Should You Wear a Safety Pin – Say Something Sunday

Love this blog about safety pin wearing for support and solidarity.

Dances With Fat

People in the US are borrowing a response to Brexit.  It’s the small act of wearing a safety pin to show that we are in solidarity with marginalized groups.  This is in response to the US having a president-elect who ran on a platform of blatant racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, misogyny, anti-Queer anti-Trans sentiment, and anti-Semitism, whose election was supported, endorsed, and celebrated by the KKK, and who has appointed a white supremacist and a boatload of viciously anti-queer and trans people to his transition team,

As word of this project has been getting around, there have been arguments against it, and a few hundred of you have asked me what I think.  I thought I would discuss the major arguments that I’ve seen and then give my thoughts:

The first argument I’ve seen is the idea that you shouldn’t wear the pin unless you have a plan to intervene in any…

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Life got better. From Suicidal Ideation to Scholastic Art Award for Photography.

The information and photography in this post is shared with permission from Preston Blackburne. It is our hope to continue to spread the message that Life Gets Better. 

Yesterday, I watched my 16 year-old son, Preston, accept his Scholastic Art Award, a Silver Key, that he won for his photo “Into the Digital Age.” The ceremony was held in the Pickney Hall on the campus at Central Oregon Community College in a large auditorium with several hundred people. He stood amongst his schoolmates, while his photography teacher and mentor, Mr. Fox, handed out each award. I struggled to hold back tears. No one knows Preston’s story like I do…

In the fall of his freshman year, he fell into the black hole of a “severe depressive episode”. I learned of how broken he was when he exhibited dangerous behavior and admitted to suicidal ideation that required immediate emergency intervention. He spent several days at our local hospital on a one-to-one psych hold, waiting for an inpatient room to become available in Portland, 4 hours away. Fortunately, time has allowed some of the painful details to fade and the memories are no longer so vivid. I do recall that I kept telling him how much I loved him and I wasn’t upset with him. There was no judgement from me and frankly I was proud of him for being brave enough to save his own life. All of a sudden parts of my own dark, depressed past shifted into place and I knew what to say, when to shut up and how to make the hard decisions to get him the help he needed.

His psychiatrist is an incredible man. Previously, I was personally resistant to using medications for depression and anxiety. During our decision making progress about which modalities to use for Preston, Dr C made a great analogy. He said to me, “If someone is drowning, do you just hand them a life-jacket and hope for the best? Or, do you give them the life-jacket, throw them a life-ring, call the Coast Guard and others with expertise to help?” Obviously the latter. He started medication, which has been modified as the crisis episode passed, that he still has chosen to continue to take. The mundane details of his inpatient hospital stays, he had two of them, aren’t important. Just believe me when I say I’ve seen this kid at his lowest points. One noteworthy moment is when he came out to me as bisexual. I said “So?” It was such a nonissue for me. I want my kids to know love and I don’t care what parts their partner has. I honestly could NOT care less. Despite all the emotions Preston was experiencing, he slowly began to believe, with some testing, that I do love him unconditionally.

At the end of Thanksgiving weekend in 2013, he showed again that he was in crisis and when we met with Dr C on Monday morning, Preston asked to go to residential treatment. That isn’t something you say “No” to. It was overwhelming and took a lot of work to arrange but we did just that and he had to wait, as an inpatient, for the bed to become available. Going to the Children’s Farm Home run by Trillium Family Services in Albany was what Preston needed. I drove the several hundred miles at least twice a week, once to visit and once to participate in family therapy. Through this process, I learned what expectations I had set and behavior that I had shown, that was damaging to Preston’s spirit. I took responsibility. I apologized. I committed to changing. (Other people in his life were unable to take less ownership of their negative contributions and those relationships have suffered.) I rarely yell now and I’ve changed my expectations about school success. Preston knows that we expect him to go to school every day, do his best by completing assignments. We no longer press about getting a specific letter grade. Instead, we encourage him to develop good behaviors and habits that will help him be successful in life.

He has really embraced the life he is building for himself. Preston has a diverse group of friends and shows them the same love and acceptance that I showed him. As a family, we have moved away from concerning ourselves with the gender binary and often have open discussions about the LGBTQ community. Life is open and honest and Preston knows he can show us all of himself. I’ve told him time and time again that I am not scared of his truth. I will be here for him no matter what.

Due to his hospital stays, he ended up without credit for the first semester of his freshman year. It was a difficult hole to dig out of, but within the last two weeks, he has completed the last credit recovery classes and is caught up!!!!

As Preston has grown into his own person, he has started sharing his artistic talent with the world. His artful expression that gets the most energy is his photography. He has some incredible photos that you can see on his website gallery https://prestonblackburne.wix.com/preston-blackburne#!photos/c1zeq . It’s a work-in-progress, but his site shows he is getting his feet wet.

He has some incredible photography mentors that include, but are not limited to; Doug H., Brian Z., and An V. With the encouragement of his photography teacher, Mr. Fox, he entered three photos into the Scholastic Art and Writing Contest for 2016. There were 300,000 entrants nationwide in grades 7-12. His photo, shown here, won a Silver Key. The accomplishment of winning a Silver is admirable in it’s own right. However, when you know where this young man has come from, overcoming the obstacle of major depression and suicidal ideation, it means even more. Just two short years ago, at this time, he was just going back to school after missing 2.5 months of school. Preston was able to go into a grocery store and get our shopping done, without having to rush back to the car in a panic. He’d only just started sleeping in his own bed, alone in his own room. Life gets better. Fast forward to yesterday, he wove through the crowd in the gallery, with his girlfriend of 15 months, to see his own photo hanging on the wall with the rest of the Silver Key, Gold Key and Honorable Mention winners. He was relaxed and seemed 100% comfortable in his own skin. As he told me, artists can dress the way they want so he was wearing jeans and one of his two Millenium Falcon t-shirts. His best accessory was his easy smile. I tried really hard not to be all mushy and cry. I failed. As I sat in the college auditorium, with his younger brother, Logan and my parents down the row, I felt overwhelmed by the feeling that he had ARRIVED! Life has gotten better.

I know that thinking “what if?”, is usually a useless past time. However, I can’t help but thinking what Preston, and the rest of the world, would have missed out on, if he hadn’t made the commitment to save his own life. Regardless of my decisions, which medical providers or facilities he went to, his success at life is because of the pain he walked through, that he faced and dealt with.

I’m so grateful that he has shared his talent and made his photography publicly available. I share his story so that other hurting people can have hope that life gets better.IMG_7715.JPG

“Into the Digital Age.” Photo by Preston Blackburne, Age 16, Scholastic Art Silver Key Award Winner 2106.


My adored dog, Titan, went back to heaven where he came from.

In my reality, dogs are furry family members from God. They are listeners, protectors, comedic relief, therapy animals and companions of unwavering love. Over 8 years ago, we were reading in our local advertising paper and found something out of the ordinary. Typically you can find garage sales, tools for sale, real estate, that sort of thing. On this day however, there was an add for a 1 1/2 year old yellow lab mix who need a new home. The people said when they let him into their house, a single-wide manufactured home, he would go crazy. We drove right over to see him. When we got there he was in a small wire fenced pen. As soon as he saw us, he started jumping off the ground like a pogo stick. He cleared at least 4 feet. We learned that he was a yellow lab/golden retriever mix and had belonged to the people’s son. He needed us. His belly was full of pitch from being outside and they didn’t let him in the house often and it gets cold at night in LaPine. We said that we’ve love to take him home. One of us told him, “C’mon, load up!”, and he got in the truck right away. I’m not sure after that moment that he tail ever stopped wagging. He and our other dog, Sydney, hit it off and became good friends. They roamed the back-yard together chasing birds and squirrels. Barking would signify that a walker or bicyclist was on the trail in the state park. While the chickens would wander the yard, he’d be right there to eat the poop. YUCK! He was a faster and often could clear the area. Lol. He fit right in with the rest of the gassy family. His bark could scare away a intruder but he was the sweetest dog. He just wanted to love and lick and kiss you. I wish I could say he was a smart dog, that would be a lie. However, he knew when I was cutting up an apple and was always there for his piece. The popcorn maker was his favorite entertainment and always found a way to snag a few kernels. He was always looking for a sneaky way to get a swim in the pond or the kiddie pool.

Right now, in my mind’s eye, I can see his last days, his x-ray, hear his breathing and see his sad, sick face. I have some comfort knowing that as soon as we were aware of his cancer, that we made the right decision to ease his suffering. In time, I won’t keep seeing my two precious children next to the lifeless body of our beloved family member. For now, my heart is bruised and I am said.

I am so grateful to everyone who has reached out to us during this unexpected and difficult time. Don’t take anyone or anything for granted. Love them while you have them. God’s peace, Rebecca

Titan "hugging" AJ

Titan “hugging” AJ


No sad tears, today, thank you.

First of all, thank you to everyone that was brave enough to get into my bleakness yesterday. Today is better than yesterday and I am grateful. This morning, I woke up to Logan and him loving me. He helped set the positive tone for the day. I made some choices about boundaries and what I was willing to put up with at work and what I could avoid. This was not a fool-proof plan but protected me from the majority of my frustration. I recognize that I am stuck in a rut of anger at this person, and need to work past it. Will discuss with my therapist tomorrow. There is finally a turning point toward the better with the house disaster. Praise God. Yesterday, I had a hard time with “hold on, it gets better.” Today, I am reminded to have perspective about my life. I have love, trust, faith and freedom. I can be me without persecution. My children are safe and well. I could go on and on, now that I’ve shifted out of the black. I was so moved by the people that reached out to me. The offer to mind my burden so I could sleep…well, that still makes me cry tears of joy at belonging. (Hard to explain.)

I am reminded that sometimes instead of fighting and holding on to the bleak and black, I need to see it and name it and move on. I crawled into the pit and wallowed there this time. I am human and make unhealthy choices sometimes. Thank you for reserving judgement and for standing with me, rather than telling me what to do.

All in all, the pain of yesterday, is worth the hope of today. To be reminded that people care, is a huge blessing. I’m going to focus on that and move on towards the Light. Jesus loves you. He loves me too.


My tears will tell you that I’m sad.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but tears have a different texture, depending on the emotion behind them. Tonight, my tears are sad an disappointed. They are hot and thick and sticky. I don’t want to be this me I am right now. The weak, fearful, exhausted me. The me that feels as if my organs have been replaced by separate balls of anxiety. A black, useless energy that causes my mind to spin and my body to shake. I hate it. This…this flaw that I have, the flaw that I am. I want to win. To conquer each day and yet I have admitted defeat in the night as I thrash in nightmares. My insomnia fills the room and I can hear it breathing while it lurks there. Next to the bed, under the blanket, on my pillow, next to my weary head that seeks peace and solace and calm. Some would say that I give the anxiety, depression and insomnia too much room in my person. However, I accept and embrace them and so we must learn to live together. Some days, a simple meditation will do. Other days, like today, begin and end with my face pressed against my security object. Sticky tears soak the fabric and when I’m on the edge of control, stifle my sobs. I am not crazy. I will not “lose it.” I do not need to be locked away in Sageview. This too shall pass and life gets better. While they are somewhat obnoxious cliche’s, I logically believe them to be true. Here in the dark, I do not feel that my God has forsaken me. He might be dragging me by my hair, but we are getting somewhere. Right now that is here, typing in my blog and releasing the bad, the broken, the lack of emotional beauty that does shame me. This week, giving in to the ugly, the dysfunction, the suffocating, means that I will miss a very important celebration. I have prayed about it and screamed about it. I am so angry that my life has limits. I want to dance and sing and celebrate and put aside my fear and social phobia. I won’t go so far as to say that I can’t. Rather I acknowledge that I am making a choice to let them stay. It has happened in the past that when I let them in, they stay awhile, we visit, I pray, we make amends and one day, out of the dark, the sun shines brighter than the day before. The air smells sweeter. The strength I’ve shown before is simply hiding. I know how easy I have it compared to many. Yet here I am overwhelmed and admittingly wallowing. I trust that those who love me, will have read the countless posts I’ve put on social media about what not to say with someone who has anxiety. Do not patronize me with “get over it” or other toxic nonsense. Either love me, or leave me. You don’t have to get in the muck and mess, with me. You can wait it out from far away. Or you can pray. I ask little as I have almost nothing to offer in return now. Except this. I love you. I can give this away and have enough left for myself. Today, my tears will tell you that I’m sad.


Paths and Mazes.


A Guest Blog Post by Logan Uecker, Age 10.

Birds are the roots of our earth and the grasses of our plains. Every time we cut the roots or grasses we are killing the birds of our earth. As we go through life we are taken on many paths and through many mazes. Each path and maze are short so we should take advantage of each one. The people we meet whether they are big or small, tall or short, mean or nice, are all nice somewhere inside.
Logan Uecker

The Author

The Author


I was an ally to Sarah, first.

Hello, dear friends. I wish I could remember specific details and quotes with clarity and overwhelming accuracy. Sadly, I can’t. High school was a stressful blur of memories and the good ones went with the bad as I let them fade into oblivion. In the 8th grade, through high-school and into the early years of college, one of my closet friends was Sarah. She was quiet, soft spoken and had a great sense of humor. As long as I can recall she loved furry little animals especially her cat, Baby. We both loved books. I can’t tell you know what originally drew me to Sarah. I know that I trusted her in a way that I have trusted very few since. I was a typically teenage girl, obsessed with attention, boys, the mall and liked to push the envelope. I didn’t take my classwork very seriously. Honestly, we didn’t really seem to have much in common. At some point during high school, I remember becoming aware that Sarah was a lesbian. (There was a funny conversation that took place about my boobs that still makes me laugh.) I don’t remember how it became more than an awareness and it became something we talked about. I have no idea if Sarah had a coming out speech that she gave me. If she did, I probably handled it like I did with Preston, “So? So what that you like girls?” What I missed at the time was how alienating this must have been at a Catholic high school with Catholic parents.I didn’t understand the persecution that Sarah risked to be herself. There is no way I could pretend to understand how life must have been for her. I know I did and said the wrong thing at times. I was self-absorbed and didn’t identify what an ally was and that I should be one. I can’t go back and change it now. I was young and dumb and didn’t have the balls to use my white, straight, privilege like I will now.

My first Pride parade was in Portland. I’m not sure the year. I think we were upperclassman in high school or perhaps we had graduated. Sarah wanted to go and I wanted to support her. I remember watching the parade wanting to do more, to be more for Sarah. I knew that we wouldn’t have a romantic relationship but I knew I loved her and wanted to keep her safe from hecklers or other assholes who were encountered. Towards the end of the parade, I remember some Bible thumpers giving us a hard time. .. Oh for Pete’s sake…I’m typing this and Everybody Hurts by REM comes on the radio. SERIOUSLY??? Give me a moment while I cry here…

Ok. Wow. Let me try to collect myself after that memory lane time warp. I remember there were religious bigots that criticized us and assumed we were a couple. There in that moment, I grew up quite a bit. I did not want to distance myself from my dear friend. I’d rather step toward her and claim her and knew with every fiber of my being that MY GOD loved Sarah and every other gay and lesbian person as much as He loved me.

I wish I could say that I kept showing up for Sarah and got involved in activism. I didn’t. I had a series of dysfunctional relationships and got pregnant at 19. I didn’t nurture my relationship with Sarah and I will regret that, always.

However, that pride parade has left an impact on me. Now, that I’m older and bolder I’m willing to sacrifice friendships and relationships fighting for what is right. It’s not just about wearing rainbows to Pride Events but to vote in such a way that all minorities will have the rights that I enjoy. It’s about teaching my children to use their privilege for the benefits of others. To show up for our friends at a Trans Pride March and carry the sandwiches for miles if this is what they need. It is about listening to the people that we are trying to be allies for and doing what they want and need. My job is to support and advocate for my bisexual son. To educate others about the stigmas and misconceptions that bisexual people face even from other LGTQ people.

As I participated in the Portland Pride Parade two weekends ago, I strongly felt like someone was missing. Sarah, the original love in my life that introduced me to Pride. I am the flashy and loud one and I think I was always a bit too boisterous for her. Who knows? Maybe if she saw me that day she would have tucked her head down to avoid the spectacle that is me and my people.

Sarah, if you are reading this, I will always have a special place for you in my heart. The love and support you offered me and the shit you put up with, I didn’t deserve. It made a huge impact on who I want to be. Love you, B