[Image description: black and white photograph of a row of vanity bulbs. There is a very faint image of a face looking straight at the camera layered over the shot, like a weak double exposure.]
It is a performance not only of the humor in mundanity, but also of our pain. Sharing pain in a way that is both honest enough to feel cathartic while still digestible to your smaller viewership. Real enough.
Read More[Image description: photograph of a bright red flower blooming on a charred tree.]
I forced myself to admit that, while things were irreparable, I was still holding on. That I was staying even though I should leave, because I believed her when she said no one else would love me.
Read MoreI was an angry kid because I already knew everything was bullshit, and I knew it didn’t have to be that way. While knowing it wasn’t my fault didn’t stop me from being wounded by it, it also doesn’t diminish my responsibility to heal those wounds myself, and to not pass them along.
Read MoreWe know that CBT is an effective form of treatment for children and teens with mental health conditions. Therefore it should make sense that the earlier its techniques are utilized it, the more effective it becomes.
Read MoreI go to the mirror, running my thumb along the sandpaper skin of my cheek, where the garden of little copper wires blossoms and blooms. I wish for a razor.
Read MoreThere were a lot of things I didn’t tell my parents when I was growing up, and there were a lot of things they never told me in return.
Read MoreWith every mile I put between me and the fire, I felt safer and calmer.
Read MoreAfter an assessing interview, the man politely told me that I was to be taken to hospital (a “good place”, I was assured).
Read MoreWhen you left, you wrote that no one would mourn your loss. That it wouldn't make an impact. That you'd pass out of the world as anonymously as you'd entered it. You were wrong.
Read MoreAs I help my clients, I realize how far I have come in my own journey.
Read MoreI had learned from a very young age that my father was an angry man.
Read MoreMy father was a farmer, and I remember when he let me play along in his field, albeit only during harvest time while my elder brothers helped him with the paddy and haystacks.
Read MoreSometimes the deepest, darkest, scariest moments are the ones that define us the most.
Read MoreMy mom’s side of the family came to the U.S. from Cuba as refugees fleeing the Communist Revolution. My dad’s side of the family is of the Midwestern variety that doesn’t believe in feelings, sickness, or anything that might be perceived as a weakness.
Read MoreThe machinations of oppression operated on such a small scale in the psych ward that their latent manifestations were immediate and apparent. There was no place to hide from the vagaries of that tiny world.
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