Today, I nailed a presentation at work. But I felt like shit.Because autoimmune disease,Because trauma attacks endlessly,Because my head ached so bad that the sound of my own voice felt like breaking glass in my brain,Because my feelings were shit and didn't matter,Because imposter syndrome,Because anxiety experiences the worst so it won't hurt so bad... Continue Reading →
“An Exhale” is one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written (so I’ve reblogged it a few times now). I go back and read it often, remembering the gravel road, the tinkle of the dog’s collar, and the rush of relief and grief that hit me all at once. I remember Little Foot’s little voice and the feeling of his small hand in mine.
Today and to me, this story still holds up (which I’m not sure is a good or bad thing). There have been too many senseless last exhales for so many who didn’t deserve it. It’s painful and overwhelming to think about.
If you need it, when I’m feeling crushed by…well…*gestures broadly at everything*, and I actually remember to do it, I place one hand over my heart and one on my belly. I pull in a breath as deep as it will go, hold it for 3…2…1…and then exhale slowly and thoughtfully. It helps for a second at least. Maybe it will help you, too.
I love you,
Three years ago, I posted an essay called, “An Exhale.” That story went on to be published in two nonfiction anthologies which can be found here and here —publications for which I’m not only proud, but grateful to have had the opportunity to share with others the potential catastrophe that hurricanes can bring: not just environmentally but emotionally and mentally as well.
Fast forward to today and I’m spending my morning dragging things inside, tieing others down, and cutting down heavy branches that look like they might be vulnerable in the hurricane-force winds that are headed this way from Laura. Although when I think of it, isn’t everything vulnerable in hurricane-force winds? Isn’t everything and everyone vulnerable all the time? I read once somewhere that you’ll walk past, on average, 16 murderers in your lifetime.
I also think that in the state of the world, we haven’t had…
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When you wake up, do you feel a balloon in your throat, too? Or maybe it's a corset: too small and too snug, cinched up tighter than poor Kate Winslet's mom did to her in 'Titanic.' "Hold still," I think she said before she yanked again. Or is it that feeling of having had too... Continue Reading →
I had a dream last night that present-day-me somehow (as a spirit? a thought? a memory but also premonition?) was able to supernaturally visit myself as a 10-year-old. I appeared at a gathering with my mom's extended family at my grandparent's bay house in Galveston: a get together I vaguely remember. 10-year-old me was in... Continue Reading →
I imagine that when the sun rises each day,She's eager to see who she'll reach;To check on how her little babesHave grown. A happy face on a proud,Beaming mother doing her best. But I imagine it's rough on daysWhen no one notices her. SheGets it though: so many are busy, afraid,Scrambling for solutions because theirHomes... Continue Reading →