I had every intention of sitting down this weekend and dedicating several hours to writing, but the weather was so deliciously warm and gorgeous, I opted instead to spend it outdoors doing yardwork and landscaping. Late Friday evening I'd jotted about 12 paragraphs down, the beginnings of Chapter 11 of my book, and planned to… Continue reading Sometimes The Whole Chapter Is Garbage (Throw It Away)
I'm starting a new series here where I'm sharing old posts from past blogs and giving them new life. I published this in July 2015, just a few months after my mother's cancer diagnosis. Rereading these words, almost three years later, is a surreal experience. And I wanted to share them. "The Faucet Is Leaking"… Continue reading Memory Lane: My Faucet Is Leaking
Self doubt. A ton of bricks. Who am I if not confident, carefree, fearless, strong? What's left of me when I'm destroyed, depressed, delicate, and down? Numbers, numbers, numbers, numbers. Will they like this, will they hear this, will they see this, will they want this. Will I still be who I am without...them? A… Continue reading Social Media – What’s Left Of Me
This has been a long time coming. I didn't intend to get to this point. As a matter of fact, I thought myself brave for not even considering forgiveness. It took me years to work up the courage to get justifiably angry and once I got there, it never occurred to me that there'd come… Continue reading To The Women Who Have Hurt Me: I Forgive You
I scroll past your vacation photos and a tiny part of me aches. Your suntanned children in life vests and floppy hats, sitting on your family sail boat, all smiles and kool-aid lips. I see the status update about the luxury tree house your husband made and I think, "Shit...I could live in that thing… Continue reading To The Mom With The Greener Grass
The 30th and 31st years were hard. A dear family member lost to suicide. My mother lost to cancer. A baby lost to miscarriage. And a father lost to old age. Three funerals, one casket, two large urns, one small. One family caught in the middle, surrounded by heartbreak, tear stained cheeks because we can't… Continue reading My 32nd Year
When grief takes on the form of a gnawing ache, rather than a sharp, stabbing pain.
Dear Mom, Yesterday you would be 58 years old. Yesterday I'd have called you first thing in the morning, trying to be one of the first people to sing you, "Happy Birthday". Your granddaughter and son-in-law would have joined us. You'd have laughed and thanked us. Yesterday I'd have taken you out to eat at… Continue reading I Have To Write Something For Her Birthday
Revisiting Joni Mitchell's music and trying to survive the holidays.
I ponder the effect that this year will have on my daughter.