Gravity holds you in place even when you want to float free, and sometimes the hold is a hug, and sometimes the hold is a strangle.
I’m going for 30 posts anyway. I like to push myself.
At the doctor’s last week, he said I needed to stop pushing myself. That I need to do literally one thing at a time.
In March, I started seriously thinking about writing a memoir, and this memory is what I thought would start it, because I wanted to capture the busy softness of my life before. I wanted to start it in a way that said it was more of a love story than a horror story, but horrible things definitely happen.
When I research my symptoms, the internet tells me I am super stressed. When I trade my necklace […]
November 2018 His voice is comfortable with itself, the kind of calm authority you develop when people count […]
This was originally posted on the beautiful Beth Ann’s blog, It’s Just Life. I wanted to re-post it […]
A couple days ago was my anniversary of terrible things. I posted the video of my little custom […]
May 23, 2015 The water bottle is crinkling. Around it, conversation is soft, muted, somber– but there’s no […]
There was a pair of shoes at Nordstrom’s last week that Dave would have loved, but I didn’t […]
Years and years ago, I saw a show with foul-mouthed puppets, improvising their way through comedy skits and […]
In November of 2010, I was living in a quiet town in Orange County with my husband, Dave, […]
I almost shut down my blog yesterday, on a whim. I logged in, pushed the new post button […]
My cats didn’t eat my husband’s dead body. I asked. The very nice lady said she would have […]
I sparked my first match when I was six years old, in the harvest season, for the Festival […]
Written July 14th, 2015 from the California Institute for Women – 100 hours before I was free, a […]