It may feel like it was a waste of time. It wasn’t.
It stops short of anything grand or dramatic. We don’t get married. There are no children. You’re not by my bedside as I die.
It’s lonely because other people seem more adult; they check their own bumps and bruises without surprise that they are the only ones left who can do so.
Sometimes being single isn’t easy, and it only gets more difficult when you’re surrounded by friends who seem to think launching into worn out, dusty platitudes will somehow make a single lady feel better.
The routine of doing yoga every day let me take back some control, however small, while I navigated a situation I had never prepared for. While I may never shake my epilepsy, I can always turn to the peace and positivity offered by yoga no matter how difficult things may become.
Unbeknownst to many of us, some positive things have begun to creep out of the festering, moldy woodwork that is the sunken ship of a Trump administration.
I’m fine with women not participating, or being against the march. I’m not fine with some women making negative comments about those involved in the march, however.
Apparently none of us work. We’re all entitled brats. We think things are owed to us without working for them. Nobody in the Millennial generation understands what it’s like to be an adult.
I do not like being an alarmist, and what is worse, I do not feel like I am being an alarmist.
His behavior is just alarming.