Walks of Journey

Abortion is healthcare. Abortion is suicide prevention. Abortion is mental health. Abortion is a basic human right.

June 24, 2022, 6 members of the Supreme Court, the highest court in the United States, overturned the ruling of the 1973 case of Roe v. Wade. Roe v. Wade was a case that not only protected the right to make decisions about continuing or ending a pregnancy, but also protects the right to privacy. The ruling of this court case was based on the 14th amendment, addressing the rights of citizens including equal protection under the law. Abortions were happening centuries before Roe v. Wade was even a consideration. Although it will be hard for us to truly know the impacts of the unsafe, back alley, non-medical abortions due to deaths being contributed to other causes to avoid shame or backlash on surviving loved ones. We do know that deaths related to abortions were decreasing even before Roe v. Wade. In just a year prior to Roe v. Wade, it was recorded that 24 women died from legal abortions, abortions provided by licensed medical professionals, and 39 women died from illegal abortions. Abortions provided by licensed medical professionals were saving the lives of those impacted by unwanted, unplanned, undesired pregnancies. The number of deaths caused by illegal abortions, again an abortion not provided by a licensed medical professional, dropped to 19 in 1973 and dropped even further to 6 in 1974. Records show that from 1979-2017 no more than 2 women died from illegal abortions a year. Access to safe, legal abortions was saving the lives of women. Abortion is healthcare. Roe v. Wade not only protected the right to choose but the right to our own privacy. The 14th amendment includes the due process clause, prohibiting the government to deny a citizen life, liberty, or property. The 14th amendment was cited in Roe v. Wade to protect the right privacy not only for the choices of a person, but also doctor patient confidentiality. With Roe v. Wade being overturned we can only question what will come next, what rights will be stripped, what clauses will be re-interpreted. Right to privacy is not explicitely cited in the consititution. The constitution, which in my opinion is extremely outdated and based on a world and advancements that are no longer relevant, is what the Supreme Court claims they are using to base their decisions. There is no promise that rights of marginalized populations will remain. This is just the start of a long line of rights being stripped. Roe v. Wade, right to privacy, was standing in their way, now they are making it very clear that nothing is a barrier.

It’s me, the girl that makes a blog about live journeys but in reality uses it as an outlet for what is pissing her off that day. What’s in store for today? Elitist Workout Culture. Before I get started, I do not think that people who work out are automatically elitist assholes, I do, wholeheartedly, believe that corporations that profit on working out are elitist as fuck and in the worst way.

T and I recently decided to start training for races. He wants to do a tough mudder, I would like to keep my sanity, either way, we both (me more so than him) need to get back into the swing of exercising. I used to run, for like a summer and a half, and it was pretty religiously, but school happened, moving happened and I fell off track. I want to say that this time will be different, but honestly, I’m not off to a great start. Once we decided we were going to start training, I realized that I needed new sports bras, because running with boobs suck when they are supported. We made our way over to the local Dick’s Sporting Goods, after playing with some adorable puppies of course, and that’s where it hit me. Workout culture is elitist as fuck. I’ll say it again, workout culture is elitist as fuck, and big corporations do not help a fucking bit.

Within two minutes of being in the store, I knew I was not going to have a good time. The racks were jam-packed, but none of the sports bars looked like they would fit my chest, let alone not suffocate me while I was trying to put them on. Quickly, I looked up the sizing chart for the brand I was looking at, hoping they would at least have the size I needed on their chart. 1-2X, that’s fine, I know I have a big chest, I have for most of my life, normally seeing 1-2X makes me want to cry, but I get it, it’s what I need. I start rummaging through the racks, remember how packed they were? Surely they will have at least some in my size. WRONG. Every single rack was packed as full as they could have made them, but there was only ONE 1X sports bra in the entire brand I was looking at.  Not a problem, there is one, and maybe the sizing chart was off by a bit. So I grab the 1X and an XL and head to the dressing room.

The XL has a supportive band only slightly bigger than the circumference of my head, clearly, that isn’t going to fit, again, no big deal it was a stretch, to begin with. So I grab the 1X and start to try it on. This fucker has one of those color bursting anti-theft devices on it, you know, the ones that explode colored ink everywhere when it seems like the object is being tampered with, which was going to explode if I even attempted to get that fucker over my head and chest, not even worth the struggle.

I go back to the rack to return the sports bras that clearly were not meant for me and go to a different brand section in the store. The same exact story. Racks are packed with sized like XS, S, M maybe a few L and XL, none in the size I need. Normally, I convince myself that people my size have already purchased the items I need, leaving nothing but smaller sizes left, until I realized later that night, as I was sitting on the living room floor sobbing, that when I usually try to convince myself of that, the racks and shelves at least look picked over. These looked freshly stocked. I couldn’t even find a sports bra my size if I was standing at the dock on shipment day. They simply do not stock my sizes in workout clothes.

Some of you are probably thinking that is a “me problem” instead of a “culture problem” which might be a nice scapegoat for people who luckily fit the sizes stocked in stores, but how the fuck and I supposed to lose the weight to fit in those sizes if I cannot get the proper clothing that would allow me to do so? Some of you are probably thinking, “okay what’s the big deal, just run in a regular bra?” That shit hurts, like a motherfucker. Try running on a treadmill, or a track, or trail, or what-have-you with two 42DD bouncing in your face, anywhere from 15-23 pounds bouncing on your chest while you are trying to breathe through the pain, that shit don’t work.

My sister, bless her heart, tried to make me feel better by asking who shops in stores anymore and suggested just buying some online. Which works if you have smaller chest sizes. Bra sizes for people with bigger chests are about as consistent as cats in a bathtub, they fucking aren’t. Trying on before you buy is so important because it allows you to test how that product works with your life, with your workout style, with your needs. You can have the most expensive sports bra in the world that is exactly your size, but if you jump and your boobs pop out, you just wasted a paycheck. And don’t even get me started on the price of these fuckers. That’s for another rant on another day.

Workout culture is elitist as fuck because it makes it impossible for anyone outside of the “beauty standard” to consider working out in clothes that make them feel good or causes less pain.  We deserve brands that allow us to be healthy in comfortable and supportive ways, and we simply are not getting that.

 

From my fucked up journey to yours,

This blog has been anything but a consistent thought in my life this year. 12 months ago I was an eager new blogger waiting for all of the adventures I could share with you. Well, news flash, my life is pretty boring. And by pretty boring, I mean boring as fuck. I have never really gone off the path that was laid out for me a short 22 years ago. No, when I was born my parents did not hand me this massive binder with my life all planned out, but that would have been pretty nice. And honestly, if you asked them, they would probably say I threw them a few curveballs. But curveballs from where? Left field? Is it really surprising that I ended up where I am today? Not really. I am pretty much where fate decided I needed to go.

No, this isn’t a whole “finding myself” post that other 22-year-olds would force feed you. This isn’t a post about me finally giving into the idea that the universe had a plan for me and me deciding it’s about damn time to give in to it. This is a post about me realizing that I am not any different than any of you. I might not do things on a whim, I may be the master of lists (learning from the best, of course, thanks momma), and I may have followed my path, dotting all my i’s and crossing all of my t’s, but don’t we all?

Now, before you tell me of this outrageous summer you had before junior year where you really found yourself. All the times you hung out with the stoner next door and how you were high more days than not. Who said that wasn’t written into your story? Who said that wasn’t exactly what you needed to realize that going to business school like your mom pushed wasn’t really for you? I am not saying that there is some higher force playing Sims with our lives, but I will say I have had a nightmare or two about exactly that. I’m saying that our paths are laid out for us, and honestly, we just follow them. Just because the path isn’t nice and pretty with pathed paths and handrails for the bumpy parts doesn’t mean it was not written to be exactly like that. Unpathed and bumpy.

This year has been a learning process for me without a doubt. I went into 2018 with the mindset that I was going to kick ass and take names. Don’t get me wrong, I did kick ass and take names, I did graduate cum laude a year early with my bachelor in social work. I did have a killer summer position with AmeriCorps. I did get into all four of the grad schools I applied for, including the best school in the nation for a master of social work degree. But I also got my ass kicked. I moved to a new city, I left all my friends, I lost an apartment the day I was supposed to move in. I cried, hell, I’m not going to sugar coat it, I ugly sobbed, for hours, on multiple occasions. I almost dropped out of grad school, twice. But I also learned my place. And not in the misogynistic, I found my way through a kitchen kind of found my place. I found my niche in my career, and I am absolutely smitten with it. I found exactly who I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I found out that looking for apartments on a strict time crunch leaves you without a stove for 8 months. But you live and you learn, you know?

I know this post has been all over the place, but hear me out here. I did not plan for any of the bumps in 2018 to happen. I mean who plans on a vicious dog breaking three windows downstairs while you are trying to move into your first solo apartment? You get me? Good. But I also didn’t plan on the good things happening either. I did not plan on falling in love with my job over the summer, or sobbing as I left the town I called home for the past three years as I moved on to bigger and better things. I did not plan on falling hopelessly in love with my significant other. I didn’t plan any of it. It was bumpy at parts, unbearable honestly, but it also gave me the opportunity to see where I am in my life and just enjoy it. It allowed me to walk out of T’s apartment to a sunset over the mountains, and fall in love with my undergrad town all over again. I allowed me to realize that the vicious dog from the first floor allowed me to move to an amazing neighborhood. 2018 was anything but easy, but it was always interesting, and exactly what I needed at that moment in time.

Now, if you are still here, following this cluster fuck of a word vomit post, I wish you the best of luck in 2019. I wish you the bumps and the cracks, but I also wish you the sunsets and the unexpected pathed paths. I wish you the best and hope you are able to claw your way out of the worst. I hope and dream that you have the year of your life, while I also extend an arm when you need a lift. Know that whatever is thrown or gently tossed your way this year is exactly what you need and that you will find your way on the path eventually. It might not make sense now, but it never does at the moment, this is life after all.

From my walk to yours, enjoy the journey.

I have had so many conversations about gun control throughout the past few days and I have had enough.  There are a few things that I want to make VERY clear about my argument, and very clear about the people I am having these conversations with. First things first, I am not asking to take away your guns, that never has been and never will be the basis for my argument for gun control. I am asking for control and regulation not dictatorship and authoritarianism. I believe guns can be used for good. I was raised in a family that was big on shooting before my grandpa passed, I was raised in a community that is still to this day big on hunting. Guns are not bad. So no, I am not going to go into your house and steal all of your guns, that is not what I am after, and honestly, I have no interest in taking your guns. The only interest I have is making guns harder for people to obtain. I want more regulations, I want more guidelines and laws. I want to be turned away from a gun shop because I do not have the proper licensing or training. But I do not want to take your guns. If you are willing and able to take the necessary courses and pass the required tests and checks, then by all means, own a gun, use a gun, hell, carry it on your hips for all I care. Just do it legally and through restrictions and regulations.

I am so tired of people using mental illness as an excuse to not enforce gun control. Fun fact, mental illness has the same prevalence rates globally, the United States is not special in this area. Mental illness is happening globally, mental illness is everywhere and does not discriminate based on any demographics. What is special to the United States is the number of mass shootings we blame on mental illness. No other country experiences the amount of domestic mass shootings that the United States experiences day in and day out. If you are going to use mental illness as a scapegoat for the violence that we are seeing in this country then I better see you voting for the representatives and officers that are fighting to increase support and resources people living with mental illnesses; without this your argument is completely invalid. You are seeing a problem and choosing to do nothing about it. Other countries are not seeing the high numbers of mass shootings as the United States because they saw a need for reform and regulation. They have gun control, they have support and resources for mental illness, but no, that would never work in the United States, you’re right.

If you are against gun control I am truly and dearly interested in why you think that something that is created to harm and kill should not be regulated. Why something that is capable of ripping lives apart and shattering any sense of safety should be easily and readily available. I am interested in why you refuse to hear my argument but simply scream that I can’t take your guns away in my face. I am dearly concerned about how you can look at the destruction it has caused in schools alone, and tell me that your right to own any gun you want is more important. These children from Florida are taking to social media, their communities, and their government to change something they so adamantly support, and you are telling them that it will get better. They lost their friends, their family, their teachers, and they are fighting for what they believe in, and you are standing their telling them your guns are more important.

 

 

 

We all know that feeling, you wake up and something is immediately wrong. You can’t put a pin on it, or come up with a reason, but you’re simply just not feeling yourself. Throughout the day you just feel more and more unmotivated to do anything, which isn’t uncommon for the average college student, but is particularity dangerous on this specific day. These days happen, we can’t deny it, and and we can’t avoid it, but we can push though it.

When I wake up feeling like I just don’t feel like me, it’s hard for me to get through the day. Classes seem to drag on for hours, work seems to be more daunting that yesterday, and everything gets under my skin. But this isn’t a productive place for me to be, or anyone really, but what is actually going on? Some people like to claim that it just happens, there is no reason, but I am a strong believer in the mind having more control over us than we like to think. And before you start thinking that this is going to be a weird sci-fi kind of post, I promise I’m not talking about brain washing or our bodies taking over the world. I’m simply suggesting that our bodies and minds tell us more than we are listening to.

Self- care is a really important practice that not a lot of us partake in, I’ll be the first to admit that I am the worst at self-care. Often I do all I can to avoid it, which sounds ridiculous now that I have finally typed it out, but it’s true. I hate taking time for myself. There is always something that needs to be done, an upcoming due date, work to go to, all of these endless, time consuming tasks that I cannot even fathom pushing back to take care of myself. This is where I believe the dazed and unmotivated days come into play. You can push and push all you want, but in reality, we can only go so far. You can have all the due days in the world coming up tomorrow, but if you are not in the right mindset, anything you do is going to be trash. As harsh as it sounds, we as humans, cannot produce nonstop. We have breaking points that we like to think we can push past, but in the end they are just going to pop right back up, but with more gusto and force.

So, instead of getting to that point of no return, listen to your body. If you feel off for what you think is no good reason, I promise you, there is a reason. Listen, hear it out, take a break, practice self-care. My favorite, least favorite thing to hear is that you can’t pour from an empty cup. You might have the wonder woman complex of a goddess, but when your resources are dry, they are dry, there is nothing else to it. Replenish yourself, take a bath, go for a run, sleep for a few hours. Whatever relaxes you, do it, take it all in, then you can go back to being your bad ass self.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m a little bit of a nerd about planners. I get way too excited about picking them out, and even more excited when they get delivered and I actually get my hands on them. This might be why New Years is one of my favorite holidays, it’s all about new beginnings, and using my new planner of course.

The New Year isn’t all about new beginnings though, it’s also about looking back at what had happened the previous year. One of my favorite parts about the new year is looking back at my planner from the previous year. Not only am I looking at all of the amazing things that happened over the year, but the struggles as well. I’m not going to pretend that every year is full of rainbows and butterflies, because they rarely are. Things go wrong, weeks are busy, stress is high, relationships end, semesters come and go. But each year is a journey nonetheless. A journey that makes you the person you are starting the new year as. No, this isn’t the most glorious tradition that I have, this isn’t all glitz and glam. But it was a year of growth, rainbows, thunderstorms and all.

So, even though we are three days into the new year, this is how I’m spending my Wednesday. Looking through all of the things that happened in 2017 that made me who I am walking into 2018. Whether you’re a planner fanatic, like me, or a person who somehow manages to live day to day without writing everything down, consider looking back at 2017. Look back at the year you had, all the things that made you who you are. You overcame a lot in the past year, don’t give up. 2018 is going to be your year.