Say I told you that I spent a good, no, a great, part of my life in numbness training. Men thought me emotionally stable because I wanted nothing, asked for nothing, accepted even less. Women thought me a threat because men thought me well. I was never well. Say I told you that in myContinue reading “A Night Well Spent”
Tag Archives: Women’s Issues
Seeds
The small, slow steps work. Every time. This is true of difficult decisions. True of preparing a gorgeous meal. True of creating beautiful art. The fastest track might yield “results,” but rarely offers a deep sense of fulfillment. For the last three years, I’ve suffered a variety of medical malfunctions. Maybe I’ve suffered this wayContinue reading “Seeds”
An Invitation to Keep Your Course
Today, there’s a swearing-in. Yesterday, three hostages were released. The day before, TikTok “went dark.” Last week, Zuckerberg decided to eliminate fact-checkers on Meta, citing a “cultural tipping point.” Last year, Musk created a reel using AI, putting words in Harris’ mouth, and called it a Parody. In the days of yonder, we called thisContinue reading “An Invitation to Keep Your Course”
My Little Guide to Soap-Making
Remember, there’s juiciness in stems as well as flowers.
a little self comfort for the tender poet
I can only begin with advice I read (and re-read) from Rebecca Solnit‘s Facebook post, Nov 6th at 4:25 am, “Things you do not have to do today. –Join the frenzy of what/who to blame. –Take in a bunch more media. –Feel like you’re ready to face the next five years and have to planContinue reading “a little self comfort for the tender poet”
Writing & Wardrobing
She gathered clothes that did not “fit,” hanging them on one side of my closet.
I took to a bottle of wine.
I feel this is where writing and wardrobing clearly intersect.
The Birth of an Essay
Power surged into me, something electrical, and I realized I was given a piece of me back, the piece taken from me over and over in my youth. The piece used to control me, overpower me, keep me in my place. The piece that should have belonged to me and only me all along, that should have been guarded, protected, like the world’s greatest diamond. The piece diminished to the point I never thought about it, didn’t look at it, never talked about it. The piece I felt ashamed of, the one I blamed myself for all that went wrong. The piece that guided my babies into this world and helped push them forth into their first breath.
Me. No More.
Me. Me. December 2008. Me. One month prior to downloading my youngest. Me. One year prior to fleeing my home, three sons in tow, one duffel stuffed with medical supplies and a handful of diapers. Me. Looking un-terrified, flexing, posing. Me. Living in duplicity. This image is not about body-beauty or suface-pretty. This was anContinue reading “Me. No More.”
Writing “Me”
I found, through the use of third-person, I could write the hard stuff, the stuff that damaged me, that changed me, that shamed me. I could write as if I were writing about somebody else.
28 Pages of Revision…
Twenty-eight pages. A solid revision day. One goal for this narrative is that each chapter feels complete, carrying the weight of story on its own. Best writing today: “I didn’t know I had so much blood inside me. Feeling dizzy, I lowered myself onto the glass, lying on my back as if I were usedContinue reading “28 Pages of Revision…”
