When I was a child, I loved to read.  I would read ANYTHING in front of me—books, newspapers, magazines, nutritional labels, street signs, bumper stickers, if it had words on it, I would be reading it out loud.

One day, after singing a brilliant rendition of “Fire Lane, No Parking!” I was rather proud when I memorized a rhyming bumper sticker I saw.  “Be a hero, save a whale,” I sang, “Save a baby, go to jail.”

“WHAT did you just say?” My mother demanded, not amused in the least.

I repeated myself.  

“Where on earth did you hear that?”

“I read it on a bumper sticker.”

“Do you know what it means?”  I obviously didn’t.

I think I was in 3^rd grade, I may have been a little older.  

My amazing mother explained in a way I understood, that it’s not always safe for a woman to stay pregnant and have a baby.  And that there are doctors who treat those women by performing abortions.  And that those doctors are often targeted and sometimes killed.  

The bumper sticker I’d so proudly memorized, celebrated the murders of those doctors.  She told me we were always just one vote away from losing those doctors, from losing that access.  As I grew up, I came to understand more and more what she’d told me, though the “one vote away from losing it all” seemed a bit melodramatic.  Until it didn’t.  

I came of age in a time where I received birth control pills before I became sexually active.  I received a fairly comprehensive sexual education in both elementary school, middle school and high school.  There were flaws, of course, and huge gaps, but I received more than “sex is for marriage, it’s bad if you do it before, so don’t or you’ll die.”  Which I realized, as I grew, was not a universal education.  I knew that condoms failed but helped a lot, that there was no such thing as “safe sex” only “safer sex,” so the pill for contraception and a condom against disease was knowledge I had, though had not needed, as I headed to college.

As a senior millennial, I grew up with knowledge of HIV and AIDS.  It was no mystery, it had always existed within my lifetime.   Sex could be deadly, so it was something to have only with someone who felt absolutely safe with.  Someone you could trust, someone who’d get tested, someone who’d respect your ‘not yet,’ someone who’d hear your “no.”  I’ve learned again, this was not universally taught.  

As a white Californian, I’ve had access to Planned Parenthood my whole life, and when I needed care, they were there for me.  

As a mother, I look at my daughter, I remember the nurse at Planned Parenthood telling me that when I wanted to stop taking my birth control I should start taking prenatal vitamins.  Advice I’d never heard before, advice that came in handy.

My mom was right (oh how many times have I said these words), we were one vote away.  And here we are.  And I’m just trying to write things down so that one day I can remember what we had.  So I can tell my girl what was true, before the revisionists rewrite it all, while I can remember what we believed.  In the Before.  In my bubble.  When I thought my mom was over reacting.  When I couldn’t imagine a world where my daughter would have fewer rights and less access that I had.  That the trajectory of our line would turn so dramatically—my grandmother, born before all women could vote, fired from her teaching position for being married; to my mother, born before women could have their own line of credit, fired for being pregnant, to me, who has been represented by to women Senators since I was in elementary school, who got 12 weeks partially paid leave after having my daughter, who campaigned for a woman Presidential candidate multiple times, before—-

            A transnational crime syndicate masquerading as a government took over

Children were intentionally separated from their families at the border

            A(nother) rapist was appointed to the Supreme Court

            White supremacists committed multiple mass shootings

            Police officers teargassed protesters

            Unidentified paramilitary troops took civilians off the streets

            45 teargassed a crowd in front of a church for a photo op

            A global pandemic closed down our schools

            Science denial cost hundreds of thousands of lives

Economic misogyny forced over 860,000 women out of public life.

Before.

And I know my Before was a lot nicer and more recent than for a lot of folks.  My Before was still pretty messed up, but compared to now?  I’ll TAKE it.  Give me my long, impossible days and silly frivolities, my casual interactions, the people I never really noticed that I saw, our thumbprints on each other’s worlds.    

Today is October 27, 2020. My kid attends Transitional-Kindergarten on Zoom. Amy Coney Barrett was confirmed last night. I haven’t thrown up in days and that’s pretty amazing. This morning I walked past three “40 Days of Life” protesters in front of Planned Parenthood. They were spaced so that it was impossible to get by without coming within 6 feet of them. Two were unmasked.

“Jesus isn’t impressed.” I told the unmasked old man in his lawn chair, and didn’t linger to hear his response. But I’ve been thinking about that bumper sticker all day.

So, it’s 2020. Everything is pretty terrible. And I’m not gonna lie and say, here’s the secret! Here’s what we do! Because I have no clue. There are people who know, or claim to know. There are people I trust and I will refer to, and there are a few small areas where I know exactly what I’m talking about, but for the most part we are sailing into the unknown here, and we only know what we know.

That’s not super helpful, and I realize that, but it’s truthful so I hope that’s helpful in it’s own way.

I trust that most folks are trying their best. We’re all just doing what we can. And things have been hard for a long time but they got a whole lot harder in March. And a whole lot harder again this fall.

So, I’m a personal trainer and a health navigator. I’m an activist and a mom. I’m a wife and daughter and sister and niece and cousin and aunt and neighbor and Californian and American and human and I don’t know what else to say about myself.

I grew up in San Luis Obispo, my mom was a librarian in the public schools and my dad worked for the county. My siblings and I were all public school kids (until brother went private for law school), I was a dancer and an athlete and an academic. I’ve dealt with and deal with eating disorders and depression.

I’ve worked in lifestyle change as a health navigator and personal trainer for the past 7 years, after sustaining a neck injury in 2011 that completely changed my life, at first for the worse and then eventually for the better (but boy does that sound rosy af). I live with chronic illness, my amazing husband, and our fierce child.

Life is hard. Life is good. That’s what I got.

There was a woman in our church, growing up, Mrs. Carl.  And she was a tiny woman, a kindergarten teacher.  Her husband was a high school history teacher, I never sat in their classrooms, he retired before I got there but my brother had him.  They were both very smart, and fairly quiet, and kind.  Thoughtful and kind.  And she would harmonize like no other.  It was great sitting near them every Sunday. 

They came to my high school graduation party, and when I got married she gave me these great glass storageware things for food that I hadn’t registred for because I didn’t’ know how much I would need and use them. For everything.  They’re brilliant~ they’re glass so they can microwave and not leach, and go in the dishwasher if needed and they’re just the best, I love them.

When I found out I was pregnant, she made, along with the quilting group at church, a lovely quilt for my child. 

My amazing child who just dropped and broke one of the pyrex glass food containers from Mrs. Carl.  It broke cleanly and no one was hurt.  Greatest tragedy is that now she needs to wait for fresh mac and cheese instead of getting to eat cold leftovers. 

And my dish.

I know I shouldn’t mourn it, that’s silly.  Especially in light of everything that’s happening.  It’s a storage thing.  It’s a thing.  Everyone is fine, we didn’t even need a band aid, let alone stitches, so, really.  I get that, I have that perspective, I  KNOW that it’s not a thing to be upset by.

But I used that dish.  That container was useful and thoughtful and symbolic of knowledge from women that we were completely oblivious to until the after.  And I know that my reaction to the broken dish has very little to do with and everything to do with how much I love and value Mrs. Carl and Mrs. Deitchman and Ruth Bader Ginsburg and that dish, that I didn’t know I needed… that dish is now NO LONGER THERE FOR MY DAUGHTER. 

So I sweep up the shards and I weep . 

They tell me today is Wednesday.

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

This is the first post on my new blog. I’m just getting this new blog going, so stay tuned for more. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.

Allow myself to introduce…myself.

Here we are! Welcome! My name is LC, I’m an autoimmune mama, health navigator and personal trainer. I’m a lazy cook and I keep things simple. I believe that exercise should be a celebration of what the body can do and not a punishment for something we ate. In 2011 I sustained a neck injury that changed my life, in 2013 I married the love of my life, in 2015 I gave birth to our beautiful daughter and in 2016 everything changed again.

Why I’m here:

• Because these are isolating times and I want to share what I can. I’m not going to offer any secrets or unlock any mysteries. I’m here trudging through it too.
• Because activism and motherhood are a funky balance.
• Because self-love is revolutionary. Positive change can only come from a place of self-love. If hating ourselves made us better, we’d all be healthy af.
• Because lifestyle change is simple. It’s HARD, but it doesn’t have to be complicated. We’re complicated enough. I keep it simple: Fuel, Movement, Restoration. Do some of the things most of the time. Consistency is more important than intensity.
• Because there’s a lot of negativity and false positivity out there. We could all use a little sanctuary.