I Shouldn’t Be Telling You This [But I'm Going to Anyway]

by Chelsea Devantez

The irony of all this is pretty infuriating: I used to hate that anyone could know this part of me, and now I hate that you don’t.

Well, I’ll just continue on, head held high, shoulders back, tits en garde, and cursing everyone to hell, as the women who raised me taught me to do.

The banalities in life exist hand in hand with the terror in the same moment, and the duality softens the edges of your fears.

One often needs a miracle to pull it off. And when no miracles are in sight, the next best thing is an enterprising and relentless female friend who is down to fuck some shit up with you.

With George Bush’s presidential campaign flourishing (and Bath & Body Works’s Cucumber Melon lotion doing the actual work of leaving no child behind),

I reveled in the power of a woman who does not give a fuck. And yet, giving a fuck was the thing I was best at! I gave a fuck to my detriment.

because telling a shitty lie was easier than telling the shitty truth.

turning winter into what we call sibling season—the time of year when thousands of families will discover their true origins with a single swab of their cheek.

The researchers found that in comparison to kids who grow up knowing their biological parents, donor kids are more than twice as likely to struggle with addiction, depression, anxiety, and criminal activity (wow, stop bragging, Chels).

Outing my parentage was going to out my truth: I am very not okay.

The only humans equipped to take in your story and offer a reaction that won’t make you regret bothering to share are often only those with similar experiences, who’ve seen enough tragedy to know how to listen to yours.

And not just any sermon, it was a sermon from God’s Justin Bieber: Mr. Joel Osteen.

In one particularly inspired issue of O, The Oprah Magazine, I read a quote that said, The cure to insecurity is education. I was insecure about everything, and all I had to do was learn my way out of it? An early advanced reader’s dream!

I had asked for a subtle signal, and this woman appeared in a dress that said RUN, BITCH.

I quickly rebounded to my default mindset: assuming the answer to my problems was trapped inside my own hectic spiritual aura, and one day I’d self-improve my way into a calmer brain.

I’ve been brushing up against cults for most of my life, so with much wisdom I can tell you that the biggest problem with cults is that they are fucking awesome.

right medication is not a magic pill that will heal you. It’s more like a cast on a broken arm. It’s a hug, holding your nervous system together, so that you can have enough brain space to do the difficult work of healing yourself.”

Ashley had taught me that boundaries, space, and respect in a relationship must be your lifejacket so that, should it be necessary, you can reach out and save your drowning friend without sinking yourself.

My mom was trying to teach me something they never tell you about suffering—how to have some fun during it—which is perhaps one of the most important aspects of enduring.

If nothing else, I hope she knows that normal is a vicious prank, and likability is a slow poison, and that she should forever be too much and never make herself less.