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So, yeah–today I had my first pelvic exam/pap in almost 10 years. It took me so long, mainly, through a combination of apathy, fear, avoidance and not actually remembering to make an appointment until it was late at night. It’s sounds like a cop out, but that’s the truth. I used to avoid going to the doctor at all costs. I don’t really know why, I just did. 

Looking back, I get how stupid that was–how I could have died without intervention when my heart got so bad that it started sending up flares to alert me that something was wrong. I kicked up a TIA (transient ischemic attack), and I ignored it–not for nothing, I did ask my mom about it–and she told me to relax, that it wasn’t a stroke and to go put my feet up. I still give her crap about it, but she doesn’t find it nearly as amusing as I do. I’ve told her so many times that it’s not her fault, that she had no way of knowing–but I don’t think that she’ll ever forgive herself–and that makes me very sad. 

Once my heart knew that I didn’t take the hint, she threw some blindness at me (in my left eye). That’s what it took to get me in to see a doctor–I was worried that it was a detached retina and knew that those had to be treated ASAP. It wasn’t a detached retina. My blood pressure was causing all sorts of vessels in the backs of my eyes to burst and there was significant damage to my optic nerve. Thankfully, my eye doctor doesn’t fuck around and was very, very aggressive in treating my eyes while I worked to get my BP down. It’s strange, but he’s the second doctor to literally save my life in a very non-dramatic way. It’s amazing how intricate the tests are for back-of-the-eye issues. We could literally track my progress over time  and actually see the landscape changing back to normal in the films that he took each time that I was there. 

Anyhow, I digress. Back to today. The exam itself was really fast–and I was waiting to see if she thought that anything looked weird or problematic. Thankfully, everything looked good–now I will just wait until my test results post on My Health and I can see what’s up. Apparently, almost all of the adult population carries HPV–it just all depends on which strain. I have only had one plantars wart when I was a kid–so, that’s my entire experience with warts of any kind. I just hope and pray that everything will be okay and normal. 

On a funnier note, I spent a whole lot of time that I can never get back worrying about shaving my legs. I didn’t get a chance to this morning and I was really wound up about it. Turns out, no one cares–well, in this context. I also wore my  Cookie Monster panties. It wasn’t intentional and when I was changing, I made sure to hide them under my shirt and bra on the chair. Want to feel ridiculous? Strip down in a doctor’s office and remeber at that very inconvenient moment that you have on Sesame Street panties. Like I needed to find something else to make me self concious. It was actually funny–and I think that I may have alarmed them more by my folding everything, including the gown and used paper on the exam table. It shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me well. 

All in all, I’m glad I kept my appointment and went in for the exam. I am concerned that they may find a problem, but pray that they won’t. I’m aware that cervical cancer usually grows slowly–but it defies logic to think that I would be relatively healthy and symptom free if I’d been carrying cancer in my cervix for the last 10 years. I even got my dad to grudgingly admit that. That, added to the fact that I have literally been checked for everything when I was in the ER last year. Unless they were trying to lower my BP by actually removing blood from my body, all of the middle of the night blood draws had to be for something.  They took 6 to 12 vials every hour for the first 2 nights that I was in ICU. It’s a terrible way to wake up. Trust me on this. 

Anyhow, one of the very best things that happened today at my appointment was when she was listening to my heart–she listened from a few different places on my chest and back–I asked her, “How is she sounding today? Regular?” And she said, “She sounds really good.” That’s music to my ears.

**All information contained in this post is a reflection of the author’s life and memory–and is ALL a matter of opinion and personal point of view.

So, yeah–today, I read some sort of meme about how scars make good stories. It sure is pretty to think so.  Perhaps, that concept originated with someone who has a fun, bawdy story or two about how she got a cute scar on her knee or chin or wherever–that she tells to the new people in her life as they enter it and get to know her. We probably all have a scar story that is way more funny than tragic–but living with the tragic ones is, at least in part, what makes us who we are in a more profound way. 

My scars are both visible and hidden–I have a lot. Most of them are hidden under my clothes or under tattoos–the dog bite, the slash from a knife, my surgical scars and so many others that I would love to tell you about, but dwelling on the details and minutiae of the past and going where my nightmares live is not something that I’m up to right now. You’ll hear all about most of those scars eventually anyway.

It’s tricky to write about this. Mainly, because Adolf is a litigious prick (IMHO) who would love nothing more than to drag me into court for one reason or another–and I don’t want to give him the ammunition. 

It’s defensible to say that the environment  of our marriage was extremely unhappy, at best–and violent, torturous and coercive at worst (IMO–in my opinion). No true consent existed in that relationship, as far as I’m concerned, unless you count wearing someone down verbally, emotionally and with what is basically sexual battery, until that person will do anything just to be rid of you. And, if that is your idea of consent, then we can’t be friends. Seriously.

My point? We all have scars and we all have our stories–but some of us have actual, physical scars that we can’t ignore–that remind us of what happened and how far we’ve come every single day. And in my case, I have certain scars that affect my “personal” health on a very regular basis–which is why I’m writing about this now–because maybe by talking about it, it will be less aggravating, less painful, less powerful, less present. I’m hopeful that you all, as adults, can read between the lines and figure out what the hell I’m talking about.  

And even with all of this–those scars can’t hold a candle to the damage that he (Adolf) did emotionally and psychologically. Imagine living for over a decade with a man who not only gets off on hurting you in every way imaginable–but who also constantly tells you that you’re stupid, useless, ugly, that no one will ever want you because you’re damaged, stupid, useless, ugly, etc.–all while, at the same time, referring to you as a trophy or piece of ass to others–bragging about your accomplishments because he has none of his own. It was all very contradictory and awful. And this is just a  small glimpse into what a relationship looks like when domestic violence is present. 

And before any eyerolling happens (this is where I’d probably roll my eyes, tbh), I’m telling you this, gorgeous friends, because this is my last step in healing–not because I’m all, “poor me”. I am not that chick–the one who wants attention and pity and rescuing. Hells no. I’d rather remarry Adolf than be anyone’s pity project. 

I expect that this step in healing will take a while, but I’m almost there. I don’t hear his verbal abuse in my head every minute of every day. I’m actually making more close friends than I’ve I ever dared to before–people who are good and kind and trustworthy. And I still have my close friends who stood by me through everything even when they had no idea what was going on with me most of the time. They made me be out in the world, away from my house and away from the abyss–and I owe them a debt of gratitude that will never be completely paid. 

So there’s that. If any of the above paragraph applies to you, be patient and bear with me–there will be days that I will be in a funk and so very down on myself. I get that it’s bothersome–but it’s part of the healing. Abuse happens in private for a reason. When it’s out in the open, it loses its power the minute you see the horrified looks on the faces of any people who witness it. That’s what this post is–a very public way to exorcise my demons so that I can be done with him and his crap once and for all. xo

So, yeah–I have to start by saying thank you, gorgeous friends, for caring enough to read my posts. I always thought my life was pretty boring–I guess that I was wrong. 

If you didn’t already know, J and I broke up a while ago, and it feels so good to be taking care of only myself–either you know exactly what I mean or you have no idea. Being the caretaker of another (capable) adult is challenging. Who am I kidding? It sucks–like really, really. And when I was free of that, at first, I was a little paralyzed. I didn’t really know how to  live without putting another person first. 

It sounds way more pathetic than it actually was, but hopefully, you know what I mean. For once in a VERY long time, it was all about me in terms of  what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go, who I wanted to go there with, etc. I was and am accountable only to myself. And I really, really like it. More specifically, I used to have to be very careful of what I said and how I behaved around J. I didn’t realize how tedious our interactions had become until they weren’t really there anymore. 

It’s actually really hard for me to write about this, not because it hurts (although it does–less now than before), but because I don’t want to hurt him or the people who love him and still see him as a sweet, little boy. He is sweet when he wants to be, but it all still feels like a manipulation–that the minute I do something that pisses him off, that sweetness will be gone and I’ll be left with the apathetic person that lived on my couch, drinking and caring only about himself. 

And while before, he always threatened me with not trying to get sober (he promised that he would God knows how many times)–not overt threats, but the kind that you know are there, implied in every interaction; now that he is sober, the threat is that he’ll start drinking again. It’s a new one and it pisses me off more than I can really describe. This will be his new way of manipulating me –IF I allow it–and I’m really not inclined to. As much as I want to believe that I owe him nothing because all he did was take–I still can’t stand the idea of hurting people–especially one who was a big part of my life  for so long. xo

When I first started this blog, I promised myself that I would be as open and honest as possible. And those goals often stand in contrast with the fact that you have to live with the fallout from being so. It’s easy to say that I shouldn’t care–it’s much harder to live it. xo

So, yeah–this has been a crazy, fucked-up week, both personally and in the larger scheme of things. So much focus has been about mortality–my own and that of my loved ones. And I hate thinking about anything that involves harm to the people I love. 

Last Monday, I had a big test on my heart–and I was lucky enough not to have to go through it alone. I am eternally grateful for for that and for the person who kept me company and kept me sane. It was above and beyond. Mad, mad respect.

Waiting for the results was torture. Everything came out normal, so that was a huge relief. Not that anyone would even know that I am sick unless I told them. I don’t seem sick–and that makes dealing with my heart stuff so much harder–hell, most days, I can even fool myself. 

The biggest restriction that I have b/c of my heart is that I’m not supposed to lift anything heavier than 10 lbs–and that’s not even remotely possible. I hate asking anyone for help, so I pretty much do my own lifting–and will likely continue to do so. I know that that sounds childish, but there is just something about not wanting to be dependent that drives me to ignore my Dr. when it comes to this restriction. It’s bad enough that I have to ask strangers in grocery stores to get things off of the higher shelves for me when scaling them isn’t an option (the shelves, not the strangers, although I could probably make that happen with the strangers if I was so inclined)–I refuse to make someone else carry all of my stuff too. Yeah, no.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about–I found out on Valentine’s Day 2014 that my heart is extremely compromised–about 65% of my left ventricle is black (that’s what my Dr. said, and it was confirmed by the tech who did my echocardiogram)–and they don’t know if that is dead tissue or if it can heal. It’s becoming more likely that it’s the former, given that it isn’t really healing at all. They believe it to be (their best guess is) a birth defect that was exacerbated by long-term, extremely high BP (likely caused, in part, by the heart defect and by genetics–a vicious circle). How do I know? I’ve been checked for EVERYTHING and there is no good explanation for why I have high BP other than the reasons given above.

Strangely, this should have been caught somewhere around 1998 or 1999. My then-Dr. noticed that there was something wrong with the sounds that my heart made and sent me for an echocardiogram–but the tech doing the test was sobbing the entire time (she was going through a very recent breakup–like, right before my appointment), and it was basically useless–she never even finished the test. I never followed up and went for the do-over one. I was far too busy building my practice and attempting to keep my sanity (Adolf never let me be out of contact with him for more than an hour at a time–this included multiple calls to my cell while I was in court, in client meetings, doing jail visits, etc.).

The strange sounds were noticed again during a pre-employment physical, along with elevated blood pressure, but by then, I was too busy and too afraid to go in and be checked out more thoroughly. I know, I know–that’s abject stupidity–but, in my defense, I was hiding the daily abuse that I was living with and you really don’t think very well when your main focus is just getting through each day without a huge blowup. The high BP was explained away by the Adderall that I was taking for ADHD. If I knew then what I know now, I would have known that high BP ran in both sides of my family very strongly, including in my parents. I would have also known that my maternal grandfather had his first heart attack at 34–and that heart problems are what made him disabled at a relatively young age. Heart problems (which led to a fatal stroke) also killed my paternal grandfather at age 50. 

So, there you have it. That’s the thumbnail version of what my damage is–well, the heart part anyway. My life exists in two parts–before and after. There is so much more to it, but I can say that having my heart stop for that very short time that it did changed me in a lot of ways–some that I have yet to discover, I’m sure. But, I’m still me–and I love being me. xo

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”–Mary Oliver

I love this quote–always have–and unfortunately, it has become a bit of a cliche lately. Although it was about the death of her partner, it really can be taken so many ways–which is what makes it so relevant and beautiful. 

We all have had this happen, at least most of us, and some of us have had it happen more than once. Have you thought about it? Your box of darkness? The person who gave it to you? What did/does that darkness mean to you? Was it actually a gift in your mind? Or, does that sort of gift require time as a necessary component?

I have reflected on all of these (or similar) questions at different points in my life–and have the answers that apply to now, kind of. Well, I think that they are answers–but only time will tell, I guess. What sort of gift did Adolf  give me? What about J? No worries, I’ll get there.

This time of year makes me think of how different my life was last year at this time, five years ago–ten years ago. I used to do Thanksgiving at my house in the woods and it was always tense. I came to do this particular holiday because I ended up at a Denny’s one year for Thanksgiving, and vowed to never let that happen again–and you haven’t seen depressing until you’ve spent your Thanksgiving at a Denny’s with someone you deeply dislike. 

It would be defensible to say that Adolf made holidays an unpredictable nightmare–and they were seldom pleasant. One year, he invited his family to join us–and expected me to prepare, serve and clean up the entire 4-day event, by myself, including interacting with his family, with a smile and a good attitude. And because people like him don’t happen in a vacuum, you can about imagine what his whole family is like–all in one place at one time. Horrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it. Between the blond jokes and overt sexual (and sexist) comments from his stepfather to his sister and her boyfriend, who looked like he had originated in a box labeled, “generic network news anchor”, the whole holiday weekend was a cluster fuck. And they had all sorts of complaints about me because, of course they did. His family didn’t like me from the time that he and I started dating–and that didn’t change once we were married–they actually liked me less. I didn’t like them either, so it all worked out. 

Holidays with J were always sort of nonevents, mainly because he either went to Bismarck to celebrate with his family or he stayed at our apt/house, drinking and gaming, while I went to my parents’ house. Only in the last year did he join me. It’s sad, really. I had so much hope at the beginning of our relationship–and it all fell apart. Which leads me to my point. 

What gift of darkness did Adolf give me? Adolf, not intentionally, taught me to be stronger than I had ever been before–so much stronger. He gave me fear. He gave me insecurity. He gave me shame. He gave me pain–physical, emotional, sexual and psychological. All in all, he gave me the absolute bottom. And all of that taught me to fight for myself, for my life, for my sanity. I suspect that I will keep fighting, in one way or another, for the rest of my life. His gift? Resilience. My life is worth fighting for. I survived his abuse. I can survive anything. 

What gift did J give me? It’s hard to articulate because it’s much more nuanced and far less straight forward than it was with Adolf–think explosion v. erosion. At first, J made me feel completely loved and safe. He was kind and understanding of my insecurities, mostly–and then, I saw him ugly drunk for the first time. He is a monster when he’s ugly drunk. He angers easily, throws things, says the most hurtful, hateful things and just basically makes me feel as low as Adolf ever did. In some ways, it was almost worse. I expected to be loved and to feel safe, because that’s what he had shown me, mostly–that’s what he had promised me. He lied and it blindsided me in a way that Adolf never could because I expected Adolf’s cruelty–and with J, at least the first time, it came out of nowhere (mostly). And it hurt–hell, it still hurts when I think about it.

 His gift to me is the belief that I deserve to be treated respectfully–and to be treated well. I deserve to be far more than an afterthought to a person who claims to love me. His drinking (and video games and movies) always came first and that is unacceptable. I deserve better. In other words, his gift was to show me that I deserve better than the bare minimum from others. And I’m working on it, although I still have a ways to go. xo

Day 26: Things that I’d say to an ex

I can’t really answer this one either because I still speak with my most current ex fairly often and the one before that, I actively avoid. I suppose that there are probably some that I owe an apology to–so, I will go with that. I would say that I am sorry for any perceived or actual offenses. 

Day 27: What I wore today 

Today, I wore a beige-y sorts bra, leopard microfiber panties, a 3/4 sleeve, cornflower-blue t-shirt, black sweatpants and flips (when I had shoes on). 

Day 28: The word/phrase that you use constantly

There are a few–the most common are:

*Super

*uber

*like

*Jeez oh Pete’s

Day 29: The night of my 21st birthday

My birthday is in the middle of December, so I always have a lot of other stuff to do–it’s always been that way. Orchestra stuff and exams/papers seem to have taken up all of my time back then–so, I didn’t do much for my 21st. I had a legal drink at Ralph’s (carding was not an issue there early on) and then another over at Kirby’s–and then I went home to write an Aristotle paper for my Happiness Seminar. xo

Day 30: something that I’m excited about 

Okay, this is a tricky one to answer because the thing that I am most excited for isn’t a thing–it’s a visit, from someone who is very, very dear to me. Because this is not entirely my story to tell, I won’t use a name or any identifying information and will avoid being too mushy/flowery  by engaging in some self censorship. This is a really good example of what I was talking about a few days ago on here when I wrote about why I censor myself to protect the privacy of others.

Day 22: My morning routine

5-ish: wake up b/c I have to pee and then back to bed.

8-ish: my alarm goes off–hit snooze until…

9-ish: get up for the day

10-ish: brush my teeth and shower–and then off to wherever I’m supposed to be for the day

Day 23: A family member that I dislike

I cannot really answer this because I keep this blog public. I often have to censor myself for the sake of others and this time, it’s because I love my family, immediate and extended, and I want to keep the peace–and that is far more important to me than answering this day’s inquiry.  

And a little more on why I censor myself here, especially because this whole blog was started to give me a place to be completely me and completely real. But first, you should know that, I am very, very real–here and in person. I have never had any interest in being fake or being someone else. I’m blunt and relatively unfiltered–but also have the social graces of someone of my upbringing and background–so, people often don’t “get” me. I suppose that all of this is complicated by the fact that I can be really spacey at times. 

Anyhow, I’m really real–but sometimes my reality will include another person (or people)–which automatically makes it not entirely my story to tell. When I censor myself, it is almost always to protect the privacy and/or feelings of another. Oh, and it’s not like I tell you guys everything. I keep a lot of stuff to myself–that stuff is nobody’s business but my own. And it is usually the messy stuff that no one needs to know about me–unless we are UBER close. So yeah, I’m not going to tell you specifics of my sex life or anything like that–so, use your imaginations, lovelies, and then go try that with the partner of choice. xo

Day 24: Something you miss

It’s rare that I miss things. People, pets, times and places–I definitely miss those–but things? Not so much. I suppose, I miss my house in Michigan. I don’t want to go back there–like in an actual sense, but I miss the lake and the forest and the privacy. You didn’t need window covering or even clothes. It was really private. I do miss that too. xo

Day 25: Four weird traits that I have

I really don’t understand this question. I’m guessing that whoever made this challenge was aiming for a different word when s/he used, “traits”. If that was the word she had intended, then–I really don’t have any weird traits. I’m short, but that’s not weird–and I don’t have like a third nipple or an iffy 6th toe nub or whatever. Yeah, no. xo

Day 19: My five fears

1. My biggest fear is that something bad will happen to one of both of my parents–like a crime, serious, prolonged illness or death. And yeah, yeah, everyone dies–I get that and I accept the inevitability of it, but I am still terrified over it. It may not be logical, but humans seldom are all of the time.

2. Becoming “locked in”, due to another stroke or some other kind of brain injury. If you’ve seen the movie, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, that is a depiction of what I’m talking about. If not, being locked in is having the same mind that one has always had, but is unable to move or talk at all–with some very minor exceptions, like an eye blink. I would not ever want to live this way.

3. My third fear is kind of lame, but I am really afraid of disappointing the people who count on me for whatever reason. It’s not a people pleasing thing, but rather a doing right by people thing. 

4. My fourth fear is needing a heart transplant. I know, it’s kind of oddly specific, but it is a definite possibility, and I really hope to avoid it. 

5. My fifth fear ties into my fourth in that I am hugely afraid of losing my independence–mentally, bodily, emotionally and intellectually. I can’t think of too many things worse than being dependent on another person for my daily activities. I experienced this a little after I got out of the hospital last year–and it was horrible. 
 

Day 20: My music player on shuffle–the first 3 songs. 

1. Party and Bullshit by The Notorius B.I.G.

I love this song. It’s fun and silly–and his voice will always take me there. It’s terribly sad that he was murdered over some ridiculous feud. This is what happens when little boys have guns–people die senselessly.

2. Ohio by Neil Young

Another beloved song. Most of you reading this know what this song is about–and it, for me, pings all sorts of emotions–mainly anger and sadness. Anger at the actual event and anger that not much has changed (in the States) in terms of how authority reacts to protest. The Occupy Wall Street movement and the recent protests over the shooting of an unarmed kid by police in Ferguson, MO, tell us and show us that we have a long way to go when it comes to the reaction of authority to demonstrations that they don’t like. 

And sadness at the lives lost at Kent State that fateful day, at so many friends having dads that were changed for the worse by their time in Vietnam and over the fact that not much has changed for those who seek, undertake and value dissent. 

3. Buffalo Stance by Neenah Cherry

The quintessential late-80s/early-90s jam that is still fresh as fuck. Go listen to it–I’ll wait. It’s a good one for getting stuck in your head and for bopping around to in the house, car–wherever. And the lyrics, way heavier than the melody suggests. It’s like Electric Avenue that way. I love both. 

Day 21: My Zodiac sign and does it describe me.

Well, I think that astrology is a steaming load of hooey–so, I am already biased on this question. My sign is Sagittarius, and of course it describes me perfectly. That’s how they’re written–so broadly, that they can fit almost every scenario they are applied to. And for those who say that I should get “my chart” done for a more personal experience–yeah, no. There are so many other things that I could waste my money and time on, it’s all good. Believe if you want. I choose not to. It would be lovely to be able to predict the future, but part of the beauty of life is the element of surprise that it provides–good and bad. It’s how we grow and find common ground with others. Our struggle to live and seek meaning is part of the adventure–trying to predict it is pointless. Enjoy your own personal adventure and let yourself  be engaged and surprised as each new thing comes along. The human experience/the human condition is what connects us (in part, at least) to each other. And not knowing what comes next is a big part of that connection.

Okay so, because #16 involves bullets for my entire day, I’m going to skip it for now and tackle it later. 

Day 15: Three Pet Peeves

This is actually much harder to do than you would think–mainly b/c so many of the things that annoy me are situational. My goal here is to think of three things that will always bother me, regardless of what else is going on at the time. 

1. My biggest pet peeve is people who treat me like I am not good enough for them–and act accordingly. I have a past–we all do, and people who judge you on it are truly not worth your time. Really. And while I know this is in the abstract, I struggle with it every, single day by letting people walk on me repeatedly. For example, I have a “friend” who is only attentive when he wants something–and, after treating me like something that he scraped off of his shoe, he fully expected me to pick right up where we had left it. 

Aside from never apologizing for treating me so poorly, he has the gall to ask me out and then rescind the offer once he found out that I won’t sleep with him. I find that this is a good example because here is a guy who knows all about my past and treats me like I am nothing–less than nothing–and it hurts. Bad. Not because I am attached or even attracted to this person, but rather, because I put up with it and that kills me a little every day–knowing that I am at fault (at least in part) for my own debasement. And that makes it hurt even more

2. My next pet peeve may be more of a quirk than an actual pet peeve. I cannot and will not have sex, in a non-public place, if my partner is wearing socks. Now, a quickie in a bathroom is sock appropriate b/c the clothes, for the most part, stay on. But if you have privacy and time–the socks have to go. Period. End of story. And I have no idea why this bothers me so much–it just does.

3. And my third pet peeve is fairly predictable–bad, slow horrible drivers. Do I really need to explain this one? Bitch, please.

Day 17: A quote that I try to live by

The quote that I try to live by is, “I love as I find”. Although I find it to be self explanatory, I will say that I try to live a life of love and acceptance for all people. I fail at it–most the time. But I still try to see the beauty in everyone and to accept them just as the are. 

Day 18: My favorite color and why

Green is my favorite color, if I have to pick one (and I do for this). Because I am synesthesic (I have “had” synesthesia my whole conscious life), green, to me, is dewy and crisp, like leaves in the woods or soft, thick grass. It surrounds you closely, but more like a light embrace rather than a restraint. It’s presence and/or inclusion makes things complete. It, not surprisingly, evokes the smell of vegetation/flora. Sometimes the smell is so sweet and bitter that it makes my mouth water. 

This is probably way more that you wanted to know–but it gives you a small look into how I experience the world, I hope. I’m not very good at describing it. 

Day 12: Two words or phrases that make me laugh.

1. I love the phrase, “Oh,for crying out loud”. The images that it evokes make me giggle every time I use it or hear it.

2. I love the word, zesty. It’s actually my favorite word. 

Day 13: My commute is pretty much non existent–the closest thing that I have to a driving routine is my drive to my roommate’s  workplace. This is one thing that I don’t want to describe, mainly because this page is public. 

Day 14: My life in 7 years will, hopefully, look similar to my life now, but I would like to be working in my PhD and working as a therapist. I also hope to be either fostering or adopting a kid who has no where else to go–one who has been put out by his/her parents for being LGBTQIA. 

I feel extremely passionate about helping these specific children, especially because they’re at such a heightened suicide risk. And although it may sound trite, I honestly believe that every kid should have a place to call home, whether they are LGBTQIA or not–and I have more than enough to offer  a kid, so why not?