I am caged in a house of lies, looking for a way out. It wasn’t a conscious decision to buy this house. I nailed together a white lie here and there. A series of small responses came together brick by brick until a wall was built. One day I looked up and realized there was a house of lies between me and the rest of the world.
It sounds unfathomable, but I don’t lie intending to be deceitful. I lie to avoid uncomfortable conversations or conflict. I lie to avoid consequences. I don’t know how to ask for what I…
I’ll be honest and start with a bit of a mea culpa. I’m quite tired of being told that, as a white woman, I need to do better. I internally roll my eyes when someone tells me that my thinking or my language is problematic. I am happy to tout my efforts to be anti-racist as I simultaneously complain of my exhaustion doing this work.
And then something will happen that hits me like a two-by-four across the head and refuses to let me escape my privilege. Other times, it is the subtle message of another’s words that light the…
I wish my husband would have had the stereotypical midlife crisis. I’d rather he bought a sports car and found a younger woman. I think I could deal with that. Instead, I am faced with the frightening realization that he is choosing Donald Trump over me. I wasn’t prepared to lose my husband to an irrational, delusional man, his minions, and their conspiracy theories.
Trump has convinced a large portion of the population that he, and only he, has their best interests in mind. He has convinced them that his inability to deliver a coherent thought or restrain himself from…
Covered in bandages
Wrapped so tightly
So many wounds
Deep and shallow, old and new
Wounds upon wounds
No longer knowing where
one ended and one began
Bandages woven together
Holding me upright, sealing in
the pain, the fear, and the anger.
New bandages added as old ones wore
Holding me tighter, sealing the past away
keeping out the future.
Then one day I pulled a string
memories of the past, mountains of pain,
and unspoken trauma
seeped out like blood
staining those bandages,
hinting at the wounds underneath.
No longer able to keep the seal
New bandages staining as quickly
What If Procrastination Is Failure?
Procrastination has long been in my repertoire. I have joked that if procrastination were an Olympic event, I would undoubtedly receive the Gold Medal. That is unless I procrastinated so much that I didn’t show up for the competition. I hadn’t thought about that last part until I was in a recovery meeting, and someone said that procrastination was not an extended exercise in patience.
Procrastination is not an extended exercise in patience. — Joe D
One statement destroyed the entire pretense for my procrastination. My insistence that my procrastination was simply a part of…
I sit in a small office with a woman who is telling me about the abortion that I will have tomorrow. She seems nice enough. Her shirt has polka dots but is too tight across the chest. Her face is friendly and I sense that she feels a bit sorry for me. The office appears cramped and is overflowing with stacks of pamphlets. She is reviewing one with me now.
I don’t hear much of what she is saying. My mind is racing. Will the baby feel pain? Will Tim ever forgive me? Why can’t I have this baby? Why…