bell told CNN this week, to drink a copious amount of grape soda as punishment.
"I don’t know exactly how much liquid she [subsequently] drank," Bell said, "but there was [sic] 4.5 12-ounce drinks, plus water in between.” The autopsy report says it was 2.4 liters of soda and water over one-to-two hours, after which, according to Bell, "The child was screaming out in pain, … went into a paralyzed state, and became unconscious.” She died in the hospital two days later.
The punishment was allegedly for stealing a grape soda from her stepmother.
Tennessee’s Hawkins County Sheriff’s Office said last week that her death was determined to be homicide by way of acute fluid intoxication. On Friday her parents were charged with first-degree murder, two counts of aggravated child neglect, and aggravated child abuse.
This makes me so very sad.
Holy buckets do I need a Tumblr filter to hide Ask posts.
ONE MONTH BEFORE THE DEADLINE:
ONE WEEK BEFORE THE DEADLINE:
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE:
Reblogging again just because this always makes me laugh.
I rarely like the way my body looks. There’s a list of insecurities. I think this is very common. Are we ever quite satisfied? I was getting ready to take a shower this morning, and, as I have been trying to be a bit more health-conscious these last months, I thought that I didn’t altogether hate my body. But then there is a thing where seeing my body in person—up close—and seeing my body in a photo are almost two different things. So I took a photo. This photo. And I felt, still, that I didn’t altogether dislike what I looked like (rare), though as I looked at it I began to like it less and less, until I’d come up with a list of things that I wanted to look different. Better.
And then I stopped and took a deep breath because that thought process is not a fucking nice thing to do to yourself. It isn’t. And it’s vanity, which doesn’t care for all of the things that I know, such as the fact that I’m blessed to be healthy and talented and living the life that I live. Those are things that matter, not all the hopeful ideals, not the fantasies. A lot of times I don’t care, like I don’t go shopping very often and I have never belonged to a gym. Then it seeps in because I saw a picture of someone else or a movie or read an article in a magazine, and it made me feel like less than I am.
We do this to ourselves. I think it’s human across the board. Maybe it’s modern human? Has it always been this way or is it worse because of our new media? So many ready comparisons! And, from a physical standpoint, would my ideal body even be enough? I’m sure the guys with my ideal are wishing for something else, just as there might be people who look at me and say I’m crazy for feeling the way I’ve tried to describe above.
So I’d like to remind myself in the future that I’m enough just like this. However I am in the present is enough. I don’t need more, different, better…just the continued practice of being, treating myself kindly. Being right where I am—physically, mentally—is its own perfect.
[Note: This is for me, and I know that I am putting it in a place that is public so…yeah. It’s not seeking encouragement. It’s a personal dialogue. I know that others struggle with their bodies and image and confidence, and in relation my struggle may seem ridiculous or petty. I say this because I am well aware that, unlike others, I am not treated poorly because of the way I look, nor am I told by anyone else that I should or need to look differently. My experience and my insecurities are self-imposed. But they are mine, and I am trying to process them.]