Becoming Comfortable With The Uncomfortable
I talk about sex because I fucking enjoy it.
I talk about my pain because I survived it.
I don’t need to stomach it for other people’s palates.
And yes, I’ve said the word “DICK” in the same sentence as “HEALING.”
Because guess what? Sometimes healing looks like taking a bubble bath with wine and R&B playing softly in the background.
And sometimes it looks like having your back blown out by someone who knows the clit isn’t a myth.
From Diapers to Diplomas, Vaca Ready, & Finding Me
This time in my life is sacred. And I’m finally learning to live it as me—not just the mom.
But as Erica: the writer, the blogger, the aspiring author, and the screenwriter.
The former teen mom who broke all the stigmas used her voice for something bigger and clawed her way through the fire.
The 90s Sitcoms Lied: Reinventing Yourself Isn’t a Midlife Crisis
“UNLEARNING TAKES GUTS. REWRITING YOUR LIFE MID-WAY THROUGH ISN’T EASY.
IT PISSES PEOPLE THE FUCK OFF. IT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. BECAUSE WHEN YOU WAKE UP, YOU SHOW OTHERS HOW DEEPLY ASLEEP THEY STILL ARE.”
The Sacred Shit Show Before the Start
Healing is a slow, annoying, mind-bending process that sometimes feels like trying to do yoga in a straightjacket. And when life gets quiet, my brain—being the chaotic cunt it is—fills the silence with worst-case scenarios and imaginary arguments with people I haven’t spoken to in years. Staying in my Positive Polly era is a full-time job, but sometimes it just feels like the world is crumbling and I’m stuck underneath it with a tiny plastic spoon and a half-charged vibrator for support.
