and living on the other side of the country

Bailey

I was feeling the angst again. Inspired by this video.


A breeze flew over you as you sat out on the deck of your small apartment, ruffling the leaves of your almost dead houseplant.

You should really just get rid of that thing.

You stood there, looking out over the busy city that was known as New York. Your home for the past few months.

The home that didn’t feel like home.

You didn’t know a lot of people here, aside from a few friends that lived on the other side of the city.

They seemed to be better off than you, getting better grades and better lifestyles.

You didn’t get to see them for a while.

And you couldn’t seem to get in contact with them right now, when you really needed their support.

Your family was all the way across the country on the west coast. And today you had just gotten the news that you’re best friend had past away.

Your dog, Bailey.

Bailey had been with you ever since you were seven years old. She was a birthday gift, and became your best friend.

She was there through every breakup, every test, every trial and tribulation.

You had gotten the call this morning from your mother, telling you that they had to take her to the vet today to put her down.

She hadn’t been moving very much, just laying in the same spot all day. She wasn’t speaking.

But when you asked your mom to put the phone next to Bailey, when she heard your voice she perked up, and started barking.

She had recognized you.

Through your tears you said goodbye, and told her that you loved her.

An hour ago you got the text that she was gone.

You tried to reach your friends, needing some support. But they weren’t getting back to you.

You were alone now.

“Y/N?” a voice said from the doorway.

You turned, tears still running down your face.

There stood your four friends, John, Alex, Laf, and Hercules.

They each held comfort things in their hands, pitying looks on their faces. That made you break down even harder.

Hercules came over and wrapped you in a hug, and the others joined.

They brought you inside and sat you on the couch, no words being spoken. They turned on a comedy movie to distract you.

A bowl of ice cream was handed to you as you snuggled up with them.

They stayed with you all night, listening to your old memories with Bailey. You missed her so much.

But in the end it would be hard, but with your friends here you knew that you could get through it.

had an odd day yesterday. not bad in any way, but i found myself thinking how surreal it all was.

background: since my parents’ divorce, i’ve cut all contact with my mother. however, i still and always have adored my aunt and that side of the family. she’s been my role model for years and i just love her. we never had and still doesn’t have much contact, but whenever i do call or visit she’s excited to see me; always interested in what i’m up to etc.

she’s always lived on the other side of the country though, so i only ever saw her and her two kids (my cousins) twice a year at most. since i cut ties, i see them even less. so we never developed a close bond or anything.

but yesterday i went down south for a film festival, and stayed with my oldest cousin since he lives there. and i admit i never really knew him. he’s five years older and we never really talked. he was mostly hanging out with my aunt, mom and grandpa, being the only boy in the whole family, with the three of us girls others being really close in age, it was natural. but since i needed a place to stay because the movies ran so late, i texted him a few weeks ago asking to sleep on his couch, which he agreed to.

and i thought it was going to be awkward. last time we saw each other was when i was eighteen at my graduation party. and it was, at first.

but then… i don’t know.

it stopped? he showed me around the city (we walked for hours, just talking, stopped to eat etc.) and it was so casual and relaxed? like i’ve always felt like a black sheep (closeted gay and not into sports like all other family members) but that must’ve been similar to what he felt back when we were kids.

guess i was too young before, but now, we just clicked. and he seemed so happy to see me (?) and really opened up about things. like honest fears about his studies; like he trusted me. i spilled too, but still. it was wonderful (and he’s so much like my aunt; i never realised it before and i’m kinda ashamed of it).

i’m already thinking about visiting again. get some more perspective on things. because this did give me that.

i feel lighter.

Let me get this straight….

The creator of my favorite childhood show The Powerpuff Girls

The creator of my obsession from 8th grade through college Danny Phantom

And the creators of two of my current obsessions Gravity Falls and Steven Universe

ARE ALL GOING TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM AT THE SAME TIME!?!

Literally, creators the 4 shows I have ever considered a number 1 favorite of mine are all going to be in the same room together and I cannot handle this.

Discrimination gets you nowhere, except bankruptcy.

This is gonna be a long post. Get comfy.

So within the last year or so I made a bunch of life altering decisions.
One of those was moving to another side of the country after being offered a job at a company in the state I wanted to live in. My boss, we’ll call him Brandon, had known me for a while (I work in an industry where most people know each other and the key players) and had offered me a job knowing my criteria and many other things. I was well qualified for the job he has hired me for.

So I move across country and I begin working. This company has a main office and a supplying warehouse, the supplying warehouse was where I worked. No manufacturing done here, just supporting parts for the main office. Within a month the owner of the company, Viet, shows up at the office looking for my boss. (The main company is about 8 or 9 hours away so this was a long drive and the owner never came down to the warehouse, not since it opened originally 7 years go). My boss isn’t there (he usually isn’t and doesn’t need to be because I can handle it and he lives up the road if I need him). Viet immediately begins yelling at me. He never once speaks to me. He yells at me the whole time he is communicating with me. Berating me on the fact I need to take inventory because fiscal year is about to be up and that I need to maintain the warehouse and had I ever done this before. He gave me the third degree and treated me like an idiot. Meanwhile I had texted Brandon and he showed up and Viet changed his tune completely. At that point he didn’t even speak to me at all. Didn’t even make eye contact. The two of them chatted and then Viet left.

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I support sex workers who don’t like sex work.

I support sex workers who want out.

I support sex workers who have massive critiques of the sexual economy but have decided it’s their best or only option currently.

I support sex workers who want other options.

I support sex workers who treat it as a job.

I support sex workers who think it’s their calling (but I don’t support sex workers who start treating workers who DON’T treat it as a sacred calling as if they’re selling themselves short and allowing themselves to be raped or are somehow dirty, get past that lateral whorephobia you entitled little shits).

I support sex workers doing it on the side because a living wage is a myth in this country for those not well off and white.

I support sex workers dipping in and out as needed for emergencies.

I support sex workers who quit and miss it.

I support sex workers who quit and are so fucking glad about it: congratulations!

I do not support sex workers who were able to quit and want to continue denying or further render unsafe and vulnerable the remaining population f workers who still need this income to get by, while refusing to admit that their own personal narrative may not be the One Ring of Truth for all sex workers, AND that the options they had for getting out aren’t available to all or even the vast majority of sex workers.

Deliberately and systemically unavailable, because options for poor women, indigenous women, uneducated women, trans women, women of colour, working class women, migrant women, and intersections of all of the above, are deliberately kept limited in our capitalist white supremacist society. And denying that is denying reality and buying into an imperialist and misogynist dream world that hates people of colour and women and lgbtqueer people and children and again, all of the above.

Work for rights and options, not for carceral solutions that fund police forces through arrest money and civil forfeiture.

Donate to shelters. Feed hungry people. Lobby against TPP and for changed border policies.

Support the most marginalized. Don’t support the oppressors.

what if neil’s mom had not only stolen neil away on that night (you know the one i’m talking about), but also kevin? what if kevin and neil were raised on the run together, but instead of watching from afar they learned to play exy in every country they ran to. what if neil and kevin developed a brother bond super strong from living on the run together and trying to keep each other alive

WHAT IF KEVIN AND NEIL WEREN’T ALL ALONE IN THEIR LIVES AND THEY HAD EACH OTHER EVEN BEFORE THEY MADE IT ONTO THE FOXHOLE COURT

7

As of now, this country does not have a god.  This is not the time to be praying.  We must choose.  Dead or alive?  Our lives depend on this very question.

OP Side Girls Week day 4 - Conis

4

I still haven’t posted pictures of my altar and these aren’t too great but I will take more tomorrow when the lighting is better! 

 There is my altar to the right of my bed, and the plates that hang above! If you look up to the left of my bed you can see where I’ve began painting the solar system from one side to the other. 

 I wanted my bedroom to be decorated as divinely as possible. It’s my main place of worship (since I live in the city and only drive out to the country to stargaze on new moons, since it’s a long drive), and I wanted to share it with everyone. 💜 💫

au’s I want loosely based on rom-coms:

  • two night stand: after a one night stand, the next morning isn’t pretty. muse A and muse B turn out to hate each other on the way out the door, but just as muse B attempts to leave in a huff, a blizzard has trapped them inside. no power, little food, and no way home, both muses are stuck with each other for another night.
  • ruby sparks: muse A, a blocked writer, has a dream of muse B, begins writing and quickly becomes infatuated with their new character. but everything gets flipped when one day muse B shows up in muse A’s apartment, real and alive with the memories and life they’ve been written. muse A must choose between living with the person they created, or making a few extra changes.
  • in your eyes: muse A and muse B are on opposite sides of the country, but have always had an inexplicable mental bond. the older they get, the more they experience each other’s lives (touch, sight, smell, sound), and soon are able to speak to each other.
  • before sunrise: muse A is on a train home from a long vacation and muse B is heading back to school. they meet on their journey and sparks fly, despite being from other sides of the world. at their stop, muse A begs muse B to get off with them and spend the night wandering the city together until sunrise, when muse A must depart.
  • comet: muse A, a narcissistic pessimist, and muse B, a messed up romantic, meet randomly while muse B is on a terrible date. muse A is immediately taken by them, though they disagree strongly about love, and offers them a sort of bet: they should date each other, and see who’s right about “love”.
  • 50 first dates: muse A and muse B meet and immediately hit it off. but the next day when muse B goes back to run into them again, muse A has forgotten about them all together. after learning that muse A suffers from short term memory loss, they make the commitment to make them fall in love all over again everyday.
  • you’ve got mail: muse A owns a quaint small business that’s going under, and muse B runs the faceless corporation that’s taking over. both unlucky in love they take up online dating, and end up electronic pen pals with an undeniable connection. while in real life they’re enemies, online they seem to be soulmates, unaware of who exactly is on the other side of the screen.
  • life as we know it: after the death of their mutual friends, muse A and muse B are left with custody of their friends’ baby. the downside? they hate each other. the catch? neither of them want to ignore the wishes of their departed friends, so they agree to try and raise the baby together despite their issues.
  • the bounty hunter: muse A and muse B have a romantic but rocky history. their break up didn’t end well. years later, muse A - a bounty hunter - is given a new assignment: muse B has skipped court. they happily take the job and track muse B down - but they’re not going in without a fight.
  • just like heaven: after being in a terrible accident, muse A’s apartment is put up for rent (belongings and all) and muse B - an out of work loner - takes the place. but it’s all too good to be true, because muse A is a ghost who doesn’t remember what happened to them, doesn’t realize they’re a ghost, and does not appreciate a stranger living in their apartment. muse B tries everything (exorcism, cleansing, rituals) to get rid of the stubborn ghost, but muse A doesn’t budge. luckily (or unluckily) for them, they’re not really dead, but they’re in a coma in the hospital on the other side of town.
  • austenland: muse A, despite being an adult, never outgrew their teenaged obsession with everything jane austen. they spend all their savings on a trip to “austenland” - a full real life jane austen experience, where they’re given board, dress, and a make believe love interest fit for any austen novel for the weekend. muse B, who has been paid to play the role of mr/mrs. darcy for the event, begins is developing very real feelings for muse A.

A young, white female on my Facebook posted that the last 8 years have been the best of her life and it had nothing to do with who the President was because “life is what YOU make it” and when I responded saying “Yikes that isn’t true, some people who don’t have our privilege can’t live their lives to the fullest when they have a President taking away their civil liberties, or on the other side of things, some people in the past 8 years HAVE been able to make life great DIRECTLY thanks to what the President has done for them” she responded with “I disagree, this isn’t a political post and besides…I don’t have any privilege” and that, right there ladies and gentlemen, is what is wrong with this country

MCL: Things we know about Lysander

1. He’s a Scorpio. His birthday is November 22.

2. He’s very supportive of others.

3. He likes Victorian style clothing.

4. He sings and writes his own songs.

5. He keeps losing or forgetting where he leaves his journal that he uses to write down his lyrics.

6. He gets lost easily.

7. He has an older brother, Leigh, who owns a clothing boutique.

8. Leigh is his legal guardian and their parents, George and Josiane, live in the country side and work as farmers.

9. He grew up on a farm.

10. He likes rabbits and has a pet bunny named Cuddles.

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Ok I’m sure everyone’s tired of hearing me complain but the idea of Percy and Annabeth moving to New Rome really really really does not make sense and just

  • It’s been reinforced hundreds of times that New York is Percy’s home - His mother and step father live there. He’s going to have a younger sister soon and the idea of him moving literally all the way to the other side of the country and being apart from his family, especially Sally, just seems so unPercy-like.
  • Camp Half-Blood has been both Percy’s and Annabeth’s home for years and it honestly just seems like the ties they have to that place have been glossed over in favor of the idea for New Rome. Also, Annabeth even showed displeasure at the idea of moving away from Camp Half-Blood and her thoughts were never really resolved in canon??
  • One of Annabeth’s main goals as a character is to be a famous Architect - to build something permanent - to have her name be known across the world - and the idea of her going to some college in New Rome, one that doesn’t have any merit in the mortal world, which would consequently not help her at all to achieve her goal of being that famous architect, seems extremely unAnnabeth-like. 
  • Also I’m fairly positive that Annabeth’s still redesigning mount Olympus?? Like I’m pretty sure that job could take a life time and the fact the she would, once again, be on the other side of the country seems very inconvenient considering New York has the entrance to Olympus.

Like I guess I get the poetic justice of Percy, the greek, ending up in the Roman Camp and Jason, the roman, ending up in Greek Camp. I definitely understand Percy’s want to live a safe normal life.

But there were so so so many other solutions for the particular need. Like Annabeth could have built a place like New Rome for Camp Half-blood? That would have satisfied the canon architect aspects of Annabeth and the canon loyalty-family ties of Percy. Just there were so many other scenarios that would have flowed so much more smoothly in canon.

Regardless of who wins this election, around half of the country is going to have to learn to live under the rule of someone they’ve vilified for the entire election cycle. (That’s two and a half years, but with a RealFeel of untold centuries trapped in the Phantom Zone.) In order to help people from both sides, we’ve put together a few tips in case the other side wins.

Finance And Economics

Clinton: Now is the time to divest from highly leveraged financial institutions engaging in high-risk trading. Clinton may not strictly adhere to her campaign promise of expanding Dodd-Frank. After all, she was paid at least $1.8 millionfor speeches delivered to big banks she’d supposedly regulate. That’s not quite “the fox guarding the hen house,” but it is “the woman whom the fox gave $1.8 million guarding the hen house.”

But even if restrictions aren’t tightened on the whole, politically easy targets like aggressive investment banks may feel the pinch.

Trump: Ultimately, man values but one currency, and that is blood. Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and reap the tears of their women. Also, diversify into foreign markets.

How To Survive After The Election (No Matter Who Wins)

I was thinking. We always talk about killjoys outside the zones, livingn in dofferwnt climates and their different forms of fighting. And i realized that destroya probably wouldnt be something that spread to these people, sure everyone in the zones and around battery city knew of it. But i doubt a killjoy living out on the other side of the country would.
But
These ‘joys might have their own myths and legends, much like their own version of destroya. Like imagine a huge robot in a clearing of a forest somewhere in the upper midwest with trees growing through it that is worshipped by the people around it. Or the rumor through the bayou that theres an anchient god living beneath the waters. Or the myth of some deep sea creature on the east coast that protects them.

Also on this note, i would think that the Phoenix witch would exist everywhere. But her appearance is always different depending on the culture of the area

4

I’m sorry I can’t answer to each and one of you anymore, I really would if I had the luxury of time but I also don’t want to clog up my blog anymore that it already is. 

I’d never expect my art to get so viral but at the same time I’m really glad it did because it meant that I’ve successfully managed to get my message across to a good amount of people. 

I just want you to know that I am just as devastated as the people in the US are even though I practically live on the other side of the world. I strongly believe this affects each and every individual, and to a economical and political extent, it does affect all other countries. It matters to care.

But most importantly, remember that in times like these, it’s important to always give love and compassion despite the outcomes. Please do not drive anymore hate when that’s the current state of the world. We only live once in this world and we only have one. As cheesy as that sounds, we should really treasure what we have now. 

To those who have shown their endless support in not just my art but also in the recent events, thank you. Likewise, I hope that my art has managed to share some positivity that I’d like to generate as much as possible.

For now, we should move forward and keep our spirits high and our hearts strong. My heart continues to go out to all those who are struggling in this hard time. 

-Elithien

Dear Hillary: when my daughter died, I vowed to live for her, and I will be a voice for her


Dear Hillary,

Firstly, I would like to say it was an honor to vote for you. I had complete confidence that America would see your courage and goodness and choose as a country to follow your light. Instead, we have chosen darkness, and what a cloud it is and will be for years to come.

I believe we are meant to be a light in the world. We all have some darkness, some more than others, but there is a light in the deepest parts if we dive into our darkest moments and find a stillness, somehow we can notice tiny cracks of brightness and find a way to let it come through. The light and dark both live side by side. They are both a part of us. That’s what makes us human. But in order to not be the poison in the world, we have to keep that light and truth moving us forward. I’m so deeply saddened by the results of this election.

I’m not just singularly sad because we may lose our health insurance through Obamacare, or that our livelihood may be negatively affected. It is a huge concern that a bully was rewarded and sets the example for my son that not only can a bully win, but implies you must be a bully in order to win. But all of that I can work through I can take on that burden and preach against it as I raise my child to be a light in this world despite those who are ruthless and unkind in the world. That part is in my control still.

What concerns me even deeper, is the authority of men and women spreading misinformation in the pro-life evangelical church movement, justifying their discomfort and spreading fear, judgement, and cruelty in the name of a divine, while endangering the health of women. I have never met a group of people so lacking in empathy.

We need to change the rhetoric. We need to educate people. The opposite of pro-life is not pro-choice or pro-abortion, as many love to claim and accuse. We too are for life. And I would go as far as saying we are more for life than the pro-lifers. I suppose this is the reason I’m writing you.

I am but a small voice with a small audience. But, I am fiercely committed to honoring my children and fighting for them in a world that doesn’t always make sense. You have committed yourself your whole career to be a voice for mothers and children, so I ask that you will be a voice for us in this.

Here’s a bit of my story.

5 years ago I was pregnant with my first child. She was very much planned and the decision to get pregnant and start a family with my husband was well thought out. We had been married not even a year, and we were excited to bring a new life into the world, into our hearts, and we were ready to raise her to be a contributing member of society, desiring to raise a conscientious person.

About 5 months into my pregnancy we received some unusual blood work results from one of the routine check ups. My doctor said it was probably a false positive, not to worry because he had literally in all his practice never seen anything like this. But to be certain he scheduled me an appointment with a Perinatologist to follow up.

I never quite know how much of our story I should share because what we have learned is that it is privileged information only for those who can be trusted to respond with empathy. Only if you can see humanity and be human in return despite your own discomfort with death. Because that is what it comes down to. America has created a culture that dehumanizes certain citizens when it comes to facing their own emotional discomfort and reaction to death. It is not just with abortion, it is with the death penalty, gun lobbying, and terrorism. But as I see how misguided people have become through politically charged fear, I’m realizing more of us need to be sharing our stories to make them human again.

We need connection. We need authentic, heartbreaking stories to pull on heartstrings. We need to be vulnerable with one another.

My husband and I went to the specialist, still thinking all would be ok. After all, if our doctor in his 60’s had never seen or heard of such concerns, how could we be the one case?

When we arrived at the doctor’s office they took us to a room to talk with a geneticist, which in hindsight is mostly a blur because at the time I thought they were pointless numbers and statistics. I figured they were routine for all patients. It was my first pregnancy, so I had no point of comparison.

The moments that followed were the absolute worst hours of my life and of my husband’s life. (I think it’s important to mention how it affected him as well, because pro-lifers and the media dehumanize women by excluding the fathers. They dismantle the family unit in order to make their rhetoric more palpable, as if they took a beautiful steak, threw it in a blender and then say, “it’s nutritious and delicious, drink up.”)

They took us into an exam room for an ultrasound. The doctor walked in and said, “I just want to say before we get started that I am an eternal optimist, but I am afraid of what we are about to see, and I feel like I need you to know that.” They are words I’ll never forget as long as I live. I still didn’t know how concerned I should be. The mood was somber and none of us said anything at first. We watched him scan her body from head to toe waiting for him to break the silence and offer a hopeful miracle.

He was gentle and kind. “These are her hands, but her fingers are clenched in a fist, and they should be spread out wide, which tells me her brain isn’t functioning properly. This is her heart, and the valves, but the one that is supposed to carry things away is missing. And you can see right here there is a hole in her heart. Her heart is having to work extra hard right now, which is why it’s beating the way it is. You can see she isn’t moving much, that is because her limbs are freezing up, and soon she won’t be able to move at all. And her length has stopped growing, which is why your due date kept changing.”

All my husband and I could do was cry. Yet, we still thought there was hope. Maybe she would just need some surgeries. I kept waiting for him to say, “but once she is born, this is what will need to happen.” But those words couldn’t be spoken. Instead he said most pregnancies like this don’t even make it this far. Usually your body will miscarry when so much goes wrong like this, but I was one of the unlucky few in this rare category. We learned she had an entire extra set of chromosomes, a condition called triploidy. Statistically, less than 1% of all pregnancies have it, and most of them miscarry and they only really know about it because they test the tissue after the miscarriage. The unlikelihood of this happening at all was extremely high, yet here we were. And unfortunately, with this condition there are many potential harms to me as the mother.

Because she couldn’t kick me, she could die without me knowing and toxicity levels could be very harmful to me. My placenta could rupture, I could bleed out, I could list many more scenarios that were spelled out for us, but it’s pointless and personal and that’s not the part people want to hear about. I was also at high risk for other additional reasons, for which were the reason we thought we were seeing the specialist in the first place.

Our options were death or death. We were to choose which form of death we could stomach, which form of death was most humane because death was inevitably our only option. There was no other option; no other choice. This was not pro-life vs pro-choice. This was not do I carry out the pregnancy or do I not. The only thought on our minds was life. Mourning her life she wouldn’t get, mourning the life we don’t get with her. That would all be too simplistic. Wouldn’t it be so nice if only it were that simple? I get why people simplify it. I get the discomfort. We all hate death. We all want life.

Here’s the thing that simple minded pro-lifers don’t do: they judge, ridicule and offer cruelty, yet they don’t say, “hey, how can I help?” To the parents who carry out the pregnancy on hospital bed rest so the mother doesn’t die as well, they don’t offer relief for the medical bills. They don’t campaign for good therapy and child loss programs on our behalf. For parents who’s child maybe is compatible with life for limited months or years and costs hundreds of thousands of dollars for in-home care they don’t say, hey if that’s what you choose to do, we will help support you and find funding for you. There’s no compassion meeting these families. No proactive movement to follow through with their said convictions. They just repeat garbage rhetoric and then say, “best of luck, glad it wasn’t me.” And some how they pat themselves on the back thinking they did something right, yet it’s so wrong, so cruel, and so very hurtful.

With the guidance of doctors, learning and educating ourselves on all involved, we took time to say our goodbyes. We planned a week of activities to do with her. Took her to all our favorite places around LA. We talked to her, told her what was happening knowing how sick she was. Tried to explain the best we could to both her and ourselves. But ultimately we didn’t want her suffering because we selfishly wanted more time with her. My body was basically acting as life support, and we knew our time with her had come to an end. That was our story together. That was our family story.

We loved our Madeleine with every fiber in us. There’s not a day that goes by that we don’t think or talk about her.

During our last days with her, while we were trying to create happy memories of our time with her, yet knowing it would come to an end shortly, we were attacked by an extreme religious zealot, a family friend no less, who said the most cruel things I will never forget as they surround the entirety of our daughter and her loss. We faced the worst moments of our life, tried to navigate our own loss, grief, and medical concerns, and a selfish, uneducated person came and punched us in the gut with her poisonous words, about a matter she knew nothing about.

We met with a therapist when we got the diagnosis to help guide us through the fog. She suggested letting friends and family know our daughter was sick and our time was limited in order to allow them to offer us support. Yet some took it as an opportunity to cut into us with daggers of false hope that doctors could be wrong, with cruel statements that mothers don’t let other people harm their children, and that by not saying this to me it would be a disservice.

We only acted out of deep love in all our actions. We only considered our daughter’s pain over our own. Child mortality and mother’s dying in child birth used to be quite high, and modern medicine has changed that, so I understand wanting to cling to hope. But life and death is very much a part of life. When grandparents, parents, spouses and even pets are on their death beds, we sometimes act selflessly to ease them out of unnecessary pain. We relieve them of their life support or euthanize them. It’s how we show compassion. It’s how we do what is humane. And we show it also, to our unborn children as well.

I understand if when faced with these worst moments of your life, facing impending death everyone’s reactions and needs will be different. For one, the pregnancies and risks will vary. If some people need to carry out a pregnancy selfishly or unselfishly because they need to let their brain process the grief and catch up to this new reality they face, they should take their time, by all means. The point is, we can’t force people by law to govern how they process the worst news of their life. We should meet them with kindness and understand its uncharted territory. “We need to offer the words, "I love you, I’m so sorry you are facing this. Death should come for the old, but sometimes it comes too early, and you can take whatever time you need to accept and face that. That is your personal choice.”

We are the faces and stories of the families affected when people try to simplify and categorize people, pitting them against one another as pro-life and pro-choice. We are all for life. We need to change the rhetoric. We need to ensure government does not control aspects of family grief and the health of women, mothers, and spouses who could be left widows and widowers, and children who could be left motherless because of an unsafe sibling pregnancy.

I share my story from a place of authenticity and vulnerability because we, who have been through it, have to be the voice for those who inevitably will painfully go through it after us.

We are the faces and families their votes hurt. We are the lives their votes put into danger and who they wound with their words. We have to change the conversation and painful, damaging, poisonous rhetoric.

I am only a small voice with a small audience. So I write this, asking, pleading with someone of higher authority, with a bigger voice than me, please help protect us. Please fight for humanity and goodness against the poison that is spreading in our country. Please help the church movement to learn compassion and stop simplifying families and death when it’s so much more complex than anyone on the outside could ever imagine. Please listen to the families, mothers and fathers, who have faced it first hand.

When we lost our daughter, we vowed to one another and her that because she couldn’t live her life, we have to live ours for her. Her life meant everything to us. I’m so glad we got the time we did with her despite all odds and statistics. So I will fight fiercely for her and the world that my son grows up in. I will be a voice for those who cannot.

If there is ever an opportunity to work with you on behalf of other women like me, it would be an honor to serve beside you. I don’t know how to start the change, but in my small corner I will try to do my part.


***UPDATE**

Thank you so much to all of you who have taken time to read my blog post helped me spread the word by sharing it with your own audiences. It has already been reposted and reblogged over 20 times, and I truly am so grateful to be surrounded not only by supportive communities who are humane, but who also will fight alongside me in this. I hope we can reach as many people as possible and really create change in the way Americans see death and humanity. And I feel so honored that you would help give my voice a platform. So, thank you friends and friends of friends whom I have never met for sharing this piece I wrote. Feel free to keep reposting!

Cutthroat Kitchen

For an anon who requested 15 with Reid “I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”

You were in your kitchen when you heard the front door of your apartment open. Besides yourself two people had keys to your front door; your brother who was on the other side of the country, and Spencer.

“You’re here early, what time did your plane land?” You called from the kitchen, and when you didn’t get a response right away you put down the vegetables you’d been cutting for dinner and went to the living room. “Hey you.” You greeted him, smiling sadly.

“What?” He asked head snapping up to look at you, “Oh sorry,  I was caught up you know..” He gestured slightly and you nodded, coming to him and taking his scarf and jacket off.

“I know, caught up, up there.” You assured him, “Do you wanna come help make dinner? Or I’ll make you a coffee and you can just keep me company.” If Spencer decided he wanted to talk about it, he knew you would always listen, but sometimes he just wanted to come home and pretend like it was okay, and pretend like it was normal, and that was okay with you too.

“Sounds good, what are we having?” Spencer grinned, and you could see him struggle to make it reach his eyes.

“I was thinking dumplings. I’ve got most of the vegetables all cut up.” You flicked the coffee pot on and grabbed two mugs. Once you both had your drinks you got back to cooking, You made quiet, comfortable conversation for a while. You told him about your week, and he fully listened.

“Fun fact about dumpling, go!” You grinned, both of you giggling as Spence tried to cut the carrots all the same size.

“Chinese dumplings are eaten on the 5th day of new year in China to resemble good wealth and prosperity. Wonton, or Chinese dumpling, is a staple food popular throughout China. In Chinese, wonton means “swallowing clouds”.” Reid explained to you and you laughed, nudging him slightly.

“God I love having you home to help cook. When you’re not I don’t get any fun facts and its boring. With you it’s like having my own personal Alton Brown.”

“He’s the Good Eats Guy?”

“Yeah and Cutthroat Kitchen.” You explained. Cooking shows were kinda a big deal in your household.

“Oh! I like that one.” You smirked and nodded your head, leaning on the counter.

“Dr. Reid, welcome to Cutthroat Kitchen!” You announced, “I’m going to…” You looked around before pointing to the cutting board, “Take away your knives.”

“(Y/N)” He rolled his eyes, biting his tongue not to laugh, “That’s not how the show goes.”

“If you want to be allowed to use my knives, you have to pay me with.. Being in charge of picking the movie for the next three movie nights.” Spencer laughed.

“No! We go back and forth!” He grinned, grabbing you as you reached for the knives and pulling you away from them and into his arms.

“You pick boring movies,” You giggled, “I always fall asleep, and you’re not allowed to hug the judge on Cutthroat!” Spencer laughed and picked you up carrying you from the kitchen to living room and tossing you onto the sofa.

“Maybe I do it on purpose, because I like when we sleep on the sofa?” Spencer stated, sitting on you, “This sofa is lumpy.”

“Oh shut up! Get off!” Spencer grinned and bounced on you.

“It’s loud too!” He teased.

“I am not! Loud!” You laughed, getting one arm from where it was stuck at your side and reaching up to tickle Spence’s side. That got him. Within a minute he was on the floor and you were sitting on him, watching him falling apart laughing under you.

“Uncle! Uncle! You win, any movie you want!” You grinned and whooped in victory and Spencer caught his breath, panting and grinning “Thank you, (Y/N) I haven’t laughed this hard in years.” You sobered up slightly and nodded, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“Anytime, Spencer. You know that.”