Dear The Band,
It's been so long since we spoke - it's Aunt Becky from Mommy Wants Vodka and miss you guys! Busily working behind the scenes here, and had a few things I wanted to share with you!
First, comments are currently broken. It's not you, your phone, or your computer that's fucking up - it's the site. We're working on a fix as I type this. And now? THEY'RE FIXED!
Second, I'm so happy to see new faces around here. I'd always seen our site as more of a library of posts and resource pages so the more posts, the better.
Third, we're in dire need of behind-the-scenes help. If you have some time to devote to us, we sure would love the help. We need help with social media, the resource page team, and other less-involved roles. Really, we'd be happy to have you! Email firstname.lastname@example.org any time.
We ARE on social media, if you'd like to be our friend:
Fourthly, if you would like to see more posts about a given topic, do let me know once comments are fixed. Or, shoot me an email - email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org!
Last, but certainly not least, thank you for everything, The Band. Knowing you are here helps me every single day. Don't hesitate to refer others who are hurting, struggling, or have a story to share - the point of our site is to be a resource for all.
P.S. Even the smallest bit of time you can devote to us, we're ready for you! I firmly believe that the more people we can touch, the better we can help others. I know it sounds corny, but I genuinely believe it.
I don't want to be a stereotype. A wino, a drug user, some damaged little SVU prime time spotlight-centered tragedy.
I don't want to be the attention seeking little rape victim.
I won't be his little whore.
I don't want to be an alcoholic.
At the same time, I want more.
I want a little bit more to drink than I need. I want to smoke a little weed. I want to forget my troubles, that my sisters are in need. I want these things, I don't need them, per say.
I don't want to really, really need to focus to get rid of those red little lines under words. I know how to spell and to speak. Why does everything come out as slurred mush? I know what I want to say, and I need to say it so much.
I want to be me. A writer. A novelist. An innocent little girl. I need to be the same me that I was going to be.
I need to be exactly who I was going to be without him ever hurting me.
I don't want to be that little crying thing in the corner. I refuse to be a cancer, a drain on society, a fry chef at McDonalds, everything he told me I'd be.
He once held my head, forced me down, my face centimeters away from a hot greasy deep fryer as he told me to inhale deep, 'cause that was my future.
Well fuck him.
I'm gonna do okay.
Not every day, I'm only human, but most days I'm going to be better than other people's awesome.
I'm going to be okay.
And so are you.
PS. Sorry to The Band for writing while tipsy. It's been a tough day, and this felt like it needed saying. One should always try to write while sober, but what can you do if the muse strikes halfway down the bottle, eh?
Do you have a secret dream you have never told anyone? That might be a journey that is just waiting for you to take the first step.
My dream involves actual traveling. I want to learn French and go to France. It isn't something that will be happening soon, but I could start preparing now with some studying and planning.
I took a small first step, now it is your turn - what journey is waiting for you?
Stress happens. Not every day, but more often than you would wish.
When your day is terrible, no good, and very bad - or it is just plain stressful - what do you do to find peace?
No one else in this world is exactly like you.
You are...you. Unique. Amazing. One of a kind.
What is one thing that makes you special?