Britni de la Cretaz

I know you’re probably wondering how that happened, so I’m going to tell you. (You’re welcome.)

The first sign that something was wrong was the weirdly watery discharge. I'd never had vaginal discharge that looked like that before, and considering I'd just finished my period, the large-ish amount was confusing to me. But everything else felt fine. So I put a pantyliner on and went about my life, thinking it would stop soon.

The first trimester is not normal. The first trimester is hell. The first trimester is vomiting in trash cans, falling asleep sitting up, sore breasts, perpetual nausea, hella strong food aversions, extreme mood swings, and crying because your partner ate your taco; all while not looking or feeling pregnant.

While people asking about our plan likely have good intentions, the conversation opens you up to so much judgment about how you’re planning to give birth.... Birth plans are personal, between parents and their care provider. We all make choices for our families that we feel are best, and at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

This ad is the furthest thing from funny. It’s not humor, it’s not satire, it’s just plain distasteful. Good humor punches up. But there’s no humor to be found in an issue that, according to the Center For Disease Control, killed 47,055 people in 2014. Of those over 47,000 people that died of a drug overdose, opiates — like heroin — were involved in 61% of those deaths.

Studies have shown that teaching kids the actual terms for their private parts — instead of cutesy nicknames — decreases their chances of being targeted by a sexual predator. Their words are their weapon, whether they know it or not.

Don’t read the comments! Is a common refrain in almost anything on the Internet, and with good reason. And when it comes to breastfeeding, the comments make it clear that we have a long way to go — even among feminists.

It’s been seven years since I left him. Most days he doesn’t cross my mind. I forget that he existed. The things that he put me through are filed away somewhere that never gets opened. I’ve done the work of understanding what I went through, of forgiving him for the abuse, of moving on with my life.

“My name is Britni, and I’m an alcoholic.” I’ve said those words more times than I can count and they’re always met with nods of recognition and assurances of “me too.” I’m also a survivor of rape and sexual assault, and it’s a big part of my addiction story.

Weddings can be anxiety-inducing and filled with dread for those of us that don’t drink. Attending weddings as a sober person can often feel lonely and about as fun as having dental work without novocain.

When I first got sober, I was resistant to a lot of the things I was hearing in 12-step communities and recovery circles. I’ve always been a feminist and much of the rhetoric I was hearing seemed to go against everything I stood for.