tgb2366
@ucankmlwa.bsky.social
Middle-aged woman who tends to be a bit spicy, sassy, and sarcastic.
"never been seen before"...I hope I never have to hear these ever again after this fucktard is dead.
December 19, 2025 at 7:33 PM
"never been seen before"...I hope I never have to hear these ever again after this fucktard is dead.
So generous.... *sarcasm*
December 18, 2025 at 7:21 PM
So generous.... *sarcasm*
Are we sure her name isn't really Karen?
December 18, 2025 at 5:35 AM
Are we sure her name isn't really Karen?
Choosing to separate oneself from family is not something that is done lightly. It typically is for self preservation. What I have not read in this article is how many do find a path to reconciliation.
December 16, 2025 at 10:02 PM
Choosing to separate oneself from family is not something that is done lightly. It typically is for self preservation. What I have not read in this article is how many do find a path to reconciliation.
16/16
The love I longed for is the love I am capable of giving myself.
I hope everyone who reads this knows they are enough and are loved for who you are, as you are... be kind to yourself!
The love I longed for is the love I am capable of giving myself.
I hope everyone who reads this knows they are enough and are loved for who you are, as you are... be kind to yourself!
December 12, 2025 at 11:23 PM
16/16
The love I longed for is the love I am capable of giving myself.
I hope everyone who reads this knows they are enough and are loved for who you are, as you are... be kind to yourself!
The love I longed for is the love I am capable of giving myself.
I hope everyone who reads this knows they are enough and are loved for who you are, as you are... be kind to yourself!
15/16
A shawl that whispers, You are safe. You are loved. You are enough. The shawl will now rest on my shoulders like a quiet promise that what was once painful can be rewoven into something beautiful. Every stitch speaks a new truth; one I am finally ready to believe:
A shawl that whispers, You are safe. You are loved. You are enough. The shawl will now rest on my shoulders like a quiet promise that what was once painful can be rewoven into something beautiful. Every stitch speaks a new truth; one I am finally ready to believe:
December 12, 2025 at 11:23 PM
15/16
A shawl that whispers, You are safe. You are loved. You are enough. The shawl will now rest on my shoulders like a quiet promise that what was once painful can be rewoven into something beautiful. Every stitch speaks a new truth; one I am finally ready to believe:
A shawl that whispers, You are safe. You are loved. You are enough. The shawl will now rest on my shoulders like a quiet promise that what was once painful can be rewoven into something beautiful. Every stitch speaks a new truth; one I am finally ready to believe:
14/16
It could become something else. A shawl. A hug. A wrap of warmth and comfort, something meant to hold love instead of longing. Something meant to embrace the little girl inside me—the one who waited decades for a mother’s unconditional love.
It could become something else. A shawl. A hug. A wrap of warmth and comfort, something meant to hold love instead of longing. Something meant to embrace the little girl inside me—the one who waited decades for a mother’s unconditional love.
December 12, 2025 at 11:23 PM
14/16
It could become something else. A shawl. A hug. A wrap of warmth and comfort, something meant to hold love instead of longing. Something meant to embrace the little girl inside me—the one who waited decades for a mother’s unconditional love.
It could become something else. A shawl. A hug. A wrap of warmth and comfort, something meant to hold love instead of longing. Something meant to embrace the little girl inside me—the one who waited decades for a mother’s unconditional love.
13/16
Instead, this past weekend, I opened the box and lifted the piece I had abandoned years before. I was struck by its beauty. The colors, the stitches, the delicate yet resilient fabric—it was far too lovely to destroy. And then it came to me: this didn’t need to be a blanket anymore.
Instead, this past weekend, I opened the box and lifted the piece I had abandoned years before. I was struck by its beauty. The colors, the stitches, the delicate yet resilient fabric—it was far too lovely to destroy. And then it came to me: this didn’t need to be a blanket anymore.
December 12, 2025 at 11:23 PM
13/16
Instead, this past weekend, I opened the box and lifted the piece I had abandoned years before. I was struck by its beauty. The colors, the stitches, the delicate yet resilient fabric—it was far too lovely to destroy. And then it came to me: this didn’t need to be a blanket anymore.
Instead, this past weekend, I opened the box and lifted the piece I had abandoned years before. I was struck by its beauty. The colors, the stitches, the delicate yet resilient fabric—it was far too lovely to destroy. And then it came to me: this didn’t need to be a blanket anymore.
12/16
But the fifth blanket—the one meant for my mother—carried a different weight. At first, I thought about giving it to her unfinished, out of anger. Then I imagined burning it, reducing every tender stitch to ash, the way my sense of worth had felt burned away. But I didn’t do either.
But the fifth blanket—the one meant for my mother—carried a different weight. At first, I thought about giving it to her unfinished, out of anger. Then I imagined burning it, reducing every tender stitch to ash, the way my sense of worth had felt burned away. But I didn’t do either.
December 12, 2025 at 11:23 PM
12/16
But the fifth blanket—the one meant for my mother—carried a different weight. At first, I thought about giving it to her unfinished, out of anger. Then I imagined burning it, reducing every tender stitch to ash, the way my sense of worth had felt burned away. But I didn’t do either.
But the fifth blanket—the one meant for my mother—carried a different weight. At first, I thought about giving it to her unfinished, out of anger. Then I imagined burning it, reducing every tender stitch to ash, the way my sense of worth had felt burned away. But I didn’t do either.