Here I

Here I Here I lay, Tightly coiled, Limbs twisting and clutching My own trembling body So tightly that it bleeds. I can feel the flames at my back. Familiar. Treacherous. Mine. For too long I had spent my time Putting out the fires that others set To trap me To choke me To burn me.

Feel, Write, Repeat

This week’s post is going to be a bit shorter. The last one was already late, as I’m trying to get out all of my content as I wade through the grime of what I’m working through and healing from lately. Writing is my passion, it’s one of my jobs, and even that has felt

Home

Sometimes ‘home’ is a more complicated concept than it appears to be. It seems simple enough. Home is where you lay your head at night, right? Having a roof over one’s head is something to be thankful for, of course. It is a glorious thing to have, but sometimes that roof doesn’t feel like home.

Is that you, or someone else?

I recently wrote an article for Elephant Journal, referencing a blouse that I’ve held onto during this time of transformation and letting go of the past. During this, my son glanced at the picture I was making for the article heading, pointed to the older photo of me, and asked, “Mom, is that you, or

An Unexpected Journey

When we’re little, we’re asked what we want to be when we grow up. I wanted to be a traveling photographer for Nat Geo, or a writer, or a psychologist, or a marine biologist- or a- As an adult, I did try the old way; college and one set career. In true Gemini fashion, working