Suicide has been in the news so much more lately. It seems that I run into people quite often now, that a suicide has touched their life. I do not know if this is because it is more prevalent or if the stigma related to it has just gone away.
I am standing in the bathroom of an Airbnb with my skirt around my ankles holding a piece of toilet paper with orangey-peach streaks of blood. I track my cycles; I know I shouldn’t be bleeding yet and I can tell something is different.
Let’s be real - many sex education curriculums leave a lot to be desired. In fact, as of 2017, only 24 states (and the District of Columbia) require sex education in schools, and only 13 of those states require sex education to be medically accurate.
Pelvic Exam. Possibly one of the most anxiety-riddled phrases known to the female-bodied population. It is a phrase that often evokes images of patients lying in a paper gown with their feet in stirrups while a doctor places a spotlight on their genitals and proceeds to poke around, for what seems like an eternity.
When I was in 4th grade, I was handed this little pamphlet called “Your Body and You” – or was it “Your Changing Body and You”? Hmm. Either way, I remember being fascinated about the changes I was going to experience (even though at the time I had no true concept of what it meant).
This past Family Day in Canada (February 19, 2018), I spent the day with my sister. My adoptive sister, who is currently in the hospital because of an untimely meeting with a hungry polar bear. She has 54 staples and a nasty case of necrotizing fasciitis, or flesh-eating disease. She’s okay, don’t panic! It happens, and it is 100% treatable!
I recently did a big clean out of all my old clothes and belongings at my Mothers house - the house where I grew up. I came across sweaters, shirts, vests, dresses, and jewelry, all of which I haven’t worn in years. I cleaned with abandon. Nothing was safe.