chronic illness
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The journey to this moment has been long and hard and chaotic and sometimes frightening. So, now that I am here, I am paralyzed. This is certainly not the first time that I have fought my way through all sorts of trauma to find myself safe on the other side and stuck. Just stuck. It
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I’m not certain if control issues were inherited or ingrained, but my mother was the pinnacle of having things in order, and bits of her need to control all the things all the time were handed down to me, and I handed bits down to my daughter. It isn’t always a bad thing to want
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I feel like shit. I could probably end there, and just let that be my post for the day. But I keep putting “write” on the schedule that I don’t follow. I’d kind of like to cross that off my list. So, I feel like shit. And that isn’t a new thing at all. Which
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I once, according to my dad’s telling of the tale, came downstairs from my room, obtained a jar of jam from the refrigerator, took a spoon from the silverware drawer, and started to eat jam directly from the jar. When Dad questioned me, and asked what I was doing, I became defensive. Whatever was happening
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It is weird to want to do all the physically demanding things. I can’t sit still. I can’t write an article or finish edits on a piece, because I just need to be up and doing things. My body will regret this so hard in a few days when the steroids are gone and the
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There is this common statement among those who choose a Christian religious base for their belief system. I hear it often. I hate it more every time it is said. “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” I call bullshit. I am dealing with more than I can handle. I’ve been dealing
Learning To Be Whole 