People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

41

On the evening of Monday, January 9, I made a note on the next day’s to-do list:¬†find a therapist so you can stop crying yourself to sleep every damn night. A few days later, I sat in front of my new therapist, J., for the first time, and told her that the task at . . . → Read More: 41

Today, Forever

One day, a young woman (a girl, really) had a baby. The prettiest, sunniest baby of them all, he tucked so sweetly into her shoulder that she wept with joy.

The next day, the woman saw that the baby was a man, and he had made a decision. She helped him . . . → Read More: Today, Forever

Behind My Eyes

I start a load of laundry, take the boy to school, pour a cup of coffee, put the dogs out, answer email.

I fold a load of laundry, make some phone calls, drink another cup of coffee, sit at my desk and write a few listless words that won’t go where I want them . . . → Read More: Behind My Eyes

Pediatric Mental Illness? It’s Like This…

Pediatric mental illness is screaming and crying; raging and breaking things; cursing and swearing; ER trips and suicide attempts…

…and it is midnight visits from a 9-year-old who still knows how to fit into the curve I make in the bed just the way he did when he was a toddler. “Mommy, I’m so . . . → Read More: Pediatric Mental Illness? It’s Like This…

Cry Me a River

Let’s just call grief what it really is: a wily, slimy, and brutally persistent motherfucker. Grief is like moths that thump against the lampshade until I am almost mad with their noise, except these moths are 40 pounds apiece and they are slamming against the inside of my skull. It’s a weight in my . . . → Read More: Cry Me a River

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