tick tick tick the ticking (always ticking) of the clock and its seconds the seconds winding their way around and Inside out the mulberry bush the seconds wound me round the neck the clock just in time to hear it mock in constant consternation, the consistent continuation of night’s suffocation…
I really love clothes. Or I did, anyway, until somehow that became not okay. But that’s another topic, the shame that’s thrown onto survivors for loving things that’s just for them. Anyway. I wore a red satin skirt to work once. That’s it. That’s all I got. I wore a…
I taught Daina many years ago when I taught her in 9th grade English Honors. Her quick wit and overall sense of humor were a delight to have in the classroom, and Daina had a hard time hiding the mischief in her eyes. Needless to say, I’ve enjoyed keeping in…
i see you. every movement towards sunrise, I notice. every movement towards lost, my heart skips. even now, as you walk -until- stumble (and stumble until walk again) i see you. Once,(upon a time) when you were a baby, 16-years-ago (that long ago) i promised i would not ever ,no…
I am delighted to have Wendy Garfinkle guest post on my page. She is one of the most genuine people I know and I am love talking to her about everything from grammar and usage to fairy tales and Jewish mysticism. I am blown away by her knowledge and I…
Abuse recovery is the process by which survivors try to find their “normal.” Growing up with alcoholic and abusive parents, I don’t want to “recover” my past; rather, I want to find out who I am aside from the trauma that I have experienced. I spent twenty years hiding from…
