Writing is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public.

— Winston Churchill

No More Sorries, Mom

Dear Mom,
I want to tell you something and although perhaps this should be a private conversation, I know that if I publicly tumble these words there’s a chance you’ll hear.
You may need to keep saying it, but I don’t need to keep hearing it. You’ve said it enough. I promise. You’ve mourned it enough. I [...]

Letting Go of the Why

As I persist in my journey to chronicle and give voice to the women in my family who’ve endured through three generations of sexual abuse, I’m constantly plagued by the same question, Why?
I’ll never be able to fully comprehend, and one of the hardest parts of this quest may be the letting go of needing [...]

Let’s Promise to Walk with Our Eyes Open

I returned home last night from a six-day swim in raw sewage. Road weary and emotionally over cooked, there’s nothing that rubs a little salve on my soul like a hundred hugs from my beautiful 5-year-old son and the warmth and comfort of my husband’s arms.
When I pulled my car into the garage at 6:40, [...]

Wondering on Wednesday: What Questions Would You Ask?

Tomorrow I’m headed to Vermont to continue working on the memoir/book project I began in December. It’s a whirlwind trip in which my singular purpose is to race clock hands while foraging for memories and truth.
I’m excited to conduct more first-person interviews with my grandmother, mother and aunts and to unearth long-buried stones of grief [...]