Introduction To Adulting 101

Hi!


Tis' the season for grads, convocations, proms and celebrations!



These, generally, mark the initial transition into adulting.


For those about to take that giant leap, I would like to offer the following.


Disclaimer: The entirety of the following information is 100% accurate, though not verified in any capacity, so you'll just have to take my word for it... or not... your call.



Welcome to "Introduction to Adulting 101"



This is a short course, there will be many tests, all of which are graded only by quality of consequence.


First topic:

It costs money to live.

Rent, toilet paper, milk, tampons, food, none of this is free. Power, heat, your phone... all of it, money. The responsibility of paying for all of this is now yours, and yours alone.

Second topic:

You need to make money. There are many ways in which to do this. Legally, is generally the way to go. Other than that, unless you are a trust fund baby, that's about as picky as you get to be.

Once you have some experience under your belt, have accumulated some adulting skills, paid some bills completely and consistently, by all means, start testing the water of making a living doing what makes you light up.

Warning: This is guaranteed not to happen overnight, over the course of a few weeks, months, or maybe even years. Be patient, diligent, persistent and positive.

Another warning: It's going to take a crap load of incredibly hard work, a lot of which will be frustrating as hell.

Third topic.

Sucking it up.


Adulting requires an exorbitant amount of sucking crap up. There will be parts of every occupation you will ever have that you will dislike, even if and when you are able to make your living doing precisely what blows your skirt up. There are aspects in every part of adulting where sucking crap up is simply what is. Housecleaning, for example, or finding the money to pay someone to do it for you. Income tax. Car breakdowns. The list is pretty much endless.

This does not mean you need to neglect your mental health.

Adulting is stressful. Stress brought on by all of the aforementioned sucking up of crap. No one gets to live stress-free. If that is something you've been led to believe, you've been lied to.

Tools to cope with that stress in a way that doesn't put you in jail,  hospital, rehab or a cemetery is where the gold lies. It's different for everyone. Some people run, some dance, some do yoga, some journal. Personally, one of the tools I currently enjoy is yelling at scammers who call me. Feel free to use mine, if you like, if not, make it a priority to find one that works for you in a real way. Over time you will likely need to change it up, different levels of stress will require different levels of tools, roll with it.


Fourth topic:


Rolling with it.


Nothing will ever go exactly as you planned it. Suck it up. Use a tool. Roll with it.

You will find that as you adult, you will need to learn to be more flexible than the biggest star in Cirque du Soleil.

Shit happens. Every day, all the time, in any and all situations. Plans are awesome, but just know that not only are they not written in stone, they are fingerpainted in poop on the sand with high tide rushing in.

Either learn to roll with it or get covered in it. Your call.

Whatever doesn't go perfectly usually makes a good, if not hilarious story, at least in time.


Final topic:


Adulting is hard. For everybody, no matter what they are showing you on Instagram.

Nobody really lives in the filtres they portray. They get zits, lose loved ones, have crappy days at work, bills, and sleepless nights just like you.

Adulting is hard. Nobody can do it alone. At least, not happily.


Develop relationships beyond your screen. Meet up with friends for game nights, hanging out, goofing off, laughing. Talk to your family, whether they swim in the same gene pool or not.


Adulting is hard. So don't make it harder.

Life creates enough of its own drama. Don't create self-inflicted stress.

Shed toxic people. You will know who they are. They are the ones that, every time you spend time with them, you feel worse than before you did. Darker, more stressed, more anxious. Worse.

Don't procrastinate. Maybe you grew up where if you just left things you didn't want to do undone long enough someone else would do them. That is no longer be an option, if it is, you shouldn't want it to be. Grow up and take care of your crap. All of it.

Have fun. It's okay to have fun. It's important. You're allowed. Just be smart about it. Smarter than you would've been back in the day. You know which day.

Life is not a spectator sport. Dig in. Hard.


Okay class, that about does it, for now. Who knows, there may be another installment down the road.


Happy Adulting!


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May you embrace your adulthood, and all that it entails.
May you make stellar decisions, celebrating the successes, learning from the fails.

May you build a life that makes you smile, at least most of the time.
May you see you can bloom outside of what's expected, follow your gut, you'll be fine.

May you see the beauty of independence, it's the best gift you will ever give yourself.
May you hold on to kid things like laughter, like fun, even as you bid what makes you a child farewell.



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www.margyreidbooks.com

Smothered By Hate, I Can't Breathe...

Hi!



Just before I began to write this, I saw on the news, that 6 littles have died within the past 8 to 9 months, while in the care of the agency in charge of border protection in the United States.

The same administration that professes to be pro-life.


Say that out loud, slowly.


Kids, no matter where they happen to be born, should be playing in the sunshine, playing dress up, listening to stories, jumping in puddles, laughing without a worry in the world. They don't belong in detention centres, or cages, some being neglected to the point of death.

To the argument that that's the chance they take when they bring their kids across the border...

Try, for a second, to imagine under what circumstances, knowing the dangers, that you would be willing to put your children at that kind of risk. How horrible would your situation have to be for you to walk away from your home, your family, everything you know and love, take your children and start walking. Doing all of this in the hopes that if you make it, your child will have a chance at a decent and safe life.

Yes, that is the chance they are willing to take. In their shoes, I would like to think that I would have the courage to do the same.

Who has limits to what they would do to save their kids?


One of the saddest things is that they had made it. They made it to Oz. Then, the curtain was pulled back, the yellow brick road quickly becoming a concrete path to cold cages.


How do you put kids in cages, allow them to die, AND profess to be pro-life?


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The children wither behind the bars at my back as I scream torturous untruths into the saddened faces of women faced with one of life's most incredibly personal decisions.

Once a haven to those looking for a better life, I am now a distorted caricature of what I once strove to be.

The smiles of my children are replaced by anxiety, the trauma of lock-down drills, and the knowing of exactly what they are for.

Smothered by hate, I can't breathe.

Save me.


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We are a world of human condition, different, yet equal, cultures dictated by history.
We can heal what's wrong, all it takes is to truly want to, we've proven it's possible.

We need to stand up for kindness. We need to stand up for compassion. We need to stand up for acceptance, even when, especially when we don't understand. We need to stand up. We need to breathe again.


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May we allow ourselves to heal, replace the hate with acceptance and compassion.
May we see how the hate taints our hearts, our characters broken, our souls, ashen.

May we once again dance in the sun, together, playing, living, loving, in peace.
May this darkness be lifted, the cancer destroyed, may every hatred cease.


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www.margyreidbooks.com

Time Is So Beyond Up...

Hi.



Another week has passed. Sleep is again being robbed.


A lot of readers of these ramblings come from the U.S. A lot of them are women. Most of them are scared. Many, at risk.

I'm the Mom to four females. The grandmother to two more.


I, personally, have never been in a situation where having an abortion needed to be part of the equation. I, personally, know people who have been. I, personally, have never, and will never do anything but support another female facing this decision.

I'm not qualified to judge, steer a decision, or put forth a point of view. You know who is?

The person who is pregnant, and, if she chooses, her doctor.

What I am qualified to do...

Listen, hug, listen some more, drive to appointments, help research information if asked to do so, listen some more, and be there, whether the decision ends in abortion, adoption, or raising a baby.

When, within said law, a minor child would be forced to go through pregnancy, labour, and ultimately, give birth to her abuser's child, how can you even pretend this law is to protect children?

When said law stipulates that an abortion is legal up and until the woman knows she's pregnant.  So she can have one as long as she doesn't know she's pregnant. On what planet does that make one iota of sense?

I understand that many people object to abortions, across the board, period. They object for religious reasons, or for a number of other reasons. No one is saying you are not allowed to have objections. You just can't force your objections on to others.

If it's religion... You have no more right to force your belief system onto others than atheists do. Would you stand down, if someone was forcing you to NOT have kids because THEY believed the world was too populated, and the planet is running out of resources to support the overpopulation you are attributing to? Not likely.

There is not one single human on the planet who has the right to force another human to have a baby.

There just isn't.

If you believe you have that right, for religious reasons or for any reason, that says way more about you than the person considering the abortion.

I come back to the minor child. She could be as young as eleven or twelve. She could be pregnant with her father's child. Her uncle's child. Her coach's child. Her priest's/preacher's/teacher's/neighbour's child. She could be your child. She could be your grandchild. She could be your great-grandchild. She could have been you.


I come back to the point that I am not qualified to do anything but support in any way that is asked of me. I am not qualified, and, unless you are making the decision about you and your pregnancy, neither are you.


Stop trying to strip women of their biological autonomy under the guise of caring. You don't care. If you did, you would provide more support in contraception, prenatal care, existing conditions, child care, paid parental leave, and help for single mothers.

You see, your law wants to force women to have the children, but doesn't want the males who impregnate them to be held accountable. A woman would go to prison for aborting the product of rape while the rapist walks free.

Time is so beyond up.


Why are we still here? How are we still here? The fact that basic human rights for women are once again in question, up for debate, threatened, is, on its face, ridiculous, but, because of ludicrous support, it's graduated from ridiculous to terrifying.


Now is not the time to rest. I'm not sure if that time will ever come.


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May we find the strength to fight, yet again, for what is inherently ours.
May this be the last time we need to. Period.


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www.margyreidbooks.com

Happy Mother's Day And More Stuff...

Happy Mother's Day!






These are the faces that made me a Mom.


By far, the biggest, best, most important, most rewarding part of my life.


From the first hint of that whispering, foreign, echoing heartbeat in the doctor's office, wherein I couldn't keep my nineteen-year-old knees from shaking, laden with the weight of what this meant, nor wipe the quiet smile from my face. From the endless nights filled with feedings, diaper changes, and wearing grooves in the floorboards from pacing through marathons of lullabies. From the impromptu haircuts, wall art, and dance parties. and "pets."

Through the heartache brought forth by bullies, the loss of friends, and every other tumultuous growing pain of adolescence. Through the first strides of true independence, finding your wings and testing their fortitude.

To now. To the kind, strong, smart, giving, beautiful souls you have become. To see you, and I do, I couldn't be more proud to be called your Mom. 



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Now, on to a different, but not completely unrelated topic. One that has been unrelentingly nagging at me, kidnapping my sleep.


This week two boys died in hopes of saving their friends from gunfire. A twelve-year-old spoke of how he wrapped his hands around a bat, "Just in case. I was going to go down fighting if I was going down."

Kindergarten-aged children are scared to go to school.

Lockdown drills are a thing.

I've had those put forth the argument that lockdown drills are no different the "bomb" drill from back in the day.

I've given it a lot of thought, here is why that doesn't stand up.

Those old school drills were supposed to help kids feel safe in a world where a foreign power was the threat. It was a threat that only the foreign power had control over. That's not what this is.

What these kids are being forced to endure is child abuse. What's the difference between what they are having to and what a child with a violent parent has to live through?

They are becoming experts in hiding from the rage that could kill them. They are becoming proficient in silence, as not to be found. They are being forced into invisibility.

There have been 35 school shootings in the United States since last fall. This is not normal. This doesn't happen anywhere else. This shouldn't happen.

Changing gun laws may not stop all of them. But, it might stop one. Wouldn't that be enough? Wouldn't that be worth it?

This, what you are choosing to put your kids through, is child abuse. These shootings, living through the terror, watching their friends die, the blood-soaked floors, these are things that will follow them forever. Just like with every other kind of abuse, it will become a big part of who they will become.

They will suffer triggers for the rest of their lives for the sake of yours.

It seems the same group of people fighting any kind of gun reform are also claiming to be pro-life, anti-abortion supporters. Does the value of life diminish after birth to the point that once they're school-aged, they don't matter?

You keep them alive to terrorize them so you can blast bullets at hundreds of rounds a minute.

Child abuse.

You trade the mental health of your babies for what? Your right to protect yourself? Do you not hear the idiotic irony in that?


Child abuse. This doesn't happen anywhere else. This shouldn't happen.

Do something. You profess to love your children. Prove it. You profess to be such a great Country. Prove it.

Stop your babies from having to be the heroes, stepping in to save the children you aren't willing to save.

This is child abuse.

If you saw a parent putting their kids at risk every day just to satisfy some bloated entitlement, you would call Child Protective Services. If, as a parent, you keep yourself in a situation where your baby has to hide and be silent to stay alive on a regular basis, you are abusing your child.


Do something. This is child abuse.



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Mother's Day


May every macaroni necklace, every footprint butterfly, every questionable breakfast be savoured.
May your day be filled with contentment, feet up, passing the time however you wish, bliss, secured.

May you celebrate your Momhood, accept its imperfections, hell, celebrate those too.
May you know you are the best Mom you can be, at least most days, and that's awesome, and so are you.



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Until next time...


www.margyreidbooks.com

Dear Scammers...

Hi,



This is for those who are called/emailed.texted and otherwise harassed by scammers.


Dear Scammers,


I don't know what is broken within you to be able to justify what you do.

What do you tell your Mom you do for a living?

As a little kid, when your friends were dreaming of becoming astronauts and doctors, were you dreaming of stealing the life savings of sweet little old ladies?

What makes you feel entitled to the hard earned money of others?

Why do you get so upset when I don't believe you, and call you a thief? I'm not sure why you are offended. If I was a doctor, wouldn't people call me Doctor?

I write people call me a writer.

This is your career of choice, embrace the title.

So, Thief, although I find your tirades about how the Taxman is coming to get me, and how my loved one is in desperate need of bail money, entertaining, downright funny even, I know some take you at your word.

There are trusting souls out there who can't even imagine someone would be so devious, so they believe.

Then there are people like me.

Instead of you using me as a victim in theft, I use you. I use you to vent every pent up frustration I may be harbouring. And, depending on how deeply dipped into the menopausal pool I am on the day, the amount of unpleasantness can border on disturbing.

You would think, when confronted, you would just hang up, I mean, why put up with me? It never ceases to amaze me how indignant you get. How offended you get. How belligerent you get.

One thing they should teach you in scam school, never enter into a war of words with a menopausal woman armed with a large vocabulary and a black belt in sarcasm.

I will always treat people with kindness and respect unless and until they give me a valid reason not to. You provide ample reason not to.

So scammers, if you call, and I happen to answer, buckle up.

To those trusting souls. No matter what they are saying, how desperate they paint the situation, hang up. Hang up. Better yet, don't answer. Unless you recognize the number, don't answer. If they leave a message, you have evidence. If they don't, good.


Ironically enough, as I sit here and write this, a scammer called my cell phone. I had to stop writing for a bit to make a belligerent man cry. He became frustrated by my questions, his inability to intimidate me, and by my laughter at his expense. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.


That about does it for now.



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May any incoming calls be pleasant, and from those you actually know.
May you allow your voicemail catch any lies, delete them into oblivion where they should go.

May every scammer within the reach of these words have karma bite them where it hurts the most.
May you, scammer, call me, make it a deeply dipped day, we'll discuss the career you chose.

May scammers become completely unemployed, no victims susceptible to their intimidation.
May they become extinct, on every continent, in every city, in every nation.


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www.margyreidbooks.com