“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back?” -Frodo, … Continue reading No going back.
“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back?” -Frodo, … Continue reading No going back.
I’ve read somewhere that all the cells in our body regenerate every, like, seven years. I’m not sure if it’s true, but it’s an intriguing concept. My husband and kid … Continue reading Cellular regeneration.
My grandmother would have turned 83 today. I think this is the first time in a very long time that I feel more blessed by her memory than sad that … Continue reading Of blessed memory.
Sprinkled all over my blog are discussions of the utmost importance of boundaries. As someone who grew up without them and had to insert them herself as an adult – … Continue reading Road map. (TW: brief mentions of sexual abuse)
That feeling when your daughter comes across your old photo album full of family pictures, and wants to look through it to see you as a baby, and you start … Continue reading Just somebody.
Some days are just fucking hard. All days have their challenges, some small, some massive, and a variety in between. And I do believe that no challenge is insurmountable, even … Continue reading Hippo birdie days.
“I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” -Finnick Odair, Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. My father tried to kill himself when I … Continue reading No such thing as closure. (TW: parent’s attempted suicide)
Last night in my kitchen, I lost a fight with a roll of plastic wrap. I was trying to tightly wrap up half of the pound cake I’d made that … Continue reading Sticking the landing.
My father died 15 years ago. I was 18. I am in contact with exceedingly few people these days who knew him. Even then, that contact is sparse (no judgment, … Continue reading Happy and haunted.
I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. And I’m pissed about it. The trickiest part of all is to place my anger where it … Continue reading Poison.