I was typing so hard the scab on the inside of my finger split open. I was crying. It was black outside and black inside. There, in the dark, there was blood dripping out on all the black letters. My keyboard was like a crime scene. The blood didn’t stop me. It fueled me. It was connecting me to my pain. I typed chaotically and frantically until ...
I stopped counting the days since our stay-at-home mandate in California was put in place. It has been for many days. Throughout the past few weeks, I’ve experienced a wide range of emotions: shame, anxiety, guilt, and even apathy. I’ve screamed at children, cried in the shower, and had a million dance parties. I’ve cried over viral videos on ...
I turn forty in a few months. I type that shaking my head, with eyes wide. Wow. How did that happen? Every birthday after I turned twenty-five has come with a slice of cake and a side of anxiety. Nothing stops aging. No amount of Botox, eye cream, or dieting stops the inevitable process. My arm skin is wiggly, my eyebrows wonky, and my face is ...
Everywhere I look is a mess. I can’t look at my house because it is falling off a cliff. Dishes are mounted up to my chin, and laundry, like lava, is overflowing onto all the floors. I can’t look inward because nothing is organized. My sadness is mixing with my anger, and my anxiety is taunting my peace. I am easily triggered. Happiness can only be ...
Most nights I lay awake in bed rehearsing different conversations I had throughout the day. I worry if I said or did the right thing. I calculate and rethink what I should or could have done. I wonder why someone didn’t text back. I toss and turn making plans to fix things tomorrow. Most mornings, my mind is running even before I open my eyes. ...
I sat in the front row of church Sunday and wept. My husband, Sam, is a pastor, and every week I reluctantly sit beside him in the front row. I like my husband; I don't like sitting in the front. If it were up to me, I'd sit in the back, alone. I like the idea of a dark chapel where it feels like I can hide. I want empty seats beside me so I can ...
I just wanted to hide. I wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone. I escaped into the bathroom, leaned my back against the door, unbuttoned the top button of my jeans and exhaled. In here, I could be myself. I didn’t have to carry the conversation, suck in my gut, worry about how loud the kids were being, or keep the party going. I didn’t have to ...
I bought myself flowers from Trader Joes last week. White hydrangeas, little yellow daisies, and long, green, leafy filler. I arranged the bouquets into a mason jar and instead of placing it by the kitchen sink or on the entry way table, I set them beside my bed. I’ve never done this before. Flowers aren’t cheap and die quickly. All three ...
I’ve been biting my fingernails a lot. I pick and play with my cuticles when I’m anxious. I’ve been nervous about a lot of things recently -- more things than I care to admit. I’m nervous about my kids drowning, the number in our bank account, the responsibilities I’ve committed to. I’m embarrassed because I haven’t taught my kids how to do ...
I remember hanging up the phone and sobbing. It felt like someone had ripped out my soul, swallowed it, and then spit it out. I don’t remember the last time I cried with my entire body, but that night I did. The conversation I had with a dear friend quickly turned south and years of buried pain came to the surface. Between heated accusations and ...
