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They're Cheering on Our Abuser, While We're Being Abused

Every morning I wake up and it’s yet another gut check. These last 15 months have been trauma on top of trauma on top of trauma. Add that to my pre-existing trauma and every fucking day is a chore just to get out of bed and do basic things. I’m worn the fuck out all the time. Emotionally. Mentally. And all that takes a physical toll as well. Life’s too much, man. And the hardest part of all of it is watching people root against my kids and root against me. Evil is everywhere in the US right now. And it’s extremely uncomfortable to live this alternate reality where people are as quick to embrace evil as they are to reject the truth. I’ve written about it many times on the blog, but when I was a kid I was abused. There’s nothing more evil than that. Preying on the weak. Abuse victims might scream out. But, often times they’re not heard. Or if they’re heard, they’re not believed. Because, honestly, it’s hard to comprehend the type of evil that would hurt a child. That trauma
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600,000 dead of Covid is not America First

“My father looked at me mildly, amusement in his eyes.” Scout in “To Kill a Mockingbird”. That’s the dream, right? That our kids catch us being amused by them. We are, but do they see it? They’re amazing, but do we take the time to get out of our own shit and observe their greatness? And better yet, catch them being great and let them know that’s how we see them? I’ve said it before, but we all suffer from the misfortune of having parents. Parents are human. And humans are imperfect. So, we all grow up damaged. The goal therefore becomes to limit the bruising. And to take a stand against unhealthy family traditions. I write my way through my shit. And it does my heart good that my daughter has taken to writing as well. Having that skill and using it as a coping mechanism at her young age is invaluable right now. Because our country is fucked the fuck up. Every day is a waking nightmare when one third of our fellow Americans are completely untethered to reality. The Covid lies
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Maga is Fake Patriotism and Fake Christianity

the only thing that rivals maga's fake patriotism is their fake christianity. the truth would have set us free from covid. but, trump lied and maga jumped at the chance to kill 600,000 americans instead of the 100,000 or so that we would have lost if our covid response had been the slightest bit science based. all we had to do was be average (our % of covid deaths being equal to our % of the world's population) and we would have saved 500,000 american lives. but, ameri ca is world class. aren't we? average would have been a failure. to have killed 5x more than average is unconscionable. our population is 13x that of australia. australia has had 910 covid deaths. total. if we handled covid like australia, we would currently have less than 12,000 covid casualties. instead of demanding a world-class covid response and begging for lives to be saved, maga cheered on the genocide while screaming "freedom". their personal "normal" was more important than your l
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A Haunted House With A Picket Fence

“A haunted house with a picket fence.” That line from Phoebe Bridgers “I Know The End” has stuck with me all week, because that was my childhood. I love those moments where a lyric fits so perfectly that it feels like the soundtrack to your life has been written by other broken hearted people who have been through similar shit. I wrote yesterday once again about the abuse I suffered at the hands of an evil grandmother. The house where it happened was at 4718 Kimball SE Kentwood, MI. I google searched it just now and see the fucking picket fence is still there. I don't know how that's possible, since we moved out of the house 36 years ago, but I'll be damned if that house isn't still trying to pretend it has its shit together. A house haunted on the inside where unspeakable shit went down, trying its best to look pretty on the outside so that we could still attend the neighborhood block parties and be late for church every Sunday. Before Instagram existed, that h
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Don't Be My Grandma

I was looking for a picture of my mom to post for mother’s day and found a facebook post I wrote last mother’s day. It was about standing up for victims. So, I’ll honor her memory this mother’s day by doing just that. I’ve written a lot on this blog about my childhood abuse. And it says a lot about who we are as a society that that’s not the norm, but instead is seen as “oversharing” or “being vulnerable”. I hate those fucking words. I tell the truth, because it helps me heal to tell my real story and hopefully it gives other people some comfort. I want readers to know they’re not alone. And it’s okay to be honest about the shit that happened to you that wasn’t okay. And the idea that that line of thought is the exception rather than the rule is crazy to me. We are an Instagram world…fake as fuck needing filters to try to make people jealous of a life that we don’t actually lead. No one is as perfect as their Insta would have you believe. And what’s the net of that? We look at ot
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