A poem about emotions that won’t stay put
time is the distance
between now and then
safe and not
adult and child
twenty-six years is not
long enough
to stay in the present
and let the past evanesce
so easily tripped
from this reality
to history
a neighbor yelling
a child screaming
my past rushes to meet me
to swallow me whole
panic
tears
shallow breathing
how did I get back here again? …
Thank you for trying — I’ll take it…
Learn to take care of yourself during the worst moments.
I remember my first panic attack. I was 20 years old and I didn’t know what was happening. After hyperventilating for at least half an hour, I went to the ER and they told me it was anxiety.
The panic attacks came occasionally after that — while shopping in a crowded store or after a big presentation. I was a college student and didn’t think much about it. The moments were scary and everything stopped while I dealt with it, but the anxiety didn’t interfere with my life in a major way. It only stole moments.
Pushing Through Panic
More than 20 years…
Media influence on teenage sexting.
Did you see the recent marketing campaign from Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?
The uproar on social media from parents and kids alike caused Kraft to remove the campaign before I even finished writing this story.
The commercial cleverly encouraged people to send noods (noodles), not nudes (photos), to their loved ones. The longer version made a point of saying, in a humorous manner, that you should never send nudes, only send noods.
The shorter version did not offer this satirical advice against sending nudes, it just encouraged sending noods. Did I lose you yet? …
A poem about brain fog.
Living a misunderstood life can be lonely.
It’s hard to communicate what it’s like living with chronic fatigue. Over the last 14 years, I’ve found that 0% of the people I share with ever truly understand. It’s something you have to experience to comprehend.
It’s difficult to explain the effects of constant pain and fatigue. Feelings get hurt. Self-esteem gets damaged. In the end, no one really gets me.
In some ways, I’m glad they don’t understand. I would hate for any of my loved ones to experience this reality to the point of empathy.
Being misunderstood does leave me feeling lonely sometimes. …
Losing myself to motherhood, and finding myself again.
I used to be a complex person —fully engaged in life. I had opinions that I would eagerly defend to anyone who would engage in a respectful debate.
I had piercings, tattoos, and for a short time, blue hair.
I was curious about the world, about people, and pretty much anything that came across my path. I was young and everything was still in front of me. My whole life an adventure, waiting to be experienced.
Now — I’m a middle-aged homeschooling mother. I attend church, wear modest clothes, and always seem to be surrounded by children. I don’t drink…
