its about human rights in india

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Christmas Eve Bitches

What While We Slept

I had some kind of food poisoning and/or bad food reaction the other night, to some rare steak, and what followed was 24 hours of hell. Rather than go into details I will just leave you to imagine. Ha. But this morning is the most normal I’ve felt in several days, and—while I’m your classic overachiever mother of a young kid & wife—I’m still somehow able to let Christmas stress slip away this morning. Yeah I love Christmas. OMG I LOVE CHRISTMAS. But since I don’t have time to make presents these days, I kind of have to buy them, which is a financial stressor; since both our families are in town we have too many fun events to choose from and have to say no to more people than is fun; and since our kid is only two, and life has been kind of a big ol stress train…

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Who Killed Virginia Woolf? CW: suicide; ableism; sexual abuse

Karrie higgins

In response to Amanda Lauren and XOJane. This is what it means to be triggered by your ableist, thoughtless, cruel writing. This is what happens when people with mental illness and disability internalize ableism. This is how words become deadly.

Content warning: suicide; ableism; mental illness; abuse; caregiver abuse; psychiatric commitment; violence; dead bodies

If you are in suicide crisis, please call the National Suicide Hotline at 1 (800) 273-8255.

If you are a victim of sexual assault in crisis, please call RAINN at 800.656.HOPE (4673).


The first time it happened, a stranger in Prairie Lights bookstore in Iowa City called me “the second coming.” He was pointing to a display of tote bags and t-shirts printed with Virginia Woolf’s portrait.

Black and white profile photograph of Virginia Woolf. She is seated facing left, with her long hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wears a white, long-sleeved dress. Her mouth is closed, face relaxed, and eyes appear almost unfocused. English novelist and critic Virginia Woolf (1882 – 1941), 1902. (Photo by George C. Beresford/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

“That could be you,” he said.

He didn’t know I was a writer…

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