I’ve been thinking a lot in the last week or two about how it could be possible that I came from such horrible people and didn’t turn out the same … Continue reading Grenade.
Tag: PTSD
Just devastated. That’s all.
Ever have some really bad shit happen and you deal with it as best you can and you’re like, well, that’s horrible, but I need to try to put it … Continue reading Just devastated. That’s all.
It’s not my fault.
Recently, my therapist posed an easy question that I still struggle to answer, and it’s been almost two weeks since she asked it. She had the audacity to ask me…you … Continue reading It’s not my fault.
I am an Existential Beach.
Every so often, a weather front will blow in and there will be a whiff of ocean in the air. A salty breeze, subtle, probably unnoticeable to most people, but … Continue reading I am an Existential Beach.
Differently bad.
My mother’s birthday was this past Wednesday. I had built up a fair amount of agitation about it ahead of time, anticipating that it would be a challenging day for … Continue reading Differently bad.
This whole “let them” thing.
I want to start off this post by saying that Mel Robbins seems like a lovely person who’s done great work for her own life and made a huge difference … Continue reading This whole “let them” thing.
Seven lies (and two truths) my father told me.
In a sense, the term “lies” seems a bit strong, as for the most part, what this list entails is pretty harmless. But sugarcoating any of it by calling them … Continue reading Seven lies (and two truths) my father told me.
Buckle up, buttercup!
Are you ready for the craziest revelation I’ve had in years? I’ve discovered that, much like the secondhand smoke I inhaled around my practically chain-smoking parents for the majority of … Continue reading Buckle up, buttercup!
Angry.
I fucking hate Mother’s Day. There. I said it. My mother is a toxic narcissist who fucked my brother and I up in more ways than I can count. I’ve … Continue reading Angry.
When the grief runneth over.
Like a toppled wine glass slowly staining the Seder table, sometimes grief spills out and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Sometimes holidays are just friggin’ hard. I … Continue reading When the grief runneth over.
Journeys in the Dark 