“I block user after user after user. I never thought I’d be tired of the words ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ and being told how ‘desirable’ I am (in the most vulgar ways). I’m not trying to sound conceited. If only they knew me. Really knew me. My lips mean more to men than anything else about me.”
“Go if you want, stay home if you want. Excuse yourself if you’re tired, or it’s too chaotic. Boundary lines blur during the holiday season, and our cheer gets the best of us. Just remember, ‘We have an obligation to love everyone, but some people we must love at a safe distance.’ Send them to the kiddy table and keep yourself at peace.”
“I remember trying to fill the time until my husband got home from work in 10 minute increments. ‘Okay, we can look in the mirror until 4:17, then we’ll walk down to get the mail. That’ll get us to about 4:30. When we get back, we can read books until 4:45. Then preheat the oven and get all the ingredients out for supper. At 5, I can put him in his swing and start cooking dinner.’ I cannot perfect my children. And that sucks.”
“No one should have to exist in the same room with the one who makes them want to vanish within it. I will not be part of a family who chooses my abuser over me.”
“We went on an organized boat trip. My husband decided to go in for a swim. 5 minutes in, he started to have some sort of seizure in the water. They took him to shore, leaving us on the main boat. I shouted at the captain, ‘Bring us back!’ The answer I got was chilling: ‘You need to think of the other people who paid for this trip, I cannot just turn the boat around.’ It took us another 2 days to find out where they had taken him.”
“We weren’t leaving this place without a diagnosis. ‘Don’t jump to any conclusions.’ She had a heart murmur and a low birth weight, but they still gave her the okay to go home. Little did we know our lives would soon change forever.”
“’How far along are you? You aren’t due til November!’ My mom thought I was playing a trick on her, but she could see I’d been crying. My worst fear had come true. I knew I’d hate myself if I never took any photos, so I took an abundance. I needed to have that for my son. The worst part? Knowing it was the first and last time I’d ever hold him again.”
“He turned toward me. Huffily, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m just really tired, and I have a terrible headache.’ This man was still ill-mannered and grumpy as hell, mind you, but at least he let me know why. He became human. He folded his sign and took the several steps to my window. The light was about to turn green.”
“I chose not to wear black. It was the last occasion I would get to dress up for him. I wouldn’t attend his wedding, so I chose an outfit that would honor him and be celebratory. He was gone. All that was left of him was the shattered remains of a beautiful, perfect body he no longer wanted to be in. He chose his angelversary. He chose to leave us all behind and graduate to Heaven.”
“My husband arrived just seconds before the doctor said, ‘He is out!’ I was certain he had died. I couldn’t stop shaking while they stitched me up. But he was perfect, with a surprising amount of thick, dark hair. ‘There’s a high likelihood he’ll never walk or talk.’ They asked if we wanted to stop life-saving measures. We stood our ground. He’d be our ‘wayfinder.’ We trusted he’d tell us in his own way if things became too much, and it was time to stop fighting.”
