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Resist the Beginnings (and consider the end)
In the spring of 2004, the same year in which both of my sisters would give birth to their first children, I had an abortion. Precisely two decades later, I only vaguely recall flipping through the feathery pages of the Phoenix phonebook, searching for the listing of the nearest Planned Parenthood. I know I called…
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St. Thomas 2005
The Caribbean island of St. Thomas undulated in the heat as I stood in the emergency room of the Roy Lester Schneider Hospital, my hands stained the burnt umber of dried blood. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears as I wandered under the flickering yellow lights, flashes of memory asserting themselves: the last drinks we…
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That is a Sign
The Thursday I chose to go to my first AA meeting was one of those luscious spring evenings, with riots of green grass and a falling twilight of lilac, violet and blue. I walked from my house, anxiety snaking around my wrists and climbing my arms. I wasn’t sure what to expect, though I had…
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Acceptance
I didn’t come to the realization that I would give up drugs and alcohol all in one flash of illumination. When looking back over journal entries and writings and letters, it is clear that at various moments I believed I had a problem with alcohol but the facade didn’t truly begin to crumble until the…
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Devoured
I consume more than I create. It’s hard not to, honestly. I anxiously devour TikTok, my finger swiping upwards; equally compelled by heartbreaking videos of parents mourning the fact that they have to raise their children in America, followed by soothing chakra healings featuring selenite and black tourmaline and rose quartz. How can…
Abegail Elizabeth
exploring labor, feminism and sobriety through writing and art
This is how it all started…
It’s not uncommon to feel as though there is some thread of destiny pulling us along; tugging gently at our wrists and prodding carefully at our elbows, steering us in the exact direction we need to go. On a particularly hot and humid summer night, as the fireflies hang in the air, we may find ourselves thinking of a long lost love, only to hear from them the next day. Or we might imagine ourselves in a perfectly cozy apartment on a tree lined street, only to have our rental application approved a week later. Bread might pop from the toaster already buttered and spread with a thin layer of jam, saving two minutes and allowing us to avoid an accident on the interstate. The three sisters, responsible for unspooling our fates from the heavens, watch as their gossamer thin strands weave stories of rent payments and love affairs and blooming summer roses.
Everyone knows that it is not up to the three sisters to intervene once their filaments have been cast. The sisters believe that once the story has been written, there can be no revisions. The thread, once pulled, cannot be revoked. However, the vast, swirling universe in which the three fates perch, is not as strict, not by a long shot. The universe, well, she is known to swell and expand with possibility; tiny, tumbling stars coalescing into new celestial bodies, shimmering pink and lilac just beyond the horizon.
Under the expansive gaze of the universe, anything is possible. Especially if you know how to ask for what you want.
Abegail Bricker
Writer & Labor Organizer