If I want your advice...

TW: Some talk of domestic violence from parents, and death threats. If you're in a place where the passing mention of this kind of abuse would cause you harm, please skip this one, and go look at kittens on the internet until you feel better! Kittens help that, a lot!

If you're being abused, please, please know you're not alone! Please reach out, and get help. You can even email me, and I'll try to research local stuff to help you where you are, if you can't do that safely. Call the police, make a report, speak with your college (or even high school) counselors. 

You Fucking Matter! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

I'm reminded of that old joke: two spouses are arguing, about what depends on the joke teller. Finally one says, exasperated, "I was just giving you my opinion!" The other says, "Well, if I want your opinion, I'll give it to you!"

This has been kicking around in my head for about four weeks; I promise the blog title will…

Call me by my Name

Call me by my name. 
Not the name you created, because mine’s so hard.
Not the one you prefer, because the last time you really knew me, I was four years old.
Not the one you know was given to me at birth, when I had no say in it.
Call me by my damned name!

This is a familiar rant for anyone who has changed their name. Whether it was choosing to drop a family nickname, or publicly taking a name of their own choosing when going through transition to the correct gender. For some of us, it’s because we use a different name than our birth name-- sometimes it’s a nickname of our choosing, or just choosing to use a name we like. No matter how we came to this name, it ours, and that’s what we want to be called.

Let me explain a little.
My birth name is not Emma. This is my chosen name. I’ve used it publicly for almost 20 years. It’s how I sign my name, if I don’t just use an initial. It’s how I answer the phone; it’s the name I am introduced by, and the one I introduce myself by. 

Emma is my name.


I, uh... I have an eating disorder... and you don't know how hard it is to admit that

TW: Weight and Body Issues; Discussion of Eating Disorders; If you're struggling with an eating disorder, please skip this one. I don't want to trigger you, or set your recovery back. If you haven't already, please reach out for help! Here in Tucson, we have Mirasol, but other cities have other resources. Just google Eating Disorder Help and your city. Please! Get help! This is your life, and it's precious.
I can't tell you all how hard this is to write. To see it in black and white text on this blogger dashboard... it was hard enough to admit aloud to a couple friends and my partner when I reached out for help. I don't know when, if, this post will be published, I just need to get it out, and then I'll deal with the emotions it brings up... because goddamn, it's an emotional thing.
Please let me be vulnerable with you. Please accept this vulnerability for what it is: a gift. Please hold my feelings carefully, and with the compassion that I need-- that s…

Blog entry wherein I am irrational, but it's ok to be that way sometimes!

This is a ramble, a meander, more like a stream of conscious than anything. But I need it today. If you came to my blog for funny, snarky thoughts on random shit, this entry isn't for you. I'm not going to go into everything that's been going on, and contributing to my impetus to write this-- but I know that you'll understand.

Thanks for reading! <3

I've had a shit couple of weeks-- close to 6 weeks, if I'm completely frank. I know everyone goes through tough times, so I've tried to keep my head up, my eyes open, and do what I have to do to get through it. You know how it is, it's not easy to put on your "helpful telephone voice" to deal with the same four questions over and over again*, when your stomach is in knots and you haven't had a good night's sleep since May.

But, if you're like me, you keep using that perfectly cultured telephone voice, sometimes in person with clients and people around you, and pushing through. It'…

Happy May 14th!

May 14th is Mother's Day this year, in the US.

While I could (and have already) wax poetic, vulgar and profane about how much I despise this holiday, how I hate that it idolizes women who have produced offspring, whether we can raise them, or even wanted them; how it ignores women who have no children-- for whatever reason-- and treats adoptive and foster parents as some how less than those of us with working uteri.

So I'm not going to do that today.

Today I'm going to celebrate the many different ways a person can be a mother... whether you're a woman, man, non-binary or genderqueer person, or any other way you identify your gender... you don't have to have a uterus or to have given birth to be a mother.

Let's celebrate the act of mothering.

To be a mother, you're giving yourself, and your love and care to a person that isn't your partner. Although, there are times we give mothering care to our partners, I am not going to talk about that right now.


Short Story: Borrowed Body Highs

I wrote this the other day, after dreaming it. As often is the case with me and my fiction, I dream all or part of the "story", and then write it down, expanding it, editing it for clarity, or continuing the story that was interrupted by my waking up. The internal monologue style of this one was not my own voice at all, but a Londoner, which made me feel really confused when I woke up-- imagine hearing your own internal voice, with the wrong accent! That's why this one is written from a British perspective, at least as far as I can, being an American.
Please let me know what you think of it. I hope you enjoy it.
Borrowed Body Highs
She was bored, the usual highs weren’t doing it for her any more. She’d tried booze, pot, x, molly, coke, you name it. She didn’t like hallucinogens, because she didn’t like “all the colours”. So she called me while I was down at the shop, and asked me to meet her at this “new book store”. Weird, I thought, what’s a bookstore have to do with her…

Mourning and Loss

This year, so far, has been a difficult one for many of us. Politics and our activism aside (or as far aside as we can place something so close to our hearts, so innate to who we are), it's not quite the end of the first quarter, and already there have been losses in my family, and in the families of my friend-family.

These losses, these deaths, have come with, and without, warning. Some of my friends are in their own watches, waiting for someone they love and adore to pass from life-- knowing it could be tomorrow, or it could be months from now, but wait they do. Some of us already said good bye, and are dealing with the aftermath that this tsunami of grief has created in our lives.

I don't have any words of wisdom for anyone going through this; hell, I don't have any words of wisdom for myself going through this. It's just a stage of life I'm going through, something that people I love are going through, and so it's something on my mind right now.

In January,…