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Understanding The Five Love Languages to Improve Your Relationships

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

Ah, love – the great mystery of the human heart. We’ve all been there, swept off our feet by that special someone who makes our heart flutter and our knees weak. But what happens when the honeymoon phase fades, and we realize that our partner’s way of expressing love is completely different from our own? Enter the five love languages – a framework that can help unravel the complexities of relationships and foster deeper connections with our partners. So, grab your favorite latte (or a glass of wine), and let’s dive into the fascinating world of understanding the five love languages.

What Are the Five Love Languages?

First things first, let’s break down the five love languages:

  1. Words of Affirmation: This love language involves verbal expressions of love and appreciation, such as compliments, words of encouragement, and affirmations of affection.
  2. Quality Time: For those who speak this love language, nothing says “I love you” like undivided attention and meaningful conversations. Spending quality time together, free from distractions, is essential.
  3. Acts of Service: Actions speak louder than words for individuals who value acts of service. Whether it’s cooking dinner, running errands, or helping with chores, these gestures demonstrate love and thoughtfulness.
  4. Physical Touch: Physical affection is the primary love language for those who crave touch. Hugs, kisses, hand-holding, and other forms of physical contact are essential for feeling loved and connected.
  5. Receiving Gifts: Thoughtful gifts, no matter how big or small, are the key to the heart for individuals who appreciate receiving gifts as expressions of love and thoughtfulness.

How Do You Identify Your Love Language?

Identifying your love language is like uncovering a hidden treasure – it requires self-reflection and honest communication with your partner. Pay attention to how you prefer to express love and how you feel most loved and appreciated in return. Do you light up when your partner gives you a compliment or a thoughtful gift? Or do you crave quality time together, free from distractions? By recognizing your preferences, you can gain insight into your love language.

How Do You Practice the Five Love Languages?

Once you’ve identified your love language, the next step is to put it into practice in your relationship. Here are some tips for expressing each love language:

  1. Words of Affirmation: Send your partner a heartfelt text message expressing your love and appreciation. Leave sticky notes with uplifting messages around the house. Compliment them on their strengths and accomplishments.
  2. Quality Time: Plan regular date nights where you can focus solely on each other. Put away your phones and other distractions and engage in meaningful conversations. Take walks together or enjoy a leisurely meal at a favorite restaurant.
  3. Acts of Service: Take on tasks or chores that your partner dislikes or finds challenging. Cook their favorite meal, run errands for them, or offer to help with household responsibilities without being asked.
  4. Physical Touch: Initiate cuddling sessions, hold hands while watching TV, or give your partner a lingering hug when they least expect it. Physical affection doesn’t always have to be sexual; simple gestures of touch can convey love and affection.
  5. Receiving Gifts: Surprise your partner with thoughtful gifts that reflect their interests and preferences. It’s not about the monetary value; it’s about the thought and effort you put into selecting something meaningful for them.

When Love Languages Clash: Navigating Differences in Relationships

While understanding and speaking the same love language can strengthen a relationship, what happens when two partners’ love languages don’t match up? Conflict can arise when one partner feels unloved or unappreciated because their needs aren’t being met in the way they desire. However, recognizing and respecting each other’s love languages can bridge the gap and foster understanding and compromise. It’s not all about you. The best way to love someone is the way they want to be loved.

Communication is key when navigating differences in love languages. It’s also the key to understanding the five love languages. The Big Guy and I have different love languages but we know that. We might not always understand why the other one wants to be loved the way they do but we love each other that is the meaningful to each other. Discussing your preferences openly and honestly with your partner can help bridge the gap and find common ground; this applies to all things in a relationship. Remember, relationships are all about compromise and finding ways to show love and appreciation that resonate with both partners.

The Language of Love

In the intricate dance of love, understanding and speaking each other’s love language can strengthen bonds and deepen connections in relationships. By recognizing and embracing the unique ways we express and receive love, we can cultivate fulfilling and harmonious partnerships that stand the test of time. So, whether your love language is words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, physical touch, or receiving gifts, remember to speak it loudly and proudly in your relationship. After all, love is a language that knows no bounds – let’s keep the conversation going. ❤️

What’s your love language? What would you want your partner to know to better understand your love language?

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Battle of the Bugs: Decoding CoVid-19, Influenza, the Common Cold, and RSV

Estimated reading time: 3 minutes

Lord have mercy, there is so many different illnesses going around and life would be a lot easier if we learned how to decode sickness. It’s just too much. Welcome to the ultimate showdown of the microscopic world – where germs compete for the title of the most unwelcome guest in our bodies. In one corner, we have the heavyweight champion, CoVid-19; in another, the perennial contender, Influenza; lurking in the shadows, the sneaky Common Cold, and last but not least, the underdog with a punch, RSV. Let’s step into the ring and figure out how to tell these contenders apart. 

CoVid-19: The Uninvited Guest with a Sledgehammer Entrance

CoVid-19, the rockstar of viruses, stormed onto the scene in 2019, and it’s been headlining ever since. This bug doesn’t understand personal space, crashing our immune system party with a sledgehammer. It comes with a fever, a cough that sounds like a drum solo, and a loss of taste – the ultimate party pooper move.

Influenza: The Seasonal Showstopper

Influenza, or the flu, is like that annual concert you didn’t really want to attend. It hits you hard, leaves you achy and exhausted, and, worst of all, it keeps coming back every year. With symptoms like a high fever, body aches that feel like you’ve been moshing all night, and a cough that rivals a heavy metal singer’s vocals, the flu is a regular feature on the seasonal illness charts.

The Common Cold: Your Run-of-the-Mill Troublemaker

Ah, the Common Cold – the trickster of the bunch. Sneezing, sniffling, and generally making you feel like you got hit by a feather, the common cold is the jester of viruses. Its symptoms are more annoying than alarming: a runny nose, mild cough, and the occasional throat irritation. It’s like a background noise virus, always there but never stealing the spotlight. Unless its a man cold, that’s an entirely different beast…or so I heard. I don’t really know because I’m not a man. 

RSV: The Silent Striker

RSV, or Respiratory Syncytial Virus, is the dark horse in this competition. It usually goes for the youngest members of the audience, hitting infants and toddlers with a silent but potent punch. RSV comes with symptoms like coughing, sneezing, and difficulty breathing, making it a serious contender for pediatric attention.

Spotting the Differences:

Now that we’ve introduced our contenders, let’s talk about how to tell them apart. Imagine you’re the referee in this viral boxing match.

  • Fever Flare:

    • CoVid-19 and Influenza often come with a high fever, while the Common Cold and RSV usually keep it mild.
  • Coughing Cadence:

    • CoVid-19 boasts a persistent cough that’s hard to ignore.
    • Influenza brings a robust cough, often accompanied by body aches.
    • The Common Cold’s cough is more of an irritating side note.
    • RSV’s cough can be severe, especially in the little ones.
  • Body Aches Amplified:

    • Influenza is the champion of body aches.
    • CoVid-19 follows closely, leaving you feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck.
    • The Common Cold and RSV usually keep body aches on the down-low.
  • Age Preference:

    • CoVid-19 doesn’t discriminate by age.
    • Influenza hits all age groups but tends to favor the young and the old.
    • The Common Cold loves all ages equally.
    • RSV has a soft spot for infants and toddlers.

In the grand arena of viral combat, each contender has its unique moves and preferred audience. While CoVid-19, Influenza, the Common Cold, and RSV might share some symptoms, their differences help us understand which opponent we’re up against. So, next time you feel under the weather, remember this guide – because nothing beats a well-informed immune system! Stay healthy, stay happy, and keep those germs at bay!

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boilermaker love story

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

I met my husband, senior year of college at Purdue University. We met at Harry’s. We had a mutual friend, who’d grown up with him, and really wanted to introduce me to this “great guy” ( just as friends). This was a boilermaker love story from the very start. In case you’re wondering what a boilermaker is, its what Purdue students, athletes and alumni call themselves. I am, in fact, a proud Boilermaker whose heart bleeds black and gold and of all the precious moments I experienced throughout my tenure at my beloved Purdue, our love story is, by far, my favorite.

After weeks of hearing about this guy, she convinced me to leave our LSAT prep class a little early and head to Harry’s for a drink and some popcorn. It was September 29,1997. We walked into Harry’s and there at the back of the bar, surrounded by his friends and talking to the bartender was this massive 6’5” man. There was no way you could miss him.

We made our way through the crowd to where he was and when our mutual friend introduced us, he barely looked in my direction and mumbled, “Hey.” It floated down and landed with a thud. Honestly, I was as unimpressed and disinterested as he seemed to be. All the weeks of hearing what a “great guy” he was only to realize, he was kind of a jerk. No worries, I didn’t even know this guy and I’d never have to see him again.

Eventually, the night progressed to an impromptu after party back at the house he shared with 5 other guys; the infamous 345 Sylvia Street. At that time though, it could have been in another country because I was geographically challenged and had no idea where it was in relation to my apartment on Chauncey.

Within 20 minutes, our mutual friend disappeared with a guy. It happens. I was left alone talking to the guy she introduced me to and his roommate. Honestly, I just wanted to go home because I had a big Astronomy test the next day; I needed sleep.

Our Boilermaker love story had an unlikely beginning

Eventually, around 2 am, I started to freak out a little because I’d been abandoned at this party with guys I barely knew and had absolutely no idea how to get home. The “great guy” offered to walk me home ( which in retrospect is weird because he had a car and it was the middle of the night) with no other option, I took him up on his offer. How bad could it be? I desperately needed to get home. Was I just supposed to live there now?

He immediately told me that he wanted to show me something. All I thought was, omg, this is where my SVU episode begins. He took me to the top of the parking garage and pointed out constellations ( I guess he’d been paying attention when I was talking about my Astronomy exam). Then, unbeknownst to me, we headed in the opposite direction of my apartment taking effectively the longest way home. I was oblivious.

We ended up at the Purdue University soccer fields, lying on the grass as he pointed out more constellations. I wasn’t sure if this guy who completely blew me off when we met earlier that night was super sweet and trying to help me study or super creepy and going to assault me. I had no option, I was lost on campus in the middle of the night with a guy a foot taller than me. I queued up all those karate moves my dad taught me as a kid… just in case this “great guy” got any SVU ideas.

Our love story happened when I least expected it

Then, it happened. My entire life changed when I wasn’t paying attention. As we were lying there, talking about everything and nothing under the stars with the dewy grass beneath us, he started to talk about his grandmother, who’d recently passed. He spoke with such love and reverence when telling me about the woman she was, he got choked up. That break in his voice, shifted my perspective of who I thought he was. To be honest, I realized I thought this great guy was a jerk simply from one interaction that only lasted a couple of minutes.

Eventually, he walked me home and we had our first kiss on my doorstep as the sun was coming up. He told me he loved me 2 weeks later and proposed 4 months later, just a few days shy of our first Valentine’s Day, on the dance floor at WhereElse. 27 years and 2 boilermaker babies later, we’ve been inseparable ever since. I may have flunked my Astronomy exam but I found my forever. When I wasn’t looking, I found everything, I never knew that I always wanted right there on campus.

What was your meet cute story? How did your love story begin?

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Black Ohio Mother, Brittany Watts, Faces Felony Charges After Suffering Miscarriage

Estimated reading time: 0 minutes

In tales from the “what the fuck is going on?” and/ or another episode of “Let’s demonize women for existing,” or “misogyny gone wild” a black mother in Ohio, Brittany Watts, is facing felony charges after suffering a devastating, near fatal miscarriage.

Brittany Watts is facing felony charges for “abuse of a corpse” after suffering a miscarriage at nearly 22 weeks into her pregnancy, on September 22, 2023. Now, her case is headed to trial. The 33-year-old, Watts, is being accused of miscarrying her pregnancy while using the restroom and then flushing the fetal remains down her toilet.  * Newsflash, that’s usually what happens.

According to a GoFundMe page set up to help with mounting legal costs for Watts, “Brittany Watts suffered an agonizing miscarriage in the bathroom of her home in Warren, Ohio on September 22, 2023.

Brittany did nothing to cause her miscarriage. Her doctor had told her that her 21-week pregnancy could not survive, and she would miscarry. When the bleeding and the pain from the impending miscarriage got severe, she did the same thing that many women who miscarry at home do. Brittany went into her bathroom, miscarried into her toilet, and flushed. What happened after that is something that should only happen in Margaret Atwood’s Gilead, and certainly not in the United States of America.

Within hours of Brittany’s admission to the hospital for her life-threatening hemorrhaging, police removed the toilet from Brittany’s home and destroyed it searching for fetal remains. Brittany, a woman with no criminal history, was charged with felony gross abuse of a corpse, even though there is no Ohio law dictating the “proper” disposal method of the remains of a miscarriage. On November 2, Brittany sobbed as she sat in a courtroom listening to police officers describe the details of the most intensely personal moments of her life and then vilify her to the world, all while being recorded by local news media.”

Okay, this is a whole lot of what the actual fuck is going on here. As someone who has suffered a miscarriage (and that is exactly what happens to a woman when she miscarries…she suffers mentally and physically), there are no words to describe the kind of hell a mother endures when she loses her child. This is a deeply personal, painful, and private matter and one in which is difficult to navigate. No one knows what to do in this situation. It happens to you unexpectedly and you try to survive it in the best way you can. Believe me, for the mother, it is almost unbearable.

According to the National Library of Medicine, an estimated 23 million miscarriages occur every year worldwide, translating to 44 pregnancy losses each minute. The pooled risk of miscarriage is 15·3% .  Miscarriages happen to women not because of them, so why does the government and legal system want to punish us for what is already so devastating?

To add insult to such a grievous injury, the Ohio legal system is not only blaming the victim (because that is exactly what any mother who miscarries is) for a medical emergency, a fetus that failed to thrive through no fault of the mother; they are actually bringing women up on felony charges. This is one of the most demented and misogynistic things a society can do.

Watts has gone through one of the most painful and life changing experiences any woman can go through and now she is being demonized and prosecuted for disposing of the biological matter. What the fuck was she supposed to do? Women are not taught proper disposal of our miscarried babies when we watch the movie about menstruation in fifth grade! No one teaches us proper sex education in schools, we are taught abstinence in hushed tones and discouraged from asking any questions. We are told that we are sluts and all kinds of other insults if we dare to even inquire or try to educate ourselves and now, we are even blamed and held legally responsible when our pregnancies miscarry. It’s not bad enough that they list miscarriages on insurance bills as missed abortions and that the government has taken away our right to choose, now, they are actively charging women for being a victim of nature’s cruelest punishment.

I’m tired of men making laws on women’s bodies. Men have no idea what it feels like to live in a woman’s body and to suffer being a female. Because yes, for as much as I love being a woman, our misogynistic society keeps us in shackles and punishes us at will for no reason other than what lies between our legs. We are punished daily, in every aspect of our lives, simply for being born with a vagina.

Women are treated like second class citizens. We constantly have everything we say and do questioned, and that’s when we’re not being completely ignored. W are not even given domain over our own bodies. We are leered at and sexualized at every turn from birth till death. Sex is weaponized against us. Rape is a consequence for existing. We can’t even choose when, where, how or if we want to have children. Do you know what giving birth is like? It is the most painful thing a woman can ever endure. It is so painful that it makes you want to die to escape it.

The act of giving birth is one done out of complete love and sacrifice, and we do it over and over again because of that complete and unconditional love we have for our children. But make no mistake, it is no easy task. It is the most difficult and intense experience any human being can go through.

Imagine choosing that, knowing the full weight of that sacrifice, and choosing it over and over again. Then, imagine losing your pregnancy. The emptiness, the sorrow, the void a mother feels is mind bending. The loss of what might have been, the promise of holding and loving your child is mind breaking. The physical pain, the failure of your body, the failure of your child to thrive…so much loss and all that love with nowhere to go. There is nothing as painful in this world as a full heart and empty arms.

I did not miscarry at home. In fact, my pregnancy was intact. I’m not sure if that would make me more or less of a villain in my miscarriage story. My child no longer had a heartbeat. You don’t know devastation until you’ve heard these words uttered to you. My child, who looked absolutely perfect on an ultrasound, had no heartbeat and my body would not let go of it, so I had to have my pregnancy surgically removed. My other option was that I could have taken a wait and see approach and possibly gone septic and have risked death. It was like going through labor with nothing to show for it in the end but a broken heart. So many women must labor only to go home with empty arms and broken hearts…broken hearts that never heal. I left my child behind at the hospital. My child became biomedical waste. No one asked me what I wanted to do with the remains. I was not offered cremation or burial. There was no counseling offered to me. I simply arrived with a pregnancy and left a mother without a child.

In Watts’ case, the miscarriage happened at home. The fetus’ remains were uncovered by local law enforcement on Sept. 22, per the Warren Police Department, after they removed the toilet from her home and tested it for fetal matter.

Now, Watts faces this felony charge even AFTER a forensic pathologist testified last month that her fetus was not born alive and died before passing through the birth canal; further, he said the fetus ​​was “nonviable because [Watts] had premature ruptured membranes—her water had broken early—and the fetus was too young to be delivered.” Watts’ defense attorney, Tracy Timko, told media last month that her client “learned days before” her miscarriage that this outcome “was inevitable and that the fetus could not survive outside the womb due to gestational age.”

None of this makes sense. None of this vilification of this mother is logical or reasonable. Brittany Watts should not be on trial, Ohio should be on trial for the cruel and unusual punishment of a living, human woman.

What are your thoughts? I am disgusted and flabbergasted but I am not shocked in the least because this is what the world does to women time and time again, throughout history. 

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perimenopausal rage

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

Lately, I’ve been a little sensitive, and by “sensitive,” I mean I’ve been wanting to rip my family’s heads off simply for chewing. I’ve wanted to blow up every single place I’ve ever been that has mirrors, food, or clothing. Sometimes, I’ve even cried because I accidentally called my puppy my recently, dearly departed dog’s name. But mostly, I’m really hot, and it makes me cranky. Hot for no f@cking reason – just sitting here minding my own goddamn business, and “poof,” this bitch is on fire. It’s super annoying. Thank you, perimenopausal rage.

I’ve been what I’d consider “moody,” and that’s saying something because I’m f@cking bipolar so I should know. But this is obscene and excessive, even for my dramatic ass.

This is perimenopausal rage.

My point is I thought I was literally having an “episode” (I haven’t had a bad one since my mid-20s), so I consulted my doctors. And no, I am, in fact, not losing my battle with bipolar, but I am losing my battle with estrogen, it seems. To be honest, last year I had a spell of consecutive panic attacks, which is not ordinary for me, so I consulted my OB/GYN and my GP about anxiety and/or the “pause” (menopause if you’re nasty). After checking the hormone levels, I was told it was a false alarm. But this year, when I started having “cold chills,” I again consulted my doctors to see if this was in response to my double ear infections or if midlife had finally caught me in its butchering talons. This year, it was a silent alarm. While my estrogen is normal, my FSH was on the lower end of normal, signaling that I am, in fact, probably perimenopausal insert coffin emoji

I can tell you that getting this news hit me in a way that I had not anticipated. It momentarily made me feel shhh* “old.” Suddenly, I was like, “Oh shit! DO I look as old as my high school Facebook friends? Oh.God.NO!!!!” *** (It’s my inner monologue. God and I are roll dogs; he is not shocked by my sailor vocabulary, neither is my mother.)

My point is that for one moment, I doubted myself. Is this irrefutable evidence that I am closer to old than young? Fuck, do I have to stop wearing what those “what not to wear when you’re over 40” Gen Z fashion writers tell me that I’m not supposed to? Wait! Are my kids now the.boss.of.me???? I’m freaking out.

Who showed up to the party? Mother Fuckin’ hot flash to add fire to this fire.

Uninvited guest: Perimenopausal Rage

My point is that at some time during this mid-life, one surviving ovary post hysterectomy, hormonal imbalanced world, this mom started getting very irritable with everyone. Maybe it’s normal. I’ve been overworked and overwhelmed for a good long time circa 2005. I’ve put everyone else’s feelings, wants, needs, and expectations ahead of mine. I’ve literally been juggling everyone’s everything for almost two decades, and I am so fucking tired. When’s it my turn for someone else to juggle all the things? I don’t remember signing up for this shit when I was born with a vagina.

Look, I know being a woman comes with great power (conjuring up human beings, keeping them alive, raising good humans while dealing with some other woman’s supposed “good human”), and I know that is a great responsibility. But no one told me that I was going to be worked like a donkey until the moment I dropped dead. Why am I the only one who can change toilet paper rolls, do laundry, load the dishwasher, cook dinner, plan vacations, and handle the finances? I didn’t get that memo. The older I get, the more tired I get, and the smaller my threshold for this kind of shit is. As my hormones wax and wane out of balance, the less fucks I give, the less tolerance I have for stupid people, and the more irritable I get, especially dealing with randomly, self-populated hot flashes in this mother fucking surface of the sun heat.

My point is that suddenly, I am filled with rage for no apparent reason, it probably has something to do with being hot unexpectedly whenever my body decides to heat up, and I want to go ham on most living creatures within reach. I can’t change the fact that I’m going through this but I can help myself feel better doing it. Comfort is everything when your hormones are being unpredictable. I was recently gifted an amazing cooling comforter made with the same game-changing temperature regulating technology and quality, moisture-wicking fabric as the adult version, the  Rest Kids Evercool™ Cooling Comforter allows children ( and their hopelessly hormonally challenged hot moms) to recharge through a comfortable, cool, dry and restful sleep. Whenever, I get hot, I just wrap it around my head and neck and I am instantly cooled off. It’s the little blanket, I never knew I needed. It’s truly amazing.  And, it comes in adult-size too.

 

rest cooling comforter

Are you experiencing perimenopausal rage and feeling overwhelmed? You’re not alone! Join our supportive community of women navigating the hormonal rollercoaster of perimenopause. Share your stories, find solace, and learn coping strategies to manage the fury. Together, we can embrace this transition with humor, empathy, and a whole lot of rage-fueled empowerment!

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Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing Palestine

Estimated reading time: 7 minutes

What’s happening in Israel and Gaza right now is not about freeing Palestine, this is about the barbarism, brutality, cruelty and lack of respect for human dignity of life byHamas.

This is the post that’s been weighing heavy on my heart over the past few days. Like many of you, I saw the news filled with the brutality and barbarity that was coming out of Israel.  I saw the desecration and humiliation of the Israeli people. My heart was broken to see it. I can only imagine what the families, friends and collective Jewish community around the world is feeling.  I am not Jewish but many of the people I cherish, and love are. The grief is palpable.

Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing Palestine, (Photo by SAID KHATIB / AFP) (Photo by SAID KHATIB/AFP via Getty Images)

As I am not Jewish and am not completely familiar with the situation in Israel, I figured it was best to keep my mouth (and website) silent until I did some research.  If you, like me, are not familiar with the situation that has been going on in Israel let me give you a quick breakdown, as I understand it.

Israel is occupied by the Jewish peoples, filled with kibbutz’s (largely agricultural communities set up based on the idea of communal living) where people live together as the village and help one another in their day to day lives. It sounds beautiful to me. Gaza borders Israel. Gaza is where Palestinians are under a land, air and sea blockade. For those who don’t know, a blockade is the act of actively preventing a country or region from receiving or sending out food, supplies, weapons, or communications, and sometimes people, by military force. However, it’s my understanding that there is a border crossing into Israel so that Palestinians can work. Israel also exports food, necessities and provides electricity to Gaza.  I know, it sounds terrible but you have to consider why this blockade is in place.  The blockade was temporarily imposed by Egypt and Israel back in 2005-2006 and then permanently in 2007 following the Israeli disengagement from Gaza. When Hamas took control of the Gaza Strip during the battle of Gaza, seizing government institutions and replacing Palestinian Authority officials with Hamas members. In short, Hamas (terrorists) usurped power in Gaza and then Gaza had to be put on lockdown for safety reasons.

*** What is Hamas?

Hamas is a Sunni Islamist political and militant organization that currently governs the Gaza Strip of the Palestinian territories.  In short, Hamas are terrorists. They are an extremist group who have advocated for Palestinian armed resistance to end the Israeli occupation. The establishment of the Hamas government in Gaza in 2007 marked the height of the Fatah-Hamas conflict and triggered the Gaza-Israel conflict. Hamas asserts that Israel’s existence is inherently illegitimate and rejects the Israeli- Palestinian peace process. Hamas has been fighting several wars at varying degrees of intensity against Israel throughout time; pursuing jihad against Israel.

When Hamas took over government in Gaza, Egypt and Israel put in place the blockade. This was done to make sure the terrorists did not escape. Unfortunately, regular civilian Palestinians were also subjected to the blockade because there is no way of knowing who is a civilian and who are the terrorist.

For many years, the Palestinians have been living in this blockade state. It understandably doesn’t feel fair to those who aren’t terrorists.  I get why people say, “Free Palestine”. It is inhumane to be made a prisoner without committing a crime, however, the Gaza government is run by terrorists (whom I think most of us would agree are the evilest criminals going).

At the same time, there has political unrest in Israel. This has resulted in a divided Israel. While all this was happening…

 

Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing Palestine

On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched “Operation al-Aqsa Flood” against Israel.  Hamas militants broke through the Gaza-Israel barrier and engaged in the barbaric massacre of civilian populations, attacks on Israeli military bases and kidnappings and rapes of civilians and soldiers. The assault prompted an Israeli declaration of war and triggered combat throughout Israel and the Gaza Strip. Many Palestinian civilians have also been caught in the crossfire and died as the result of collateral damage. No human life should ever be sacrificed as collateral damage, not Israeli and not Palestinian.

Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing PalestineNow, that you have the abridged version of the backstory of what is going on, you must realize that this is not a battle between Israelis and Palestinians, this is a terrorist act against humanity by Hamas. Hamas is the perpetrator of this modern-day genocide. Many of the Jewish people in Israel are those who fled Europe during the Holocaust and their descendants. How can we allow this to happen again? Everyone says, “Never again,” but so many people are silent.

I don’t really care where you stand on the Palestinian blockade or the Israeli government, this is not about either of those two topics. This is about terrorists murdering, maiming, raping, butchering, taking hostage, setting on fire and destroying innocent civilian lives in the name of pure hate. This is terrorists beheading newborns and toddlers. The barbarity and brutality with which this attack was enacted was inhumane. The joy Hamas took at the degradation of Jewish lives is pure fucking evil and if you don’t understand that, are you even a human being at all?

Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing PalestineThis is not the time to turn away from the news. This is not the time to pretend that you don’t see or know what is going on. This is the time for action. You may not feel like this affects you because you are not Jewish or you don’t live in Israel. You may feel like this is happening across the world and is of no concern to you but you are wrong.

Remember how you felt on September 11th, 2001. You remember exactly where you were, what you were doing and the complete and utter vulnerability, sadness and grief you felt as you watched those planes crash into the twin towers and then, as you watched the towers fall. It felt like nothing made sense and the world was imploding. You felt helpless and afraid and so fucking sad. Grief is an understatement. September 11th changed every single Americans’ life. It changed life as we know it.

Now, imagine that happening but then Al-Queda attacking us in the streets; murdering your sons and daughters, raping your mothers and sisters, butchering you babies and shooting or decapitating your husbands and fathers. Imaging them going house to house, murdering your family and your neighbors, ripping your children out of your arms and taking them hostage and then setting fire to your home and burning it to the ground. Imagine your beautiful and precious 20-year-old daughter calling you from a festival telling you that she’s hiding in a bomb shelter and that she’s been shot and is dying, only to hear a grenade go off and knowing that you’ll never see her again. Imagine wishing death on your 8-year-old because death is less cruel than the alternatives. Imagine seeing a video circulating of your child being raped and set on fire as crowds jeer and celebrate. What would you do? What would you want the world to do? You’d want justice. You’d want revenge. You’d want to undo all of it and be safe again in your home, but you know that you will never feel completely safe again. Praying that you will live to see one more day.

No matter your beliefs, your politics, or your religion…attacking unassuming and unsuspecting civilians just living their lives is cowardly and unacceptable. We cannot condone this, and we have to let the world know that we are with Israel. This is not the time to stay silent. Your silence speaks volumes. If you are not condemning the brutal acts of these terrorists against Israel you are condoning it. Speak up. Do not be afraid because if you say and do nothing, you are part of the problem.

To all my Jewish friends and loved ones, I am with Israel, and I am with you. You are seen. I feel your pain and I see your grief and we will never let what happened in Germany and Eastern Europe happen again. We cannot and we will not allow terrorists to continue to sacrifice and slaughter innocent lives; Israeli or Palestinian. This is your chance to get on the right side of history. I stand with Israel.

Hamas Barbaric Attack on Israel has Nothing to do with Freeing PalestineThe bottom line is that there are innocent people being slaughtered in Israel and Gaza and the monsters responsible for all the death and destruction are Hamas. The only enemy is Hamas.

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Jennifer garner, Jennifer Garner had the Audacity to Go Jogging Make-Up Free and the Internet is Showing its Misogyny and Ageism

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

This past Saturday, actress and doting, single mom of three, Jennifer Garner, was spotted in her residential neighborhood of Brentwood jogging with a friend. While doing her best and incorporating some cardio exercise into her almost certainly busy day, she didn’t let the rain stop her. 

The actress was caught running with a makeup-free face, hair pulled back in a messy bun, like most moms I know on most days. This is one of my absolute favorite things about Jennifer Garner, her relatability but at the same time absolute bad ass mom. Not everyone sees it that way. In fact, some critics were calling her names like “old plastic granny” and “platypus”, one man, even had the audacity to say, “Another single mother! She looks…60 years old grandma!” Be careful internet, your misogyny and ageism are showing.

Let me interject something, as a 50 year old woman who walks a 5K everyday rain or shine, sweltering heat or cold 40 degree mornings, without makeup, in a baseball cap, we are not doing any of it for you. Not for any of you. In fact, we give no shits about what you think we look like or think. We’re doing it for us. We are doing it for our children. We are doing it for the people we love and who love us. We give no fucks what 50 something Joe Single, who probably lives in his mama’s basement, thinks. Keep your opinions to yourself. Better yet, just shut all the way the fuck up. 

Why does society think it has the right to comment on women’s looks? I don’t know Jennifer Garner’s “why” but I know mine. I am 50 years-old. I am newly peri menopausal and on some days it feels like my body is foreign to me. I physically and mentally look and feel differently than I did when I was younger. I have different priorities and a different perspective. That doesn’t mean I am less than, it means that I need to do what works for my new state of being. I’m diabetic. I have children and a husband who I adore and choose to revolve my life around because that is what I signed up for. I don’t regret it or begrudge it but, on some days, it can be really fucking hard and I’m human. Jennifer Garner is human and as much as we try to ignore hurtful comments, we’re human. Even if your opinion doesn’t matter, it hurts our feelings.

Do you know how hard it is to carve out 30 minutes to an hour a day to exercise? It feels like a luxury. It’s not. It is maintenance to stay alive. Some men spend hours a day at the gym trying to get shredded and no one is talking shit about them spending too much time away from their family or looking like a ball sack while sweating their asses off and making their taking a shit faces. No, they are commended. But let a mom, who already feels guilty for doing anything for herself, alone, even in the name of her health and everyone and their mom’s got to weigh in. Fuck them.

I walk for my health and sanity. I walk for Vitamin D, for my ADHD, for an hour to clear my mind and focus, honestly, on some days, for the health and safety of my family. I want to live to be a really old lady, one who might actually look like a platypus at 103 and you better believe that I will proudly be walking my 5K and looking like a drowned rat because this is for me and the people I love, not some random assholes who have nothing better than to do than criticize a woman doing what they aren’t capable of doing. 

Getting older is hard for everyone. Nobody relishes the thought of feeling old, irrelevant or forgotten. Even though in this case, feeling forgotten would be the kinder option. Absolutely no one is excited about looking older. We all struggle. It takes time to acclimate and get used to our new state of being on a good day, without anyone pointing it out. 

 the Internet is Showing its Misogyny and Ageism

Society encourages us to grow old gracefully. We try. But that same society either treats us like we are invisible or offensive for simply trying to exist in a society not meant for us. Something I’ve realized as I age, I always feel 25 years old and, some days, I feel 18 and, then, there are the days when my knees feel 87. But on every single one of those days, I am worthy of existing. Aging does not mean that you are useless or have nothing left to contribute. We still have feelings and we are conscious of being pushed out and away. Everyone does. No one likes those feelings, not when we’re teenagers and we like them even less as adults. When I think of how our parents and grandparents must have felt, or feel, watching a world and society progress, while intentionally and aggressively telling them to stay put; treating them like they have nothing of worth to offer, it breaks my heart.

All this to say, it would have been absolutely weirder if Jennifer Garner would have been seen out running in the rain with a face full of makeup. Then the critics would have said she is trying too hard to hold on to her youth. See, you can’t win for losing in other people’s eyes so just be yourself, do you boo and be happy.  Fuck the haters. They will never have what she has and not achieve what she’s achieved. 

The only person any of us are accountable to is ourselves and the only people we owe any care to what they think is those people we love, and even then, it really boils down to what we think about ourselves. Love yourselves like your mama loved you. Run in the rain. Dance like no one’s watching. Speak your truth. The only person you need to care about what they think about you is YOU. Don’t let other people, smaller people than you, people who don’t matter tell you how to live your life. In a world of plastic and filters in a curated existence of perfection that doesn’t really exist, strive to be a real, good human. You are beautiful and you matter; you always have and you always will.

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Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

In the simplest terms, regarding higher education, affirmative action (which stemmed from the civil rights movement in the 1960s) is the practice of considering a student’s background characteristics such as race as a factor in deciding whether to admit an applicant. This is typically referring to admissions policies aimed at increasing the number of black, Latino, and other minority students on campus. This is really important to me right now especially because I have a daughter who is beginning college in the fall and I want her to see diversity everywhere.

This is done so that colleges and universities can factor race into the equation when considering who to admit. This is not a free pass for minority students, it is a part of a holistic approach that reviews every aspect of an application, including grades, test scores and extracurricular activities.

The fact of the matter is that even though I believe that all people are created equal, not every one of us were dealt the same hand in life. Our experiences are very different, and race plays a huge part in how our experience plays out. Whether or not English is your first language matters. Ignorant, racist predispositions that society holds tight to are holding minority children back from evolving and succeeding in the United States.

Regardless of how many “woke” people want to say they don’t see color, they are the minority and worse still, in many cases, they only don’t see color when it’s easy or convenient or doesn’t affect them directly. I’m not blind to race or skin color. I was raised to see the differences, embrace those differences, and appreciate the differences. We don’t all have to look and believe the same to deserve human respect. We don’t even have to be friends for me to respect your humanity. You still with me?

The bottom line is that the goal of race-conscious admissions policies is to increase student diversity, in order to enhance the educational experience for all students. It’s a counteraction to white privilege. Schools also employ recruitment programs and scholarship opportunities intended to boost diversity, but the Supreme Court litigation was just focused on admissions. Remember a few years ago when there was a scandal about celebrity parents paying their children’s way into college? Yeah, see, minority children don’t do that. They can’t do that. We have to work for it. We know that education is the great equalizer and to be educated is to have power so we are determined to do our best.

To be completely honest, when I was a teenager applying for colleges, I hated the thought of affirmative action. Not because it wasn’t for me. Nope, I was the exact kind of kid it is meant to help. I was a very smart, capable, involved, first-generation student from a blue-collar family who worked my ass off to get into my top choice schools. I did it. This little freckled Mexican got into Harvard and every other school I applied to.

But I never ticked that fucking “Hispanic” box, not even once. I refused to because I didn’t want all my hard work being diminished and reduced to charity by some ignorant asshole who was jealous that I got accepted and he didn’t.  I didn’t want people saying, “Yeah, but you only got in because you’re Mexican.” No bitches, I got in because I’m really fucking intelligent, and I worked twice as hard as anyone else I knew.  Yeah, I’m humble too.

My pride made me lose out on scholarships that I could have gotten had I just checked that box. But I couldn’t do it. I’m still paying for that mistake, literally. I refused to let anyone think I needed their charity. I was just as good as any middle-class Caucasian student only my skin wasn’t alabaster, we lived pretty close to the poverty line and my dad’s first language wasn’t English. But how could I, at 17-years-old, accept that as my destiny? I couldn’t.

You can only live for so long hearing that “Mexicans are coming over here stealing all of our jobs, living on welfare and not paying taxes.” In my house, none of that shit was true. We were taught to work hard for what we wanted. In fact, if I’m being completely honest, that is pretty much across the board for us Latinos, at least for every Latino I know.

We are not taught to take handouts. In real talk, most of us would rather starve than take handouts. We don’t take your jobs. We take the jobs we earn and deserve, and, in some cases, we even take the jobs that most won’t take because we’re taught from birth that family is everything and hard work is honorable.  So, with no shame at all, we put our heads down and do the hard, back breaking work to feed our families because that is the point of everything.

When I heard that the Supreme court overturned affirmative action, I was conflicted. But, I wasn’t surprised at all. After the events of recent years and the blatant racism that plagues this nation why would I be shocked that SCOTUS did this not so covert microaggression against minorities? The more I thought about it, the sadder I got because what a boring and unseasoned life we would live with no diversity?

Our Gen Z and Alpha children, they truly don’t give a shit about color. They see it and they respect it, and they move the fuck along. My daughters don’t discriminate against anyone because of the color of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation, their pronouns or birth gender. My children don’t care who you love or how you celebrate that love. My girls, they judge you on your character and even then, they let it go. They believe in second chances and know that people are fallible. They choose joy and love over hatred. They make better choices than the generations that came before them and they move along. If you try to challenge their beliefs, they’ll hear you out but if you’re wrong, they will stand up for what is right and what is fair. All this to say, I hope these children stay this way and change the world.

I think affirmative action still needs to be in place because minority students are still getting passed over and shut out of colleges and universities across the country. Look, my children have had the good fortune to go to the best private schools and have every privilege there is to help them achieve their dreams of university and a career. They have choices. My girls also have upper middle-class parents who paved their way. They want for nothing. They have resources, 3 meals a day, a refrigerator full of food, air and heat. Comfortable beds and don’t have to worry about things like translating for their parents or figuring out where they’re going to get money for school lunches or clothes. They have a stay-at-home mom with 3 Master’s Degrees who makes her own rules and chooses her collaborations.  They have the life they have because their father and I worked tirelessly to give them that life because someone gave us a chance to work for our dreams.

But that is not what my childhood was like. I did have to worry about where I was going to get money for lunches, books, clothes and field trips. When I was growing up, there were six children raised on a factory worker’s salary and a stay-at-home mom’s love. When I went away to college, no one helped me. I had to pay my own way. As a 17-year-old, had to figure it all out. I had no support system, and it was very difficult for me. But I still made it. I went hungry sometimes and sometimes the cultural differences between inside my home and outside made me feel like I was from a different planet. In retrospect, I realize that I had to work twice as hard because my situation was different from the middle-class Caucasian kids that I went to school with, which is not their fault, but it wasn’t mine either. Being different shouldn’t be a character flaw.  

Being a minority in the United States means being born with stigma and shame because the majority will make you feel like you are less than, no matter what you do. Affirmative action was an attempt to level the playing field. It wasn’t perfect but it was something and some kind of effort is better than none; if only to make us feel like we are seen, and someone cares enough to hold their hand out to help us up. It’s not a handout but a hand up. We’re not about stepping on the majorities back to get to the top. It’s about us all starting from the same point and being afforded the same opportunities to compete for opportunities, despite the differences in our skin color. That’s what affirmative action is about.

There was one weird exception to the conservative Supreme Court majority’s decision ending race-based affirmative action in higher education on Thursday: military academies. Apparently, using race as a factor in admissions to military academies can “further compelling interests,” Chief Justice John Roberts wrote.

The distinction suggests that there could be value in using race to diversify some American institutions i.e., the U.S. military’s officer corps but Roberts’ overall decision says loud and clear that it would be unconstitutional to do so at public and private colleges and universities.

I feel that the U.S. government is sending the message that they don’t mind our minority children dying in service to their country in the name of equality and justice that they can’t even fully receive themselves. By the same token, they can’t be afforded that same luxury at the collegiate level. This sends the message to minority parents that the U.S. government finds our children to be disposable and unworthy of educating. I call bull shit. Don’t tell our children they don’t deserve your help to better their situation while simultaneously telling them that they are perfectly okay to die for the same country, that refused to care whether they lived in poverty and ignorance.

According to Huff Post, Liberal Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote in her dissent, “The Court has come to rest on the bottom-line conclusion that racial diversity in higher education is only worth potentially preserving insofar as it might be needed to prepare Black Americans and other underrepresented minorities for success in the bunker, not the boardroom.”  What the fuck America? What the actual fuck?

Affirmative action is about equality, that is it. No one is trying to out do the majority, we just need our kids to get a fair shot at achieving the same things in life as everyone else. What are your thoughts? Do you think affirmative action in schools is a good thing? Or is there something more progressive or maybe even more effective for leveling out the collegiate playing field for all students?

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night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

OMG, I’m having all the feels. It’s the night before graduation and suddenly, I’m freaking the fuck out. How did it all go so fast. It feels like just yesterday I was reading that damn book The Night before Kindergarten. Where did the time go?

Am I really supposed to start letting her go? Already? I can’t. No, I won’t. I refuse.

Okay, I will but I don’t want to. I love this kid more than everything else in the world. Like take everything else but let me keep these girls. Oh, shit! Is this grief? Am I bargaining?

Wait. What? Who am I? Where am I? I don’t think I can do this. It hurts too much.

Wait? Is this labor? Am I in fucking labor? I know I can’t stop it. But I want off this runaway train. Okay, just slow down. Tomorrow.is.graduation.

TOMORROW.IS.GRADUATION!!!!!

This is not a fucking drill. My baby is graduating from high school and I.AM.NOT.OKAY! I won’t even pretend to be.

I’m freaking out. It’s like the universe is trying to steal my baby and human traffic her.

NO. Stop. I fucking refuse.

Fuck you, time. You cruel, unrelenting bitch.

Not my baby. Not today, Satan.

Oh God. I have to let her go. I have no choice. She is mine but she is her own. I raised her for this very moment.

Raised her to be strong, fierce, and independent.

I raised her to be confident and believe she can do all the things.

Yes, I raised her for the graduation of life from being my child to her own person.

I raised her to leave me.

Now, I have to let her.

Oh, but I don’t want to.

Yes, I am fully aware that I sound ridiculous and like a petulant child but I give no fucks. I don’t want to let her go. 

It all started with that damn kindergarten.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

It went too fast.

I wasn’t counting the years because I was fully immersed in the moments.

love letter to my teen daughter, Bella, teen birthday

From the moment you were born, you filled me with so much love that I laughed and I cried simultaneously. I’d never experienced loving anyone as much as I did you in that moment.

Mother, mother's day,Johnsons and johnsons

I’ve spent the last 18-years of my life putting out fires and kissing booboos.

I was swaying and rocking. Meanwhile, holding tiny hands and filling my lap, saying I love you to the moon and back as many times a day as I could. I wanted to make sure it stuck.

Now, it’s the night before graduation and I’m not ready.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

On other days, I was too exhausted to think and just tried to survive the day.  But I was happy. For 18 years, even when I’ve been sad, exhausted or overwhelmed, my heart has been full because of you and your sister. 

love letter to my teen daughter, Bella, teen birthday

When the world made no sense, you were my why. When life was too hard, you were my reason. You are my hope for the future. Your graduation just puts a fine point on it all.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

I spent years holding you as you drifted off to sleep to the sound of my voice reading Mrs. McNosh does the Wash over and over again in silly voices. I’ve probably read it a million times, however, I’d read it a million more. I was always happy to do it just to hear your sweet, tiny giggle.

love letter to my teen daughter, Bella, teen birthday

I didn’t see the years for the moments.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

Years spent driving you to ballet, gymnastics, or cheer but worth it to look in the rearview mirror and see you and your sister smiling. It was worth to see the look on your face when performed or got fitted for your first pointe shoes. It was worth it to see your months of practice pay off when you danced the Nutcracker.

raising girls, to the moon and back, ballet, nutcracker

I sat for hours in pick up lines and bleachers; watching you cheer, watching you sing, watching you play the violin, watching you dance and play soccer.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

I.was.watching.you.

Always in awe and always with my chest puffed out and my heart overflowing with more love and pride than one body can contain. I wish that you could see you through my eyes.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

I was watching you become you and I didn’t even know it.

Yes, I cried a lot. I cried and laughed when you were born because I couldn’t believe that I created such a perfect, tiny human.

I’ve cried from exhaustion when you wouldn’t sleep on those first nights home and kept cluster feeding.

I cried from guilt (more times than I can count) the day the doctor pricked your 3-day old foot to draw blood because you were jaundiced. I blamed myself.

I’ve wept so many tears of pride because of you. You are amazing and I am in awe of everything you do. I am obsessed with you and I’m not ashamed to say it.

I can’t wait to see what you do with this big, beautiful life you have ahead of you.

I’ve cried so many tears that you will never know about for so many reasons throughout your life and every single one of those tears was because I love you so damn deeply. Deeper than I knew was even possible.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

You are the best thing I ever did, watching you grow up has been my biggest privilege and letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I know you’re not running away tomorrow.However, I know, technically, nothing will change except that you will walk across the stage in your cap and gown and get your diploma. But, I know.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

Despite my outward excitement, I know what happens next.

Tomorrow is the milestone that marks the beginning of the end of who you were and the start of who you will become.

I know tomorrow’s graduation marks the next phase of your life.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

Tomorrow, I will be clapping louder and cheering harder than anyone else for you, just like always. I won’t be able to contain my pride.

But I’ll also probably be laughing and crying at the same time, just like I did the moment they laid you on my chest at 4:51 P.M. on the day that you were born.  The day I became a mom.

Don’t mind me, I’m just loving you harder as I begin to let you go. I’ll be missing you before you ever leave because…

I.KNOW.WHAT.COMES.NEXT.

It will be hard for me. It’ll probably be excruciating. You know that letting go is not my forte.

But you also know that I am so fucking proud of you. So proud of who you have always been. Proud of who you are today, who you will be tomorrow, and who you are becoming. I always will be.

Even though this is the time when I have to let you go a little, I will always be right here where you left me. I’ll always be your mom, your biggest fan and your best friend.

Love you to the moon and back, forever and ever.

Congratulations, baby girl. You’re altogether more amazing than I could’ve ever imagined. Certainly, cooler than I ever was. You’ve got this and I’ve got you.

night before graduation, senior year, Bella, high school graduation

Congratulations, Izabella and all of the class of 2023.

Hugs to all the class of 2023 mamas. I know it fucking hurts especially, since we raised them for this moment. You did great mamas. We’ve got this.

Now, where’s my box of Kleenex and waterproof mascara?

How are you surviving the night before graduation?

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Heather Armstrong, Dooce, died of suicide

Estimated reading time: 10 minutes

It’s been a fucking horrible week. Let me be really, real it’s been a really fucking awful month and we’re only 10 days in. I’m actually terrified of what the other 21 days in this month might bring. Heartbreak and devastation, there’s been too much. In just 5 days, I’ve experienced the heartbreaking loss of my Lola and shocking death of suicide of friend and colleague, Heather Armstrong .

Real talk, I had to take an edible just to chill myself out enough to write this post. Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve had verbal constipation. So many thoughts and feelings swirling around in my head in a fury. I just couldn’t get them out onto the screen. This is my process and if I can’t write, I might actually implode from all the unprocessed, “stuck in my head” feelings that are hitting my heart so hard right now. So, fuck it, life is unbearably short and I’m just going to bleed all over this damn keyboard. Consequences be damned.

Today, after a particularly horrible, country song lyric sort of week, I heard the news that my friend and the woman who inspired me to speak my own truth into the world, Heather Armstrong (Dooce) was no longer on this earth. She died of suicide. I am absolutely fucking heartbroken. A world without her in it to shine a light on all the ugly and beautiful sides of life seems bleak. This may actually be the fucking winter of my discontent.

I spent my daughters’ early years in motherhood solitude (like prison but on an island and it’s just you and a couple little natives who don’t speak the language), searching for “mom friends” and longing for community. Lonely and isolated was an understatement and there was nothing I yearned more for than connection, understanding and commiseration. I found that community amongst my people; fellow moms, dads and other “mommy bloggers” (I hate that fucking term) and Heather. We’re content creators (who happen to have kids) and we’re the OG founding mothers of today’s content creators and influencers.

I was stunned at the news yesterday. Heather Armstrong, aka Dooce to the online world, is no longer in this world. She was more than the original “mommy blogger” or the “Queen Mommy Blogger”. She was a woman, a mom, a lover, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a foulmouthed hooligan, free spirit whose vulnerable and authentic words made the world a better place for a lot of us. Heather was a pioneer and legend in the mom blogging field. She crawled so we could run. She paved the way for all modern day influencers. For me, the world is a less beautiful place without her in it. There is a deep void where she is supposed to be in the world. I hate the thought of the last thing the world will know about her is she died of suicide.

Heather Armstrong, Dooce

She was more than just a click bait headline. Heather’s words inspired me to push through my fear and share my most vulnerable, irreverent and often scary truth. When I first started blogging, not knowing anything about the industry and just knowing that words were my way of processing life, I reached out to Heather. Yep, I was so green that I fucking cold called (via email) the literal Queen of Mommy Blogging and asked for guidance. I had no idea about the hierarchy of the blogging world, I was brand new to the blogosphere. I jumped in with both feet and no idea of what I was doing. She responded.

That’s the type of person she was. She was fierce and feisty and fucking fabulous. Not shying away from what might have been a very inconvenient 10 minutes out of her crazy busy day, she read my email and gave me guidance. She was gracious, appreciative and generous. Heather didn’t hoard her secret to success. She knew there was no other Dooce and there was room for all of us on the internet. She offered thoughtful, useful advice instead of nuanced suggestions or condescending platitudes, as some prefer to do.

The first thing she did was to thank me for taking the time to reach out to her. Thanking me for my support, as a fan, because it allowed her to do what she loved the most… write and share her life.

Heather Armstrong, Dooce

Her advice shaped the writer I would become and the community I would build. She warned me that growing a following and community was hard work. She encouraged me to keep writing and keep working. Then she told me something that was invaluable and is the reason I have the connections I do in the blogging world… “Get involved in a community of people who you want to read your blog.”

So, from there on, I wrote my truth, in my voice for the people I WANTED to read my blog…moms like me. Moms like Heather. The moms who are struggling daily, appreciating the small moments, sometimes think their kids are full on assholes but ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS love them and appreciate the burden and the bliss of motherhood while not taking any of it too seriously. At the same time, moms who were as serious as a fucking heart attack because, after all, this is the world we are leaving to our daughters and sons.

She wished me luck with much love and that was the beginning of over a decade of friendship. I loved her from that moment. I admired her for her words on the screen. But the words in my emails and messages, those were the words that really touched my heart. The conversations about everything and nothing, the wellness check ins, the commiseration and compassionate understanding.

Heather Armstrong, Dooce

I can’t presume to know all the thoughts that led her to that dark place on May 9th or positioned her to die by suicide. But, I’ve been there myself on many occasions. I know that depression is a lying demon that gets in your head. Cruelly, it beats you down from the inside out. It is torturous and painful. Mental illness, the self-medicating addiction just to feel normal (or not feel at all) can be all consuming.

Sometimes it feels like the only way out is by death. Going through it is just too painful an option. How much pain is an individual going through that death by suicide feels like the the only option? That’s not an easy decision, nor does anyone make it lightly. Heather was a warrior and fought through the pain publicly and privately for over 2 decades. She was a prolific mental health advocate. With her candor, she helped make the world a more livable place for those of us who struggle with the darkness.

I don’t know about other people’s mental illnesses but believe me, I’ve done the research and lived with mine for most of my existence. None of us is perfect and we’re all just trying to survive this life.  We make mistakes and faux pas when we are trying to get our mind right side up. At my worst, I was probably unbearable to others. Heather made it okay for me to be vulnerable and brave enough to share my own struggles with mental illness. Her bravery helped other women know they are not alone in their fight.

During my teens, I was suicidal for all of my high school tenure. I’ve had body dysmorphia since I was 12-years-old, followed by acute eating disorders that actually almost killed me from age 17-25. In college, my depression evolved from depths of hell suicidal ideation to full-on mania. The kind that makes you reckless, impulsive, dangerous, delusional and narcissistic. The kind of mania thats so bad, you become so angry and irritable that you circle right back to suicidal. You’re on a runaway train and you cannot get off. The train is speeding towards a mountain and the brakes don’t work. The gas pedal is stuck to the floor. All you can do is hold on and brace for impact, hoping you die so the pain will stop. That’s where I spent a big chunk of my life.

When the proverbial train didn’t crash into the mountain, I was left stuck in the hell that was my existence. I turned to alcohol and started to self-medicate because I couldn’t stop what my brain chemistry was doing to me. I didn’t even recognize the person I was becoming. The guilt of the reckless behavior, the shame of things I said and did while manic, the narcissism and self-absorption that everyone around me had to endure was too much to live with. From day to day, I had a plan to stop the pain but I just couldn’t do it. Ironically, my mental illness, which created my need to be perfect, please my parents and not disappoint anyone is what kept me fighting. Its why I’m here now. That and a whole lot of Catholic guilt.

Eventually, I got help. But for a long time, I didn’t even know what was wrong with me. I assumed I was just broken; undeserving of happiness. But once I was diagnosed, everything became clear and with the help of my team of doctors and specialist, we made a plan to live. It’s not easy. It’s a lot of hard work. It hurts. You have to face things about yourself that maybe you don’t want to accept but accepting it is the only way to get through it. Depression is a liar. The thing no one tells you is that it’s a fight that you will be fighting for the rest of your life. There is no fucking cure. Just medicine and therapy to make it bearable.

Heather Armstrong, Dooce

All this to say, Heather was more than just the “Queen Mommy Blogger” to me. She was a friend, a confidant, an inspiration and a mentor. Loved and beloved. She shone the light on the ugly and beautiful of life without hesitation and with complete vulnerability. Heather was a talented writer and wordsmith. She was kind, caring, compassionate, loving, thoughtful, hilarious. Off-the-wall and irreverent and we loved her for every single bit of it.

She lived for her Leta and Marlo. Loved Pete. Her time was too brief but it was impactful on the world. She used her platform to give light to important causes, sometimes even to her own detriment. She made a difference. Her words were a big part of her legacy. I’m heartbroken that I’ll never get to read another new post or message from her again. Still, I can take comfort that for a little while I was in her orbit.

I will forever miss you, my friend. You were so much more than just a mommy blogger. I pray that you are free of the pain of this world and you are finally at peace.

Heather Armstrong, Dooce

To all of my OG blogger friends and community ( you know who you are), I love you and I’m here for you. I always have been and I always will be.

If you have a favorite memory of Heather, please share below in the comments.

If you are struggling with mental illness and/or suicidal ideation, don’t do it alone. You are not alone. You are a warrior and there are people to help. Even when the pain feels unbearable, you are worthy of living and being loved. Don’t give up.

988 Suicide and Crisis Hotline

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