Love is work.

Love is work. I have been been evaluating lately how much effort someone has to put into relationships of all kinds. Love is work. Love is unconditional. Love is exhausting. Love is rewarding. Those are some of the aspects of love that I have been discovering over the last year. Work is required even in friendships, especially long distance friendships. You have to force yourself to maintain connection either via social media or in person with your click. It requires communication and effort. Romantic love, however, is the most exhausting to me. But it is also the most rewarding. It requires work, sacrifice, and commitment to serve, love, and accept every side of someone twenty four seven. However, it is the most rewarding feeling and emotion to love someone so much you are devoted to their well being. It gives you a confidence and security that can move mountains. This can also apply to friendships, relationship with your pet, family, or some thing else you believe in that means something to you.

Love is amazingly disastrous and equally rewarding as it is work.


A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’


Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you…

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Raise your voice

This was wrote to express my feelings after speaking with someone that made me realize it’s okay to feel this way. This was the first time I didn’t feel guilty for standing my ground. I owned it.

Yes, I’m a bitch. Thank you for reminding me. It use to hurt my feelings when someone called me a bitch. It almost hurt my feelings this time, but then I realized that I’m okay with that. I am okay that someone thinks I’m a bitch. Sometimes I am a bitch.
But If being a bitch means that I communicate my needs and wants even when it is not the most convenient time for you but is essential to my mental state. Then, by all means, slap that label on me. I will wear it proudly.
If I feel neglected emotionally, mentally, or physically I will be the first to express myself. If I think that the dynamic in which something was built upon has changed, I’m going to tell you. If I feel like something is one sided and a matter of convenience to the point I can’t stomach it – you can bet your pretty little head that I am going to raise my voice. If standing up for my needs, wants, and expectations in which I am willing and have met yours, but mine are leaving something to be desires. I am going to let you know. I will tell you when you are being an ass. I will try to do respectfully and in the most gentle way possible. But don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.
Don’t mistake my communication for whining. We are adults. Children whine. Dogs whine. I am a woman, above and before I am anything else. I am a woman. I am a young woman. I am secure in myself enough to be able to admit that sometimes it’s not always easy to deal with me. I know that I am a handful. I also believe whole heartedly that it’s okay. I accept it.
It’s because I live life with the same passion I submit, advocate for, or serve with – that fire inside me? You don’t get to choose when it’s turned on or not. It burns always. It lights up my world.
That same passion I put behind accepting whatever you want to dish out and doing so gracefully is the same passionate that you think is a pain in the butt when it is not pleasant. It doesn’t come with a switch to turn on and off. Life doesn’t work that way.
I have had to work on accepting this fact. I have talked with so many women that feel so hurt and insecure about being truthful, honest, and blunt. It is amazing to love yourself, but to fully love it has to be unconditional; especially, when it comes to loving yourself.

Closing this up I want to remind you that there is a difference between being malicious and spiteful and being blunt, honest, and standing up for yourself.

Use your courage wisely.

So, yes, I will proudly wear the “Bitch” title proudly.


Ever wonder what love is?

Do you ever wonder what love is?

Sometimes I find myself wondering endlessly about whether or not I really know what love is, if I have ever loved, or been loved. I’m here to tell you that you find love in the most random and insignificant acts of kindness from the most unusual sources.

Yesterday, I was babysitting my three year old nephew. We had a good afternoon. I take HRT the first ten days every month and it makes me cry easily. I was upset by something. I couldn’t hold back my tears. My eyes were “leaking” and he didn’t understand why I was crying.

Naturally, he went through his three hear old rolodex. When he first spotted my tears, he says, “you crying Ducky! What’s wrong?” I explained to him that I was okay. He insist that my eyes were “leaking” and I needed to fix them. Then, he tells me he can fix a tractor like his daddy. At this point, I’m sitting there trying to calm down and he walks in after disappearing with a wet wash cloth that I used twenty minutes before to wash him. He wipes my face.
This three foot four inch fifty pound three year old in his short years on earth showed me more compassion and empathy than most grown people ever would. He wiped my face and have me a hug and kiss. He told me, “it will be okay Ducky!l”

Right then, at that moment, I knew that I was loved. I knew that no one would ever take that away from me. It reminded me that love comes in all shapes and sizes and in the smallest forms from the most minuscule places. There is charity, kindness, and empathy in unexpected places. It might be your child, nephew, dog, or a stranger that held an elevator. If you don’t notice any small action, create one. Always pass along the kindness and compassion that someone has shared with you. You never know who out there just needs a little kindness.

[my nephew calls me, “Aunt Ducky” aka Ducky”]