S'mores Life

I will be doing a  new weekly  an  occasional  (because weekly is too big of a commitment for an enneagram 7 in 2020) series called "Love Letters" on  smoreslife.blogspot.com.  Welcome to the 2nd edition. In each letter, I'll be writing to "someone" - that person may be you. It may be me. It may be both. But no matter whom I am writing to, I am writing from a place of my own limited personal experiences. It may be from a place of first hand experience, or it may not. I hope it touches you, but it may not. If you don't feel seen or heard in these love letters, kindly reach out to me. I'd love to hear about your own experience. Love Letter Series: Number Three Dear Boomers, You guys are getting a bad rep right now. Honestly, for some of you, it's validated. But for many of you, it is not. I want to tell you what this (barely a) Millennial sees in some of you. I see you reevaluating everything. I see you watching your adult children be grappled with mas...

If the talk of blood makes you squeamish, stop reading now. If the talk of menstruation makes you squeamish, blame the patriarchy, and also, grow up. I’m going to paint you a pretty vivid picture here of how I came to schedule a uterine ablation the same week I googled “can bears smell period blood” at 4am in the woods. I’m going to paint with blood. And also, with my words.   Before I get to the part where I found myself with my pants at my ankles, hand covered in blood, in the dark Alaskan woods holding a Ziploc bag full of my own urine, let me give you a little bit of history.   I have a couple reproductive conditions that make my periods real likely to create horror movie looking scenes in the bathroom at least one or two days a month. I have been back and forth with multiple providers and basically my options for not bleeding to death every month come down to two things. The first option is hormonal treatment/birth control, but that is actually not an option for my sanity...