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  I woke up wanting to tip my hat to tornado survivors today. I grew up in Tornado Alley. I remember standing on my porch as the wind whipped and changed and the sky turned green. When we lived in a house in the Ozarks, we would look left at the bull pasture, to see what the heifers had done. If they were gone, it was time to go inside. Once, we saw a small twister touch down in the field, bounce back into the sky, and puff into dust.

As a teen, I once was grounded when my mother found a story I had written about sexual exploration. That incident catalyzed a series of events that resulted in me living a double life for years: I kept fake diaries; I lied to my friend; I shamed myself daily because I had desires that I couldn’t seem to control. My body was developing. I had been open to the rawness of being. But I closed myself down piece by piece in an effort to stay safe in an emotionally hostile

My kids are parked in front of Frozen. Again. To be honest, I love this movie. I cry beginning to end. It taps directly into my deepest hurts as the child of an abusive household. Conceal, don’t feel? That could have been the mantra of my youth. Watching this movie is healing for me. It stirs my emotional trauma in a way I can access. It’s safe to wander my mental jungle while watching a cartoon. When Elsa sings that she doesn’t care what anyone is going to say, I

My friend hit the nail on the head when she said sensed birthing in progress. I am being reborn in many areas of life. Following a physical rebirth that I will write more about another time, I had the intense sensation of gaining control. In reality, I have let go of control and begun accepting, and I will write more about that another time as well. This post is happening for a different reason.  Without further ado, there is a creative birthing happening outside this blog. I’m happy to announce one

I am inhabiting my writer self these days. It feels like slipping under warm blankets at the end of a cold day. I had forgotten the spread of it, the cascade effect, how if you love writing it is better than chocolate and it begets more writing. Some may imagine themselves awash in a sea of money. I prefer the heavenly float of words on paper, and that feeling of trying and continuing even when you have no specific place you are going. You simply go.   ***   If

In what could only be the result of an influx of new mother hormones, I grew overwhelmed by my internet presence (admittedly not that great) and pulled back hard on all the strands of myself. I might have made another choice. Instead, I deleted the entire content of this blog. Fortunately, I still have access to the blog posts through wayback. I still have what I wrote of “The Docks”. I wish it was still here in the files of this site, if offline. People, you have to talk me

I hold myself away from the adventure of life. It is a roller coaster. I am poised at the drop. Here I am at my highest height gazing at maybe the lowest low. I resist the ride, hold my breath, squeeze my eyes shut. I will drop anyway. I will fall. And I will click my way back up, dragging and dragged back to the tippiest top. There, I will see how far there is to fall again. And, again, I will look at the peaks pointing like so many

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