An unfinished piece written March 6, 2019. I dream of heroin, which is strange because it was never my drug of choice. I wake sweaty and tangled, my heavy breathing amplified in the kind of silence only 3 am can bring. The craving hits so hard that if it were in front of me right… Continue reading Using Dreams and Dead People
(Originally written and posted on Facebook October 8, 2017) Last year, it was on Saturday. We had no grand plans of celebration - it was just the two of us and a shared pizza and it was exactly as it was supposed to be. There was a man with a guitar and a microphone and… Continue reading Silent alarms and birthday songs
(Originally written August 17, 2017) It rained for a week after Caryn died. Memory is a funny thing and can easily be manipulated to suit the stories that we want to tell, so maybe I am wrong, but I remember it as a soft rain, the kind of rain that you can stand under and… Continue reading The Breaking
I pay attention to the sky more than I used to. For a long time now, I've seen without seeing. When I tell people I feel like I'm just waking up - this is what I mean. The cotton candy edges of clouds float across the ombre blue sky. To my left is light Robin… Continue reading The stones in the middle of the river.
When I was twenty years old, my mother and grandmother died within three days of each other. I remember feeling almost incredulous. This didn't happen in real life, this was like a story line from the soap operas I watched so religiously in high school. This didn't happen to real people. Except it did, and… Continue reading Lucky Number Thirteen
I am sometimes an impulsive person. I sat down one day and decided to start this. Just buy the name, I told myself. Make it official, then it will be a REAL THING. Why I wanted it to be a real thing, I don't even know. I hadn't spent much time thinking or planning this… Continue reading I Got Here. Now What?
I've been trying to write all day. I feel the pressure building up - it's right there, under the surface, words that need to be released. But they are stuck. Which is appropriate I suppose, since I feel stuck today. It's as if my soul has caught on a piece of gum discarded on this… Continue reading Beginning Again
On the day before my one year anniversary of sobriety, I turned to Caryn and said "I'm afraid no one will come." We were outside on a smoke break at work, and I was referring to the sit-in that was happening that night. What I understand now is, I really meant "I'm afraid I'm not… Continue reading Falling Together Again