When ‘girl code’ clearly didn’t exist… — I was finally able to sit upright without vomiting, but the room was still spinning. Tears and mucus leaked from my face. I zipped and buttoned my jeans with shaking hands, grabbed my purse, and looked around for the door. I stood up, noting the pain between my legs and…

I’m an Aquarian hyperventalist with a taste for philosophy, great food, and even better conversation. — As an introduction, I’m going to share that I have a cassette box set of The Prairie Home Companion with the irreplaceable Garrison Keillor circa 1986, it is one of my favorite thrift store finds, and perhaps one of my favorite possessions, period. If that doesn’t get us off in…

It didn’t go the way I thought it might. — I volunteered and even served on the board of our local Pride organization almost a full decade before my child came out to me. I had many LGBTQ+ friends and chosen family. …

A loving entreaty to adoptive and foster parents from an adoptee to please… stop talking and listen. — On a warm August day in 1989, I walked out of a courthouse in SC and blinked against the sun. I felt numb. I was now legally the daughter of this man and woman I only just met a few months ago, and sibling to their creepy (also adopted) son. …

The capitalist crescendo of holiday excess has long since peaked. What now? — My son is 19. He towers over me and as I’m looking up at him, his face is a bit crestfallen as he lets me know he won’t be there for our traditional tree trimming. Every year, we put the tree up and it might sit a couple of days…

… if it doesn’t lead with the two words I’ve been waiting to hear all my life. — Addressed only to “The Corrigan Family” in what seemed to be a familiar scrawl, the scanned image of the small white envelope jumped out at me from the screen. A few years ago, I signed up for the USPS’s email notifications for the day’s mail. It’s a super helpful resource…

A lighthearted look at data turned into a glimpse of horrifying potentialities — A neighbor found this little gem of our local history: a newspaper advertisement for a (then) new subdivision. Aragona Village is a nice, established neighborhood of modest brick ranches nestled between Virginia Beach and Norfolk, Virginia; just a few miles to the beach, local military bases, and shopping and city…

Do I write for them… or for me? — After a pretty rough car accident in October, I was shaken. Physically hurt, yes, and also just maxed out on my already pre-existing anxiety around driving and being in cars in our urban area. Since we moved back to this city, five years ago, we’ve been hit four times. Two…

Is there a ticket to a more joyous, healed future? — The awkward silence fills the spaces between us after I share a snippet of my childhood abuse, and someone shifts in their seat. The chair squeaks and they chuckle nervously. Breaking the silence, a middle-aged woman says, “Well, you’re so strong to survive all of that. I don’t know how…