This Is Me Fighting For You
Instead of hiding my struggles, I have been courageous enough to share them publicly through writing.
I get up and go to work every weekday, then come home and make dinner, do the dishes and other chores. I store leftovers, calculate carefully, try to stay on budget. Sometimes I sacrifice sleep or a new pair of shoes (even though mine have holes in them). Sometimes I pay a bill late or overdraft my account trying to make sure there are lights, heat, and water. I read you stories when I should be finishing work, or hold you a little bit longer when I should be fast asleep.
This is me fighting for you.
I sign up to vote and stand at the polls. I write or call congressmen when something needs to change. I sign petitions, make big signs, march or stand in protest. I shout for equality, stand for our bodies, and push for strict gun control. I won’t go down easy, I’ll keep swinging. I’ll share pictures with hashtags like “#metoo” and “#impeachtrump.”
This is me fighting for you.
I struggle with mental illness, specifically borderline personality disorder, every single day. I have been a science experiment of medication trials. I have spent hours every week in various forms of therapy, both group and individual focused. I have forced myself to seek help by admitting myself to the psychiatric hospital when my thoughts go dark enough that I fear I may not survive. I have researched, read, and studied anything I can find so that I can better understand myself and my potential impact on your future because of my illness. Instead of hiding my struggles, I have been courageous enough to share them publicly through writing.
This is me fighting for you.
I work in a field dominated by men with big egos. My thoughts and creative ideas are often dismissed. When we discuss “big names in the field” or select a guest clinician to appear for an event, it’s almost always a man. I continue to work as hard as I can, study and attend optional professional development sessions or workshops, and I constantly push myself to be the best that I can. I am my own worst critic and spend large amounts of time reflecting on what I can do better or ways that I can improve. I want to show you that I can do this and that I can be just as good as anyone else although I have breasts and a vagina.
This is me fighting for you.
I donate my money, give food to the poor. I explain that sometimes people need a little more. I remind you of manners, “say please and thank you.” I give you big hugs, wipe away tears, and hold you when you say you have fears. I try to show kindness in all that I do, telling you that all we need is to love one another and the wars will be through. Even when the world has gone cold, and sometimes things seem so cruel: my daughters, all of this and more is me fighting for you. 
