Malihini, n. visitor, newcomer, guest, transplant
This was once a nice little blog about Hawaii, but since my husband's suicide it's devolved into a place where I mutter against the wall about grief, fandom, religion, queerness, and nonsense. As one does!
Fear: What to do When Someone is Suicidal NOTE: ARE YOU SUICIDAL? THIS IS NOT FOR YOU. CALL 988 RIGHT THIS SECOND. Are you afraid someone close to you suicidal? Read on. This post is for people who are afraid their husband/wife/kid/parent/friend/roommate/family member is going to kill themselves. IF YOUR PERSON IS IN CRISIS THIS SECOND, CALL 988 FOR THE SUICIDE HELPLINE. CALL 911 AND ASK FOR A WELLNESS CHECK FOR YOUR PERSON. They can connect you to whatever local resources are available. Okay story time. So on the 4th of July, a couple of dads in our cul de sac went ALL out. We put our folding chairs on the driveway and lit our tiny sparklers and sat back to enjoy the show. My neighbor-bestie (I shall call her T) took one look at the other neighbors’ DIY Cul-De-Sac of Fire Rocket extravaganza and said, “I hate fireworks!! I know it’s stupid, but I always think they’re going to burn down my house! Sorry!! I know I’m being paranoid, but I just can’t!!” And s...
Sunday, September 8, 2013 I first heard of Claudia Brown when I was about 8 weeks pregnant and nauseated by the smell of oxygen. I had already had one extremely disappointing visit with an Ob-Gyn out in Waimea (grimy carpets, dead-eyed nurses, and a dismissive and distractingly attractive male gynecologist). I was taking my toddler for a walk along our little gravel road to see the horses (don’t breathe: horse-sweat, hay, grass, animal hair, poop) and feed them papayas (don’t breathe: too pungent, too fleshy, with an overripe kerosene off-gas). We ran into our neighbor and her leaping and spinning three year old, who was tanned to mahogany and naked except for a tutu. The little girl pointed at her mom’s watermelon-sized belly. “HIS NAME IS POPCORN!” We chatted about birth and doctors and midwives, I told her how much I had loved the midwife-run birth center on the Big Island and how unimpressive my visit to the Ob-Gyn had been. She said, “Oh, you’ll love Claudia,” and dash...
So we lived on an experimental ag station and there were all these crazy stories about the poison they dumped out into the soil up there-- whole outbuildings that the older workers were like, uhhhhh, I wouldn't walk over there. And definitely don't let your kids go over there. And maybe don't eat the fruit from the trees that grow there. But, you do you. It stressed me out. But it was practically free housing on Kauai, on a 100 acre farm where I could see 20 waterfalls on the face of Waialeale every morning from my (crumbling) front steps. So that's where we lived. And if that contributed to my two Kauai-born kids' later freaky auto-immune disorders... well, fuck. I don't know. So now we no longer live on an experimental farm where we know the terrifying history of pesticide and herbicide-- we live in a suburban subdivision where who knows what the soil has been through? hah hah oh dear. ANYWAY SO We also live in grief-land. And even though this grief is acquir...
Becca, I love this blog and this is a brilliant post!
ReplyDeleteHi it's really very beautiful. And all women like jewellery because that's what make them more beautiful.. :-)
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