I have had sad birthdays. Lonely birthdays. Boring ones. But my most recent birthday is probably the one that is going to stand out forever.
I spent the first half of the day angry. Impatient. Waiting for my new boyfriend to leave town. My two little dogs and I…
This morning, I opened up Facebook to pop in on my favorite groups. But instead of finding beautiful photos of crocheted crafts, I instead found a post from a woman wondering why her husband was constantly destroying her work. Reading it was like a knife in the heart…
I am an artist. I’m not just a “crafter” because it’s not something I do, it’s something I am. I want to spend my days elbow deep in paint and clay. I want to get messy, get lost in a daydream. I want to be impulsive. To pick up a brush, a lump of clay, a ball of yarn, and just create on a whim. I want to…
People question my recovery all the time. It is a difficult thing to comprehend, I suppose, the psychological damage that can be inflicted upon a brain. People assume that I’m just “dwelling” and that I should “move on.” They have no idea how pervasive the damage is after years of abuse. A bruise…
If someone were to ask you “What is the meaning of life to you?” What would your answer be?
