I remember nervously standing in line at the courthouse together, waiting for our turn and unsure what to expect. We’d Googled how to file for divorce and had filled the paperwork out as best as we could... It’s not like we could afford to hire a lawyer for help. We couldn’t really ask any of our friends or family for help either because none of them have ever had to file for divorce. They’re all still happily married.
Unless you’ve had your head under a rock these last few weeks, you’ve probably heard some of the commotion surrounding Brett Kavanaugh becoming the next Justice on the Supreme Court. He has been accused of sexual assault by Dr. Blasey Ford, and there have been rallies and protests and demonstrations against him all over the country. And Kavanaugh isn’t the first white male to be accused of such heinous acts in the last few years—he is only the latest on a very long list.
Two weeks ago, the Carr Fire ripped through my small, Northern California community. It started as a plume of smoke on the horizon Monday morning. Something to talk about at work: “Hey did you see that smoke? Must be a fire out there.” Nothing more. Tuesday and Wednesday passed with the same pencil line of smoke trailing into the sky. Thursday morning we woke up to ash falling from the sky like snow and an eerie orange glow in the air instead of watery sunshine. Overnight, the fire had tripled in size and was burning furiously toward our town. My parents live on the western edge of town, less than a mile from the fire. In a panic and choking on hot smoke, I helped them rake up as much dry debris (dead leaves, pine needles, etc.) as possible and then we doused the house with water. We carried out everything important, like old photos and birth certificates, and piled it in their car and then we drove away with the fire on our heels—not knowing if we’d ever see that house again.
I’m 28. I’ll just start off by telling you that. Most of the people I went to high school with are now well into their careers and their “adult” lives. One guy I dated is now a doctor with a PhD and a family, and another is a very rich and successful professional photographer. And I should be in that category with them. I did all the right things: I studied hard and got straight A’s in high school, I went to college and graduated suma cum laude... and for all that, I cannot figure out where my life began to derail so horribly.
I’ve had Trichotillomania for a long time now, and let me tell you: it freaking sucks. Pulling hair out because of stress, boredom, insomnia, OCD tendencies (such as one hair being a slightly different color or thickness), and not having a cure? It’s exhausting. And discouraging.
I just read an article by the Washington Post that states surveys show two-thirds of Millenials don’t know what the Holocaust is. At first, I was almost in shock and I thought, “That can’t be right.....?” But now I’m mostly just angry. Angry that we are letting such a crucial piece of history - of our story! - fade away into the boring, dusty pages of an outdated history book. Is that truly all history is to some people? Just a homework assignment to skim over and then forget after the test?