How radical parenting means preparing kids for fight and love.

I want my twins to know the world isn’t fair.
I want them to see systemic racism, ableism, and homophobia — and know their place in dismantling it.

But I also want them to believe in kindness, in empathy, and in the power of their voice.

Teaching justice isn’t about lectures or fear.
It’s about living our values.
It’s about showing up — for ourselves, for others, for the future.

Ways I Teach Justice at Home

1. Naming oppression and privilege honestly, age-appropriately.
2. Choosing books and media that reflect diverse experiences.
3. Modeling empathy and accountability daily.
4. Practicing small acts of kindness and solidarity.
5. Encouraging questions — even the uncomfortable ones.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
 — Martin Luther King Jr.

Parenting in a red state, raising autistic twins, makes this work urgent.
Because justice isn’t just a dream.
It’s survival.

This is your moment.

Speak up. 💙🔥

Drop a comment below — let’s talk healing, boundaries, and bossing up. 🔥

Thank you for coming on this healing journey with me — As always I am still not an AI

Real human with emotions

Chrystal Brotherson

If you’ve ever turned your pain into words, you belong with us. Write for Haven of Voices — a publication for honest, soul-deep storytelling. Your voice is your power. Share it.

Teaching My Twins About Justice in an Unjust World was originally published in A Momma’s Twin Adventures! on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“Your silence will not protect you.”
 — Audre Lorde, The Cancer Journals

The first time I said it out loud, my throat closed.
I could barely hear myself, let alone believe the words:
“It happened. And it wasn’t my fault.”

Telling the truth was never just about honesty.
It was about risk. About finally saying something out loud that had only lived in my bones.
And waiting to see — would the world collapse? Would I?

It didn’t.
I stayed upright.
I didn’t shrink.

That was the moment everything changed.
Because once you tell the truth, you can’t go back to pretending it didn’t matter.

For years, I was silent to protect people who would never do the same for me.
To keep the peace. To avoid making it “a thing.”
But peace that requires your silence isn’t peace — it’s performance.

How to Speak the Truth (Even When You’re Scared)

1. Start with yourself. Say it in a journal, to a mirror, in the dark.
2. Choose someone safe. Not perfect. Just safe.
3. Don’t worry about the words. The truth doesn’t need a script.
4. Expect emotional whiplash. You’re releasing a weight you’ve adapted to.
5. Follow truth with rest. Courage requires recovery.

I still speak shaky truths.
But each time, the voice gets stronger.
The ground more solid.
The world more honest.

And I no longer disappear just to keep others comfortable.

🖤 You deserve to be heard — not just healed.
Read more essays on voice, trauma, and truth: medium.com/@chrystalbrotherson
Join the healing over at @chrystalcomments

Tags: #TraumaHealing #TruthTelling #SurvivorVoice #MentalHealth #EmotionalFreedom

This is your moment.

Speak up. 💙🔥

P.S. Thank you for following my journey. You can find more of my motherhood experiences right here on medium.

Chrystal Brotherson

The First Time I Spoke the Truth Out Loud — And Didn’t Shrink was originally published in A Momma’s Twin Adventures! on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Medium just made a quiet but meaningful shift — and if you’ve ever felt invisible because your work wasn’t “Boosted,” this update deserves your attention.

The newest Partner Program tweak redistributes earnings so that non-Boosted stories earn more on average, while Boosted stories still earn more — but with less of the earnings gap we’ve all felt for years. In plain language: the money isn’t changing hands as much at the very top anymore. It’s spreading outward.

And honestly? That matters.

Boosts have always represented a tiny fraction of what’s published here. They’re valuable, yes — but they were never the full picture of what readers actually connect with. Medium’s own acknowledgment of this feels overdue. Because meaning doesn’t always come wrapped in polish, SEO perfection, or editorial approval. Sometimes it shows up as a raw reflection, a messy list, a story written between childcare and exhaustion, or a post that helps one person feel less alone.

This change recognizes something many of us already know: value isn’t exclusive to curation.

Boosted stories will still get wider distribution and higher earnings. That part isn’t going away. But now, stories that resonate deeply — without fitting a specific editorial mold — can finally be rewarded more directly through actual member engagement. That’s a philosophical shift as much as a financial one.

Why is this good?

Because it re-centers the Partner Program around writing itself, not just outcomes. It strengthens the connection between readers, writers, and earnings. It tells newer writers, quieter writers, and experimental writers: your work counts here too.

It also subtly shifts power back to the community. Members reading, highlighting, responding, and spending time with stories now have a more direct impact on what earns — not just editors and internal systems.

In 2026 and beyond, that matters. Writing is how we process the world. Reading is how we understand each other. Medium leaning into that — not perfection, not prestige, but participation — feels like a step toward the platform many of us hoped it could be.

I’m genuinely curious how this will play out.

If you write here: do you feel more encouraged, or cautiously optimistic?
If you read here: do you want more voices surfaced, even if they’re imperfect?

Let’s talk in the comments. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Because parenting in 2025 is political, personal, and deeply powerful.
Let’s tell the truth about it — together.
Chrystal Brotherson — Editor, Momma’s Twin Adventures

✨ Welcome to Momma’s Twin Adventures

P.S. Thank you for following my journey. You can find more of my motherhood experiences right here on medium.

So Now, Non-Boosted Stories Earn More on Average? was originally published in Haven of Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

For years, I believed anger made me dangerous.
Too loud. Too dramatic. Too much.

So I swallowed it.
Turned it into migraines, anxiety, people-pleasing.
Until it started leaking out of me — not as fire, but as grief.

Then one day, I didn’t swallow it.
I screamed. I cried. I slammed a door.
And instead of falling apart, I felt alive.
Clear. Honest.

“Every woman has a well-stocked arsenal of anger… It is not the anger of despair. It is a grief of distortions between peers, and it is useful.”
 — Audre Lorde, The Uses of Anger

Anger wasn’t the enemy.
It was the language of boundaries I hadn’t yet learned to set.

What I Now Know About Anger

1. It points to where something hurts. Don’t ignore it — explore it.
2. It reveals your unmet needs. Often the ones you’ve been denying.
3. It’s diffeent from harm. Feeling anger ≠ causing damage.
4. It gets quieter when honored. Suppressed anger grows louder.
5. It’s sacred. Especially for women taught to silence it.

I’m still learning how to be angry without guilt.
But I’m no longer scared of my rage.
It’s not here to destroy me — it’s here to protect me.

🖤 If you’re learning to listen to your anger instead of apologizing for it — you’re not alone.
Read more essays on emotion, truth, and healing: medium.com/@chrystalbrotherson
Follow for more on rage and rest at @chrystalcomments

Tags: #AngerIsInformation #EmotionalHealing #Boundaries #MentalHealth #FeministEssay

This is your moment.

Speak up. 💙🔥

Drop a comment below — let’s talk healing, boundaries, and bossing up. 🔥

Thank you for coming on this healing journey with me — As always I am still not an AI

Real human with emotions

Chrystal Brotherson

If you’ve ever turned your pain into words, you belong with us. Write for Haven of Voices — a publication for honest, soul-deep storytelling. Your voice is your power. Share it.

Learning That Anger Isn’t a Flaw — It’s a Signal was originally published in Haven of Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This page gives you the exact reset sequence you can use anywhere, quiet enough for a bathroom floor, strong enough to break the panic spiral.

Step 1. Interrupt the overload with one sensory anchor
Plant your feet on something cold. Tile. A freezer pack. A metal sink. This isn’t mindfulness for show. It snaps your nervous system back into your body.

Step 2. The 10-second triage
Whisper the only three questions that matter:
• What hurts the most right now.
• What actually needs me in the next ten minutes.
• What can wait.
Everything else is smoke.

Step 3. Reduce the load by one invisible item
Pick something you carry mentally and put it down: the dishes, the guilt, the “should be doing more.” You drop one. That drop buys you oxygen.

Step 4. Script the emergency phrase
Use this whenever you feel yourself splinter:
“I’m overwhelmed, and I’m pausing. Nothing bad happens if we pause.”
Say it out loud. Let it be true.

Step 5. Return with a micro-win
Fix one square inch of life: a wiped counter, a diaper changed, a cup filled, a toy tossed in a bin. Momentum starts microscopic.

More One Page Solutions

What to Do When You’re Touched Out Before Noon

This reset won’t conjure a village, but it keeps you standing in its absence. That’s power.

✨ Welcome to Momma’s Twin Adventures

Speak up. 💙🔥

Drop a comment below — let’s talk healing, boundaries, and bossing up. 🔥

Thank you for coming on this healing journey with me — as always, I am still not an AI

Real human with emotions

Chrystal Brotherson

The 5-Minute Reset for Moms Who Have No Village was originally published in A Momma’s Twin Adventures! on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I cried in the counseling office parking lot.

I’ve also cried at McDonald’s.
And the DMV.
And once in my car with the engine still running because turning it off felt like too much commitment.

At this point, public breakdowns are my TED Talk.

Here’s what no one tells you when they talk about healing

It is not scheduled.
It does not arrive neatly between appointments or after you’ve “done the work.”
It shows up when it wants to — usually when you’re holding a cold fry and trying not to make eye contact with strangers.

You cry where you have to.

The Myth of the Private Breakdown

We’re taught that emotional collapse should be contained.
Handled.
Saved for bathrooms, bedrooms, or the shower — places with locks and plausible deniability.

But real life doesn’t care about your ideal healing environment.

Real life hands you a moment that’s too heavy to carry quietly and says, now.

Healing is messy.
It’s inconvenient.
It doesn’t wait until you get home.

Sometimes it looks like a grown woman sobbing in her car because the counseling session cracked something open and the body decided, we’re finishing this right here.

Parking Lots Are Liminal Spaces

There’s something honest about crying in a parking lot.

You’re between places.
Between who you were and who you’re becoming.
Between survival mode and whatever comes next.

Parking lots don’t demand composure.
They don’t expect performance.
They just exist — flat, gray, and big enough to hold whatever spills out of you.

And sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

Crying Isn’t Failure — It’s Release

Let’s be clear: crying in public is not a sign you’re falling apart.

It’s a sign your body finally feels safe enough to let go.

Tears are not weakness.
They’re pressure valves.
They’re your nervous system saying, thank you for finally listening.

If you’ve ever tried to hold it together until you got home and realized your chest physically wouldn’t let you — congratulations. You weren’t being dramatic.

You were being human.

Eat the Fry. Wipe Your Face. Keep Going.

I’ve cried into fries that went cold because grief doesn’t care about optimal temperature.

I’ve cried in my car and then wiped my face, straightened my shoulders, and driven home to my kids because life doesn’t pause just because you cracked open.

And that’s okay.

You’re allowed to fall apart and still show up.
You’re allowed to break down and keep moving.
You’re allowed to make a mess and not apologize for it.

Cry Like You Meant To

If you’re going to cry in public, don’t half-do it.

Cry like it matters.
Cry like your body knows what it’s doing.
Cry like you’re not auditioning for composure anymore.

Then breathe.
Drink some water.
Finish the fry if you want.

Healing doesn’t need perfect conditions.
It just needs permission.

Go ahead.
Cry.

Make it count.

Thank you for reading.

Writer | Threads Growth Coach | Storyteller
👬 Momma of Twin Boys | Gamer | Queer Poly Wife

Signature created in Canva by Chrystal — Momma of Twins & Threads Growth Coach

P.S. Thank you for following my journey. You can find more of my motherhood experiences right here on Medium

Medium Tags

• Mental Health
• Healing
• Motherhood
• Personal Essay
• Emotional Wellbeing

P.S. Thank you for following my journey. You can find more of my motherhood experiences right here on medium.

✨ Chrystal Brotherson ✨

✨ Welcome to Momma’s Twin Adventures

How to Cry in Public Like You Meant To was originally published in A Momma’s Twin Adventures! on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Founded in 2024 by writer and storyteller Chrystal Brotherson, Haven of Voices exists for writers, poets, and creatives who refuse to shrink.

This is a home for unfiltered expression across genres and forms: political commentary, disruptive essays, sensual fantasy, poetry, haikus, and short fiction. If your voice whispers, we listen. If it roars, we amplify it.

Haven of Voices is built on one belief: powerful writing creates connection. Every piece here is meant to spark thought, conversation, and courage.

Want to write with us?
Joining is simple. Comment with “@” to be added as a writer.

Meet the Editor

I’m Chrystal Brotherson. Writer. Storyteller. Threads growth coach. Creator of Chrystal Comments on Threads. I’m also a polyamorous mom of twin boys, a Valheim mega-builder, gamer, homeschool enthusiast, and devoted cat caretaker.

Through Haven of Voices, my mission is clear: help writers break boundaries, challenge tired narratives, and claim the full power of their words.

This isn’t a quiet corner.
This is a gathering place.
And your voice belongs here.

Speak up. 💙🔥

Drop a comment below — let’s talk healing, boundaries, and bossing up. 🔥

Thank you for coming on this healing journey with me — as always, I am still not an AI

Real human with emotions

Chrystal Brotherson

If you’ve ever turned your pain into words, you belong with us. Write for Haven of Voices — a publication for honest, soul-deep storytelling. Your voice is your power. Share it.

Welcome to Haven of Voices was originally published in Haven of Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Unlearning shame when you’ve been taught to survive alone.

That line says a lot.
Because even after the crisis passes, the instincts stay.
And for me, the hardest one to shake?
Accepting help.

I was raised on the idea that needing anything was weakness.
Help was something you offered — not something you took.
We didn’t ask.
We figured it out, made it stretch, went without.

So later — when people offered help,
when someone said, “I’ve got you,”
my gut response wasn’t gratitude.
It was shame.

“I still flinch at overdraft notifications — even when I know I’m okay.” — Chrystal

I didn’t know how to receive without apologizing.
Without explaining.
Without immediately trying to pay it back — emotionally, financially, somehow.

Because when you grow up poor,
“help” doesn’t feel free.
It feels dangerous.
Like a spotlight on everything you couldn’t do on your own.

I’m unlearning that now.
Trying to believe that asking doesn’t make me a burden.
That accepting kindness doesn’t erase my strength.
That interdependence isn’t failure — it’s human.

It’s still hard.
I still hesitate before saying yes.
But I’m getting better at it.

Because real healing isn’t just financial — 
It’s learning that being supported doesn’t make you small.
It just makes you loved.

Speak up. 💙🔥

Drop a comment below — let’s talk healing, boundaries, and bossing up. 🔥

Chrystal Brotherson

P.S. Thank you for following my journey. You can find more of my motherhood experiences right here on medium.

Learning to Accept Help Without Feeling Like a Failure was originally published in A Momma’s Twin Adventures! on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.