I recently met a man I thought might be the one.
A bold statement, I know, but I’ve reached a point in my dating life where I go bold or I go home.
This man pursued me hard at the start. After our first date, he asked if when he could see me next. At 42, I’m not into games. I appreciate honesty and directness. I love it when men express their interest with the earnestness of a teenage boy.
Two dates in and I realized I really liked him. Like, a lot.
Three dates in and suddenly his incessant texting slowed way down. Five dates in and I was barely getting a daily hello. …
Behind the curtain
while you smoke a joint
on the queen size bed.
I peek through the dingy tapestry
and catch your stare
upon my silhouette.
As I walk out naked
goosebumps creep across my flesh
at your smile.
And we talk for a while.
Or you talk as I stand
dirtied by your stare
as you draw me.
I cringe inside my skin
at each scrape of the pencil
against the pad.
My flesh being touched by lead
As papers of my body
fall to the floor,
more and more
uncomfortable in my skin.
I can feel my shoulder blades protrude.
My bones become chilled. …
Readers please note: this story includes descriptions of life-threatening eating disorders and behaviors. If you need info, support, or help with eating disorders, contact National Eating Disorders Association.
I learned early on to love hating my body. I learned that looks matter — and that being good enough was something that didn’t come from the inside.
My mother would constantly ask me: “Do I look fat?” Her wounds bled through her daily dialogue. …
It was a safe way for me to keep the focus off of myself.
Let me explain.
I’ve been hurt by a lot of men. I’ve been abused physically and emotionally. But what human hasn’t been hurt by another human?
I’m not trying to downplay my own trauma. It just doesn’t hold the emotional charge it once did, because I’ve processed the pain. Or have I?
When we can dive deeply inward and do the emotional digging necessary to not only heal the anger, sadness, and even rage associated with abuse, we can get to the root question our psyches crave an answer…
I look forward to my trips to the local health food store. I mean I get to check out and even interact with lots of seemingly attractive masked men! I make sure I wear my cute mask. You know, the one with a color that brings out my eyes. I’ve always felt like my blue eyes are one of my greatest assets. I guess showing off my eyes is one of the perks of this never-ending pandemic.
The pandemic is kind of a buzz-kill for singles.
That is until you realize this is your reality and you better find a way to make it work for your growing libido. It took me months not to feel like an apocalyptic zombie in a mask. …
I want to be that someone people turn to between doing and being.
That person they seek to fill the gaps when they just want to laze quietly on a hammock and fill their thoughts with depth. That person they seek to revel in the mystery of the unknown. That pat-on-the-back friend who just gets it — and them.
As a Cancer, empath, and highly sensitive soul, I get it. My gift is filling in the gaps.
Give me a day with no agenda, and I will become the queen of each moment.
I never get bored. Puttering is my middle name. I love to be in solitude. I fact, I crave my alone time like an extrovert craves a wild party. …
On a day full of heartache, the cheesy words of a meme floating through my Instagram feed spoke to an unhealed part of me.
“The magic you seek is inside.”
As I read these simple words, I was suddenly transported back in time.
The smell of the salty air and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore felt as real to me as my own heartbeat.
Standing before me on the warm, squishy sand, was a middle-school-aged version of myself. She was awkward and gangly, with braces too big for her teeth and glasses too big for her eyes. Her freckles spotted her face like an untraced connect the dots picture. Her spindly white legs were more bone than muscle. …
It’s taken me nearly 2 weeks to write about this — not because I didn’t want to — but because I didn’t feel ready to.
For Harry Potter fans, coronavirus has felt like Voldemort to my mind. Writing about the virus that I wish didn’t have to be named has taken me lots of mental and emotional processing time. And perhaps you can relate. It went from being insidious to pandemic within weeks.
Suddenly my daughter’s school was canceled “indefinitely.” My heart lept into my throat when I read the school district’s email. I was moving into my new therapy office that day. I brought Clorox wipes with me and cautiously wrapped the wipe around the door handle as I walked into my new space. …
“Okay, take a deep breath and cough for me,” the white-haired doctor said as he pressed a cool metal stethoscope onto my bareback.
“Hmmm, no signs of wheezing at all. And you said this has been going on for a month?”
He invited me to step off the high check-up table. “Why don’t you sit beside me in this chair?” He was facing his computer, but quickly spun around and looked me in the eyes with all the sincerity in the world.
I will admit, I was hesitant when this much older, rather brusk mannered fill-in for my regular MD walked into the room. I judged him for his age. I feared that he would be too old-school. That was until his hazel eyes stared into mine with empathy and compassion I didn’t know I was so hungry for. …
Do you live every day to the fullest?
I’ve spent years plucking away jobs, activities, and people that suck the marrow out of my life. Why? I’ve seen one too many people I love wither away into a sea of despair — spending their lives doing what they thought they should do rather than doing what they love.
After devoting their whole “working lives” to their jobs, both my parents (Baby Boomers), and grandparents (the Silent Generation) retired into a state of purposelessness, despondency, and depression. …