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It's frightening to be poor. It's much more frightening when you have a family with five young children. My husband's mental illness had exacerbated into schizophrenia. He'd applied for Social Security Disability, which was then -- as now -- slow at being approved. We had to accept welfare from the New York City Department...

I carry the word bipolar with me. Memories of long anxious nights spent in hospital beds linger in my mind. For a time, lithium held me steady. I rarely felt manic and started to believe the sickness had passed. Then something broke.
 
Three years ago, my husband, one-year-old son and I moved into a new home. The...

I came to abortion work in a rather circuitous way. It was not expected after seven years of strict Catholic schooling and twenty-one Thanksgivings full of staunchly conservative, pro-life family debates. By the time I arrived in Seattle in 1998, a newly graduated college-educated feminist, I had left all of the conservative...

My son has a parakeet. He's a little blue and white one with black stripes over his back. Very cute. Also a bit of a sex fiend. He has a thing for one of his toys, and he coos to it, flirts with it, and mounts it, rubbing the base of his tail rhythmically and purposefully against it until some form of parakeet fulfillment is...

"Some mothers work because they have to -- others for their own fulfillment."
 
And there it was -- it might has well come in the form of a back-handed slap. Somehow because I am sensitive about my fulfillment -- that it's private and not for outside commentary, I felt like this sentence filleted me and left me...

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