Me showing up at court for the murder of my husband

How the fuck

one thing I’m grateful to my mom for is telling me from a very young age that if a man ever says he’ll kill me if I don’t do what he says, that I should fight and die. that it would be better to die than to be brought to a second location, it would be better to die instantly than live a little longer after god knows how much violation. i know that other people’s moms gave different advice, to be quiet so you can live and get away. little girls all got some kind of advice on what to do, though, huh? like… WHEN a man wants to hurt you. it’s surreal to think about how this shadow affects the landscape of girlhood

YES my mother said the same thing. Plus bite and scratch to get DNA, scream that you don’t know him, cause the biggest scene you can….but DO NOT get in a vehicle/go anywhere with him because “you have to assume that if you don’t get away right then, then you won’t get away at all”.

I loved in one of those “I Survived” stories a woman was being attacked by a man and she suddenly realized “This doesn’t have to be a fair fight” and just went batshit on him. Also kudos to my badass mom who also always taught me to go fucking feral, even if a man was holding a gun to me, because it’s better to die fighting and your family to know immediately what happened to you, then to disappear and no one ever finds your body. 

Learn from my Mom’s cat Miss Kitty, who will fuck you up if you touch her without permission.

Y’ALL

Do any other american high schoolers have intense survivor’s guilt and trauma with school shootings even though they weren’t at your school?

Like. A laser tag place opened geared towards teenagers and it got no business, we tried to enjoy it but when someone pointed a laser machine gun at me and I instinctively dropped behind the nearest wall and reached to turn off my phone I cried, I wasn’t the only one. The announcements system turns on at an unexpected time and everyone holds their breath until they say something besides “locks, lights, out of sight,” nobody even jokingly pops chip bags anymore, a door slammed really loud during a class change and everyone dropped and ran. Everyone cries during drills, even the toughest ranch kids. Every drill comes with a full day of teachers crying and telling us that they love us all so much and will die for us, and every kid in every class looking around wondering who would I die for? Who would die for me? You walk to the bathroom and wonder every second if it happens right now, where will I go? You test supply closet doors to see which ones are unlocked, you memorize which furniture in the teachers’ lounge your English teacher says is light enough to barricade a door with. The fire alarm goes off and nobody moves, instead you wait for gunshots—it a trap? You stand with a group of freshmen and realize that you’re the oldest, you know you’ll have to die for them. You forget your ID tag and worry that now the police won’t be able to tell your parents if you’re safe, or not safe. Your stats teacher has a baseball bat by the door, your math teacher keeps a stapler under each desk to throw, your drama teacher asks who will be willing to stand by the non-locking door with the Shakespearean swords. Your yearbook teacher tells you don’t worry about breaking a camera because you heard about the kids who died holding them. You don’t use the bathroom during classes because you don’t want to be the only target to shoot at. You keep your phone on silent 24/7 because you worry the one time you forget will be when you get your whole US History class killed. You have a snap saved with your class schedule and school and full name to send in an instant to your internet friends so they know if you were on that wing, you have a note saved with the things you want your mom to know and the things you’re sorry for. At the age of 12 I was told I needed to know who I would die for and that it was okay if it was nobody, that was my decision to make. School shootings control us more than adults and non-Americans could possibly imagine and nobody moves to change anything unless we’re actively screaming for it. Have you considered we’re too scared?

The absolute fuck. The fuck did I just read. This sounds like dystopian fiction. The fucking fuck.

The mere notion that highschool children might have survivor’s guilt is sickening

This should have way more notes she murdered these 😍

I can’t deal with how kickass these cosplays are.

holy fuck this is talent.

Well damn

open and raw communication with your partner may be uncomfortable and feel so ugly and vulnerable but it solves soo many problems in the end

The idea that was sold to us of "love is effortless and you should communicate telepathically with your partner" is false. Love is awkward as hell. It's A LOT of straight up talking and realization of your self - your own needs. It's important to make those needs heard. Do not deny yourself full love

that idea robs us of so much intimacy, the intimacy that comes with honesty and vulnerability and being known.

My husband and I have built to this point. We’re comfortable enough to say “hey. I had a bad day. I just wanna be alone” or “I don’t wanna talk, but I want to be near you.” Or anything like that. It’s amazing

Damn. This is beautiful and I’m gonna go weep for an hour.

Ooooo. I love this idea.

Ow. Then yay!

Holy. Shit. This is amazing.