Not everyone responds the same to trauma. Some of us try to hide all the symptoms and affectations and pretend that trauma hasn’t changed us in any way whatsoever. Others own the trauma in a big way and blame everything wrong in their life on events that negatively impacted them no matter how big or…
The euphoria of writing here again has been sweet. But too short lived. Re-engaging with this blog caused an unexpected and freakish anxiety I could barely contain for three friggin weeks. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were tight. No air. No reprieve. No release from the madness that fought to control me again. I couldn’t…
Precious moments encapsulated in softly written words that remember for me what being in love felt like. Words written in a crooked Cinderella fairytale once upon a time a long, long time ago. Could have been worse I suppose. I might never have made it to the ball. -me I don’t feel inspired to write….
I saw her in her confusionAnd doubt and insecurityI saw her in her darknessAn embryo of fearNaked and alone I held her in my wombHealed some hurts with my heartBut she never trustedAnd never let me give to herFreely She damaged my loveRobbed me of my desireWarped me into painful questioningHer ferocious, primal unquenchable thirstBleeding…
Sometimes, a fictional story can have such a profound effect on your non-fictional life, that it moves it into an astonishing place of question. ~me I watched a movie last night called Living Out Loud with Holly Hunter, Danny Devito, and Queen Latifah. The film is based on a short story written by Anton Chekhov,…
Today the rain outside matches the pain in my heart. Damp, cold, softly and dully persistent casting a gray shadow over my life. I fell into a world I thought would embrace me because I wanted it so badly. I was so open to the new, to the experience and to any and all possibilities…save…
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. ~Harlon coben The quote above is a real thing girls. It’s a fucking real thing. So is addiction to another person. And I ain’t lying ‘bout that. Can I get an amen? Hello. My name is Trish. And I’m a recovering addict. Yesterday,…
I marvel at our capacity to feel so much for so long and then in a heartbeat, it’s gone. Nothing left but the cold, black numbness of indifference. If it’s meant to be a layer of protectiveness, a thing that kicks in for self-preservation, then I will embrace it. My skin is not so tough…