Today marks the 23rd anniversary of my reluctant return to the east coast, from Southern California where I’d followed my father and attempted to take up permanent residence with him, … Continue reading Failed.
Tag: therapy
Arrival.
I’m an Art teacher. That’s such an amazing, thrilling thing to be able to say. Up to now, I have taught art classes and projects to children and adults. I … Continue reading Arrival.
Noses and feet.
Last night at dinnertime, my kid had an emotional outburst because — horror of horrors — her fish sticks would not stay on her fork. My advice to pick them … Continue reading Noses and feet.
Eat the frog.
(*No frogs were harmed in the writing of this blog post.*) In my most recent therapy session, I was lamenting to my therapist the list of chores I needed to … Continue reading Eat the frog.
For better or worse.
Seven years. I’ve been seeing my therapist for seven years. Actually it’s officially seven years this month. (Cheers, doc!) (I actually never call her that, but in the interest of … Continue reading For better or worse.
Covering the bases.
I’ve been having a difficult day, emotionally. Just short-tempered. Grouchy. Wanting to be left alone for the most part (not an option when it’s a day with my kid since … Continue reading Covering the bases.
Space invaders. (TW: sexual abuse)
Mad. So much mad. Every version of me, from neglected child me to abused teen me to gaslit young adult me to present-day wide awake me, are all white-hot mad. … Continue reading Space invaders. (TW: sexual abuse)
Mom Olympics.
Last weekend I went through about a dozen huge tote bins full of every single stitch of clothing my daughter has ever worn. I never got rid of a thing, … Continue reading Mom Olympics.
Permanent ink.
I had intended this evening to write a relatively simple post about my experience today with getting my very first tattoo. However, more important material presented itself. We’ll see if … Continue reading Permanent ink.
Highways go both ways.
One of my favorite things about therapy — other than being able more and more to talk about therapy unselfconsciously, without fear of stigma — is that I can frequently … Continue reading Highways go both ways.
Journeys in the Dark 