For the first 25 years of my life, I had publicly identified as straight. There was a whole lot going on under the surface there, and I had begun to realize my queerness a couple years before. I had been an outspoken ally for the LGBTQ+ community in college when I began to realize that perhaps it wasn’t actually a sin to be gay and people couldn’t choose to be homosexual, but the process of coming out to myself was a longer one.
When you first meet me, I’m painfully shy and have a difficult time carrying a conversation (especially if I don’t find you particularly interesting…shhhhhh…)
And once I warm up, I’m a passionate flailing-muppet-arm word-vomity mess. Without a filter. I overshare. I’m brutally open and honest to a fault. Some may even call me abrasive or obnoxious.
Especially when you get me going on issues I’m passionate about.
This has been something that has become painfully clear to me over this past year on my path to a deeper sense of self awareness.
And so, here I am, with a whole lot to say about things that directly affect me and the people I care about, trying to figure out how to speak about them and gently educate people who may not be aware of them and/or strongly disagree with them.
There’s a fine line to walk and, over the past election season especially, I have witnessed all sorts of variations of communication and debate.
This March, a lot of the podcasts I listen to are pushing the “#trypod” movement to share favorite shows with friends who have never listened to one before. I always try to do that, but I decided to organize my favorites into a comprehensive list to direct anyone who will possibly listen to this one place!
I listen to a lot of podcasts. On my commute, at work, doing the dishes, that’s usually what I’m up to. I’ve kissed a lot of podcast-frogs but I found some princes(ses) among them. Here are the shows that I listen to on a regular basis and can wholeheartedly recommend to you, broken down roughly into some semblance of topics! (Buckle up…I wasn’t kidding when I said A. LOT. OF. PODCASTS. And these are just the ones that made the cut!)
DISCLAIMER: This post is about my own experiences researching and getting an IUD. I am definitely not a medical professional and this isn’t medical advice. But hopefully this can help you decide if IUDs are a worthwhile birth control method to speak with your doctor about, and what to expect if you choose to get one.
Due to the outcome of this U.S. presidential election, people with uteruses are asking a lot of unanswerable questions about what may happen to their bodies over the next four years.
Many of my friends have birth control through “Obamacare”/the Affordable Care Act and, the way our President Elect has been talking, he intends to do away with this.
Unfortunately, that leaves countless people with uteruses (I say it this way because some transmen have uteruses as well) wondering if they will still have easy and affordable access to birth control options within the next year.
The IUD or “Intrauterine Device” has been the buzz amongst my friends this past week.
Based upon which type you get, once installed, it is good for 3-10 years! This means that, for many people, they could have worry-free birth control that could last them until this hopefully blows over.
I had an IUD installed this spring, the copper Paragard version, and I have been planning to write about my experience and my choice for a while. But now it is more pertinent than ever. I have been talking with several friends individually about it, so I thought it was now the time for me to write this thing!
CW: Trans murder rate, murders of POC, this damn election
I don’t even know where to start. It’s not hyperbolic when I tell you that I am deeply grieving for My America right now. The America that was just beginning to acknowledge people like me as worthy of rights like marriage, adoption, protection from being fired because of my identity, and other things that so many people take for granted.
I could fill this page with empassioned wailings about how concerned I am for the safety of myself as a queer woman and my other LGBQ friends, my trans friends, my friends who are people of color, Muslim, immigrants, disabled, lower income, single mothers, people with uteruses, women…
Yes, these concerns exist and are so visceral I feel it seething out of my body, feel myself getting hives, unable to eat, bawling all day at work, and feeling like a tightly coiled spring.
Note: This post gets pretty quote-heavy, but bear with me!
The word “soulmate” is tossed around a lot.
It means different things for different people. Some think that there is one person out there in the world that they are destined to be with, and that is their soulmate. They will be the most perfectly compatible and complimentary couple in all ways.
I never quite subscribed to that philosophy. People are so unique, there are always going to be aspects that aren’t perfect.
And, after going through a divorce, perhaps I’ve become a bit jaded, in that nothing is as it seems.