One Love

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” ― George Bernard Shaw

4,021 notes

Dear hypothetically gay son,

You’re gay. Obviously you already know that, because you told us at the dinner table last night. I apologize for the awkward silence afterwards, but I was chewing. It was like when we’re at a restaurant and the waiter comes up mid-bite and asks how the meal is, only in this metaphor you are the waiter, and instead of asking me about my meal, you said you were gay. I don’t know why I needed to explain that. I think I needed to find a funny way to repeat the fact that you’re gay… because that is what it sounds like in my head right now: “My son is gay. My son is gay. My son is gay.”

Let me be perfectly clear: I love you. I will always love you. Since being gay is part of who you are, I love that you’re gay. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea. If you sensed any sadness in my silence last night, it was because I was surprised that I was surprised. Ideally, I would have already known. Since you were an embryo, my intent has always been to really know you for who you are and not who I expect you to be. And yet, I was taken by surprise at last night’s dinner. Have I said “surprise” enough in this paragraph? One more time: Surprise!

OK. Let’s get a few things straight about how things are going to be.

Our home is a place of safety and love. The world has dealt you a difficult card. While LGBT people are becoming more accepted, it is still a difficult path to walk. You’re going to experience hate and anger and misunderstandings about who you are out in the world. That will not happen here. You need to know with every fiber of who you are that when you walk in the front door of your home, you are safe, and you are loved. Your mother is in complete agreement with me on this.
I am still, as always, your biggest defender. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’re any less capable of taking care of and defending yourself. That said, if you need me to stand next to you or in front of you, write letters, sign petitions, advocate, or anything else, I am here. I would go to war for you.

If you’re going to have boys over, you now need to leave your bedroom door open. Sorry, kiddo. Them’s the breaks. I couldn’t have girls in my room with the door shut, so you don’t get to have boys.

You and I are going to revisit that talk we had about safe sex. I know it’s going to be awkward for both of us, but it is important. I need to do some research first, so let’s give it a few weeks. If you have questions or concerns before then, let me know.

That’s enough for now. Feel free to view this letter as a contract. If I ever fail to meet any of the commitments made herein, pull it out and hold me to account. I’ll end with this: You are not broken. You are whole, and beautiful. You are capable and compassionate. You and your sister are the best things I have ever done with my life, and I couldn’t be prouder of the people you’ve become.

Love,
Dad

P.S. Thanks to a few key Supreme Court decisions and the Marriage Equality Act of 2020, you’re legally able to get married. When I was your age, that was just an idea. Pretty cool, huh?


(from John Kinnear)

From Huffington’s Post’s “Dear Hypothetical Gay Son” (via knowhomo)

(via knowhomo)

8,664 notes

Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.
Carl Jung (via psych2go)

(Source: psych-facts, via psych2go)

4,423 notes

The unexpected death of beloved actor and comedian Robin Williams has brought a reminder to the world that depression and addiction are illnesses that people cannot simply overcome or just “snap out of.” In fact, these are serious mental health issues that many tend to dismiss, often mistaking real symptoms with someone being melodramatic. Despite his rise in fame and success, Williams still struggled with addiction and depression throughout his career, and often talked and joked about his decades-long battle with cocaine and alcohol addiction.
Read More (via psych2go)

(Source: psych-facts, via psych2go)

2 notes

Depression: It’s a Disease, Not Just a Feeling

In memory of the late Robin Williams, I decided to write the poem below, describing how depression can take over your life. It’s an illness that can be treated. It’s sad when people see no other way other than suicide and my heart goes out to Williams’ family in their time or mourning. The world has lost such a great man. Don’t take this poem as how everyone feels with depression. The feelings expressed do not reflect how I feel now or in recent past. Mom, please don’t freak out and think I’m going to kill myself, I promise I am fine. :)

Depression

Your mind is dark

but still alive, barely holding on

Trying to fall apart

Happiness is seemingly forgone

Everyone sees a smile

Everyone sees a laugh

No one see how you lie

in turmoil, that you’ve had enough

As you site, you ponder

"Why am I even her?

Are there others,” you wonder,

"Who also live in fear?"

You pick up a book

from your very top shelf

Been a while since you’ve given it a look

And you say to yourself,

"If there are others

I would have found them”

You curl into your covers

"Maybe they’re all dead."

That word, it strikes you

with a surprise

Maybe I should be, too.

To stop all the lies.”

Open the book

Turn the pages

Find the one for which you look

In your head, run through the stages.

Denial and Anger are first

Then comes Bargaining

And then Depression becomes worse

Acceptance is never coming.

Finally, your page has come,

the rest of the book hollow

Inside you find you gun

And everything else as follows:

Two bullets and a length of rope

The meds that never worked

You find it hard to cope

with your low self-worth

Load the gun

Turn the safety off

The time has finally come

No one there to see you off…

-Ashley Tomlinson, 8/15/2014, 3:55pm

Rest in Peace Robin Williams; May you finally find peace.

77 notes

fastcompany:

After a rejection, this one last question is tough to ask—but the answer could change your outlook completely.
Read More>
Are you bold enough to ask this question after a job rejection?

fastcompany:

After a rejection, this one last question is tough to ask—but the answer could change your outlook completely.

Read More>

Are you bold enough to ask this question after a job rejection?

0 notes

You Stole My Mattress Pad! (Part 2)

Well I got a knock on my door a little over an hour ago. I open it to find my neighbor standing there with my mattress pad, explaining that her son had grabbed it thinking it was hers. Now since I had already made an ass of myself and threw her stuff on the floor, which I did not admit to, I hurried down to the laundry room to retrieve my not-so-nice note about my “flea-infested cum stained” mattress pad. She had not yet been down there to see it. I grabbed it, told her she probably didn’t want to read it and that I was really pissed off when I wrote it.

Either way, the mystery of the missing mattress pad is solved and I did not make a complete ass of myself with the new neighbor. Again, until next week everyone!

0 notes

You Stole My Mattress Pad!

Everyone gets another blog for this week. In my apartment complex we can have stackable washers and dryers in our apartments but they are too small to wash any kind of comforters. On our floor they have a full size washer and dryer that is for the whole building.

While I thought that it would be okay, I did something I don’t normally do. I left my $100 mattress pad on the table in the laundry room down the hall. Waiting for someone to get their blankets out of the dryer, I left it there to start in the washer once the dyer was free for my first load of laundry. I come back 20 minutes later to find my mattress pad GONE and the dyer STILL FULL. Needless to say, I was pretty heated.

I mean really, who STEALS a mattress pad? What if I had bed bugs (which I don’t) or something? That shit is gross beyond belief. I know that I wouldn’t steal anyone’s bed linens simply because bugs are so easy to transfer, especially in an apartment complex.

So because I like to be a polite bitch when something like this happens to me, I left a note. Said note reads: “Whoever STOLE my mattress pad, thought you should know it is FLEA-INFESTED and CUM STAINED. That’s why it was here, TO BE WASHED!”

I’ll keep you updated as this story develops. ;)