You are irreplaceable. There is a space only you can fill - even if you're not currently clear about what that space is or even looks like. Not knowing your place doesn't equal not having one any more than being a little lost or disoriented on a road trip means there's no point to being … Continue reading A Little Help from Viktor Frankl
I am not fat. I have fat. And I have fat because, like an unfailingly faithful, loyal and forceful warrior, my body never bought the lies. Not one of them. My body held the truth for me when I needed it buried in the abyss to survive it. My body has retained truth I tried to discard. Faithfully, … Continue reading Thoughts On a Higher-Mileage Body
You have permission to feel whatever you feel on this day. You have permission to grieve. For a deceased child, a deceased mother, a barren womb, kids who've gone off the rails, disconnection or loss in any form that impacts your feelings about the day ...... You have permission to decline the impulse to Should … Continue reading Permission Slip for the 2nd Sunday of May
Panic attacks suck. Sorry if prefer a more hygienic description, but there isn't one in my experience. If you've had or have them, I don't need to qualify my statement. If you haven't had one, I can't qualify it. As such, I stand with my opening statement then, since it basically covers all the bases. … Continue reading Jim Croce and the 6 Train
I shut the Writing Department inside me down about three years ago. I'll go into that another day. I've known for at least two of those three years that I need to open it up again. A few weeks ago, I was reading a book that made my WHY more clear for me; set another … Continue reading Writing What I Know
She let me do her laundry, and she lingered in the shower as I'd hoped she would - treating herself to the luxury of hot water and a clean (and unhurried) place to let it run. She slept in a bed. She ate at a table. She had conversation, and, for a little while, was surrounded by people who looked her in the eye and called her by name. For a few hours, she was a someone again. She smiled a little.