Mental illness is real. Postpartum depression is real. Postpartum psychosis is real. They are also not the same fucking thing. Most women suffering from postpartum depression are not violent. They are exhausted, overwhelmed, frightened, ashamed, and trying desperately to function while their own minds fight against them. Many already hesitate to ask for help because they fear being judged—or fear someone will think they are dangerous and take their children away. Now imagine

Faith sounds beautiful when people talk about it on Sunday morning. It sounds peaceful. Certain. Clean. But faith does not always look like somebody sitting quietly in church while sunlight shines through a stained-glass window. Sometimes faith looks like a tired old bastard sitting at a computer at three in the morning, rubbing his eyes, stretching his aching back, and trying to figure out what the hell he is supposed to do next. Sometimes it looks like me. I stay up late wo

Labor Day is supposed to be about workers. Not CEOs collecting bonuses. Not politicians posing in hard hats they have never sweated in. And not another mattress sale. It is about the people who get up when the alarm goes off—even when everything hurts and they would rather tell the world to kiss their ass. It is about the factory worker, the truck driver, the teacher, the nurse, the farmer, the firefighter, the cashier, the construction worker, and every other stubborn bastar

Let us get one thing straight before we go any farther: Ross ain’t your lawyer. That is not false modesty. It is not some cute little disclaimer buried at the bottom of a page in six-point font. It is the truth, it matters, and it protects both of us. I am not licensed to practice law. I cannot represent you in court, tell you which legal claim you should make, select or draft legal documents for you, negotiate your rights, or promise you what a judge will do. “Practicing Law

Let’s get one thing straight. Even a piece of shit is still entitled to have a relationship with his children—unless he has actually done something that makes that relationship unsafe. You do not have to like him. You do not have to respect him. You do not have to approve of every decision he has ever made. But children are not rewards handed out to whichever parent appears more respectable. They are not weapons, bargaining chips, or prizes awarded to the winner of the latest

Put it down fukker... I used to believe that staying angry meant I was holding people accountable. It didn’t. Most of the time, the people I was angry with were sleeping just fine. They were eating dinner, watching television, laughing with their friends, and going about their lives without giving a second thought to the damage they had caused. Meanwhile, I was carrying it everywhere. I carried it into conversations that had nothing to do with them. I carried it into relation

Heya. So I have to get this off of my brain and onto paper before I lose my mind. I’m sitting here on a Friday night knowing that my little girl’s stepdad has been drinking all afternoon, and she’s stuck there with him. And when you are not sure how he is treating her, it messes with your mind. Now you have to understand this guy is a textbook Napoleon Complex with a beard and big ears. He gets his self-esteem from being a tyrannical domest

There comes a point when you have to quit making excuses for people. And that can be a hard fucking lesson when those people used to matter to you. Friends. Family. People you trusted. People you defended when somebody else told you they were assholes. People you gave the benefit of the doubt to because you remembered who they used to be to you instead of paying attention to who they were being right fucking now. Then one day they show you. Maybe they lie. Maybe they betray y

I am kind of proud of myself today. And I'm going to allow myself to say that without immediately qualifying it, making a joke about it, or explaining why it wasn't really that big of a deal. Because to me, it was. And if you know me, you know it took effort to say that out loud. I had a custody hearing today. I was nervous. I was worried. And if we're being accurate, I was just this side of fucking terrified. And it was just a telephonic hearing. LOL I've been the guy tryi

Anger is fast. That's part of what makes it dangerous. It can take ten seconds to say something that takes ten months to repair. One text. One phone call. One smart-ass comment. One punch. One decision made because, for thirty seconds, being right mattered more than being smart. Then the anger passes. The consequences don't. I've learned something about anger: you don't have to stop feeling it. You have to stop giving it the steering wheel. There's a big damn difference. Bein

Stoicism is not for the soft. It takes a LOT of effort to respond instead of react. My hands itch from the insults I am forced to endure. But I make the choices I have to make. And I do the things that I have to do. To follow my instincts would be easier than sitting on my hands. Please take a minute to remember that somewhere, someone is taking more shit than a man should be expected to take. Their neck is full, their pride is at stake, and their nerves are just fuckin

"You can't tell me you're protecting children while ignoring what children actually need." When I first started reading the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, I expected exactly what you'd expect. Political fluff. Bureaucratic bullshit. A bunch of people in expensive suits explaining how parents should raise kids. Instead... I found something pretty interesting. The document doesn't spend much time talking about parents. It spends most of its time talking a

Bud Can Stay. He Just Doesn't Get to Drive Anymore. Hey, fukkers. So here I am. Again. Standing in one of those situations where the old me and the man I'm trying to become have two VERY different ideas about what should happen next. I've been working a lot with Stoicism and Pragmatism lately. My extremely sophisticated philosophical explanation goes something like this: Stoicism tells me not to lose my shit. Pragmatism tells me what to do after I don't. LOL. The problem is

You Go Girl!! There comes a day when every one of us has to decide whether we're going to keep living the life someone else expects us to live... or finally stand up and fight for the one we know we deserve. This week, you did that. I know it wasn't easy. People don't always see what happens behind closed doors. They don't see the years of feeling unheard. They don't see the pressure, the guilt, the confusion, or the moments where you question yourself because someone else ke

Life Isn't Attacking You Today was supposed to be productive. The bounce houses were aired up and ready. The yard needed mowed. The DJ gear needed packed. I had a plan. Then I sat there and watched it rain... with the sun shining. You can't make this shit up. Yesterday my internet went down and I had to leave work early before a three-day weekend. Today the weather decided to remind me that it doesn't give a damn about my schedule. I'll admit it. For about ten minutes, all I

Your Kids Need an Example More Than They Need a Lecture One of the hardest lessons in life is accepting how little we actually control. We waste years getting angry about other people’s choices, opinions, attitudes, and stupidity. Then one day hopefully we realize: I’m giving away my peace to things I cannot change. Marcus Aurelius figured this out almost 2,000 years ago. The emperor of Rome understood something most of us still fight with today: Control yourself first. That