My Own Prison
I've been held captive by the generational trauma of my mother. I wish it hadn't taken me so long to figure out just how deep in this prison I had been kept.
Depleted Momentum • The Art of Weaponized Truth
Everytime the phone rings lately and it’s my mother on the other end, I think back to the times when she was not a phone call away but instead all in my face and in my personal space. I do not wish those days back.
Call Me Naive One More Time
Every time a man approaches me, the older women in my life lose their minds. They call it naive. I call it unbothered. There's a difference.
Rewriting the Food Script
On emotional eating, food noise, and what happens when your coping mechanism isn't available anymore. A midlife personal essay from Guatemala.
You Had One Job – 5 Mistakes My Brother Made After My Divorce
I drove 1400 miles to my brother's apartment after the divorce because I thought he was safe. He was not a safe space. Thirteen years later, here's the full accounting.
