People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

Happier and Healthier: The Beginning

I have that feeling tonight, the one where it seems that gravity has doubled. The urge to curl up in my nest on the couch and stare at the TV until I fall asleep is almost irresistible.

So I’m here, resisting it. I’m tired of watching the days slide past me, empty of accomplishment . . . → Read More: Happier and Healthier: The Beginning

Duster

On a summer day in 1935, a few weeks before she turned 13, my grandma Margery was in the yard of her family’s southwestern Kansas home, pulling laundry off the line. She dropped the clothes and underwear, sheets and towels, gray with dust and baked dry in the┬ávillainous┬ásun, into the basket at her feet, . . . → Read More: Duster

Body Memory

I’ve been sick for five days (I think? It could have been four. Or six.). Fever, coughing, stuffy head, gastrointestinal ickiness, the whole unlovely, unpleasant drill.

My mind doesn’t understand the difference between staying in bed all day because of a virus, and staying in bed all day because of depression. If I stay . . . → Read More: Body Memory

Dead On Purpose

On Saturday, October 27, 1979, I knew a few things: my little sister’s blonde pony tails were prettier than my brown ones; my favorite TV show, Little House on the Prairie, came on every Monday evening at 7:00; my third grade teacher’s breath smelled like tuna fish; and bad things didn’t happen in my . . . → Read More: Dead On Purpose

Driftwood

Depression is rage spread thin. ~George Santayana

I hate everyone and everything. Even the coffee I brought with me to my desk is all wrong. I hate flavored coffee, and I hate the person who used up all the regular coffee and didn’t go buy more.

I hate that the person who did that . . . → Read More: Driftwood

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