the shame of needing help

the shame of needing help

I applied for food assistance for the 2nd time in my life today. Somehow, the weight of that sentence feels too much to share. Too personal. As if there is shame attached to it. Or that I have failed. It’s a stigma in this country like so many other things. That...
Maybe we’re all a little mad

Maybe we’re all a little mad

  There’s something brewing in me that needs to come out. I think it’s been blocking my creativity and per usual, I’m going to work it out here in this draft box, then publish it. As I do. I was diagnosed with depression when I was seventeen....
My Love Thing Is Broken

My Love Thing Is Broken

I think after one lives a life of trauma, abuse and abject heartbreak, one’s heart just stops connecting. Call it depression or whatever, but I’ve never felt as isolated from my feeling capacity as I have been these last six months. It’s...
Why I Keep Shaving My Head

Why I Keep Shaving My Head

It’s a weird thing, hair. I’ve thought about it a lot since shaving mine the first time. The attachment to it. The identity of it. The collective reaction when it’s gone. For a girl who’s been unhealthily obsessed with her wonky hair for life,...

alive: revisited and new thoughts

I read the Narnia books a long time ago. But I remember in one of the books, a part where I think a character named Puddleglum had gotten captured with the children. I don’t remember all the details but their captor worked very hard to convince them that there...