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Not to keep
My fingertip drawing circles in your palm Getting lost in your kisses and in your arms The way your smile flutters my insides My hands in your sandy blonde hair You want me the way that I want you How blissful it feels to not fear the end You've awakened the teenager in me The difference being I know how to use my body now You're someone's husband, I'm someone's fiance Yet here we are, legs intertwined, lips locked There's a freedom in not keeping you Of not having to lock you down There is no finish line, no end game The future is open-ended like the world was at 16 I want to play, I want that devilish smirk I want to know you, discover every part You're not for loving, but rather devouring To want but not to keep Somehow that's sweeter, more tantalizing Take me into your bed and hold me close Your fingertips may lightly brush my heart That heart with his name tattooed on it I can have you both, scratch different itches All the while strengthening my love for him somehow My hair in your face, your hand wrapped around my throat Your taste on my lips, my legs wrapped around your waist Consume me, hold me, kiss me, fuck me And I'll give you everything I have To borrow but not to keep
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Getting lost in a daydream and thinking of you
It’s not like the movies where moody music swells
Missing what we never had
It’s quiet, it’s discouraging, it aches
The camera doesn’t zoom in capturing my faraway gaze
I just lose that moment, that hour, that day
Nothing happened but you still disrupted my life
Your crooked smile, your unsettling grin
Am I sad or just disappointed?
Frustrated or indignant?
Angsty or stubborn?
However simple or inconsequential our time may have been
You’ve awoken a part of me I wasn’t aware was asleep
An adventurous side, a curious side, a side that wants to play
I wish I could have kept you casual and light
Without complication, without deep thought
Just that goofy smirk and those soft kisses
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Awkward and exciting Those are the two adjectives that come to mind when I think of you When I think of us
What am I saying — there isn't even an "us" I don't even know you... not really I know the way you make me feel I know the rush I get anticipating what might happen I know the nervous way that I can't hold your gaze for very long
I literally can't stop the nervous jabbering After only 3 dates you've learned how to make it stop Cutting me off mid-rambling-sentence with a kiss
I'll spend the entire date with you trying to figure out how I really feel But when you finally kiss me, the doubt washes away I want you It's not deep, it's not complicated, it's not rational It's low key, it's easy, it's a giddy crush Above all else, you make me curious
I want to know what it feels like to do more than just kiss How will you feel different? Will the fact that you're younger make a difference? Will I be more dominant? Or will you? How will you feel?
Come to think of it, we haven't even held hands I don't even know if I've touched your skin Just lips to lips
I like our dynamic I like the way you make me feel I like the jolt to my system that you've given me
I guess I'll just continue wondering and waiting Feeling like a angsty teenager Biding my time to feel what I haven't felt before How will awkward and exciting translate when we can finally be alone?
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where the line is
I’ll keep you right here Where the line is — Hayley Williams
Those words and the melody behind them sink into my gut Keeping certain people right at that line That line between indifference and attached Between content and longing Between safe and vulnerable So many people that I can’t have I’ll keep them right on that line Right where I can call them into view whenever I want But I can put them back when reality sinks back in
Her perfect smile, those rosebud lips Keep it on the line between “she’s too self-absorbed” and “she’s perfect the way she is” His intoxicating voice, those brooding eyes Keep it on the line between “it’s just a silly crush” and “he could take me whenever he wants” Her incomparable kindness, that silver hair Keep it on the line between “keeping her baggage separate” and “falling for her headfirst” His unapologetic stare, that magnetic pull Keep it on the line between “he’s off that pedestal now” and “still wanting to feel what its like” Keeping things on the line where I never really allow myself to feel That place where your hopes don’t get up Just so they can be smashed to the ground I’ll keep my secret infatuations in colored glass bottles Each matching the color I feel when I think of them Red for the tattooed little almost-love Green for the serenading foreigner Blue for the goddess with the heart of gold Yellow for the boy I’m not allowed to have That longing, that wanting — its a familiar sensation Its a state I’ve always been familiar with There are other bottles on that shelf Ones that I take down from time to time The first boy I ever loved, the first girl too The one that was a whirlwind The one thats been there since I was a kid Those ones aren’t dangerous anymore Dusty bottles with calm contents
Funny... I never put you in a bottle I let myself be open to the danger of you Maybe because I knew deep down you weren’t the hurting kind? That I could love you, that I could cross the line And you’d cross it with me No fear No ramifications No broken hearts Only love, only acceptance, only us
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Do you have a band whose entire discography brings you back to the different chapters of your life? Its very basic-bitch-white-girl of me, but Paramore is that band for me.
RIOT! (2007) — The end of high school I discovered Paramore when I was a senior in high school. I caught this promo at the end of some reality TV show on MTV of Hayley singing “Misery Business.” I actually found the video on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSsDEkbBhZo (about 1:40 in). I was hooked from then on out. A friend of mine burned a CD for me that had “Misery Business” and “That’s What You Get” along with “My Heart” from their first album. When I close my eyes I can see driving through my small town in my black Chevy Blazer with the windows down and the music cranked.
BRAND NEW EYES (2009) — UW Oshkosh This album was the soundtrack of my college years. This album brings me back to mostly bad memories. Memories of a time when I was repressed and not exploring myself the way I should have been. I listened to “The Only Exception” and thought it was made for me and him. I look back and “Playing God” was more accurate. I did create a kickass long-form radio piece reviewing this album that turned out really really great. I was really proud of it — here’s the link: https://vimeo.com/18520889. When I close my eyes I can see the campus, the radio station WRST, that apartment where we had so many fights. I guess you could say this album got me through it, while at the same time DJ’ed the whole shit-tastic experience.
THE FINAL RIOT! (2008) — A metaphor for what I wanted my relationship to be Even though this album came out prior to Brand New Eyes, I didn’t personally own it until after. I got it as a gift from my ex-husband — the same fuck I was dating in college. I loved it. I still have it. Most of my CDs were quickly separated from their cases, never to be reunited again. Not this CD (and DVD). Always stayed in its case, and always lived on the bookshelf. I treated it like a collectors item — something to be displayed. Oddly enough, I treated my then-new marriage the same way. On the outside, to the rest of the world — we were happy. I was happy with my choices. If I just told myself one more time, if I just posted one more picture, if I just put it up on that shelf to display it to everyone... maybe I’d believe that I actually wanted it. To be clear — I love the CD, just not the person who gave it to me and the time period during which I displayed it. Transported back to a time when I dreamed of getting away and being someone in the crowd of this concert — faceless, nameless, and singing along in unison with strangers.
PARAMORE (2013) — The shitshow that was my marriage
When the first single from this album came out, I hated it. “Now” is still one of my least favorite songs on the album. I remember feeling sad and betrayed that this band that I loved, that I held so close to my heart, made something I didn’t recognize. What could I trust in this world if I couldn’t trust Paramore? I close my eyes and I’m in the grey Ford Escape we bought with the money my dad gave me to pay for my college. The car he would end up taking in the divorce. I’m transported back to countless nights of being kicked out of my own apartment. I grew to love this album. Again, I thought songs like “Still into You” and “Ain’t It Fun” applied to my love-life and newfound adulthood as I convinced myself that I was happy, that I liked my life and my choices. But songs like “Last Hope” and “Part II” bring me back to how melancholy I felt. How trapped. How lost. I don’t even know myself at all, I thought I would be happy by now. Words could have never been more true at that point in my life.
AFTER LAUGHTER (2017) — On the other side I waited 4 years for another Paramore record. And in 4 years, my life changed. A LOT. I left that piece of shit that held me down, held me back. My mom got cancer and I watched her wither away for a year and held her hand as she died. I met the love of my life. This album came out right before I went on the road with him — went on tour with him an we drove across the entire country, blasting this record. Jonah was very sick of it by the time we hit California, but he had no say in it if he wanted me to do the driving! From the East Coast to Canada, through the midwest, down the West Coast, and down through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and last stop, Georgia. I fell in love with these songs and how this band had aged and grown up and gone through depression, just like I had. We all went through “Hard Times” and gave people fake smiles. While widely departed from their pop-punk beginnings, this album feels synthy and dripping with eighties energy — as do the music videos. Paramore wasn’t afraid to change with this album and I felt like I wasn’t afraid to change too.
One song sticks out like a sore thumb and makes me cry every time I listen to it. I was 26 when I left him, when I left that shitty life I wasted behind me. Everything was fine until you came around. Until he ruined everything, I had my close relationship with my mom, I had a sense of who I was. You got me tied up but I stay close to the window. He wouldn’t let me have friends or have a life that didn’t include him. I literally can remember daydreaming, gazing out that front window of our apartment at Lake Superior, wishing I could hop on one of those huge ships and just get the fuck out of here, get a new life. The part that really gets me is this:
Reality will break your heart Survival will not be the hardest part It's keeping all your hopes alive All the rest of you has died So let it break your heart
“26″ is literally a song about hope, but I feel like it was written just for me. Getting out from underneath the thumb of an emotionally abusive partner — missing out on years of valuable time with my mother only to reunite and watch her die — finding hope in the face of Jonah and finally feeling free to be myself, to explore, to grieve, to love, and to live.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I grew up and went through lots of shit as I listen to these albums. I got to feel a band grow and mature as I grew and matured. There have been artists in my lifetime that I fell in love with at a meaningful point in my life, but they didn’t keep growing as I grew. Artists (sadly) like Avril, who showed me at 13 that it was okay to be different than the preppy girls, who gave me hope with her 2nd album that I was going to grow as she grew, but who then disappointed me beyond repair with her 3rd album when she took a hard left turn into sassy, stupid, blonde vapidity. But then came Paramore — a band with a sound that matched my teenage spirit, and I was whisked away into my young adulthood. I’m 31 now and Hayley only just released her first solo album this year and I’m still growing and changing with this artist. She stepped away from Paramore (for good? We do not know.) and put out this indie-sounding experimental album that feels like 80′s pop mixed with Sia’s 2005 record “Colour The Small One” — a high school fave of mine. As a fan, it gives me hope when someone like Hayley Williams doesn’t allow herself to be trapped in a box. She doesn’t have to be a pop-punk, flame-haired front woman forever. She can change. I can change. Paramore can grow, and so can I.
Let’s keep changing and growing for the rest of our lives, shall we?
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At Least
her face through the lens of his camera memories from a decade ago flicker and sputter to life who is this girl? who is this person? her face doesn’t seem fully formed her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes somehow
yet she is me and i am her but how can that be me, she’s missing so many pieces she’s missing at least four more years of fights at least a dozen coffee mugs smashed in anger she’s missing at least a month’s worth of nights kicked out of the house and at least several years of ensuing self doubt
but at least the girl in those photos hasn’t watched her mom die yet she hasn’t had to see her childhood home rot and fall apart at least that girl hasn’t developed depression yet or the ever-gnawing claws of near-constant anxiety at least she doesn’t have a black hole of 6 years in her rear view or this burning hatred and searing regret that won’t ever subside
but at least he didn’t hit me, right? at least he only used his words i’ll never stop wishing it was the other way around because at least getting a black eye would have been a concrete reason to leave
i want to scream at the girl in these photos to RUN or to reach out for help at the very least but the knowledge that she ends up here calms me down her pain wasn’t in vain, at least
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Most of the time I don’t let myself refer to you on the internet I don’t want to do anything that resembles giving you power I really fucking hope you’ve forgotten what my face looks like You don’t deserve to even be a footnote in my life story But you’re the reason I leave all my social media public I want you to be able to look at my life at any moment of any day I want you to be able to see the wonderful life I’ve made for myself I want you to take a cold hard look at the accomplishments I’ve made And I want you to bite your tongue so hard it bleeds You broke me for a short period of time, but you’ll be broken until you die But lets be real — because of you, I became a better person Scratch that — not because of you — in spite of you You cut out my friends — now I make sure to love them even harder You stripped away my personality — now I let it seep out of my pores You reduced my sexuality down to nothing — now I let my freak flag fly You made me feel like I wasn’t good at anything — now I’m the boss BITCH You forced me to grow up — now I wear fairy tales on my fucking skin You made me think love meant being unhappy —now I love my best friend You wanted to shut out the world and be alone And I hope you’ve succeeded I hope you’re never as full to the brim with happiness as I am Because you don’t deserve it You don’t deserve a single ounce of the joy I feel I want to share everything I’m proud of with my mom, my angel But you erased 6 years of me just getting to simply love my mother Why? Because you didn’t like the woman she made me to be
Well guess what MOTHER FUCKER I LOVE who I am and who she molded me to be The people in my life LOVE who I am would never change me I get to love people all over this world because I embraced MYSELF I let my heart LEAD ME to the love I’ve always deserved and it has set me free
I hope you enjoy that hole you dug for yourself, you sad, pathetic man No one deserves your company as much as you do
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Emotional Abuse
If I wrote a book on emotional abuse, would anyone read it? In today’s age of #MeToo and whiney millennials (and I definitely am a millennial), would anyone really give a fuck? Its wonderful that the door has been opened for women to come forward about their assault and abuse, but any time you bring up something traumatic that has happened to you, and its followed with the words “me too,” it minimizes what I perceive to be abuse.
“My husband threw me down the stairs.”
“I was raped at a party in college.”
My experience was purely psychological. And slow. Maybe premeditated. Maybe not. He broke things. He weaseled into my brain and made me think differently. Think like him. He made me feel less than. Made me feel broken.
I threw valuable artifacts away. Things I would kill for now. My high school letter jacket. The Sleeping Beauty snow-globe music box my mom bought me at the Disney Store in St. Cloud. The little silver ring she gave me as a college graduation present.
I cut everyone out of my life. My best friend from high school. My close family friend who I consider my sister. My entire family. Most importantly, my mother. I was able to get the rest of them back after I left him. But mom... I only got a year with her before cancer took her away from me.
I spent countless nights on the pullout couch. I got kicked out of the house for hours and hours on end — not allowed to spend any of our money. Not even if I spent hours with my laptop at Caribou Coffee — I had to sneak in the back door and hope no one noticed I never purchased anything. I’ll never forget the morning he kicked the end of the pullout to wake me up at 9am — “What the fuck are you still doing here? I told you to be out of the house before I woke up. I’m taking a shower and you better be gone when I get out.” I think I spent a solid 12 hours kicked out of my own apartment that day.
I had my sexual performance ridiculed after every sex act. My blowjobs critiqued. A total play-by-play every single time. I even had him completely shove me off of him in the middle of sex once because I was doing something we had discussed I was doing wrong or something. The specifics of what I fucked up are fuzzy — the rejection is crystal clear to this day.
I was required to read 3 ESPN articles a day. It was important that I took an interest in what he was interested in and was well-read on the subject. Not giving a shit about sports, I started off skimming articles and maybe bringing them up with him. That wasn’t good enough. Then I jotted notes down on a post-it to jog my memory of the details so I could report back to him later that night. Not good enough — I was just reciting what I had written down. He explained to me that I needed to read the article — fully comprehend the article — Google things and people along the way if I didn’t know who they were — but even that wasn’t good enough after a while. “I caused” countless fights because I was a selfish bitch who would rather spend her time looking at cats on Instagram (his words).
We’d get into fights and he’d break countless things around the house in fits of rage. The framed caricature we had done at homecoming one year, a couple remotes, countless glasses and coffee mugs, a shelf he built out of a vintage amp. Once, after breaking a coffee cup or 2, he made some big gesture with his hands and stepped toward me. I flinched out of instinct and put my hands up in defense, as if to blog a punch. “Do you really think I would hit you??!” he screamed at me. That set him off an a whole new level of rage and screaming. Next level psycho.
I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone about our problems, or even spend time with anyone else outside of work. I was invited out by my lady coworkers once to go see a theatrical production in town one night. I asked him if I could go and what ensued was a conversation that lasted for hours on end discussing how he and I would make that time up, how much money I would end up spending, if I was going to drink or not and what that would do for our joint diet. Like most things, we talked every tiny little detail to death to the point that I just caved and decided not to go because it would be easier if I just gave up. He didn’t have any friends (didn’t need any friends) so I didn’t need to have any either.
I was ridiculed for not planning enough sweet things for him, for not seeking out new recipes on my own to try for dinner, for not initiating sex. We put a cork board up on the wall and created an activity called “Work For Love.” There were 2 columns — one for me and one for him. We would then draw out of a mug 5 pieces of paper that assigned things to each other for that week. Because I was apparently so shitty at doing anything in our relationship, we had to use this assignment system so I could learn how to do things for someone else. Things like getting the other one a small gift, planning a date night, initiating sex, cooking a special meal, and the last one read “random” so you had to choose one of the previous 4 things. I failed most every week and caused countless fights because I was so selfish. It took 6 years for it to occur to me that I just flat out didn’t love him and thats why I didn’t do these things.
I would lay in bed at night, on his left side with my head on his shoulder (the exact way we had to fall asleep every night), and I would daydream myself to sleep thinking about what my apartment would look like when I was single. What I would decorate the walls with, the music I would listen to, the movies I would pick to watch, and the pizzas I would order and have all to myself. And there would be no one there to get mad at me for spending money. No one there to get inside my head and convince me that I needed to eat something healthier. No one to talk every tiny detail to death until I just caved into what he wanted.
Its horrible but I wish he would have hit me. Slapped me across the face, punched me in the jaw, thrown me down the stairs — anything. The first thing he would have done, I would have had a reason to leave. Because words and fights and everything I did wrong every single day wasn’t reason enough to end it. How was it? Everything was my fault. He didn’t do anything wrong. Ever.
It didn’t feel like abuse when I was in it. Maybe it would have if I had told someone about it. The things I’ve shared above are only the tip of the iceberg. They don’t even include all the little ways he controlled every aspect of my life. It wasn’t until I got out that I started to piece together what I went through as emotional abuse. I wasn’t until I really loved someone else with all of my heart that I realized I never loved him (my abuser). The acts of kindness come easy and constant now. I’d say “acts of kindness” are my #1 love language toward others. Ironic right? Seeing as it was the one thing that got me in the most trouble.
My life is full of love now. So much so that I’ve been in a relationship with two people at once — a triad. It took me 28 years to realize I was bisexual. How could I have known, being in a relationship with him? I have the capability to love so fucking much that it astounds me — but yet, I couldn’t bring myself to ever fully love the man I once called “husband.”
I’ve sort of digressed from my original point, but I think I’ve painted a picture nonetheless. The more time that passes, the less I remember. I get flashes sometimes, a mild form of PTSD maybe. But I don’t think my memories will be crisp enough to ever write that book I’ve been thinking about for the past 4 years. But my anger doesn’t fade. My hatred for his stupid face stays fresh. Emotional abuse is another animal in the world of abuse I guess, but it continues to fuck with me no matter what I do.
Maybe I will write a book 🤷🏻♀️ Only time will tell I suppose.
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Reproductive Rights Thoughts
Found a new podcast — Life is Short with Justin Long — and I've been listening non-stop since yesterday. Was just listening to his episode with Olivia Wilde and she made a comment that is sticking with me so hard. She was talking about Harvey Milk (in the context of naming someone dead or alive she'd love to meet) and talked about how he would be approaching today's reproductive rights issues. His approach to activism was empathy — meaning that he didn't approach things pitying subjects out of obligation. The way he would approach abortion is to encourage everyone who has had one, to talk about it. To de-stigmatize it and to make it real for people, to inspire empathy in those who are on the other side of the fence.
I consider myself to be a deeply empathetic person and I sometimes feel things a little more intensely than others might. Perhaps thats why I get so up in arms about subjects like animal rights or reproductive rights. And maybe thats why I can read a story about one woman's abortion story and feel for her so strongly. I feel how hard that choice was for her to make, I feel how painstaking the entire process must have been. I think we could all stand to have more empathy.
To those whose retort will inevitably be "how about having some empathy for killing babies" and all that bullshit — here's a thought for you: how about we support and sustain the life and success of the people who already exist. Women who get abortions aren't ready for motherhood or need one for medical reasons. For any reason, if she's forced into having that baby, her life is over in some way. Her career, her dreams, her ambitions, her health, her education — its over. Don't you want that 18 year old girl to be able to choose her education over being forced into working a low-paying job for the duration of her child's life? If she wants to be a mother someday, don’t you want to set her up for success instead of failure? Don’t you want people to break the cycle of poverty? For a party who cares so much about America taking care of its own and pushing out immigrants, Republicans sure don’t give a flying fuck about the American women’s lives they’re ruining.
One other point I saw someone make on Facebook the other day is really sticking with me. One woman can reproduce and give birth once every 9 months. Yet a single man could impregnate a different woman every day for that entire 9 months. But yet, women are the bad guys because we want to have control over our lives. All a man has to do is walk away. We literally have to make a choice that will stick with us until the day we die if we decide to terminate a possible life. Is it so much to ask to have the same rights a man does?
Men literally shouldn’t be able to chime in on this topic at all. I used to think that was an extreme opinion to have. Now that I’ve had my tubes tied — put my money where my mouth is, so to speak — I’ve started thinking about it differently. My perspective has changed immensely. Why is our responsibility to “close our legs” if we don’t want to have a baby? I underwent legit surgery to finally not have to keep worrying about this stupid life-threatening bodily function called pregnancy. I just can’t shake the notion that had I not been privileged enough to have access to getting my tubes removed, I would still be at risk of ruining all of my hopes and dreams in life. Everything I have ever dreamed for myself would be over in an instant if I lived somewhere that didn’t allow me to have an abortion.
Rant over for now, but thanks for listening! Had to get all of that off my chest.
#reproductive rights#reproductive justice#reproductive health#reproductive freedom#abortions#abortion rights#tubal ligation#my body my choice#pregnancy#harvey milk#olivia wilde#justin long#life is short with justin long
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I turned 30 and got my tubes tied
Just shy of a week ago I had my very first surgery — I got my tubes tied. Although, “getting your tubes tied” is sort of an out-of-date term these days come to find. Nowadays, removing your entire fallopian tubes is the standard for a couple of reasons: removing them completely (as opposed to tying, clamping or cauterizing) can prevent the occurrence of an ectopic pregnancy and can reduce the risk for Ovarian Cancer. Dude, I have so much cancer in my family, if I can reduce my risk for one kind, I’m down.
I’m really glad I’ve never had surgery before because going into it blindly was probably the best thing for me. I had no idea what to expect and if I had I think I would have been even more of an anxious mess than I already was. I am the queaziest, most fainty human being on the planet, so the entire experience of having the 3 attempts to put my IV in was a little hellish. But being put under felt pretty cool and before I knew it, I was waking up and it was all over. It took a solid 3 days of doing nothing but laying on my back and hobbling to the toilet before I started to feel like a human again. And let me tell you — having a boyfriend with an amazing sense of humor kind of sucks when laughing causes you pain. But he took the best care of me and 6 days later I’ve got a way less bloated and swollen tummy (looked like I was pregnant for a couple days) and my insides feel like normal again. I’ve got these 3 sweet battle wound scars — two on either side of my lower abdomen and one in my belly button — and I can officially say that I’m sterile as a cotton ball.
I’m pretty excited that I now have a response when people inevitably ask “So when are you and Jonah going to have a baby?” I’m going to enjoy it a little too much to be able to say, “Never actually. I had my tubes tied.” Telling people you don’t want kids makes them incredibly uncomfortable for some reason. I’ve never really understood it, but one of two things usually happen. One: they get real awkward and change the subject, never to be visited again. Or two: the barrage of questions begins. Some people are genuinely interested. Some people feel the same way and I get high fives. Some people do the whole, “well, you’ve got plenty of time to change your mind” routine.
The thing that probably kills me the most though is when people ask why.
“Why don’t you want to have kids? If you don’t mind my asking,” they’ll say.
You got a few hours? People ask this question like its a simple answer. Dude, if its a simple answer, I highly recommend that you don’t get sterilized because one simple answer isn’t sufficient. I have scores of reasons! And the reasons why I don’t only stand to inform the actions I would take if I oddly changed my mind someday.
I thought I’d share some of my many reasons with you all. Some are emotional, some are physical, some are financial — they’re all over the place. If you don’t care — thats cool. If you think I’m stupid — you’re entitled to your opinion. But I do think it would broaden your vision a bit to read why someone might not want to reproduce. If you’re one of the people judging me, I encourage you to take a moment to learn about someone different than yourself.
1. Physically, I legit can’t handle it. I know every woman is probably terrified of actually giving birth, but I literally could not handle it. I have to lay down to get a flu shot, and stay laying down for a solid 10 minutes or I’ll pass out. Getting my blood drawn makes me faint every time. And just discussing the process of inserting a NuvaRing with my gyno made me lightheaded and have to lay down. Getting my lady exam every year makes me so nervous I often present with high blood pressure because my nerves get the better of me so badly. Don’t think I could handle 9 months of discomfort, thinking about whats happening to my insides, and then the inevitable pain of actual birth. And even if I somehow could handle it — I don’t want to put myself through that. No thanks, I’ll pass.
2. Financially, I don’t want the burden. People may think thats a cold reason to not want kids, but I’m just being honest. I’m a fucking millennial for god’s sake — I’ll be drowning in student loan debt until the day I die, paying off only the interest on my income based repayment plan each month. I’m just now at 30 years old feeling stable with my own income for the first time ever. And to be 100% honest with you, I want to spend my money on me and my partner, not a small person who doesn’t even understand what money is and how hard I have to work for it. If you can look past that — high five to you, but I can admit that I’m not that big of a person.
3. I don’t want the strain on my body. I’m not special in that I’ve struggled with my body image my whole life. And sure — you can argue all you want that having kids is more rewarding than having a hot bod. And I’m sure thats true for some people. But vainly, I just don’t want to ruin my body like that. I’ve got enough stretch marks on my inner thighs and love handles from when I was heavier. I shall opt for keeping my bladder and vagina and breasts in tact for as long as I can. #SorryNotSorry
4. It’s not what I want my day to day life to be about. I enjoy being around kids of a certain age for a very short amount of time, and somehow that window gets smaller and smaller as they get older. I don’t have enough time for myself, I can’t even imagine having every moment be about feeding and changing and crying and being sick and everything else. Worrying about myself and the people I love is all I have the energy and time for folks. Its wonderful that some people are happy having every day be about play dates and going to the park and doing whatever Mommy-and-Me crap you mothers out there do — but thats just not who I am. I enjoy traveling and seeing the world, experiencing art and theater and music, trying really hard and failing at making alone time for myself, falling in love with Jonah more and more every day, searching for a woman to fall in love with at the same time, and a million other things I could spend hours writing about. In everything I want for my life, there just isn’t a kid running around in that mix.
5. I’ve got some weird Mom-related reasons swirling around in my noggin, too. My relationship with my mother was very special to me. I was an only child raised by a single mom and that, my friends, creates bonds unlike any other. In the three years since she’s died, I’ve realized how sacred my time with her was. I even had a window of time where I thought I was going to cancel getting my tubes tied because I had this morbid realization that by having a baby, and possibly a little girl, I could have a piece of my mom back again. Thats not a healthy way to think. I talked my feelings out with my loved ones and ended up back at my decision to have the procedure. Somehow, the mother-daughter relationship that I had with her is the only one I want to have in my life.
6. Other areas in my life deserve my love and attention more than a child. First and foremost — my love life is too important to me. Jonah is my world. And aside from the fact that on our first date he told me he didn’t want to have any more kids (he has a daughter from a previous relationship), our life doesn’t have room for an infant. Our life together — my career, my company, other creative and business ventures I have brewing in my head, Jonah’s music, our love life being polyamorous — all of these things deserve my love and attention more than having a baby. And guess what? As mentioned above, I already get to have a daughter in a sense! I get to have this super cool friendship/stepmom/parent-type thing with a wonderful little girl that came from the man of my dreams. I can’t wait to see her blossom into a young woman and see what she’ll achieve in life. ALSO, I have an amazing nephew who is about the same age and even though I don’t get to see him every day the way his mom saw me every day, I love the bond I have with him and getting to see him grow into such a sweet and upstanding young man. All of this and more deserve my love and attention more than creating another human.
7. I don’t think its necessary to populate the world with more people. If I lose anyone big time with any of these reasons, I think this one might be it. We as human beings are literally ruining this planet. There are too many people in existence as it is. We’re polluting the ocean at an alarming rate, global warming is all our fucking fault, and every year more and more animals hit that endangered species list or worse, become extinct. Don’t get me started on animal rights! More people just create more garbage, more waste, more problems. I’m sure you love your big family and think you’re not part of the problem, but guess what — we all are. I don’t want to add to it. I can help not add to it by the following...
8. I would choose adoption over reproducing any fucking day. When I had my initial doctors appointment to schedule my tubal ligation, my doctor obviously asked me why I wanted the procedure done. I rambled off a few of these reasons I’ve just shared with you and closed with this: “If for some crazy reason I want nothing more than to have a child 10 years from now, I would want to adopt anyway.” And that was the end of that conversation. There are so many children that need foster homes or to be adopted. In Minnesota alone, an article from this past January from Kare 11 states that “this year alone some 17,000 children will need temporary, out-of-home placements.” I saw an adorable little boy at the grocery store the other day running in front of his parents. For one second I thought, there are I don’t even know how many little boys just like him that need homes across the globe. The thought broke my heart. If I wake up 5 years from now and want nothing more than to be a mom, I want to change someone’s life and give them the loving home they otherwise might not ever have.
9. I’ve never had a strong will to be a mother. Sure, when you’re in grade school you might trade future baby names with your girlfriends at recess. For me it was Hayden for a boy and Aslynn for a girl. But as a teenager and adult, that daydream disappeared. I’ve never longed to be a mother, or to have any sort of a conventional life for that matter. It’s always seemed really boring and expected and normal. One of the very very few positive things that came out of my relationship with my ex-husband was the day he helped me realize that I just assumed I’d have kids someday because thats what society had drilled into me. The moment I stood back and really honestly asked myself, “Do I want kids?” I had my answer. No. And I’ve never looked back.
10. Most importantly, my body was made for more than reproduction. I know we don’t live in medieval times — this isn’t Game of Thrones no matter how much I wish it was. We live in an age of being a career mom and female empowerment up the wazoo. But theres still this thing floating around out there in the world that its expected of me to reproduce. Ridiculous abortion laws like the one that just passed in Georgia that makes it illegal to get an abortion after 6 weeks makes me feel like we’re only glimpsing the tip of the iceberg of whats coming down the pipes. The only person who can control what I do with my body is me goddamn it. My female body can do just as much (AND MORE) than any male body can. Maybe its just me being stubborn or thinking I’m more important than I am, but I firmly believe my body can do a million more important things shit out children. I truly believe we are heading to a Handmaid’s Tale existence, and I won’t be a part of it. I refuse.
I didn’t write this blog to make you feel like shit if you are a mother, and enjoy being a mother. Everyone is different. I respect that. But we all have different perspectives. And I truly believe that there are a lot of moms out there that didn’t think long and hard enough about this life-changing decision, and now they’re stuck with it for life. At the end of the day — you’re going to do you, and I’m going to do me. But maybe you have a little insight into what goes on in a head like mine, and why motherhood doesn’t have to be your future if you don’t want it to be.
I’ll be honest with you — I sort of have this weird feeling that for once I have total control over my own body. Pregnancy has been this fear stamped on my love life since I took that dive at 14 and I finally feel free from it. I don’t know, maybe I’m blowing it out of proportion. I could be feeling that way because I just bought my first house and have this cool, new perspective on taking control of my life. But somehow, I’ve never felt more in control in 👏🏻 my 👏🏻 life 👏🏻
Watch out world. The only one in control of my life and my body is me.
#tubes tied#tubal ligation#30 years old#my body#my body my choice#millennial#handmaids tale#sterilization#pregnancy#having kids#having a baby#mothers#daughters#mothers and daughters
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I don’t really feel like I can post this on Facebook without getting a barrage of comments and PMs from family members, so I’m sharing it here:
I just made my first appointment to get my tubes tied.
I couldn’t be more excited! And a little anxious. I’m the most queasy human ever and even though you get put under for the procedure, I’m not looking forward to the slight pain of recovery.
I’m bracing myself for my doctor to give me a hard time. I’ve heard countless stories of women being overly questioned or doctors flat out refusing. I’m hoping my gyno will be awesome though. She was new for me last year and she was pretty wonderful in discussing all my birth control options with me.
There are so many reasons that I don’t want to have children and I’ll gladly recite them to someone who wants to know, but I hate that feeling that I somehow need to justify why I don’t have an urge to be a mother. I’m more than my ability to reproduce. And honestly — more people really should get sterilized! Not only are we reproducing like rabbits and ruining this planet, but there are so many kids who need homes. If I (God forbid) change my mind 5 years down the road (which I don’t see myself doing), I would rather adopt anyway. Do something good for this world. Positively impact someone else’s life.
Anyway, I was just super excited and wanted to shout it from the rooftops! I can’t wait!!!
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Water moon culture?
Water moon culture is
Feeling overwhelmed because you soak up your surroundings like a sponge
Being perceptive as hell
Getting “vibes” from people and not knowing how to explain why you don’t like a certain person/thing
Being good at uncovering the truth and catching any lie
Emotional rollercoasters for daaaays
24/7 daydreaming
Being told you’re too “sensitive” because you feel things so deeply. It can be both a curse and a blessing.
Forgiving people too easily, or letting people walk all over them.
Knowing everyones secrets but (mostly) no one knows theirs
The friend everyone goes to when they need to be comforted
Deep af talks
Feeling other peoples’ emotions. It can be fun, but it can also be emotionally exhausting.
Needing to be alone with your thoughts
Using books/tv shows/art/music/poetry etc to escape reality.
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Water moon. 100% true for me. Fucking sucks.
How your Moon deals with emotions
Air moons can’t express their feelings, kinda can’t accept love and restrain their emotions. They feel a lot but don’t know how to deal with it, can’t talk about it… so just ignore it? It takes them time to learn how to tell people how they feel. The last time they opened up to someone, they probably didn’t even listen nor care.
Earth moons are also really good at hiding their emotions to the point that people think they’re emotionless. These people rather deal with things by themselves. They don’t even consider telling others bout their struggles. However, this doesn’t mean they’re any less sensitive and emotional than other moons.
Water moons don’t have control over their feelings. It’s just that simple, you can’t lock up an ocean. Often times their emotions are the ones controlling them, they just let their feels take over. In a way, they fear their emotions?
Fire moons, just like water moons, have really strong emotions but they usually pile things in then snap when they can’t take any more. Fire moons tend to think that being sad is literally wrong because they’re used to being identified as happy, easygoing people. They don’t share bout their issues. You might be their friend for years but you can’t remember a time they really opened up about their emotions. (unless they have water in their chart)
//these are my thoughts based on observations
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A single teardrop falls onto the lens of her glasses as she writes about a loss she’ll seemingly never stop mourning. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bop550Bhk_W/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=4e6lwo2ov7uy
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The Tape
The tears brim my eyes and sobs consume my chest
A smile at your memory framed by streaks of mascara
The belly laugh of a two year old from 30 years ago echoes
Cassette tape audio accompanies the film in my head of our home
Your baby-talk voice asks me questions with patience and warmth
I can hear water splashing as almost-two-year-old-me plays in the tub
Then we’re in my room as we identify the characters on my walls
You tickle me and I screech and giggle and you ask for a kiss
I close my eyes and picture us there, see our mother/daughter embrace
You made me this gift, not knowing you’d leave me in less than 30 years
I’m throwing our life into a dumpster and finding sad treasures like these
The rooms you loved me in won’t exist for much longer
The walls that protected us, kept us safe... warm with love
The birch tree you planted for me won’t have the red house to shade it
But I have this tape with your voice and my voice
I have “You are my shunshine” and “Twinkle Twinkle”
Remnants of a bond so strong even death can’t take it away
Thank you for this gift, your voice and your undying love
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Season 2 of 13 Reasons Why was just... wow.
If you haven't watched it and plan to — WARNING — spoilers ahead and stop reading right now.
I had my doubts going into season 2. I never read the book in high school, I still need to finish it actually after I picked it up months ago, but the show was so moving. Yes, it was graphic, but rape and suicide are. As a person who loves film and television so much that I got a degree in it, I believe that the art form of film/television/documentaries/etc is extremely powerful and it SHOULD challenge us from time to time. It's not only there to entertain.
I struggled a little through all of season 2, trying to figure out what the point of dragging this story out was. But once you get to the end and see what that slow burn was all building to — I finally got it. This show is giving a face to some real problems that are happening here and now with our youth and in our schools. School shootings have been a hot button topic for a while now and a show like this gives amazing insight into how a person could theoretically get there. How one person was failed time and time again and what it ultimately did to them. How a kid who was nothing more than socially awkward and a little weird could be turned into a monster.
And the scene that everyone has been talking about broke my heart. And not just because of the obvious reason — that its fucking horrible — but because shit like that happens. I've seen comments on Facebook that it was unnecessary and that Netflix should take the show down. To that I say, no. You wanna know how a kid could shoot up a school? This is one way. I don't blame him one bit. If that had been me, I might have done the same exact thing. Be an outcast to begin with, struggle through whatever terrible or traumatic things happen, make friends only to have them shun you (we've all been there), and then as the cherry on top have something so horrid happen to you that you can't EVEN fathom coming back from it — yeah, I see how someone can get there.
I'm about as liberal as they get, so of course I'm on the side of more gun control is a good thing. But democrat vs. republican aside — this whole issue of school shootings isn't black and white. There isn't one solution. I think its a combination of a lot of things. A kid like Tyler can slip through the cracks. A fucked up thing like what those kids did to him can happen and he can 100% not reach out for help he needs and how do you save that kid then? I don't know the answer.
Coming back around to my original point, I just really wanted to say how amazing it is that this show is tackling these issues. Good film or television or documentaries should do this — they should make you think, make you feel, make you open your eyes and want to do something. This show is reminding me of how I felt when I watched Boys Don’t Cry, which is a pretty powerful association. I think if we can all just stop arguing over who is right or wrong and just be moved to be compassionate and do our damndest to stop this shit from happening, the world would be a better place.
I applaud you Netflix and the creators of 13 Reasons Why. You’re doing an amazing thing. Never stop.
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Polyamory. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — no one said it would be easy.
I still maintain that my relationship with my dude is stronger now that it was before we went down this poly path. That being said, we encounter challenges every step of the way. I’m constantly amazed by how we are able to navigate our differences so maturely. A conversation about one of us being attracted to someone while the other is not can somehow be discussed openly and honestly and we leave said talk feeling even closer. I respect my partner in ways I never thought possible.
Being in pursuit of the elusive triad has proven more difficult that we originally anticipated, but thats not entirely surprising. I’m finding more and more that the reality of myself being bisexual and my partner being heterosexual is playing a bigger factor that I had first realized. Meeting a woman who is maybe trying “all of this” for the first time makes me very guarded. And by “all of this” I mean both polyamory and exploring being bisexual. I think everyone falls somewhere on the spectrum as Kinsey theorized, but its the ones who are only trying being bisexual on like its a pair of shoes that scares me. In the same breath though, the dynamic of this kind of woman might lead to quicker attractions with my dude and said lady. It might not be a conscious factor, but its definitely easier for that attraction to blossom naturally.
On the flip-side, a woman who legit identifies as queer makes me feel safer. Another bisexual woman, even one as inexperienced as me, is going to have a better feel for that female/female dynamic. I still am having problems breaking through some of those societal bonds even though I’ve been dating women for about a year now. But there’s something about being with someone who is more comfortable with it that makes the attraction grow more easily and more naturally. I’m still having to coach myself through it, I have no interest in coaching someone else through it. PLUS I’m not aggressive, I’m not dominant in a relationship — I need a little push and security that things are all on the same page for both of us ladies.
At the end of the day, people are people and none of this should really matter. And at the core of it all, I’ve also never casually dated in my life until this foray into polyamory, so that still feels weird to me. On top of everything, I’m feeling pretty burnt out in general and wish I had more time to just focus on myself and my work. I frequently wish we could just pause things for a while until I feel like doing this again, but its not all about me. And life doesn’t stop that way unfortunately. More often than not though, I love our lifestyle. These bouts of “being over it” are pretty rare. Just gotta keep plugging along!
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