The Month of October

I don’t really know the exact words to say that could best explain how I feel about this topic. I have taken years to evaluate how I feel; and I think, as a woman, we just need to talk about this. I have yet to see this type of dialogue openly discussed. This type of topic is very, very taboo. But again, as a woman, I feel strongly we should visit this specific topic, from varying viewpoints.

Miscarriage. 1 in 4 women will experience this at least once in their life time.

For some, they have prayed for years for that baby and finally conceive. Some go through rounds of fertility treatments despite their infertile diagnosis, and by the grace of science finally conceive. By luck, the universe granted a child, so why was it taken away from them? Many search for the answers as to why they had a miscarriage, desperate and frantic to understand.

But what about the women who had a miscarriage, and never experienced the ‘expected’ emotions that come with a miscarriage? What about the women that didn’t feel that inner turmoil, sadness, depression, anxiety, PTSD, guilt, confusion, anger? Sure, they went through the motions, pain, and memories but ultimately they were not upset… what about those women?

I was one of those women.

In 2016, I had a miscarriage. At that time, I was actually trying to conceive but once I did, the pregnancy was not viable. I was not far along; and sometimes I say that to justify my lack of an emotional response, to normalize my reaction to the miscarriage. Over time, it became apparent my ex-husband and I could not conceive. For those of you that have followed my story with my ex-husband, your sentiments may echo those of others who have told me, “it must not have been meant to be” or “could you imagine what your situation would have been like if you did have a child with him?”

The simple answer was no. Because in fact, I did not have a baby.

Every year in October, I see many women share their personal, heart-breaking stories of infant loss.

I shed tears of empathy and sympathy for them and their family. I read those words of want and desire and their prayers finally being answered just for them to be taken away. I know my miscarriage is nothing less or more, but I think it is important to talk about the other side of the dice of life. I want to have children. I want to start a family. I wonder if I can or if my next one will be successful. I have those similar thoughts as other women.

However, I still think back to what went through my head that day. Ultimately, that day I was truly not upset or heartbroken that I miscarried. Maybe my gut knew it wasn’t meant to be… maybe my friends were right, that was the best outcome.

As a person who has studied sociology and has done extensive research on why people react and respond the way they do in uncomfortable situations, I can understand mine and other people’s feelings on miscarriage. As a human, we all process grief differently and that was the first time I had to swallow that hard pill. I grieved later, years in fact, down the road. I grieved that it was not the right time and it makes me sad that the life I imagined then did not play out like I thought it would. But that’s okay — this is the hard part. The life I live now is ideal and positive; but those intrusive thoughts still are planted in my brain.

I took years to type this up, thinking I was alone and there was something wrong with me.

I have so much love to give, why do I feel this way? But there isn’t anything wrong with me. It was a part of my journey, may it be ugly, it still happened, and I am justified to feel the way I do.

To wrap this up, I really just wanted to get it out in the open so if any other women have gone through this: know you are not alone and you are not a bad person. Just because you didn’t have the expected reaction to your miscarriage, it does not mean you wouldn’t have enjoyed your life with that baby. It does not mean you would not be happy or successful or get out of that toxic relationship.

I truly hope this helps others, if anything at least sheds light on the elephant in the room.

If you or someone you know is in immediate danger due to depression, contact 911. If you or someone you know is in need of support, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255); En Español 1-888-628-9454 or text “HELLO” to 741741 the Crisis Text Line.

Koreena BirdwellLeave a comment

A Podcast to Cure Your Seasonal Depression

It’s officially that dreaded time of year when we’re not only drained but potentially also experiencing SADness (Seasonal Affective Disorder). While the leaves turning from a lush green to a burning red can bring a level of satisfaction – who doesn’t love walking on those extra crunchy leaves? – this time of year can be equally difficult. Between cold weather, waning daylight and the impending holidays, we need something to help lighten the load. 

Candidly, I’ve always tried to like podcasts, but it wasn’t until I found this one that it truly clicked.

Meet Toni and Ryan. 

I first found the loud laughing Australian duo thanks to the handy Instagram algorithm and immediately fell in love with their back and forth style. Their quick wit and raunchy humor helps to add a warm glow to these chilly autumn days. 

Ever hear about the first date with a morgue attendant who forgot to take the body out of the back before picking you up? What about an endless supply of horrendous, cringe-worthy pick-up lines? If you ever just want to sit back and listen to your newest friends tell stories, this is the podcast for you. 
Not to mention, they started a challenge where they would eat one chicken nugget for every patreon subscriber in the month of October, thinking foolishly that they’d get maybe 50. 721 subscribers later, they were able to make a sizable donation to charity.

Do you have a fave podcast that instantly boosts your mood? Share with us in the comments below!

Bailey NanceLeave a comment

The Great Disappearing Act

TW // suicidal ideation, suicide, death, pills

What happens when someone disappears without a trace; what happens when they decide to reappear?

How are you expected to react; how are you supposed to feel? Are you allowed to even be upset? I asked these same questions of myself every day for two weeks. I also spent a lot of time emotionally tearing myself apart.

I had an amazing partner who took care of me during a very busy time and lacked personal space; he cooked and cleaned for me, and sucked it up when my dog burrowed between us in bed. He even almost had me consider having a child. Flash forward to when I tried to break up with my partner the first time, all of my friends knew it was coming. But when I decided to try the relationship again, I didn’t tell all of my friends in fear that they would shame me or ask me why the hell did I do that again. And of course, it was pretty good for a little bit, but I was starting to catch on that something was off [with him].

A few months ago, my partner had went to the Dominican Republic to follow protocol for his work visa. I hadn’t heard from him for two days and I grew extremely concerned. It wasn’t until the following Tuesday or Wednesday that he finally admitted he was assaulted by a group of men and had his money/passport stolen (but still had his phone).

Why did it take him so long to tell me?

I had to fight tooth and nail to find out before he told me what had happened. It was exhausting, but I got the answers I needed & told him to please never hide safety things like this from me; he’s too important for that.

This wasn’t the first time someone had disappeared on me; not even two months earlier, I was dating someone and they also seemed to have disappeared into thin air. So albeit I’m a strong, independent woman, I still have triggers such as that one that will drive me into a dark place.

Although I didn’t want to believe that it would happen again, it would; a few more times in fact.

The Fourth of July is always a joyous weekend right? Everyone getting shitfaced with their pseudo patriotism and all – everyone including my partner. He and his co-workers partied the entire 3-day weekend, and I hadn’t heard one peep from him at all. Was I mad? Yes, but only because I hadn’t heard from him – I truly wanted him to enjoy his holiday weekend.

It was all sorry’s and “I promise it won’t happen again, I just wasn’t paying attention, then I lost my phone.” And again, I took the bait and went with it. Then it came back up another weekend, I hadn’t heard from him for almost another 3 days. I was mentally unable to handle much more, so I sent, “I cannot do this anymore, I don’t feel loved and I don’t feel cared about.” It was a long weekend of fighting, drinking, and coming back together over tears and FaceTime. However, I should’ve REALLY paid attention to the signs & listened to my instincts at that point. But, the hopeless lover and romantic that I am, I couldn’t give up.

Once again, things seemed to steady and he returned to his home country to fulfill the work visa requirements once again. He was living 6 hours into the future, and it wasn’t the first time we dealt with this. It made things difficult in terms of communication, but damn it, we tried. We texted and FaceTimed when we were awake at the same time, and I’d watch him cook dinner during my lunch time. It felt like he was back in my kitchen while I was working away. There’s something comforting about hearing the sound of a knife hitting a cutting board and onions frying in the pan.

Everything was okay there for the first week and a half; then it became much more inconsistent.

It started with a day where he didn’t text at all, which is fine, you’re doing the things because you just got home. And he would sleep such long days, his sleep was all messed up (maybe jet lag, but he was supposed to be good by now), and I really should’ve known then what was going on. Then he began to read my messages but wouldn’t respond; at first it was just two days, then three… then four. Then it went a whole week and the next, still nothing of mine had been read. It would’ve been exactly two weeks I hadn’t heard from him. However, as things go, he miraculously turned up.

So back to the questions – how am I supposed to feel? Am I allowed to even be upset?

It was a casual moment, I had been texting friends – specifically, texting with one who had been talking about a cute girl she’s talking to, with another discussing how my apartment is trash, and sending a third friend a meme about ADHD. Then I felt my phone buzz and I looked to the top of the screen, there his name was beside the green icon. As he was sending more messages, I felt my throat crawling down my chest and into my stomach.

To put it bluntly, within his two week hiatus, I had to come to terms with the fact that he has either: died, went off on a binge, or decided that I wasn’t worth contacting anymore. But to my surprise, it was only one of them, more like almost one of them…

As a girlfriend, you hope to be the person that your partner goes to when they’re feeling downtrodden or depressed. But sometimes, that same person that you love and trust may not feel safe enough to express that.

I knew he had been extremely tired the past few months, but despite the hard physical labor, him sleeping in so much when he got back to his home country, that wasn’t normal. Him barely texting me was odd; and not to mention he had confessed to me he had been feeling really sad one night, but he said this when I was barely awake. Yet, when I asked about it the next day, he only read my message and never responded.

Today, I found out that cause of his two week disappearance: he tried to take his own life. He took too many stress relief pills and overdosed, but someone luckily found him.

And although I know this is not my fault, knowing that night could’ve been our last conversation we ever had was absolutely soul-crushing to learn. I almost lost someone and would have never even known that he was gone. Losing someone who I told a few times that I, myself, had been feeling dark like that, would have ended me. So I have to ask as well, do I have the right to be angry? To be honest, I don’t even know how I am supposed to feel. I don’t get to be angry that he disappeared, I don’t get to be angry that I sat for two weeks questioning who I was and what I did. I don’t get to be upset that I was given less than an hour to digest two weeks of pain and confusion.

Now, I want to come back around and briefly talk about men’s mental health, specifically suicide awareness.

The 2019 statistics below come from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention website and were collected by the CDC:

  • 47,511 Americans died by suicide
  • There were an estimated 1.38M suicide attempts
  • Men died by suicide 3.63x as often as women

For the friends and family members who are concerned for their loved ones, reach out with something more than “I am here for you, I will listen to you.” Try something more like, “What can I do for you?… What can I provide for you?… I’m dropping off some snacks/food/movies/games that I remembered that you love at your door. I respect your space, but I am here to invite you out to wxyz thing if you would like to join me…”

And lastly, I want to say this: if you are in pain, if you’re feeling alone, if you feel like you have no other options – please remember, you are not alone, you are loved and worthy of love, you are wanted, you are seen, and you matter.

Suicide Hotlines:

Teddi LynnLeave a comment

BABs of TV Shows: Netflix Edition

I don’t know about you, but I spend an almost concerning amount of time streaming shows on Netflix. Maybe it’s because I’m still working remotely part of the week, maybe it’s just ease of access. I’ve found myself watching a lot of shows that I normally wouldn’t (in part because I was running out of things to watch, if we’re being honest). What’s a BAB, you might ask? BAB stands for a Bad Ass Bitch – a lady who doesn’t need anyone but herself (and maybe a group of good friends) to get through life.

Here’s my list of the Bad Ass Bitches of TV Shows: Netflix Edition. 

Insatiable (2019)

Mildly unhinged Patty takes the pageant world by storm after losing a tremendous amount of weight following a particularly bad night of bullying. Played by Debby Ryan, Patty switches from a sympathetic, sheltered character to a bloodthirsty maniac and I, for one, couldn’t love it more. I actually refused to watch this show for quite some time after being a little less than thrilled after the trailers, but once I started – it was hard to stop. 

GLOW (2019)

You can’t talk about BABs without mentioning the gloriousness that was Glow. Regrettably not renewed for a fourth season, this show is set in the 1980’s at the height of the wrestling phenomena and follows a group of women trying to break into the wrestling world. Alison Brie, a personal favorite actress of mine, is unstoppable in this emotional, quirky sitcom. You’ll be laughing and crying from the same episode. I was admittedly late to the party on this show as well. 

Sex Education (2021)

Following the life of Otis, the son of sex therapists, you’re introduced to the modern world of teenage love and hormones. While Otis and Maeve are the obvious front runners, secondary character Aimee, played by Aimee Lou Woods, is an absolute revelation. She starts out as the ditzy popular friend but becomes one of the most lovable and badass characters in the entire show. Not to mention her eloquent way of describing the sacrifices she’s made while baking will surely bring anyone to tears. 

Anything with Victoria Pedretti

Let’s face it, you’ve seen her by now either from The Haunting of Hill House, Bly Manor or You and Pedretti is an absolute force. She is hands down one of the best actors to come out of this decade; capable of such emotional control that she can be a happy housewife and in an instant become a sadistic killer or even a monster.

Let’s bow down to the queen of Netflix BABs.

What BAB of Netflix would you add to the list?

Bailey NanceLeave a comment

Self-Actualization after Trauma Induced Codependency: Recovering from Mental and Emotional Abuse

The journey to rediscover yourself after a series of abusive and manipulative relationships is a rocky one. For years after my personal experiences, I was left with a lingering feeling of not being good enough. I had lost my sense of personal identity. It takes quite a bit of time to retrain your brain to think positively about yourself without approval from other people and develop personal boundaries. But what are the things that lead people to enter into unhealthy relationships?

A lot of the time it has to do with your surroundings as you grew up, and what behaviors and ideas pass as acceptable in the society around you.

Growing up in a small town full of people with sexist attitudes about gender roles can instill a sense of worthlessness in a person if they don’t fulfill a specific role. I have met a lot of women who have grown up in small towns in Indiana who were raised to believe that their worth stemmed from being in a relationship and getting married by a specific time, and if that’s what you grow up being exposed to, that mentality becomes engrained in the back of your mind. Some people don’t even realize that they are training you to think that way about yourself and end up doing or saying things subconsciously that further instill this antiquated mentality into your own subconscious. For example, during the graduation ceremony for my eighth grade class, the speech made about the valedictorian (a male) included talk of how hard he worked and how smart he was whereas the speech made about the salutatorian (me, a female) merely discussed how nice I was. Not being recognized for an academic achievement from a very young age and instead being reduced to a personality trait had a lasting affect on the ways I thought about myself, and it wasn’t until years later that I truly realized how deeply it had impacted my self-esteem.

Another issue that I and many other people have faced is bullying.

This behavior is all too common in both grade school and high school, and it can further impact the self-esteem of the people who face it. While some people may handle being bullied better than others, it can still lead to a feeling of not belonging or being an outsider even when there are friends around. Sometimes the feeling of not fitting in can lead people to seek love and acceptance from the wrong people who end up manipulating them and taking advantage of their need for acceptance and belonging. Enter the narcissists.

My sophomore year of high school was when I unknowingly entered into my first emotionally abusive relationship.

At first, everything seemed new and exciting, but little did I know that I was in for a whirlwind of pain that would start a vicious cycle. The relationship lasted for six months through a move to a new town and into my junior year of high school. After a while, he had begun to use my moving away as an excuse to ignore me and sneak around, but by that point I was too emotionally invested because he had given me his grandmother’s ring. When the relationship finally ended, I was a wreck and began looking for another relationship to fill the hole that had been created which lead to yet another abusive relationship that was back and forth for five years. This one, and a six month interim relationship in one of the off periods, were both emotionally abusive as well as physically abusive.

To keep the stories straight, I will refer to them as B and D, respectively.

Again, the relationship with B started off wonderfully with a lot of love bombing, but then things started to change, and I found myself having to beg for the smallest amounts of affection. He would seemingly get bored and then regain interest with a cyclical nature and I got sick of it for a while and broke it off. A few weeks later D had come into the picture, and I fell for it yet again. Things with D happened fast, there was a proposal, and then things went downhill and according to him, it was all my fault. I had been kicked with steel toed boots, and after deciding to exercise a boundary and leave to go home, I was pinned against the door and he spat in my face. A few days later, I broke up with him. He told me he hated me, and a few hours later, he called me drunk and high on pills after crashing his car and proceeded to yell at me and tell me it was all my fault and my mom ended up going to find him and take him to the hospital.

So what did I do?

Ran straight back to B and got right back into the cycle, because by that point I had developed Stockholm syndrome and couldn’t see my own worth because these people I had trusted to hold my heart had molded me into their own personal punching bag.

By this point I had stopped doing the things I would normally love to do, but I moved yet again to continue my college education at IU, and after a few months B and I moved into an apartment together in Bloomington. Things seemed to actually be getting better, but it was too good to be true. After living together for a little over a year, the arguments started up again and he quit his job leaving me to carry the bills on my own. B never attempted to get another job while he was living with me, and eventually after another heated argument that ended with me getting thrown into a bookshelf and the cops being called, he moved out. I was very lucky that my parents were able to be there when he came to get his things, because I’m not sure what would have happened had they not been there.

Afterwards, I fell into another relationship with someone who had been a good friend for years, and while it wasn’t nearly as bad as the previous two, there were still some mild forms of manipulation there. However, by this time I had started going to therapy and was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder stemming from relationship abuse and I slowly began to realize that I was getting attached to people so easily because my needs weren’t being met.

It was at this point I realized that having my needs met needed to begin with me.

I needed to learn to put myself first and start maintaining my personal boundaries in relationships, and so I did. I broke off that relationship because he and I were much better as friends than as partners. I started practicing mindfulness, allocating more time to my school work, got my grades up and began to realize that I could do things on my own regardless of whether or not there was someone there beside me to share my successes. Because that’s the thing: they were mine, and I was proud of myself. It took a long time to work myself out of the learned codependent tendencies and to realize that people’s behaviors and thoughts towards me were more of a reflection of how they felt and thought about themselves than actually about me at all.

So I stopped looking for love and began showing myself the love that I had been looking for in other people.

Sometimes as we’re growing up, we don’t truly realize how harmful certain surroundings and circumstances can be until we’re put in a position where we have to face it head on because things aren’t getting better. It’s good to be introspective and mindful about how things have impacted us so that we can make the changes that are necessary for our own personal growth, because at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Once you regain a sense of personal identity outside of other people and recognize your self-worth, you begin to see things in different and more beautiful ways and are able to identify what no longer suits you. Personally, the most beautiful part of coming back into myself is being able to share my story in hopes of helping others who may be struggling with similar issues. There is always a way out of the cycle to move forward.

Gemma Gould-Dougherty1 Comment

An Ode to My A.D.D. Brain

I’ve been meaning to write this article for awhile now…but somehow I kept forgetting. This is one example of how my Attention Deficit Disorder manifests in my daily life.

I never knew that I had A.D.D. growing up. I also never really understood what A.D.D. was, though.

One day, I went to a psychiatrist to see if I could get something for crippling anxiety and debilitating depression. I thought I’d leave with a script for a higher dose of Lexapro and maybe some Xanax, but lo and behold, I was hopping on a bus with some Vyvanse coupons and a sense of utter bewilderment. “I always did really well in school,” I thought,“what in the hell did I say in there for this doctor to diagnose me with this?” I immediately assumed the doctor was wrong (because apparently I’m smarter than all doctors), but I remembered some fellow college classmates who would have killed for a Vyvanse prescription. I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about. Maybe I’d end up cleaning my whole apartment or something? “It’s worth a try.”

It took me about a month to finally try out my stimulants, as I’m smarter than all doctors AND pharmacists. The first day I took it though, I couldn’t feel much of a difference. I did get a lot of work done that day, but I didn’t owe it to a pill. “I had a motivated day, that’s all.” After a whole week of taking them as prescribed, I started thinking to myself, “wow, I think this is actually doing something good…does this mean I have A.D.D.?”

I told my psychiatrist after 2 weeks of being on the stimulants that they actually worked. He looked at me like, “no duh” and from then on, my appointments with him have been all about my attention deficit struggles. Okay doc, I buy it.

Even though I always earned “good grades” in school, I still had A.D.D. It just manifested in different parts of my life. Now that I’m out of school, my A.D.D. bitch (let’s call her Addy) shows up loud and proud in many more noticeable ways, even if I’m medicated. Here are some things that I do that make me want to punch Addy in one of her stupid wandering eyes:

1. Needing reminders to remind me to remind myself to do things

…aaaaand they still don’t work most of the time. I’ve tried calendar invites, post it notes, e-mailing myself…I even bought a dang Apple Watch so I could record voice reminders. The thing is, if Addy isn’t in the mood to do it, she is not going to do it. Stubborn bitch.

2. Pissing off all of my friends and family by never texting them back

…okay, not NEVER, but certainly often. I’m sorry; when I open up text messages I always plan on responding to them. The issue is that I could be typing out a response when I think of something I needed to do earlier, so I close out the text message and starting working on that thing. Then when I finish that, I think to myself, “Oh! I need to text her back!” But instead of immediately going to text her, I immediately think of another thing I needed to do. That happens over and over until I go to sleep at night and wake up from an aggressive blue bubble that only says, “???” which of course I ignore, because I’m already thinking about something else.

3. Taking my Vyvanse, checking Facebook for a second, then finding myself 4 hours deep into a “New York Virtual Garage Sale” page wondering what the hell happened

I kid you not, Vyvanse is one helluva drug. It definitely helps you focus, but if you’re not careful, you’ll probably end up focusing on the wrong thing all day. Ask Addy about the time I had an obsessive shopping spree for stickers when I was supposed to get my laundry done. Wait, that’s happened on multiple occasions…

4. Asking my students “Where did I put my phone?” and “Which one of you stole my pen?” every 5 minutes

…it’s always on some random kid’s desk, or even worse, in my pocket. I used to make fun of my French teacher for being scatterbrained and crazy but…now I am her. My 7th graders think I’m nuts because I’m always bouncing back and forth from topic to topic and running around the room. To be fair though, my A.D.D. teachers were always my favorites.

Unfortunately, this extends beyond my classroom. Ask my roommates what my most asked questions are. They’d tell you: “Where the heck is my vape!?” or “Do you know where my phone is?” or “How did I lose my remote again?”

–*–*–*–*–*–

Having A.D.D. can surely wreak havoc on your life. What’s important is knowing how to control Miss Addy in a way that works for you. I’ve noticed that if I ever want to get anything done, I have to write a checklist with even the simplest of tasks included. Seriously, I’ve written “take a shower” on a checklist before so I wouldn’t forget.

I hate on Addy a lot, but I do need to recognize the good things about myself that thanks to her. So this an ode to my A.D.D. brain: thanks for my quirks, my creativity, my flexibility and my eccentricity.

But seriously…has anyone seen my phone?

Zoë CardinalLeave a comment

Restless, IRRITABLE and Discontent

Sobriety is a beautiful experience, but it’s also a unique type of challenge. In early sobriety, there are a few rules you should abide by to stay sober:

Rule #1: Take it one day at a time. Don’t think about the problems of yesterday or let yourself “future trip.” Be present.

Rule #2: Stay away from people, places and things. In other words, distance yourself from friends who get you into trouble, bars you used to frequent, and things that might trigger you to drink or to use.

Rule #3: H.A.L.T. Never let yourself be hungry, angry, lonely or tired. These are some big triggers that drive us to relapse.

At 2 years of sobriety, I still struggle with these 3 simple rules. The most challenging for me at this moment is H.A.L.T. Right now, I’ll simply focus on the “A”, angry.

-*-*-*-*-

I’ve never considered myself to be an angry person, but I’ve always referred to myself as someone who is “easily irritated.” After all of the work that I’ve done over the last 2 years, many of the things that used to really irk me, no longer bother me. However, I’ve compiled a list of the things that still drive me crazy and put me back into that “irritable” state of mind.

1. Being Left on “Read”

No one likes to be ignored. On the other hand, not everyone ignores us on purpose. I’ll be the first one to admit that I ignore my friends and family by accident on a daily basis! The difference between ME accidentally ignoring people and others who (possibly by accident) ignore others that really pisses me off is the use of the read receipts!

For those of you who don’t know what “read receipts” are, they are the little gray reminders that someone is ignoring your text– where it says “read” and the time your text message was opened. If you’ve turned off your “read receipts,” your friends will only see the word “delivered” in small gray writing under the messages they send you.

Maybe you don’t actually know if your “read receipts” are on, and if that’s the case, my anger is not directed toward you. However, I know many people who choose to leave those receipts on. I personally think that those who keep their “read receipts” on are freaking sociopaths. Why would you CHOOSE to drive your friends and family crazy? This is pretty much a subtle, passive-aggressive way of giving someone the middle finger and saying, “what you’ve sent me is unimportant and I want you to clearly understand how annoying you are.”

2. Public Restroom Door-Knockers

Some of you may be wondering, “why does this piss you off, Zoë? They’re just being polite!” Well, I completely disagree. Let me tell you why I believe that knocking on the door of a public restroom is, indeed, NOT polite.

First of all, bathroom doors have LOCKS. Some of them even literally tell you that the bathroom is in use when the door is locked. If there’s no way of knowing if the door is locked, do you know how easily you could find out if it is? Try opening it. Groundbreaking, isn’t it??

Secondly, if you don’t want to do a quick pull on the door (for some stupid reason) and think that knocking is a better way to find out if the restroom is vacant, let me ask you this…what exactly are you expecting to get out of your knock? A frantic “OCCUPADO!” from the person sitting on the toilet you need to use? That, not only is unnecessary to answer your question (because trying the handle would have done it much faster), but it also completely interrupts the peace of the current toilet-sitter. Think back to the last time someone randomly and loudly knocked on the door while you were peeing. How did you react? You probably squealed one the following interjections: “uhhhh..someone’s in here!” or “Just a minute!” or “OcCuPiEd!!” Wasn’t that extremely awkward or uncomfortable? Your private moment of incognito bodily release was very suddenly shattered.

Lastly, if you’re knocking to try to incite panic on your fellow pee-er so they hurry up, then you’re just kind of a dick. In summary, quit disturbing my damn “pee”ce. If you knock, I’m not responding. Sorry not sorry.

3. Mumblers

As a middle school teacher, I have dealt with a fair share of mumbling students. This is frustrating, mostly because it causes students to have to repeat themselves six times in order for little Billy-Bob in the back row to hear their answer to my question. However, I understand that KIDS tend to mumble in class because they don’t feel very confident in what they are sharing in class. I have patience for mumbling kids. Whom I have zero patience for are mumbling adults.

I know several adults who are in a constant mumbling-to-whispering volume and this seriously makes my damn skin crawl. Look, I probably went to far too many rock concerts in my youth and my hearing is slightly weakened because of it, but I’m still able to hear things people say if they’re speaking at an acceptable amount of decibels. When you chew on all of your words, it leaves me (and others) in the uncomfortable situation where we have to ask you to repeat yourself so many times that it gets to the point where we just smile and nod, looking like that seal from “Finding Dory.”

In other words, and let me say it loudly so you can hear me in the back, ENUNCIATE, FOOLS!

-*-*-*-*-

We’re all human. We all do things that piss other humans off. We also all have our own lists of meaningless, little things that other humans do that inexplicably make us want to pull our hair out of our skulls. The point of writing this all down was to get it off my chest, drop the weight of the world, if you will, and to let others know that this annoying sh*t is so insignificant in the grand scheme of life, or more specifically, sobriety. Next time something small makes your eye twitch a little, be annoyed for a second and then let it go.

Zoë CardinalLeave a comment

To get f*cked or to get f*cked over– is that the new question?

We live in a time where you pick your partners by a swipe of the finger. We judge based on looks and most interesting bio. We live in a world where “Netflix and chill” is now considered a date, instead of someone coming to pick you up to do some fun activities and then drop you off at your front door with a kiss (where the hell did the butterflies go)! We live in a world where our real life meet-cutes are, “I met them on Tinder, haha” or “I was so drunk that I just literally fell into them” or “I was twerking at the club and they said I looked hot” (how romantic).

We live in a world where marriage has turned into just a legal form, instead of two souls becoming one. Where loyalty is a word from the past, because cheating is as easy as going online or to the gym or to a bar to find your fuck. Because that’s what it is isn’t it? No one makes love anymore; no one sticks around long enough to know if this could be the one. They stick around for only right now…and people wonder why we get so “crazy” as they put it, or they are pissed because you have trust issues (oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to ignore the world around me and how fucked it is?).

I live in a world where you are either cheating on someone or you’re getting cheated on. It doesn’t seem to matter how long a relationship has lasted– if someone catches your fancy and you get the urge, people act! No control. No one seems to think, “I’ve been with this person for 8+ years. I have 2 beautiful children with them and I have built so much with them. I can’t throw all of that away!”

I once saw a married man ask a girl, “do you want to go out to my car and fuck?” She replied, “if it was a Mercedes, sure, but it’s a Ford Fusion and your car seats are in the back so, no.” (my jaw hit the floor ladies and gents because this was an actual conversation).

I’ve seen two married people fucking around with one another, not giving a fuck if their spouses found out. On social media, he was the perfect husband: praising his wife and how much he loved her. But then he’d message this other woman saying how he wants to fuck her, asking if she can come over on Saturday because that’s when his wife will be out of town (this makes me truly sick when I see things like this).

I’m genuinely dumbfounded by it all.

I miss the concept of true love with a person, accepting them for good and bad, building a life (with them a start, middle, and end), with no fucking around, with no one cheating or having wandering eyes or leaving just because it got a little hard. But this hardly exists anymore and it is so rare to find someone with the same mindset…

So I guess, “To get fucked or to get fucked over?” really is the question.

-The Ramblings of a Madwoman

Peachy AnonLeave a comment

The Ramblings of a Madwoman: Panic

Panic.

This world isn’t against you, but it sure feels like it sometimes doesn’t it? It’s like, as soon as one thing goes wrong, everything else starts to fall apart. Little by little, your world feels like it’s crumbling around you.

I wear stress like it is a coat, except I wear it even when I don’t need to. It’s infused into me.  Let’s be real, stress is a bitch. It is mentally and physically draining to have everything piled on top of you. If you’re lucky, stress brings along its super fun friend, panic attacks.

Panic attacks are when your body and your mind have HAD ENOUGH. For me, panic attacks feel like:

the world

is

crashing

down,

like the floor beneath my feet has

disappeared

and I’m free-falling

and I can’t catch myself.

There is nothing to focus on

except all that is wrong,

and my heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest;

my lungs feel like they don’t get enough oxygen

and at any moment,

the little air I am getting is going to stop;

I’ve lost control.

I have hidden in many closets, bathroom stalls (gross), showers…anywhere that I think I can get a minute,

where I can let go,

without someone watching me break down and apart.

My favorite part of my panic attacks is when people tell me, “YOU JUST NEED TO BREATHE” (if you guys could see my face, you’d notice that my eyes just rolled into the back of my head).

Absolute gold, this advice! Why didn’t I think about breathing?

Other than breathing (DUH), the things that seem to help me are:

  1. Being in a area away from prying eyes

2. Trying to think of anything else I can focus on, even if it’s dumb (unicorns??)

3. Writing

4. Listening to music

5. Screaming like a crazy banshee out in a field (don’t judge until you try)

6. Axe-throwing (a Rage Room will be something I try at some point)

You could also try the crazy idea of talking to someone about what has triggered you.

Maybe these ideas won’t work for you, but sometimes just knowing others are going through something similar helps in a way. If I could at least let you know that you are not alone in your mental health struggles, then I did what I set out to do.

Peachy AnonLeave a comment

The Universe Screams Perception

Perception. Life is all about perception.

You know that weird thing that happens where the universe starts to send you the same message over and over again, but it takes the third, fourth, or millionth time for the message to actually come through? The message finally hits home hard enough, reverberating in your mind, and you finally say to yourself and the universe, “Okay, okay – I get it…”

Lately the universe has been screaming out one word to me: Perception.

Where it started:

Late at night, as I’m trying to go to sleep, my brain loves to torture me with embarrassing things I’ve done throughout my life, dangle the tasteless words I’ve spouted at others, and really just hammer in that I’m a terrible, heartless person. After I hear a dizzying bout of my own words, I then take a deep dive into a vicious wave pool of the hurtful things friends and family have said to me (or about me) throughout my life, “Nobody really knows who you are,” “You don’t have much of a personality,” “You’re a two-faced bitch,” “You’re soulless,” all of which effectively drive the point home.

Yet, as I flail about the torrent of self-loathing, I take a minute to refocus – to reel it back in. None of that matters, what matters is where I am now. Not the big picture macro-now, I mean the micro-now. I focus on the task at hand: relaxing and getting some rest. I remind myself that the past is done, those people probably don’t remember these moments anyway. In this precise moment the past doesn’t matter, only the micro-now matters.

Where it went:

“Nobody really knows who you are.” This is the late night phrase that has been sticking to me like static-y cellophane throughout even the daylight hours. I’ve just had a hard time shaking it lately. This was something casually said to me in high school by an incredibly close friend. They said it offhand, and I remember being completely jarred by it.

I always felt a tad out of place in high school, all of those kids had grown up together, I randomly showed up freshman year and most people assumed I was older because they didn’t know me. But a little over halfway into my high school career, I had become involved enough to genuinely feel like I was leaving some kind of footprint with my classmates, and like I was becoming a part of this general air of familiarity carried between these hundreds of kids.

Then my friend made that statement and it completely altered the perception I had of myself. My gut reaction to their statement was that they were wrong. But my audible response to them was, “Well, I still don’t really know most people anyway, so that’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. That one offhand, careless statement made by a friend… I gave those words so much power that they still have a hold over how I see myself in the eyes of others. Consistently throughout my life, well since sophomore or junior year of high school, I have always assumed people don’t know me. All because a trusted friend, an ally in life, told me so.

Where it’s going:

What has been most difficult lately is trying to understand why that memory decided to resurface so fiercely and persistently. Why has it been the ringing in my ears? Is the universe trying to communicate something to me?

Then today, the universe screamed its violent message at me, using my cousin as a catalyst. My cousin posted a video and somewhere in there she said, “Everyone in the world has a different perception, even if they’re seeing the exact same thing.” What’s comical is that this message from the universe landed like an edible – aka an hour later.

An hour after watching my cousin’s video, I sat up in a stark realization: I let the perception of another impact my own perception of myself. Which is incredibly unfortunate, I can’t help but wonder how many opportunities I’ve missed due to this lack of clarity in myself? So within the time I’ve been writing this article, I’ve been tumbling down rabbit hole after rabbit hole of realizations. Most importantly, I’ve come to understand that I stopped believing that friend’s statement long ago, their words have not been my truth for quite sometime now.

Since moving to New York and starting my career nearly four years ago, I’ve slowly been coming into my own power and understanding the impact that my voice can have. I have come to understand that I am incredibly capable of commanding a room, that I have an infallible confidence if I so call upon it, and that I have the power to decide whether I am noticed or whether I hide. I am in charge of the perception I project – whether it’s yours or mine.

. . .

Emily SmithLeave a comment