Sexuality Happens

I read parts of this at Sizzle last month while in San Francisco presenting at Feminia Potens.  It was for an open mic dealing with sexuality and disability, and this is what I came up with (as well as an erotica story).  I thought I’d share…

-Essin’ Em

I’m here to talk about the intersections between sexuality and disability.  I want to tell you about the man in a wheelchair who was suspended in rope, wheel chair and all, and was ecstatic at the chance to be flying high above the dungeon. I want to tell you about the woman who was in so much pain from sculliosis, but discovered that when her sir gave her a good beating, she could eroticize the pain and work through it.  I want to tell you about the quadrapelicic woman that spent a good chunk of time exploring and trying new things with her partner, and eventually could experience sexual pleasure when he stroked her cheek in just the right way. I want to tell you about the first time I found someone who understood me, and check in, but didn’t try to do everything for me, and made me feel like a sexual goddess, despite not being able to do many of the sexually constructed things that people do when they fuck.

But how can we speak of intersecting sexuality and disability when we can’t even validate people’s sexuality or disabilities? When we create this hierarchy, we prevent people from exploring the rest of themselves, from getting to figure out who they are and how all of this fits into other parts of them. Instead, people are fighting to even be seen as who they are.

I sat in my hotel for a few hours this morning, trying to place my swirling thoughts onto paper, to share with you what I so often say. To sound cool, and interesting, and part of performance piece.

Do you know how hard it is to pull words out of your head, put them down, and make them sound right when you’ve got a cloud of painkillers fuzzing up your brain and pain radiating up through what feels like every joint and your entire body?

It’s difficult to say the least.

We’re in the technology age, so rather than crumpled pieces of paper all over the floor, I have minimized word documents, all begun so well, and then trailed off into a narcotic induced rant of the parellel between my Femme identity and my identity as someone who is disabled.

What it all boils down to is the fight for recognition, and the desire to just be, and not fight anymore.

My gender is often invisible to others. People see me as alternative, and often times as straight. I experience more anti-Femme hatred and bigotry in the queer community than I have experienced anti-queer sentiment in the rest of the world.

My disability is often invisible to others.  Unless it happens to be a day where I’m walking with a cane, or someone sees the epic travel pill pack that follows me everywhere in the deep depths of my purse, people don’t see me as disabled. In the community, I am told that I should consider myself “lucky”  that I’m not MORE disabled, not more visible.

I don’t want to fight to be who I am.  I don’t want to wear rainbow necklaces or name-drop “my ex-girlfriend” in order to be seen as queer in the queer community, and I don’t want to go flashing my handicap permit or show off my scars in order to be recognized as someone with disabilities by others in the same boat.

I fight the mainstream every day just to have accessible buildings and parking, and to get the same rights as everyone else; to share insurance, to not be fired for my orientation, and more. I do not have the time, energy or patience to fight within my own community.

When did we create a hierarchy of oppression?  I look more queer than you do, therefore I’m a BETTER queer.  I have a disability that affects more areas of my life, therefore I’m MORE disabled than you are.

If we cannot support each other as members of the same community, how can we work on intersections of identity. I’m a queer femme sex educator kinky perverted disabled Jewish awkward snarky cat loving tea drinking oh so horny person. How can I accept all these part of me, if the individual parts themselves are rejected by the community?

How can I even start to think about my sexuality and how it relates to others when others cannot relate to me based on who I am?

I am disabled, but that doesn’t disable who I am. I am still sexual and fun and deep and witty and queer and kinky and all these parts of ME. I want to be who I am, not spend my energy fighting to be seen, but rather, integrating all of me into my sexuality, into my life, into this magical and wonderful world.  I wonder, is it really that hard to do?

I just found out from my doctor (a voicemail, no less) that my thyroid? Which the blood work came back negative on, but felt enlarged, so he ordered lots of test? Well, it’s covered in lots (aka “dozens”) of cysts. Apparently, no nodules, which the message said was good, but lots of cysts. Which may or may not be benign. I have to call an ENT on Monday and try to get in for biopsy.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m cursed. Like I did something, as some point in my life, to set me up for all of these health issues. So far, just this year, I’ve dealt with my usual knee pain, arthritis, bursitis in my hips, allergies, migraines, and chronic pain. Fine. But I’ve had to add on a rapid weight gain (30 lbs in 6 weeks) all in my stomach for not apparently reason (no change in diet or exercise), a blown up knee filled with fluid, a 5-day-long almost unstoppable migraine, a cervical cancer scare, and now this.

I’d just like to go six months, SIX MONTHS for mooses sake, without any NEW health issues. Not no health issues at all, just no new ones. I can’t afford it, they are completely depressing, and I have no idea why or how to make them better. I’ve tried Western med, herbal remedies, acupuncture, massage (which does help migraines but is super expensive), reflexology, cranial sacral therapy, etc. My next thing to try is reiki  and energy work, if I can find an affordable practitioner. Nothing seems to help, and these issues just seem to keep coming at me. I don’t know what to do.

End of mini rant. You were warned, by the title.

-Essin’ Em

This is a letter I wrote back yesterday to a company that I had never before heard from, who wanted me to put up a graphic above vibrator use (explaining men’s sex toy use versus women’s sex toy use…with blue and pink “men” and “women”) along with a link to their site. In fact, they were even so kind to include the code to their site, so it would be that much easier for me to link to them and provide content for my users create better, free SEO for them.

I’m not going to link to them, because that’s what they wanted in the first place. However, this is not the first company I’ve had beef with. Here are a few thoughts, all based on real letters I’ve gotten.

*If you post a ridiculous comment on my blog that doesn’t make sense, just to get your link in the comment/on my page, I WILL delete it.

*When you email me asking to set up a phone call with your CEO, please explain exactly what you’d like us to talk about. I’m oh so easily confused by lack of information.

*I do not do link exchanges. I have that all over my site. If you’d like to advertise, I have a page with all the info. Or email, and ask for the info. This is not some recently started blogspot site — this is part of my livelihood.

*It’s ok to ask for a deal on long term ads. It is not ok to try and cut my offer in half, or even more. I will refuse you. I work with other bloggers, and when one of us agrees to ridiculous ad terms, it hurts us all.

*I am not an idiot. Telling me that a link on your site, which has a way worse Alexa and PR rating than mine, will improve my traffic and make me famous, is bullshit. And just because you send me the code doesn’t mean I’ll link to you, like a little sheep.

*Asking me to re-review a toy I already own and link it to your page is ridiculous.

*Asking me to make up a review of a toy I don’t have and link it to your site is un-ethical and ridiculous.

*Asking me to join an affiliate program that has a video that won’t shut up, and graphics of huge dollar signs (ala the 80s and 90s) is silly. Continuing to bug me about it after I’ve politely decline is just plain rude and stupid.

*Please don’t offer me crappy ass jelly toys. I understand if you can’t offer Vixen or Lelo, especially if you don’t know me/my reviews yet. However, if I tell you I only review glass/silicone/medical grade plastic/metal/ceramic/wood toys, and you offer me a butterfly kiss or something similar, it means you’re not listening. Grrr.

*Complimenting my video reviews, and saying you’d love to work with me doing more reviews, videoed classes, etc, is sweet. Then telling me that you’d charge me to do so, while you made the money off of them, is just rude, ridiculous, and pisses me the fuck off.

*It’s ok if you want to advertise and haven’t read my blog. However, regardless of why you’re emailing me, don’t tell me you love my blog if you don’t, or that you’ve read it if you haven’t. Telling me that my blog would be a good match with an all gay male site is pretty silly, and shows me you haven’t read my stuff. Same goes for his and her pheremones, sex supplements, etc. It just makes you look like an idiot.

Summation: I’m not an idiot. Please don’t think you can fool me into posting your link, or bargain me down to a ridiculous price for advertising, or into paying you for services that I’m usually the one getting paid for, or into thinking that you actually know who I am/are a reader of my blog. I’d rather you just deal with me respectufully and business like. Otherwise, you get a snippy email and a big ol’ delete. Unless you really piss me off, and then I warn other bloggers about you.

The end.

-Essin’ Em

Today, I fly out to Florida to visit my grandfather, my aunt, and her partner. It’s going to be a very interesting trip. Why? Well, for a few reasons.

1. Sometimes my mother is cool, politically active, and involved. Sometimes, she makes me cry and has chosen to not support me in pretty much anything (work, school, medical issues, moving to other states) I do/have done over the past few years. Sometimes, I worry about her health (she’s in her 60s, often tells me the same thing 3-4 times, forgets things, and has some medical issues). It’s an interesting relationship dynamic. We haven’t been close ever, but much less since my father died, and then since I went to grad school in 2006.

2. My sister and I also have an interesting relationship. It can sometimes be fine, other times very rocky, but I don’t know if it’s ever been defined as a “good” relationship. We’ve started saying “I love you” on the phone for the first time this year. We’re sharing a room.

3. My aunt’s partner is having a double masectomy and reconstructive surgery for an aggressive tumor the day before we get there. My aunt is a wreck, and keeps apologizing for messing up our trip. I keep explaining that this is what family does, and we’re happy to be able to help.

4. Said aunt is the one who, when I emailed her that Q and I were engaged, called my mother and told her we shouldn’t rub it in people’s faces, and that our relationship/sexuality needed to be a private thing. Very very very hurtful, and bit unexpected. That said, I think her partner’s illness is making her more open to our open-ness.

5. Despite me breaking down and using the term girlfriend (rather than the preferred “partner”) to refer to Q, I don’t think my grandfather understands that Q and I are dating/fucking/together. He may still think we’re roommates. I plan to explain our relationship as “just like my aunt and her partner” and see how that goes.

6. My grandfather’s current partner (my grandmother died before I was born) is emotionally and mentally abusive. And she refuses to let my aunt in my grandfather’s condo. So all interaction with us + aunt + grandfather takes place in restautants or our hotel.

So as you can see, while most people would be excited about a trip to Florida for four days, and find it relaxing, this is just going to be a ball of stress, diffusion and care-taking for me. I’d really love a real vacation, but for now, this is what I’ve got. 

Wish me luck. I’ll be around on Twitter for sure, so keep in touch there!

-Essin’ Em

This summer, Q has been playing on a softball league with people from work.  It’s every Sunday night, and I have gone, sat at, and watched every single game she has played in, except for one when I was recovering from my knee drama. Everyone. I am the only partner of a team member that has attended more than one game, and I’m the one people use to guilt their partners into coming to watch (“But Q’s partner comes to every single game — you can’t even come support me once?”). Before and after the game, we hug and kiss. During the game, I cheer for her (El Guapo) and the rest of the team, and make snarky remarks about how good her ass looks while batting. We’ve gone out to eat with the team after a game, and talked a little about wedding plans, held hands, etc.

Last Sunday, someone was looking for a pen. I had just lent the coach one, and he’d given it back.  The coach looked at the pen-less guy and said, loud enough for me to hear from the bleachers; “Need a pen? Q’s ROOMMATE has one.”

Roommate. Yes. He said that. Thank the mooses for Q, who quick said “Um, she’s my partner. PARTNER.” Now, the coach didn’t hear it, and he didn’t really care…but Q is usually not that assertive, and so her saying that made me feel better, and so much more validated.

Ok. Now if you had *just* met us, I could see using the term roommate, if you didn’t know. But wouldn’t it be more poignant to use “friend” if you weren’t sure of some one’s relationship status? Calling me her roommate is so fucking 50s. It completely discounts our relationship, which you have clearly seen, heard, and know to exist. It’s telling us we’re not good enough to have a relationship, that we can’t really be in love. We’ve been delegated back down to roommates.

Now, we almost exclusively use the term partner, and prefer people use the same when referring to us. However, in certain circumstances, we use the term “girlfriend” if that is the best way for someone (like our grandparents) to wrap their mind around our relationship. While I don’t particularly like “girlfriend,” if that is the best way for you to understand us, then fine, use it.

I don’t really like fiance either, because that boils everything back down to the wedding, and our relationship is so much more than a celebration of love. She is my partner every moment of every day…she’s only my fiance when we’re planning/talking about the wedding. But if you call her my fiance, or vice versa, fine. I can deal. At least you’re validating our relationship.

Call her my “special friend” (or me hers), and you’re in for a snarky comment like “yes, she is my special friend. My vagina’s special friend to be exact.” What the hell does special friend mean? But at least, with that, you’re implying special, as in more important that ordinary relationships, and friend, as in a chosen relationship.

With roommate, you have 100% completely invalidated our relationship. How dare you. I would never ever ever refer to your wife of however many years as “that lady you live with.” Not ever. So how can you, seeing our interactions, hear the terms we use and our wedding plans, relegate us to “roommates.” Fuck you.

She’s not my fucking roommate. She’s my lover, my partner, my friend, my fiance, my confidant, my muse, my kitty co-parent, my salvation, my amusement, and oh so much more.

The other day, I tried to join a group on FetLife. In their “about us” section, they ask that all cisgender people email a moderator (despite this being Queer AND Trans group) before adding the group.  I don’t really identify as cis, since femme is my gender, and that breaks the binary, but I didn’t want anyone feeling that I was breaking the rules, as I visibly appear to be cis, so I messaged a moderator, little did I know what I was getting myself into.

I got a message back telling me that I was not “ready” for this group, as clearly I needed “Trans 101.” Why? Because I was sick of men messaging me with cock pictures asking if I wanted to play, so I directed all “bio/cis men” to my pro-domme site, telling them I didn’t have sex outside of my relationship with Q (and porn), and that if they wanted me to beat them up, I’d be happy to oblige. For money.

I purposely used the term bio in this context because most of the people messaging me on FetLife that fell into the cock-picture/play with me group would not understand the term cis or cisgender. I reached out to them where they were at. Apparently, this means I need Trans 101.

Their other complaint? I didn’t write enough about femme being my gender on my profile for it to be true. Clearly, I was just making that up. Because it’s not like I don’t write enough here and on the Femme’s Guide about Femme being a gender, and an identity, and so much more than just the feminine side of the spectrum. I ALSO needed to put it on a social network profile page for it to be true (please note, I don’t write about it on Facebook either. Why? Because I’d rather write about why I’m there, promote my blogs, and then have people come read my thoughts on gender in a blog format, rather than a note on Facebook or FetLife).

What I don’t think this person realized as they spat out hateful words towards me was exactly how much they’d hurt. I don’t identify as trans, no. I also don’t think anyone (trans or otherwise) can master gender. Why? Gender is ever constant, ever evolving. Anyone who said they know everything there is about gender is a liar, because by the time they say that, something else will have changed as people create and develop their own identities.

But for them to tell me I needed Trans 101?  Ouch. I like to think I have a fairly good grasp on trans and gender queer ettiquite, having had trans partners (and currently engaged to a person who identifies as gender queer), and having many friends of ALL different identities. I have personally chatted with Kate Bornstein as I drove her around Phoenix. I have shot for Point of Contact making sure people of all genders (including someone who identifies as a T-girl) were represented. I start the majority of my classes/workshops talking about how not everyone with a vagina is a woman, and not every woman has a vagina, etc. In smaller workshops, I ask everyone their pronoun preference before they begin. I’m teaching a workshop for TRANSform Arizona this fall on Safer Sex for Transfolk and Their Lovers (named as such by the trans organizers of this conference). I was always pointing out the difference between sex and gender, and the need to not make assumptions throughout my grad school program. I read gender theory on a regular basis. I try to change cisgender centric policies wherever I go, including aruging with local coffee shops and restaurants about creating gender neutral bathrooms.

I try to be as much of an ally as I can to ALL members of the queer community – this includes speaking out against biph0bia, validating those who are lesbian or gay identified (rather than queer identified), using my visible feminitity to educate those who might not listen to someone who presents differently, working to change policies/laws/rules to be more gender friendly, etc. For someone to tell me I need to take “Trans 101″ cut me pretty deep.

Should it matter? No. I have plenty of friends of all genders and orientations, and they were quick to tell me when this happened how much they appreciated me. However, after all my work in trying to support the T part of the queer community, and to educate myself and others, and to just be there to listen, it fucking hurts to have someone say that to me. I’m a member of the queer community too, and have just gotten a slap in the face. I, as a Femme, am apparently not queer enough to belong, unless I rub my Femme gender in everyone’s face (rather than just on here and the Femme’s guide).

And to that, I say fuck you. How dare you police my identity? How dare you tell me I’m not good enough? How dare you create a hierarchy of oppression within our minority community? You are doing us all a disservice. 

-Essin’ Em

***Cross Posted on ShannaKatz.com***

Thanks to Q, I had the opportunity last Wednesday night to go check out the new movie with Annette Benning, Julianne Moore and Mark Ruffalo, entitled The Kids Are Alright.

Now, the basic plot, as advertised, is that there is a lesbian couple, who have an 18 year old daughter and a 15 year old son. The son convinces the daughter to get in contact with the sperm donor that provided said sperm to create the kids (each mom carried a child). They meet him, and now the family dynamic changes, and the movie ensues.

Voila. It’s supposed to be cool and trendy and did super well at Sundance. I had some hopes for this movie, in that it was showing an LGBTQ family as a REAL family, not as hot and sexy lesbians, or those with issues coming out, or any of the other many ways lesbians have been portayed. They have kids, they have a dining room table, and a house, and conversations and the same issues that every other type of family has with communication, and teenagers, and so on…

And now, for the spoilers. If you don’t want to hear about the actual movie, stop reading now.

Ok, so basically, you have fairly happy family. Some issues, like all families, but there are two teenagers, and two moms, and everyone seems to communicate fairly well and get along, although the moms definitely could have used a couples counselor to help them work through a feel control/free-flowing hippy issues.

Then suddenly, the sperm donor (Paul) is brought into their lives. Jules (Moore) is a more woo-woo, free flowing femme-ish type, and is open to him. Nic (Benning) is a bit more andro/butchy, and seems to be nervous (understandably) about letting this guy into their kids’ lives. Long story short, Nic starts doing Paul’s (Ruffalo) landscaping and BAM. They kiss. And if that wasn’t enough, they start having sex, and the noises she makes with him are waaaay different and seemingly “better” or “more satisfying” (according to the movie) than the sex she has with Nic.  She tells him she’s married, she’s gay, she loves Nic, but then, more sex between Paul and Jules.  Jules keeps it a secret from Nic until they have a family dinner at Paul’s place (Nic is willing and trying to get to know him better), and Nic goes to the bathroom and finds Jules hairbrush…and hair in the drain (like at their home), and then in his bed. The movie ends with them removing Paul from their lives and getting back together and talking about how marriage is tough, but they love each other and will work through it.

My beef? It’s two fold. First of all, this movie perpetuated lesbian stereotype right and left, from the drinking massive amounts of wine to the butch/femme to the station wagon of sorts to the watching gay-male porn, to the being woo-woo and wanting hugs in unison (you’ll have to see it to get it). It made a big deal out of Jules not shaving her legs (gasp!). And worst of all, it perpetuated the stereotype that lesbian relationships don’t work out not because of family/relationship/communication/wants and needs issues, but because truly, all every woman, lesbian or not, wants is OBVIOUSLY a man. Every woman must have a penis in order to feel fulfilled. It also perpetuates the idea that lesbian (or gay or queer) relationships are not as “real” as straight marriage; Paul seems to glaze over the fact that Jules is married to Nic, and even suggests that he and Jules start a life and family together at one point, as if her 18+ year marriage to Nic was completely invalid. Way to give the anti-gay movement fuel for their fire about how dysfunctional lesbian families are.

Issue two? The fact that I feel that this movie is going to stir up even MORE biphobia in the queer community. For some reason, we as a community tend to exclude bi folks as being queer, as if them having a relationship with a cis-man (bi women) or cis-woman (men) makes them “less” queer. Now, while Jules never openly identified as bi, her sexuality was clearly a bit more fluid that just “lesbian/gay,” as she openly enjoyed sex with Paul. So basically, we have a queer or bi acting woman on screen, cheating on her lesbian wife with a man. Which seems to be the issue that is ALWAYS brought up when biphobia rears its ugly head; don’t date bi-women, because they’ll leave you for a man.

Now, I know that this generalizing statement is bullshit. As if dating a lesbian-identified woman will somehow protect you from cheating/being cheated on. Infidelity hits ALL types of relationships, regardless of the gender or orientation of the partners. Period. However, movies like this seem to reinforce this misnomer, that bi-women of any sort will always end up going for a man. NOT FUCKING TRUE.

So in the end, I AM glad that their is a movie bringing lesbian visibility to the big screen, as I think this movie will be a hit. I did like that it was a lesbian family, with gender presentation diversity in the two women. However, I have a LOT of reservations about how the content of this movie will be used against the LGBTQ community by those who are against it, as well as the issues surrounding bisexuality that this movie may serve to worsen.

And those, dear readers, are my thoughts on the upcoming movie The Kids Are Alright, to be released July 16th at an Indie theatre near you.

-Essin’ Em

Photo by Michael Barone

Happy 4th of July. Happy “Independence Day.”

Enjoy your BBQs, your cold beers.

Remember for a moment all of our friends and family serving our country, fighting to uphold wars that should never have happened, and to help create independence for those who do not yet have it.

Remember for a moment those in this country who are not independent, whose freedom and rights are not equal.

Those who can not marry. Those who cannot adopt. Those who cannot visit their loved ones in the hospital. Those who do not have insurance. Those who live in tent cities. Those who don’t know when their next meal is.

I am not saying don’t celebrate. I’m not saying to not be patriotic.

But please think. Think about what you ARE celebrating. Think about our country’s bloody history. Think about who and what we’re fighting for, and what we aren’t fighting for.

Be careful. Please choose not to drink and drive (or drink and boat). If you’re lighting fireworks, don’t blow yourself up (and if you live in a place where they’re illegal, please don’t light them and cause fires, kthnxby).

Celebrate.

But also pause and think about what this celebration means.

Happy Fourth of July!

-Essin’ Em

As a side note, every thing at Fascinations and FunLove.com is 25% off today; toys, lubes, books, DVDs, massage oils, condoms, etc.  Just saying…

Fascinations 4th of July Sale

I’m going to be the maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding on July 10th, and I can’t wait to see her again. I need to figure out how to write the maid of honor toast (she thinks it is sexist that only the best man gets to make one, so I get to make one now too). I’ve never written a toast before (I’ve only been to three in my whole life; one I was a bridesmaid, one I was a guest, and one I was performing the ceremony).  I don’t make a lot of a toasts. I need to do some research.

That said, it’s been really interesting watching how much wedding culture and wedding marketing has changed her plans. Spring of last year when she got engaged, she was so free and flexible with her plans; she told me she just wanted all the bridesmaid to wear dresses, and that I could wear combat boots if I so chose. Then, she wanted knee length black dresses, no combat boots, but told me I could dye my hair blue to match her wedding colors.  Then, it was everyone would be wearing blue dresses, but maybe I could have a maid of honor dress in black, with just a blue ribbon on it. And then, it became a cornflower blue tea-length dress from David’s Bridal (a homophobic, transphobic company I would have MUCH preferred not to support).  Moreover, I had to buy the dress end of March, given my size at the time.  However, in May, I suddenly gained 20 pounds at random (having my thyroid checked out after I return from Colorado). The dress? No longer fits. So for the last week, and the next two, my diet has become luna bar in the morning, lean cuisine/smart ones for lunch, 11-14 raw almonds and an apple as a snack, and salads for dinner. I am constantly hungry and a bit cranky at all times.  But losing 10-15 pounds so I can fit in this bloody cornflower blue dress from an unethical company so that I look perfect for my best friend’s wedding? That’s how it’s “Supposed” to work, given the wedding industry.

Not only that, but they started with a specific budget in mind. As they continued to plan more and more, the budget continued to increase more and more. I can’t but help point out that the current wedding budget is enough for a down payment on a a house (or close to it).  And still, in the wedding industry, it’s considered a “low budget wedding.”

Q and I are looking at 5,000 for our budget (including alllll rentals, my dress, her tux, food, photos, music, flowers, ceremony, etc), and are having a hell of a time with people taking us seriously, telling me that you can’t plan a “real” wedding without at least ten grand. Ten grand? With that, we could spend a month in Europe, or get ready to save for our house, etc.  

So as I look towards our wedding, I hope I can easily escape the pressures put on marrying people by society and the wedding industry.  It helps that I don’t want a white dress, or a perfect wedding. However, I do want a fabulous celebration of our family and friends, with yummy food and fun music, and a cute/sexy red and black dress.

Wish me luck,

-Essin’ Em

Happy Half Birthday to Me!

June 9th is my half birthday.  Last year I wrote a whole post about why my family celebrates my half birthday, and why I celebrate it now. This is why my half birthday is important to me.

I’m 24.5, so close to being a quarter century. Close to being able to rent a car for much cheaper, close to having less costly insurance. So what does 24.5 matter?

It matters because I’ve made it this far. I’ve struggled with depression, suicide attempts in the past, mega medical issues, ER visits, pills pills pill and more pills just to function and make it through the day, emotional abuse, sexual assault, the death of my father, and so much more. And yet I am here. Another 6 months. Another period of time where I have not only survived, but prospered.

I have a partner that makes my heart flutter every day. I have a job that makes me want to get up in the morning. I have three lovely and healthy kitties who give me infinite love. I have a roof over my head. I live in a state that is so hot that cars catch on fire, yet I have a place to live with air conditioning, and car with air conditioning, and a job with air conditioning.

As much as I get frustrated with money issues, and the political climate of this state, I am still here. I am lucky. I am growing, and aging, and living my life.

And that, my dear readers, is a reason to celebrate.

So happy half birthday to me!

-Essin’ Em