Spit, or: Swallow

(Thatโ€™s what she said.)

A limerick Trigger warning: Domestic abuse Knowing just how to scream Hadesโ€™ name was Persephoneโ€™s most debasing shame. Though she attended his needsโ€ฆ

Spit, or: Swallow

Reflecting For The Week

TW: Brief mention of r***, incest, and abortions.

Today was both a good, and a bad day. I started off with tender breasts, PMS, and a fuzzy brain.

I was supposed to go to a lunch of a family friend, but epilepsy said, โ€œNah.โ€ Luckily my amazing husband went to the store upon my request and picked up my Diet Coke, Twix, and Starbursts. Then he gave them to me and hid in his man cave. Wise man.

Later, Patrick and moved shit around in the apartment, to both change the energy flow, and to organize and store shit. We got a lot of work done today, and I can feel it. I finally smudged the apartment, after โ€œthinking about itโ€ for weeks. I feel so light, like a plastic bag, floating in the wind.

Lately, though, Iโ€™ve been really emotional, but not because of hormones. In Texas, they are trying to ban abortions after 6 weeks, regardless of r*** or incest, and make it possible for ANY ONE to sue someone they suspect whoโ€™s received an abortion, or someone they suspect performs abortions. The person doesnโ€™t even have to be guilty of the โ€œcrimeโ€ to be sued, just suspected. The State of Missouri is now trying to ban IUDโ€™s, because theyโ€™re considered aiding in abortion.

I feel so violated and angry. I have never been pregnant, and actively avoid pregnancy, as it often leads to children. But what if my birth control fails? What if the worst possible outcome occurred, but Iโ€™m forced to grow that personโ€™s seed?

These situations occur EVERY DAY. A woman from my past became pregnant when the manufacturer of her birth control filled the whole month of her cycle with placebos, instead of the hormonal BC. Iโ€™m sure she was one of thousands who unknowingly became pregnant.

The woman showed no symptoms of being pregnant, and all the while she was receiving heavy treatment for Covid-19 symptoms. She was 18 weeks along when she found out; the fetus was severely underdeveloped, and had the pregnancy gone to term, the child would have come out with horrifying side effects of this treatment. This doesn’t begin to unpack the trauma, excruciating pain, and worsened sickness for this woman.

Women donโ€™t have abortions to fill out a punch card; it is a last resort when everything else has failed.

This has been weighing on my mind as heavy as 25 cats. For the first time in my life, I am terrified for my future. I live in America – the land of the free, and home of the brave. This isn’t supposed to be happening in America; these things happen “over there”. Where is my freedom? Where is the freedom for other women?

My real fear is, whatโ€™s next after abortions and IUDโ€™s? Will hormonal birth control be next? And then, will we be too busy being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen to have a job or be educated?

Itโ€™s not โ€œjustโ€ banning abortions; itโ€™s a slippery slope back to the 1950โ€™s.

Pro-Choice โ‰  Pro-Abortion

But. Iโ€™m at the point in my life where I know if I donโ€™t speak up, and evangelize for us as women, that Iโ€™m apart of the problem, and I am done being apart of the silent majority.

I was not born to be normal; I was born and raised not run away from a fight, rather, grab my sword and beat it until it cries for its momma. I was born to lead, and I was raised to get shit done.

So that is exactly what Iโ€™m going to do.

My metaphorical pen will be my sword. I will share stories of women I’ve crossed paths with throughout my ridiculously traumatic and unstable life.

I hope you will join me by speaking your truth, or just sharing this piece; help start a larger conversation.

Letโ€™s start a revolution. #SaveTheUterus

This Shit Is Hard (I, like, can’t EVEN)

So I have been actively avoiding my blog, and more importantly, writing lately.

I am not a person who can just put forth garbage just to have content. I take great pride in my work, and believe in living with integrity, even when it feels like Iโ€™m climbing Mount Kilimanjaro (cause everyone climbs fucking Everest). I am uncomfortable posting fluffy shit like all of the โ€œBlog Babesโ€ suggest; I give exactly 0 fucks about writing โ€œ10 Best Fashion Tips, and #7 is unbelievable!โ€

Iโ€™m a loudmouth, opinionated bitch. My life, up until this point, has not been fun and fuzzy. I grew up witnessing domestic abuse, and then I walked into an abusive relationship. I have epilepsy, and generalized anxiety disorder, and Iโ€™m recovering from a life-long eating disorder, and emotionally numbing in any way possible. At the age of 12, I called a teen hotline and told the person on the phone that I thought I had depression.

I had no bodily autonomy for most of my life; my body was the property of everyone else, and I had to keep it clean and pure for them.

During my first appointment with a psychiatrist, after I told her my whole story, she paused, took a breath, and stated, โ€œItโ€™s impressive that youโ€™ve been suffering alone this whole time, and not in a good way.โ€

Translation: I am fucked up.

So. Hi again. Thanks for sticking with me thus far. I know, this started on a really depressing note, but itโ€™s my blog and I can be a party pooper if I want. So there! ๐Ÿ˜ค

But I digress.

Because I refuse to put out fluffy shit, I hardly post. Pulling that shit from within and putting the shit on paper is hard as fuck.

Looking back at that trauma is extremely difficult, not only emotionally, but the more I remember from my early teens, the more I piece together more experiences with my illness. I, too, have to open the door to the loneliness and despair that I felt then.

I look back at that little girl and it hurts to put myself back behind those melancholy eyes, and experience that trauma all over again. Itโ€™s devastating, and so unfair that this little girl, at the age of 12, knew she had depression, and yet, the adults in her life failed her.

But, I have to unpack it. If I keep shoving it into the back of the closet, with the memories of my platform Spice Girlโ€™s shoes covered in puke (Iโ€™m still waiting for those to make a comeback), Iโ€™ll never get better, and Iโ€™ll never completely understand myself.

Iโ€™m too self-aware and anxious to let that shit fester. I need to dig it out, explore it, and de-clutter it. Like Marie Kondo says, if it doesnโ€™t bring you joy, thank the items for their work, and let it go.

So, Imma start letting that shit go.

But I warn you: this could be some Taylor Swift type shit going forward, but if I can also make millions using old diaries and hard feelings, then let the โ€œSwiftingโ€ begin.

PS. I cuss A LOT. Like a lot, a lot. But itโ€™s a scientific fact that people who swear a lot have a higher pain tolerance, so whoโ€™s laughing now, mom?!

Autumnal Beauty Preview

So I have some things Iโ€™ve been working on quietly, and Iโ€™m not quite ready to spill the beans just yet, but hereโ€™s a preview. More details and seriously exciting news coming soon!

๐–๐–™๐–™๐–•๐–˜://๐–†๐–š๐–™๐–š๐–’๐–“๐–†๐–‘๐–‡๐–Š๐–†๐–š๐–™๐–ž.๐–ˆ๐–”๐–’/๐–•๐–”๐–—๐–™๐–‹๐–”๐–‘๐–Ž๐–”/

All Photo Credit Goes to Graphics Metropolis

Phoenix SFX Makeup

For those of you who donโ€™t know, I am a certified makeup artist, and in my certification curriculum was an Intro to SFX class.

I learn all of the cool shit, like zombie makeup, burn makeup, injuries, etc., but I also learned incredibly useful things like bone structure, and how to re-create it, and how to properly use it for correction makeup.

So here is a look that I created, and that Iโ€™m incredibly proud of. Itโ€™s been a really long time since Iโ€™ve done any true SFX makeup, and was able to use makeup that I already had.

It feels profoundly liberating to be able to create art like this again. Iโ€™m so grateful.

Rise of the Phoenix

The only not so fun part is clean-up. My sink looked like a crime scene, and I now have red stained rags, but it was so, so beyond worth it.

Crime Scene Makeup Removal

For the first time in a long time, I feel a creative shift in my life, and I am so deeply grateful.

Thank you so much for your time; I am grateful.

Werk Fashion

I just recently went back into the workforce, and was lucky enough to be gifted some money for cute new clothes.

Iโ€™ve been trying some new colors, styles, and looks and I wanted to share. Thoughts?

Donโ€™t mind the mess in the back; Iโ€™m still working on a clean backdrop.

Saturday #OOTD
Thursday #OOTD