24 hours at a time

 It takes about 24 hours to get from here to there. 

And another 24 hours for my brain to catch up.

(and now more than 48 days to write this entry)

Here's what I've noticed.

North Carolina
It's so quiet, and pretty lonely
Our walls are very white
I have to do a lot of planning
I have to get up early
I really like having a clothes dryer, and a dishwasher
Things are more protected...in the kitchen
Driving makes me sleepy

I don't want to work out, but I should

Bangalore

It's a city, there's NOISE

There is so much color, and warmth

I get to sleep more

I wake up to tea

I genuinely enjoy seeing what people are wearing

Don't leave any food unattended, and use the correct garbage bin

Driving makes me sleepy

I also don't want to work out.

Here's what I've noticed about that.

It can be hard to experience both without comparing and complaining. This has this better, that one has that. They are separate and they are different. So they require different tick boxes. They are both homes, and the essentials of being a home is pretty much all that they share: 

Kitchen |  Dining |  Living | Playing | Bathing | Working

...all spaces exist in both...

So how do you live harmoniously in both spaces. When both rub me both ways, how can I get it all to rub right? It's a very deep look inward. And it takes a long time and a lot of focus and a lot of documenting.  

But the ultimate goal is 5:7. 

Five months in India, seven months in US.

March to November in US, November to March in India

Not anytime soon, especially with school starting for Ruhi in August. But I want to make that happen. I want to make our lives feel full throughout it all. I want for it to be a seamless transition, something we are excited about and look forward to. I know it's not my job to do that for everyone, but I really want this. So how do I get this.

These are things I like. 

I think that's a good place to start.

• I like tea in the mornings
• I like going out for walks 
• I like cooking
• I really like planning
• I don't really like deciding
• I like the house routines in north carolina, there's always something to do, to keep you moving. The routines themselves: laundry, cooking, cleaning, tidying; those are necessary things - not always things I like. But I like the house routines - never a dull moment. I like being busy.
• I like being still too. 
• I like tikok. I wish my algorithm would have less ads and more scientific information about things. I'm still looking for that app. 
• I like the beach
• I like to garden
• I like to knit
• I like to listen
• I really like my family
• I like having a clean house
• I would like to have a better wardrobe and dressing routine

...so where do I go from here...

Noticing what I've noticed about noticing 

When I plan out the meals better, the grocery bills are lesser and the mouths and minds of those eating are less negative. If I can decide meals and cook times with enough accuracy, the weeks go smoothly, the days are more full and we get a chance to look forward to planning things. Like putting things up around the house, going places together, and creating all the good kind of rubbing moments.

It all surrounds food

but I also want to lose weight

Every Single Feeling

Boarding begins in 48 hours...

...and I am starting to feel every single feeling.

We arrived in March of this year and are heading out almost exactly 8 months later in November. It was, a VERY SUCCESSFUL, Plan A for Kapil and I:

• Get pregnant
• Have the baby in Kapil's hometown
• Be fortunate enough to have several hands to help me recover and evolve into 'mom mode'
• Build a home for us here in Bangalore for future visits

And it all happened. 

It happened even though India went through one of the harshest second waves of COVID. It happened even though the baby was in a breached position. It happened even though the country was in lockdown. It happened because we did what we needed to fucking do to make it happen. And it happened without any one of us getting sick or exposed. 

Well, not ANY of us. Kapil's aunt caught a bad case of COVID right around the time we went in for my C-Section. And later on her husband made a drastic choice that really affected us all. More on that though. Let's back-up a bit and really FEEL these FEELINGS. So, buckle up buttercup. This is going to be a long entry.

Let's have a baby in Bangalore!

I can't really remember how to pronounce or even spell our doctors' names, but these two women were no-nonsense obstetricians who yelled at me for not exercising during my pregnancy, for staying up really late working East Coast hours, and not eating all the traditional Indian things (I'm not a fan of seeds, coarse spices or certain spice leaves in my foods). 

But even if I did all the things they asked, I don't think it would have changed much. Little monster was sitting upright and did not want to budge. We were having a breached pregnancy and by 38 weeks, our doctors said - "pick a date for your C-Section"

I, of course, asked Twitter to help me pick the date.

Now, if you recall from a previous entry, I was TERRIFIED of labor and delivery. Like, fairly certain that if I had to go through with a vaginal birth, that would be the last thing I would do,

cause I would be dead from the pain and probably bleed out because I'm anemic.

So, for someone who is a STRONG LIBRA and had no birthing plans together before or during my pregnancy, having the decisions made for me is just what I wanted. 

Put me to sleep, wake me up with the kiddo. 

Of course, when I asked to be put completely under, they said "lol no". We need you awake to make sure things are ok. You need to hear the baby cry when we take it out the sunroof. You need to kiss your baby when its covered in all that gunk. All stuff I was not terribly interested in doing. Seriously, what would it take for you to just...put me to sleep and then wake me up later. No-nonsense Dr. A and B would not entertain that idea. 

Fun Fact: I have really normal blood pressure.

It's a trick I learned from my first boyfriend - controlling my blood pressure through meditation. Every time I get my BP taken, it's practically perfectly normal. 120/80. But I guess when you're about to go in for abdominal surgery and you have to be awake the whole time, meditation goes right out the fucking window. My BP was close to 200. 

Dr. B actually wouldn't let me get drugged up and sent back for surgery until it went down. Which meant I had to lie there in a robe with all the dongles stuck to my skin and try not to freak out or think that this was going to be the last thing I would ever do and I'll never get to meet my child and Kapil is going to be a widow and deal with my family without me and everything is going to fall apart. 

My BP did not go down.

They had to bring Kapil into the room to try and calm me down. Even though their COVID protocols were that he was not allowed to see me until a few hours after the surgery. And between the two of us, I'm the one that usually needs to calm Kapil down, not the other way around. So, I didn't think that them bringing him in was going to have any affect at all on the situation. Thankfully, I was wrong. Kapil was a champ. He brave-faced it and talked me down and got my BP to a decent enough place where Dr. B gave the all clear. 

I walked into the OR. They gave me the epidural. I felt everything go numb. I literally said "whoa" and they lied me down, strapped my arms out, cathed me up, put up the curtain and we were off. 

My BP went back up again.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, this is happening. there's a baby in me and it's coming out. fuck fuck fuck. did they already cut me open? I can see something red in the reflection of the ceiling. is that normal? fuck fuck fuck, can they give me more drugs? fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

They had to bring Kapil back in.

During the second wave of COVID, where they have to schedule ONE operation a week to make sure there's no cross contamination going on, where they won't allow any visitors or family in the hospital, they broke their rules to calm me down. Kapil came in, held my hand and did not look ONCE past the cloth that shielded both of us from the gory mess that was going on below my belly button. I'm pretty sure if he didn't focus directly on me, he would not have been able to keep me calm. But even with him there, holding my strapped down hand, they had to give me extra drugs and put a cloth over my eyes to keep me from freaking out. 

Next thing I remembered was hearing a cry.

I was really out of it. I think there was some tugging going on. Not sure. But I heard a baby cry. It didn't sound familiar to me at all. I tried looking in the direction of it but my head was strapped down and that cloth over my eyes had me pretty out of it. I remember asking Kapil what it was. 

It's a girl. Rachel we have a girl.

See, now I'm feeling emotionally about it, 8 months later, recalling it all - I'm getting emotional. But at that moment, I was like. "Ok. That's cool I guess". We had so many names set aside for a girl, only a few for a boy - so, again, as a libra, I was hoping it was a boy so I wouldn't have to choose between 10 different girl names. That's where my head was at. After I hear it's a girl, one of the medical staff brings the baby DIRECTLY to my face and says "KISS IT! KISS THE BABY"

Who the fuck is this thing and why do I have to kiss it NOW?! 

Like, leave me alone, my bottom half is cut open.

Not very motherly, I know. But I was drugged up pretty good and I was 100% certain that I was going to die. So, kissing this baby girl was not on my to do list. But they wouldn't ease up on the kiss the baby thing so I kissed it. Then Kapil was asked to leave the room. It was time to close me up.

So I started counting backwards from 100. Then forwards, and backwards again.

I did that, what felt like, 20 times before I got any notification that things were actually done down there. Kept looking at the ceiling through the cloth on my eyes to see how much red was in that reflection. Wondering which part of my body they were sewing up now. Just keep counting backwards. Then I was in the recovery space for an hour I think. Just lying there, alone, not in my birthing suite, but someplace outside the OR before I get to go be with Kapil and the baby. They brought the baby to me to try and get her to nurse...that did not go well. 

Ever had someone play with your nipples, but not in a fun way, and you're super drugged up and you can't do anything about it, and they are speaking a different language and are forcing your arms to hold a baby while you're unable to move your legs?

No?! weird.

Kapil and I talked about breastfeeding. I shared that it didn't work out well with my sister or my mom and that I had a strong feeling that it was going to be the same situation with me. That we should prepare for formula. But here in India, you breastfeed. You breastfeed because women have breasts and babies feed from them and that's what makes you a mom.  

I'm sure that's not how they really feel, but hindsight is problematic, I think. 

The tiny monster did not understand why my nipples weren't cooperating. My body was not ready for the baby to be here yet. Everyone was disappointed, and would stay disappointed, or chapped, or dry and sore, or bleeding, for a few months. 

But now, those few months don't feel like anything anymore. Except for that one time I was so sore she had to stay away from me for a few days and I had to pump and I pumped more than I ever pumped before and thought,... 

...damn, my body is incredible. 

We were in the hospital for three days. Kapil slept on a couch instead of making it into a bed. I slept in my hospital bed. Food was good, care was incredible, the bathroom situation wasn't that bad, there was a view of a church from our window. It made me feel like some part of my family was there even though they weren't, and wouldn't be, for awhile. 

Eventually, we had to name her, this thing.

She didn't have much a personality. Still very much cooking in those first few weeks. Little chicken legs and curled up arms. A face gravity didn't know what to do with yet. What is she? What will she be? All the names we put together weren't fitting: Ren, Mona, those were the top runners but just weren't her.

Google was little help. 

How we landed on Ruhi, I can't remember. But it sounded right.

Ruhi. Little Ruhi B. Baby Tree.

You turned three a few months ago and I am so proud that I can still feel the magic that you are everyday. It was a process coming home with you at 6 months old. It was rough trying to juggle work and motherhood during the winter, with a nanny, then without a nanny. It wasn't easy overcoming the drama with my family and COVID and a baby they never got to meet (I think it still affects them). It was rough moving you from the boob to food, but you did it. It was a small struggle to potty train, but you did it. And you continue to make me feel more than I've ever felt.

Days are passing and you're changing all the time. I hope you learn how to document who you are in ways where you can continue to evolving and expand. Because there is so much to be done.

Just starting with feeling.

Opposites Attract

When we talked about coming to India, we knew that we would have to quarantine for 14 days after landing. And thankfully, Kapil's family has two homes in Bangalore that we could do that in. There's Chetul and Hebbal. Chetul is the older home and Hebbal is newer. Both locations were quarantine safe because everyone works from home and this country takes the number of covid cases very seriously. They are not afraid of passing curfews, lockdowns and ticketing people who are not following mask mandates. It's a nice feeling to know that no matter where we would be, we'd be safe.

Chetul is where Kapil grew up with his brother, mom/dad, his five males cousins and their parents. It's...a big house. Three stories, 8 rooms and 6 bathrooms and rooftop terrace. It's where his parents currently live along with his dad's aunt Didi, Kapil's brother Raunaq, his wife Vipasha and their one year old Asmi.

Hebbal is the newer spot. Kapil's dad and his 3 uncles got together around 15 years ago and bought the property and built up the place to be a freaking condo for the extended family. Four floors, each floor with two 3 bedroom 3 bath apartments, elevator, basement parking garage and HUGE rooftop terrace. Each son in the family was 'gifted' an apartment for their future family whenever they were ready to make that move. Currently, two of the four families reside in two of the eight condos. 

So when we talked about quarantining and staying here in India for an extended period of time, we always thought we would be at Kapil's Hebbal apartment (201). This was Kapil's gifted apartment and would eventually be our home in India when we traveled to visit or stay for extended periods. We figured might as well start making it home as soon as we landed. Especially with the monster coming in a few months. In fact, up until we landed at the airport, I was confident that was where we were heading. But what wasn't communicated to me was that apartment 201 was completely empty. Like, nowhere to sleep, no appliances to cook with, no wifi, no where to sit and watch endless tiktoks on your phone. And after spending the last 4 years renovating our townhome in Durham, it was our plan to use this India trip as an opportunity to save our money for a new home in 2022/23. 

Moving into Hebbal 201 would mean spending money on food delivery, furniture, appliances, utilities; we'd pretty much start from scratch. Now, I love a good project but this isn't the land of Home Goods, Lowes or Pottery Barn. If you want a new couch, a set of shelves, or a fridge, you're going to have to spend 2-3 times longer looking at options and finding carpenters/delivery/install people. India is a custom-made, all-service country. This is not the DIY America where I can walk through Lowes, buy some wood and put a set of shelves up in the pantry in a weekend. For a daughter of an engineer and contractor, this is extremely frustrating.

But it is what it is, so we spent our first month at the Chetul house in India. Fully furnished, comes with homemade meals and snacks whenever we need/want, extra hands for laundry and cleaning. Sounds like a dream. Although, I couldn't help but feel like it was at odds with what we originally planned. Yes, we planned to save money and Chetul supported that. But we also planned on building our home bit by bit in Hebbal...which Chetul did not support. 

Two steps forward, two steps back. 

Fun fact, Kapil can read frustration on my resting bitch face three days ahead of me blowing up. And it felt like that first month at Chetul was a daily communication struggle between the two of us. I kept trying to internally rationalize why our plans diverted while also trying to make the best of the situation even though I had hoped to 'nest' at Hebbal. The amount sitting in my amazon wishlist was overwhelming. 

On top of that, I've spent the last year living in a bunker with Kapil. I've gotten accustomed to my own space and own time. Eating when I was hungry and making meals when I wanted. And while the change from Durham bunker to Chetul was easy for Kapil because it was what he grew up with, for me it was a challenge to my independence. It came off as ungrateful, and it made for some heated discussions between us. Second fun fact, when you're 8 months pregnant, heated discussions mean impromptu sobbing. 

It didn't help that the day we flew out my mother sent us an email sharing her traumatic birthing experience in Lebanon and claimed that I would grow to hate the cultural differences of giving birth in a foreign country. To the point that it would drive a permanent wedge between Kapil and I, the way it did between my mother and our Lebanese family. That email wedged itself in both our minds and with every detour we had to take from our original plan the mother-shaped wedge would sneak it's little head out just to whisper "this is it, this is the thing that will break you and bring you back to me where I can control your every action."

The hell it will. 

Long month short, I'm writing this sitting at a plastic picnic table inside our Hebbal house. We bought a bedframe, a memory foam mattress, a set of sheets, a work desk that we're alternating working at until we can get a carpenter to build the second one, and there are shipments of kitchen appliances/supplies coming in each day. A carpenter came a few weeks ago to update the bathroom fixtures and tomorrow the carpenter is coming through to hear all my ideas for shelves and furniture. 

The post today has silver lining. It took us sometime to wrap our heads around how we'd make it work, but we are making both our plans work. We are saving money, we are spending money, we are building our Hebbal home, and we are spending time at Chetul (before night curfew kicks in) with family for snacks, meals and Asmi play time. And today I built an office chair without calling an install person. 

Hurry Home

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

Hurry Home....or Hari Om if you're being proper. It's what is said when you greet others as you enter and leave a room. A phrase used several times daily when living in Bangalore.

You've read correctly, living in Bangalore. It's been, several years since I've written in this blog. So here's a quick update:

• Got married - three times - to the same person (courthouse, India, Florida ceremonies)
• Bought a town home in Durham, NC and renovated it completely
• Held my position as Training Program Developer for 5 years and counting
• Became an ambassador for DE&I at the company I'm employed at 
• Pushed pause on writing/performing music
• Had three miscarriages
• Survived a global pandemic
• Got and stay pregnant (we're at 32 weeks currently)

Those last two are technically still in progress, because 1) people are selfish and won't make small sacrifices to change their behaviors for the overall benefit of humanity and 2) pregnancies last 40ish weeks.

So, how did we get here - in Bangalore?! 

Slowly. 

Kapil and I always talked about starting a family. And while I thought getting off birth control was the scary part, dealing with back to back miscarriages was a lot worse. Sometimes I was happy it happened because the idea of actually being pregnant for 9 months and doing that thing where you endure a lot of fucking pain for several hours with no real end in sight was terrifying. Other times I was really upset and sad that I couldn't fulfil the dream of us starting a family. I know there are always other options. But those were always back burner conversations. 

"Let's try one more time before we..."

"What if it was just the two of us..."

"Financially, we just aren't ready..."

"Let's run a few more tests..."

But then it happened. We got pregnant and stayed that way. We didn't tell people because we knew what happened before and we didn't want to have to back peddle and have to have those back burner conversations with anyone else. It was our lives and our plans and everyone else would just have to watch from the sidelines because well, this wasn't their game to play. 

And when it happened, we thought back to those first conversations. How when we started a family, we didn't want to stick around the US for them. Both being born outside the states and having overseas families, we wanted to keep that honor and tradition going. We wanted our first born in the father's home country, the second in the mother's and the third in the home we made for us - India, Lebanon and the US. 

Now, I'm grateful we're getting to start that family and I'm not so sure we'll make it to three kids. But it was a plan and it was something we still felt was possible to follow as long as...well...the world didn't explode. 

Cue the global pandemic.

It started small, like all science-fiction movies do. An outbreak overseas that was passed through travel and touched down far enough to still not really scare you. Then it grew closer and closer until you couldn't leave your house. 

Having groceries delivered. Keeping hand sanitizer on your person at all times. Wearing face masks and shields, trying new recipes from ingredients that were running out, ordering amazon packages just to feel something and getting bored binge watching shows. The first few months of lockdown were a learning curve. But after a while, it was fine. Like living in a bunker with your best friend. 

But like living in a bunker with your best friend, the rest of the world still turned. New family members are born, some of them die and all you can do is spend time with them through a screen. Hoping to show them that you still care even though you can't physically be near them. Can't hold their hands and let them know you exist. Those times were tough. 

Even tougher when other people are not being careful. Going out to eat, getting their routine hair and nail appointments, attending parties and large gatherings, traveling domestic and internationally because they were bored. Probably tougher still knowing that these people were your own family members who have all been infected and have likely played a role in the spread of the disease. 

The lack of shame and guilt they continue to hold for their actions infuriates me and has fueled a great deal of my actions in relation to this pregnancy.

"What do you want us to do - never leave the house?!"

"We can't all have jobs like yours!"

"You have to respect our choices just like we respect yours."

"You never spend any time with us!"

"I can't believe you're not coming for Thanksgiving/Christmas!"

"It's not like this is HIV or AIDS or something."

"Why is it so hard for you to come visit!?"

"So-and-so comes down almost every month!"

"Can't you work remotely from down here?!"

"You know it's just a matter of time before everyone has been infected."

All actual phrases shared with me by my family members. All phrases I could spend hours discussing. But the reality of the situation is simple:

For as long as I can remember, my family has only cared about themselves.

And for as long as I can remember, I have never felt the same way. It has been a cornerstone of who I am - caring about others - and I will continue to keep that a reality through my actions. Even when those actions are putting up strict boundaries between my family members and I. .

Like waiting 7 months before telling them we were expecting a child.

They weren't happy.

We thought about telling them at Thanksgiving. Then again at Christmas. But every time we talked to them it was more and more apparent that if they knew we were pregnant, that they would request to spend time with us. And we couldn't take that risk. I mean, we talked about it. Talked about what it would take to visit safely with them. And it wasn't a lot to ask:

1. Get tested for covid
2. While waiting for results, quarantine to avoid nullifying those results
3. Once a negative result presented, drive directly to where we can spend time together
4. During that time together, do not interact with the public to avoid infection (ie. ordering take-out or food delivery and any activities would have to be outdoors in fresh air fully masked)

And every time we tried approaching the conversation, it was held off because... 

"You will not believe the cutest lunch place we went to today!"

"Finally got a chance to have brunch with so-and-so INDOORS - can you believe it?!"

"Got my hair done at this new spot, I don't think I like what the lady did."
"The flight from A to B was so crowded! I guess things are going back to normal."

"Ugh, I can't keep wearing masks like this, I'm getting mask acne!"

"Did you see the photos from so-and-so's shower? I loved the décor and the catering was so good!"

"Your sibling is going to state/country to spend time with their friends for the week."

...it was obvious that they couldn't handle 2-3 days of self quarantine to see us.  

So we went through all the milestones of the pregnancy quietly together; not telling our friends, our family, our co-workers. Going through the medical issues like placenta previa and genetic testing quietly in our bunker. Not committing to any pregnancy purchases because we didn't know how long things would last. Not getting excited about potential names. Avoiding posting anything on our social media platforms that would make it look like we were expecting anything to happen. Creating Plan A - C in spreadsheets with dates before making any decisions about where the baby would be born and how we would share the news. Having the same fight over why we were keeping things to ourselves. And you know, all while successfully avoiding infection. 

And slowly time passed. Those dates in those spreadsheets started to roll by and soon we started to see a path before us. My placenta was no longer in a dangerous location. Kapil got a new job that paid 40% more so the option of getting a new home in a few years was becoming more of a reality (even though we just finished renovating our perfect bunker). I got a pretty decent salary bump and approved for maternity leave. Work approved both Kapil and I's remote working plans for India for the next several months. Doctor's in both the US and India provided written approval for us to travel until my 34th week of pregnancy. The few friends we told about our pregnancy were more than happy to help take care of our plants and our home while we were away. And everything fell into place. 

So we booked our tickets on a Wednesday and left on a Saturday.

It was one hell of a week. Right after the hell of a week that was telling my parents we were pregnant. Yup, we went from Saturday of one week having the conversation:

"Yay, we're having a baby!" 

To Monday getting everything cleared with work

To Tuesday getting everything cleared with the doctors

To Wednesday buying our tickets 

To Thursday five days later telling my parents:

"You can't see us until after the baby is born because we'll be in India for the next 6-8 months"

To Friday spending all day packing and donating our perishables and getting all our affairs in order for the trip on Saturday. Plan A worked out perfectly for us. 

And as predicted, we were met with angry, hurtful conversations

"You really don't want us involved in your life, do you?"

"Ever since you married Kapil we've seen less and less of you"
"Is Kapil the one who is pushing you away from us?!"

"I don't understand how you can be so careful this whole pandemic and then turn around and go to a third world country to have a baby"
"You know I wanted to commit suicide when you were born in Lebanon"
"You're going to regret ever having this baby over there"

"How is this a healthy decision!?"
"What's the name of your doctor - I'm suing him"
"Why do you keep referring to the baby as them? Are you having multiples!?"
"How can you do this to us!"

"How long did have you been planning this?!"
"You're still just a liar, always lying to us about your life"

"We're never going to see you again"

All of these conversations over 24 hours followed by three weeks of silence. Not a text, not an email, not a phone call, not a returned phone call acknowledging our existence. I would say I was sad about it, but honestly, this was all predicted. This is how they always behave when they don't get their way. Freeze you out to make you feel guilty until you give into what they want. And sure, if I was still a child, I would probably feel some form guilt about all of this because that's what you conditioned me to feel. But I haven't been a child since I realized how little you care for anyone but yourselves - which was somewhere between age 6 and age 13.

Yesterday was my brother's birthday, two days before that my fathers. I sent some flowers and chocolates. Then I was told to call my mother and talk to her. I guess she's thawed out by now when she realized that this baby isn't traveling back to the states until it can hold it's own head up. And, like previously predicted, her conversation with me was as if none of the hateful, angry, hurtful things she said above were ever uttered. Swept all under the rug along with the years of verbal abuse that preceded. 

A living example of how not to raise a child.

So, we've gotten caught up. Here in Bangalore, India until I pop and deflate. This will be likely be one of two heavy entries on this blog (the next one being the popping). Thankfully the entries after this one and before the monster arrives should be fairly tame. Much appreciation for you sticking around and reading all of this. It was a nice reminder realizing that writing makes me feel good. I thought I lost that. Hari Om.

I fear...

They say it's important to name your fears. Give them a face and a name. Treat them like a simple problem placed in front of you. That way you can tackle each one, move forward towards a solution, find a path towards a goal of being unfearful.

I'm going to list and name all the fears I've been feeling since 4am this morning. All the things that have made me burst into uncontrollable tears. Name them ALL.

1. I fear for people of color. Under Obama's democracy, police felt comfortable not considering the lives of blacks, not fulfilling justice. I fear that under this new 'democracy' forces of power will feel even more comfortable doing much worse and redefining justice in their own way. Pulling over anyone and asking them their religious affiliation. Pulling a gun on any suspicious character, regardless of their actual actions. 
2. I fear that citizens who own guns will feel righteous doing the same. 
3. I fear that those who are in power of the judicial system will feel comfortable allowing forces of power and ordinary citizens with arms to continue acting for the 'safety of the nation.' Please, people of color and non-christian religions, do not drive alone. Don't go over the speed limit. Keep all your documents up to date. Stay in the slow lane. Do not tempt them with trying to circumvent their system or move to far forward. They have the power and the leader to support their racist, hateful ways and will twist every situation to show you as the terror. 
4. I fear for the media of America. Since technology has made it easy to spread content the media has pushed for a 'fair and balanced' viewpoint. It was a lie that they were trying to force feed down the throats of the majority of America. As a liberal, I took each spoonful with a smile. Knowing that they represented a society that didn't hurt, but helped people. But the people want to hurt. The bullies want to sit at the table of the rest of us and take what they want because they feel right doing it. And the media feels like they've been cheated, but they haven't. They've been cheating us by not showing us the faces of those who were not heard. They cheated us by not naming those fears. And now they have control over, well, pretty much whatever they want. 
5. I fear for women. Women who are raped and sexually assaulted and who were afraid to step forward before. We've silenced them all now. We have told them that it's their fault they let it happen and that they deserve to live with those consequences. I fear for women who need to take care of their health, their career, their personal lives, but will be punished beyond measure for it. I fear for women in the workplace, who will have to endure their coworkers knowing that their commander in chief can grab what he wants, and pay you less for it. 
6. I fear for the doctors who want to bring equal care to all. I fear they will be forced to report all their procedures and be told not to provide them or face horrible punishment.
7. I fear that men will never know what is or how to take responsibility. And that it will be passed onto through several generations.
8. I fear the community who makes up the most of this country and will feel righteous speaking up for their hate.
9. I fear for children who have been taught to speak up and to defend themselves against hate. Because once they do, it's possible that they never may again for fear of pain and suffering.
10. I fear for those allies and members of the LGBTQ community. That they will be driven out in an unwanted forum and shamed for something that is completely shameless. 
11. I fear for the indigenous people of this country who will likely die trying to protect the water, air and land from a business that will bring jobs and money, but not clear water or air, to its citizens.
12. I fear for this planet, that is slowly dying beneath our feet. That not has very little hope of ever being saved. More cars, more emissions, more drilling. Less future for us all.
13. I fear for the immigrants who have fled from fear only to find that there is no safe place for them, their families, or their future.
14. I fear for the government's control over its people. I fear that we will all be subject to random checks and we will be forced to comply or die. 
15. I fear for every business that depends on government support and that it will crumble and more people will end up uneducated, complacent, ignorant and find peace and justice in hate.
16. I fear for those who haven been rightfully elected, that they may be overturned by hate.
17. I fear that everything our new president says, cannot be accounted for. And that only his actions will be his proof. And that those actions, will be disasterous. 
18. I fear for people with disabilities. That they will face harder circumstances finding the care and support they need.
19. I fear that each day I will become sick in my head having to recognize and face these fears. That I will be afraid to leave my house. Afraid to see what is happening outside. Afraid to ever bring a child into this world. Afraid that if I take action and leave, that I may never see my family again.
20. I fear that leaving this country will be harder when he's here. I fear that we can not get out soon enough. 
21. I fear my own voice. I fear posting my thoughts online. That I will be found and hurt because I don't support their way of thinking. I fear my own voice.
22. I fear that the conservative right side of our country, the MAJORITY, has faced these fears too. And I want to tell them that they had nothing to worry about. That their religion, their love, their education, their business, their sisters and mothers and aunts and grandmothers and daughters were safer than they've ever been. But, they might not be now. Someone please show me that I have nothing to worry about. Because there are literally KKK rallies happening across town at this moment.
23. I fear for the generation of my parents. Because I love them so much, and they so willingly voted for him. Thinking that business is all he'll change in this country. They are wrong. 

For all the things I fear, I only have one hope.

I hope that I am wrong

You're doing what?

You've literally been dreaming about this your entire life. You've literally created wedding plans for EVERY relationship you've been in. And after, let's say, 10 years of trying to find your husband, you decide this is it.



I'm trying not to pass judgement. I'm trying to be happy and optimistic about this. But it hurts me. It hurts me that you, a woman who held love and marriage with such reverence, is making a lifetime decision so haphazardly. I shouldn't be hurt. I shouldn't be thinking things like:

What happens if he turns out to be abusive?
What happens if one of you wants a divorce?
What if his finances fall through? Because I know you aren't saving any money.
What happens if you have a child?
What happens if he leaves you pregnant?
What happens if he leaves you with even more debt?
How are you going to pay for your life together?
Where are you going to live?
Will your life be part of the military's now?
How will this affect your relationships with your friends? Your family? Your band?
What happens if you get upset and don't feel safe around him anymore?



Because I know you. I know how you react in relationships. I know how you process your emotions and express yourself and react to certain phrases or expressions, and I know that often times, your actions aren't conducive to a happy partner.  Literally, the last guy you lived with was lead to be physical with you to express himself. Granted, he needed better control issues at the moment, but you weren't very helpful. You tend to poke sleeping bears A LOT.


You've been called crazy, erratic, lazy, defiant, immature, unemployable, rebellious, hard to work with, an unnecessary diva and just a plain old bitch.


But you deserve happiness. And I want you to experience it. Everyone deserves happiness...

...I don't think you've earned it. And I feel horrible for saying that. Maybe I'm jealous of the situation. Maybe not. But honestly, I don't think you know the meaning of working hard and achieving a goal. You haven't taken action to complete your degree. You haven't been able to hold a job for more than a year. I know you open credit card accounts just to pay other credit cards off (a vicious downward spiral of debt that you're bringing an innocent man into). Your contribution to our commitment together as Jaded has been menial at best. And you don't know how to be patient or flexible. I don't think those attributes will result in a successful relationship, let alone marriage.


I think why this bothers me so deeply is that I used to trust you. You and I came together to embark on something new and exciting. I left my home and my career to pursue it with you. It has been a rocky road to get things off the ground. And you have been there to support me through it all. But, I honestly can't trust your judgement anymore. The way you talked about marriage and love and how badly you wanted to find someone you could trust like that. I can't really understand how you can be so trusting to someone you've known for so little time. And it's not the first time you've trusted someone so easily.

Someone who trusts others so quickly...honestly can't be trusted.  I can't be assured that you will be able to follow through on tasks and goals because well, who knows what the fuck's going on in your life. But, this is not my life. This is not my relationship. This is not my marriage. You two can define your own love the way you want. And I need to make sure I'm not in your way.


So, here's hoping you prove me wrong.  Here's hoping you don't get fickle and leave this guy because he said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Here's hoping he knows EXACTLY how much emotional/financial debt he is marrying into. Here's hoping you've outlined exactly how many other men/women you'll be sleeping with besides your husband. Best of luck on your wedding day.

We are not the same

I often forget that my life is different than yours.

I often forget that even though we share so many things, that my life is very different than yours.

I often forget how strict my parents were with me; how many things I missed out on or were withheld from me because I was grounded for acting up, or not doing well in school.

I often forget how stressed I was in school trying to impress and honor my parents; how many nights I was forced to stay up and study.

I often forget how I was physically treated when I didn't do well, or behaved appropriately. Tough love they called it. Even though it drove a wedge in the family. Even though it caused years of physical and mental stress on too many people. It could have easily been dealt with a different way.

But I can't change the past and when I look at what I have now, I am so vividly reminded that the pain and stress, although easily avoidable, was not so horrible I couldn't overcome it.




I am reminded that because of my upbringing, that I will never give up. I will never quit a task. I will force myself to find a solution at any cost.

I am reminded that because of my upbringing that I will never stop working to achieve a goal. I will never put things aside and forget about them. I will never sleep in or not take my work home with me.

I am reminded that because of my upbringing that I will always aim to do more in less time, achieve more tasks at the same time.

I am reminded that because of my upbringing, romantic love is not the greatest goal in life and focusing on solely that leaves you with little to hold.

And every reminder put me on a journey.



The journey I took to develop a safe and secure career as an educator, and then risking it all for a TV show that lasted a few weeks.

The journey I took to develop a career as a director and producer, and then being poorly paid or laid off and living on unemployment for months.

The journey I took to develop a relationship with another, and then with myself, and then holding a gun in my hand trying to remember how to load it.

All those journey's lead me to a destination.




That destination takes more time than I gave it credit for. And sometimes, I may gloss over all the details from point A to point B. I may elude the fact that it is really hard to get those things done. I may not express exactly how hard it was, and how hard it is to get through. Maybe it's because I don't want to show weakness, maybe it's because I want so badly to do well, maybe it's because I am still afraid of letting my parents down.


Or maybe it's because I'm different than you. I was raised differently. I express differently. I look at goals and tasks differently. I work differently. I hold love differently.



So when you find yourself at an undesirable destination, I don't know if my advice will ever help you. Because I am different.

But if I can give you any advice, maybe take a look at the journey that brought your there. Maybe take a look at the reminders you often forget. Even though we are not the same, our destination is likely similar: happiness.



You can't go back and change your upbringing.  You can't go back and change the way you acted or worked.


But you can learn. You can make changes now. You can put actions in place to make it so you never find yourself in that place again.


Hope is not lost. Hope is just waiting for you to change.