“I really like going out and hanging out with people, but it takes me days to recover from it. I need to lay on the couch to recoup from the mental toll it takes. People exhaust me. When my husband drinks, he becomes an energizer bunny. Me? The more I drink, the more tired I become. Once I hit that wall, there is no turning back. I am done-done-done. I can only be social for a set amount of time. If that time is up, I have an escape plan.”
“The news broke me and honestly ruined my pregnancy. I prayed our baby girl would grow, that her little chest would expand to survive this birth. I wanted Paisley to have a life, no matter if it was only for a few seconds or a few years. She deserved the world and I was determined to give it to her.”
“I’ve been frustrated, tired, and worn out. I have felt walked on, unseen, and undervalued in my place of work, and just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did.”
“She left the hospital at one point to run to Walmart. A nurse had just complimented a pair of sandals she was wearing. It was important that my grandma proceed to Walmart immediately to buy her an identical pair. Then she asked about someone who had recently been admitted in the palliative care floor. ‘That’s just terrible. I hope they’re going to be okay,’ she said. This was 72 hours before she passed away.”
“I don’t choose to struggle with this. I don’t choose to have my thoughts racing all day. I don’t choose to have a war with my mind every day. I don’t choose any of this. For the friends who have stuck around while I cancel plans, go radio silent, and patiently wait until I’m ready to talk, you’re the real ones.”
“Marital problems, mental health issues, bankruptcy, miscarriage, family discord—they don’t just disappear because it’s December 25th.”
“He burnt my grandma’s table in a bonfire and emailed me pictures. At 2 a.m., he was yelling outside my house, banging on all the doors and windows. I was hidden behind the couch dialing 911. He keyed my car. I woke up with 100+ missed calls. My family finally convinced me the police needed to be involved. I brought so much proof, I thought they’d have to arrest him, but nope. Their ‘hands were tied’ and ‘boys will be boys.’”
“My brother had such talent. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it was to grow up behind you, in your shadow? You made everything look easy, and it’s not. I have to do this by myself,’ he told me. My heart shattered.”
“They kept this little boy in a room by himself, afraid he would scare the other children. He was not allowed to play, or go outside. It was so heartbreaking. When we finally met him, he was more severely delayed than we knew. He couldn’t barely hold his head up, sit, or stand. It was scary. We held each other and just cried. We had no idea how we were going to handle this.”
“My son has had autonomy since he was a toddler. As he grows, he makes as many decisions about his own body as possible. Our only limits are safety and hygiene. We often hear, ‘…But..but…but…it’s PINK!’ ‘Why don’t you just cut your hair like a boy?!’ ‘That’s for girls, you don’t want that!’ He informs them with absolute integrity, ‘No, it’s for PEOPLE!’”
