For as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of getting pregnant.
I suppose it didn’t help that one of my formative experiences surrounding pregnancy involved a teen mom who looked miserable. She was the daughter of one of my mom’s friends. Had gotten pregnant in high school. And whenever my mother and I would stop by to visit her friend, » Read more
The past few weeks have been absolutely hectic, and there’s no end in sight.
Essentially, I’ve been tasked with packing, cleaning, and prepping a house for sale with only about a month to work with.
And it’s a house I’ve lived in for nearly a decade.
I’m not used to staying in one place for very long. » Read more
Why I Don’t Vaguepost When I’m Sad
Like anyone else, I hit bad patches. I get sad. Run into trouble inside my own head.
I had a particularly awful spell a little while back, brought on by some work I was doing sorting through childhood trauma. The kind of thing that’s always with me but is normally tucked away in tightly sealed boxes in some remote corner of my brain. » Read more
“Worrying is praying for stuff you don’t want.”
Bargains with God
When I was little, I used to make little bargains with God. Especially on long car rides. I’d ask God to introduce himself in a way that I could understand but nothing so dramatic as to blow his cover or make it so that others wouldn’t have to have faith in order to keep believing in him. » Read more
I learned an important lesson very early on about jealousy and the dangers of pitting people against one other.
My first grade teacher hung a bulletin board in our classroom that she titled “King of the Mountain.”
She’d created a scene on poster board for it. The image was, predictably, a mountain. » Read more
A while ago, I wrote a piece called “Abused Kids Get to Look Like Their Bullies“:
On countless mornings, I glimpse my reflection in the mirror and want to punch myself in the face.
Because I look like her at certain angles.
Her chin, strong but not square. » Read more
It was something I was told a thousand times growing up. If you’re going to go out, leave a note.
By my mother when I was staying at my parents’ house. But not just her and not just there. Everywhere. At all the other places I stayed. Friends’ houses. With other relatives. » Read more
“Oh shit,” I say, realizing what I’ve just said sounds terrible. “I really didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m sorry.”
The pause between when I say that and when he speaks seems to last forever. But finally he breaks the silence. “It’s okay. I understand.”
It’s probably a minor thing to him. » Read more
“I read today’s article, the one about recovery,” she says. “And I think you’re right about spite being a powerful motivator.”
I nod. “Especially when you’re down in it. People tell you that you need to love yourself to be healthy. But when you’re emotionally unwell, it isn’t like self-love is all that accessible. » Read more
“I can’t go without shaving down there anymore,” she says. “And it has nothing to do with feminism. Or being anti-feminism. ”
“Oh yeah?” I say. Because I don’t know what else to say. Over the months we’ve worked together, she’s become progressively more comfortable around me. Probably because I never freak out about what she says, » Read more