I was looking for an outlet tonight and I started to scroll through a slew of memes and quotes (naturally), and funnily enough, one told me to grab a cup of hot chocolate. I quickly remembered that I had a random pack of cocoa mix sitting in my bag from work. I snatched it up,… Continue reading Just as I Am
This month is Eczema Awareness Month. Years ago I never would have believed such a thing existed. Who needs awareness about eczema? Having lived with TSW, Topical Steroid Withdrawal, for over 4.5 years now, my view has drastically changed. Millions of people are stricken with eczema and there is such a large stigma around it.… Continue reading The One Worth Knowing
“And when that doesn’t happen, you heal yourself. You find strength in things other than people. You find energy in your solitude, you find hope in your daydreams. You build yourself up, tell yourself that you don’t need anyone to save you, that you don’t need anyone to steady your foundation. But you do.” As… Continue reading The Juggle Struggle
On this final day in England, Indian food in my belly while staring out into the garden, I am situated in a recliner with a bandage on my neck, plasters around my fingers, cotton gloves on my hands, and am properly greased up like a fresh Tin Man. I’ve even got the heather grey sweater… Continue reading White Flag
They say we either write when we are falling in love, or falling apart. I can not say, without dramatic use, that I am either, but it often times feels like the latter. I retreated to a watery refuge yesterday. For some reason, when I’m in the water, it’s as if it quiets all the… Continue reading Be The Wilderness
It’s almost compulsory for a writer to reflect on their past and contemplate who they are, how they’ve grown, and what they predict for the future/what troubles they can exonerate from entering the new year. We look to a non-existent compass because no one has all the answers. Life is not a straightforward path, nor… Continue reading Only in Tennis
“Miss, are you you sick?” “Yes, I am.” “I can tell because your neck is red.” I didn’t have the energy or, quite frankly, composure to tell an 11-year-old student that my obnoxious cold has nothing to do with why I’m a red, blotchy disaster. At 44 months T.S.W. and succumbing to the plague that… Continue reading The Threadless Labyrinth
