Voices

I certainly still have moments of self-doubt, but I make a conscious effort to change my internal monologue at those times. Instead of saying, "If only you were good enough to write a book," I tell myself "You're doing great accomplishing small steps to get there." Instead of berating myself for always splitting my attention between my daughter and my work, I congratulate myself for juggling writing and motherhood.

I was born into an upper-middle class family in Los Angeles. I live in a liberal bubble in New York City. For my friends who are far more marginalized than I have ever been, this may not have been a shock.

Over the past few months, my partner, Christopher, and I had continuously kicked around the idea of introducing other people into our relationship. Contrary to stereotype, these talks weren’t centered around satisfying his fantasy of sleeping with two women — though he certainly didn’t mind the idea. No, we spit-balled ideas about other women for my sake, to see how I could explore my queer identity within the context of our commitment.

I grew up knowing my family always had its very own black cloud. Like a backyard pet that comes and goes when it pleases, a room locked but filled with things we weren’t allowed to look at or set free. And it was all passed down to me like some broken heirloom — my ancestor’s weaknesses and fears, swirled into DNA’s mad ritual. Does the body sometimes take into itself — take from its creators — what it cannot heal from? Sometimes, yes.

This is a public school, and every bloody week, there is at least one of these coming home. And before I go on, I know that our public schools are underfunded, and I know they need to get money somehow, but it’s getting ridiculous. At the moment, we are lucky enough that we can pay these fees. We can pay $20 for a picture our own child drew even though we get 20 of the same drawings every day for free. But not every public school family can. So many families are struggling to give their children the basics, to send them to school with breakfast in their tummies and lunch in their bags, without worrying about how they’re going to send their kid to the disco all their friends are going to, or how they’ll buy milk after sacrificing their last fiver for a Mother’s Day gift.

Whether it’s moving to a different country, starting a new career in a completely different field, or even something tiny like how to compose that text to a friend or which movie to see, decisions big or small can wear you out before you even have a chance. Below are some questions to help you think through tough decisions. But first, keep in mind: no matter your choice, you will most likely be alive when it has run its course. And you will most likely still be you. Deep breaths. Keep reading.

I cannot approve of nor fault Hillary for doing what strong women with ambition and leadership capabilities have known for hundreds of years: to survive in a world dominated by men, sometimes you find yourself picking your battles and aligning with the very ones that would wage war against you.

It’s a strange day to be writing about how my mental illnesses have made my life better.