"I didn't want any secretary knowing that much about my choices as a mother"

When I was a little girl, I had a seasame street book that focused on diversity. There were children with all different skin pigmentation, eye shapes and hair colors.I felt confident that (even though I didn't look much like my Scandinavian siblings) this meant I belonged. There were kids pictured in wheelchairs, with braces, glasses.. I felt confident that (as a temporarily abled child) this meant we all belonged. There was a section for families, that showed inter-racial couples, and same-sex couples with children... I felt confident that (even though my family didn't quite fit the norm of nuclear family) this meant I belonged. At a very young age, seasame street showed me that there was no normal, and that we all belonged (which was reinforced by my mother). One day in the school yard a fellow student told me that my brother and sister were not my "real" sister and brother, and I fell silent. I thought to myself - is it true? am I fake?... after all, I have another family... so who was the imposter? I can recall all of my comfortable ideas about belonging that I had learned in my book being suddenly questioned. I can recall feeling like perhaps I didn't belong after all. If they weren't MY real siblings, then I certainly couldn't be real to them either. What do we gain from mentalities surrounding family that work solely to perpetuate misconceptions about right and wrong? Do we really still value the nuclear family, when study after study has shown that there is no ideal parental unit? The persistent reality is that although we benefit greatly from support, that support is not actually going to help families if it's premise is founded in an unstable mentality. We do all belong, albeit to different cultures and groups, to different family structures. But there is a place for everyone, and once we knock down the norms that uphold negative stereotypes, I will no longer need to speak of it. We will just be.

the littlest of things

I should be writing words on a page about sexuality and disability... click click click. I should be in the midst of formatting my parer... click click click. My mind is elsewhere, I've lost sight of it now and once it's out of a certain radius I can no longer make commands. So I sit here, staring at the taunting white screen and write out what I'm really thinking. Obligation is a funny thing. We all feel it for one thing or another, maybe even to someone... or at least for their benefit. It's like doing the tango, though - if you want it to be successful. You can not be obligated to anything if it is not, in return, obligated to you. I am a genuinely kind person who sees the best in people, and I often spend much of my time trying to find my way through how I can help everyone else. A year or so ago, I learned that it was time to help myself first - for in order to be a help, you must also know how to keep yourself up. Truth is, I identified with being down - so it was a pretty tricky thing to get up. I still find myself down sometimes, and I begin to see the alluring path that would lead me to a place that ensured I stayed down. The reality is, I am not a down person. I don't do well there, and nor should I. I like to be up, because I take great satisfaction from helping (and like I said before, you must be up to help). I identify with many parts of myself, all of which take their own face and title. I used to believe that made me complicated, but now I know it just makes up me. It is often the littlest of things that make the greatest impact, and I do hope that those impacts trigger the pay it forward approach where ever possible. A smile at someones solemn face can change not only how they might be feeling, but also how you might approach the day. It is a hard week, and your smile changed how I am approaching it. That is the biggest help you can give - a smile, and a different approach.

alone.. whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot.

I wage wars on myself over the reckless arguments the demons are having. What use is it to sad all the time, anyways? I'd rather feel the rage - storm out with my fiery fortitude! I am angry! I am fierce! I will not back down. I should be angry, you would be too. It's not a one-person job. It is not supposed to be an all-on-you-gig... and even at that, doing the day-to-day solo - there is supposed to be reprise. There is supposed to be a secondary voice. I am the secondary voice, I am my own advice. I am told to look forward, to know that they will look back on their childhood and say "my mom did it all, on her own, and we turned out great!" I, however, like to live presently = which means today, I am overwhelmed, exhausted, worn out, and torn down. And I am angry about it. You can counter it with your "you chose this" and "you made your bed"'s... but until you walk in my shoes, don't think for a moment you know the choices I've made, and why. This is my reality - and I will honor my anger, I will give a name to my rage... and I will feel it out, and I will not be silenced. "One day" is lovely - but TODAY is right now... and right now? It is hard... like, really fucking hard. I am at peace with my struggles, I am going to embrace that fight. For I alone am fighting the battles you won't see on the front page. On the front page, you will see my hard work - these three incredibly wonderful human beings who I have single-handedly raised. It's not a glamorous journey, but it's mine... and today, my journey is rage.