“It was a Friday night, the first football game of the year. I was a freshman. One of my friends talked me into going to the game and dance afterwards. Little did I know, that dance would change my life. I ran into my neighbor and his friend, Chad. We talked, laughed, had a great time. By the end of the night, I put my number in Chad’s phone. Months later, I was asking my friend to buy me a pregnancy test. I was 15.”
“Her uncle started raping her when she was 7 years old. I tell her she’s going to be okay. I tell her WHY she’s still a virgin. ‘Rape is not the same thing as sex. Having sex WITH someone can only happen with consent. Otherwise, it’s just violence, period.’ She dries her tears, and smiles for a new beginning.”
“I remember sitting in the doctor’s office at age 17, wondering if having my own kids was ever a possibility for me. I’d been diagnosed with PCOS at a young age. He put me on birth control and it hardly affected my life. Until I started seriously dating. I felt like dating me came with a warning label – a precursor: ‘Watch out, no guarantee I can have kids.’ And what if someone didn’t want to marry me because of it?”
“As my nurse sleeps, I quietly clean the house, do the dishes, prepare meals, do laundry. When she’s leaving, she has a clean home, clean scrubs, somewhat sane children, and a meal ready to go. 5 hours after her shift should’ve ended, she calls. I let her talk, I let her vent. She just wants to stay awake. I let her know she’s an amazing mother, nurse, wife. It’s the little things that matter. They all count.”
“My soul was going to jump out of my body and chase her to Heaven. Every night after my kids went to bed, I opened the bottles of whiskey. I walked in after my surgery with a bottle of Fireball. Jacob asked me, ‘Is this going to be a problem?’ I asked him why he asked me that. ‘Because you never buy alcohol to bring home. You only order drinks, not bottles.’ I’ll have many questions when I get to Heaven, but every one of them will wait until I get my girl in my arms.”
“My best friend showed up at my son’s birthday party and told me she had the same cancer that took my mom a year earlier. I was numb. Heartbroken. Clueless how to maneuver through grief, while also trying to support her. Sure, I sent cards and care packages. But I was MIA. Truth is, I was obsessively thinking about her. It’s taken a year to finally wake up.”
“I was married to a woman, but we both realized I was gay. Our marriage was slowly killing us. So we went for it. We carefully planned a ‘coming out’ post. Our most intimate, private life-story was a runaway train. It felt exhilarating in the most awful way–like how it feels if your parachute isn’t working. ‘Whee! This is fun! Oh no, wait! It’s spiraling out of control! LIFE AS WE KNOW IT IS GOING TO END!!!!’”
“Dear extended family, the proper response to your loved one not being able to be in a dozen places at once is, ‘We’ll miss you, but we understand. Let’s get together another day!’ Anything more or less than that is emotional abuse that we do not deserve.”
“My son is autistic and LOVES trains. Tonight, we were supposed to ride the Polar Express. He was so excited he beat his dad and I up pretty badly. Finally, I had to say, ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’ I went into the bathroom and silently cried. I wanted this so badly for him. Then, there was a knock on the door. ‘Maintenance!’ They wanted to do something special for our family.”
