This Mother’s Day, I am happy to support mothers like me, parents for whom mental illness can be an ever-present or overwhelming piece of the parenting experience. I wrote an essay about my own experience parenting through bouts of anxiety and PTSD episodes and held onto it for many months before reaching out to Stigma Fighters to see if they might want to publish it for Mother’s Day. I held onto it because stigma makes it difficult to speak up. Stigma Fighters knows this. They recognize the ways we are silenced and
Whether you are observing a holiday or not, this time of year can be spirit crushing. Memories tend to rear their heads. Accessibility to (and desire to access) family becomes a point of reflection. Old patterns arise and we get mired in the struggle not to play them out again. We are rediscovering, redefining and setting our goals as we enter the next chapter of our lives. It doesn’t help that 2016 has been rife with conflict and disaster. Many of us would strike this year from history if we could.
I had this tiny idea that maybe it wouldn’t feel so lonely online if I could actually get to know some writers more deeply.
Hello, #LinkYourLifers! Welcome to this week’s rundown. There were so many links, you’ll have to excuse the brevity of many introductions. It was actually crazy enough I nearly resorted to pills. Shawna was in and out due to birthday celebrations (her own), so I got to be the boss hostess. Now that Shawna’s blown out her birthday candles, let’s dive into a puddle of link love. You May Say I’m A Dreamer from @yadadarcyada is a great #1. I’m sure this was on Shawna’s wishlist. Except Battling it out “Star
I learned this on the balcony in Kayfoun. My grandmother sat facing the sun. My aunt came to find me. “Tayta is coring the zucchini. You can learn from her,” she said. Heritage is as much nostalgia as tradition. I sat at one corner of Tayta’s small table and she pointed at the ingredients, naming them one at a time. “Riz, benadoura, cousa, wara’ ‘anab, milleh . . .” We never could communicate in sentences, but we both spoke food in any language. I used to regret that I was unable
If we were having coffee, you’d see a sedate version of me. While I’m overflowing right now in new and impossibly beautiful ways, there are people I love who are mired. I want to lift them, make sure they know how loved they are. I want to make them know how much they are worth it. That they deserve better and I believe–really, truly believe–that better can happen for them. If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I’m a person who lives my life on the outside. I have
Wow! What an amazing collection! I am going to start right in on the links. There is so much here to explore you may need to bookmark this post! @MelissaBanigan has published several letters collected by the Advice Project. If you aren’t familiar with this project, you should absolutely check it out. It is a healing movement for understand in which women write letters to their 13-year-old selves. I hope you take a moment to review these intimate portraits of life, and recognize the incredible effort Melissa has put in
The submissions for #LinkYourLife are a delightful bunch this week. If you are new to this hashtag, take a look at the roundup below. Then meander through weeks past. We tweet every Friday. If you don’t have a post you think fits (but really, what doesn’t?) then I challenge you to put together words or images that you believe tell who you are right now or who you have been at any point in your life. Maybe even who you are trying to be. Maybe it’s just five minutes of
If we were having coffee, I’d wink at you and smile. Why? Another Friday and more lives linked. Yesterday’s linkup was particularly powerful. I am a life blogger. I am also a writing coach with a passion for understanding what makes people tick. I don’t believe any person is two-dimensional, but social media makes us seem that way. We share only the extra-good or extra-bad creating a flat digital impression of ourselves. Here, friend, let me refill your cup. Stay awhile. What I want to say is people are complicated. It
I can’t tell you how excited I am to have my work included in the empowering collection Jennifer Pastilloff has put together on The Manifest-Station. The voices there are compelling, brave and unerringly honest. To have my work accepted is a BFG (big freakin’ deal), especially considering this letter is a list–a form not often selected. It is incredibly rewarding to find my piece in such a far-reaching forum. I hope you’ll hop on over and read. “The Letter No One Wrote My Mother” is the piece that brought me