trauma

270 Days

Two hundred seventy days. Only two hundred seventy days.  Two effing hundred Seventy effing days Two hundred seventy days. Hmmph. I suppose it equates to the two hundred seventy ways  That we are deemed inferior Deemed less than Deemed nothing By those who really count The “real” people, The ones that matter Of which I …

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"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." -MLK

The “silence of our ‘friends’” hurts my ears

What did MLK say exactly? Something like, “…in the end, what hurts the most is not the harmful words spoken by our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” I’m sure I completely botched the quote and truthfully right now Idgaf; this isn’t speech and rhetoric class. This is “real” “life” in 2020 America for …

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Second chances? Hell to the naw!

I’m one of those people who fail to respect their own boundaries. The type that falls prey to wishful thinking, to hopefulness, to forgiving too easily. I advise others not to do this, but I struggle to internalize this concept in my own life. So while I am not a big fan of “Do as …

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Love is NOT enough: choose you

I used to have a pair of earrings that I absolutely loved. These earrings were perfect. They were casual enough for everyday wear yet elegant enough for special occasions. They were long enough for me to be able to feel their “swish, swish” sound when I moved my head, but not too long. They were …

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Treading Land, Water, Sky, Life, Loss

Like the amphibian Too much time on land fatigues me Depletes me of life-sustaining nutrients Sucks me dry And sends me on a desperate retreat Back to the waters Where I can submerge myself In what is familiar Fluid, quiet, safe. I can somnambulate beneath the surface Removed from land’s sounds, sights, smells I can …

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Twelve Days

My mother told me that when I was a baby/toddler, I had a fascination with the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” I used to script it constantly, singing it at socially inappropriate volumes (i.e. extremely loudly) in public places as well as at home – even when it was nowhere near Christmastime/winter. Another mother …

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Don’t Be Like Me: A Letter to My Daughters

The best piece of advice I have for my daughters? Don’t be like me. Many people look up to their parents; even want to be like them. I’m your mother. I know you love me. You admire me. In some ways you are already somewhat like me. I know you aren’t going to understand me. …

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Scorpion and frog from Coast Breeze News

Not Your Nature, Your Choice: Abuse, Life, and the Scorpion and the Frog

Most people know the fable about the Scorpion and the Frog. In case you don’t, a scorpion coaxes a frog to carry him across the river since the frog can swim and the scorpion cannot. The frog is skeptical at first, but the scorpion pleads convincingly, appealing to the frog’s sense of duty. The scorpion …

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Disability, Choice, & the Right to Exist (for #DDOM)

I was asked to write a post about ableism in Pantsuit Nation to be shared with their members. I don’t have the spoons to write a separate post for Disability Day of Mourning as well, so I am using the text of that post here. (Edited to add: Pantsuit Nation has opted not to publish …

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girl, memory, sad

The treacherous journey from foster to future

The real “f” word is not the four letter one.  It is a word that appears benign But in actuality is far more profane than the other. It’s a six letter “f” word. You probably know it… “Foster.” As in “foster” child. Image is a graphic that describes many troubling statistics of children in US …

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