"Suicide isn't logical," J. told me, matter-of-factly, in a recent session.I was sitting on the comfy couch in his office, sinking into its cushions, flabbergasted he would say something that outrageous. We were just talking about my mountain of pain, composed of past and present woes that still fester like sun-bathed wounds when poked. "What... Continue Reading →
When Grief Demands Its Audience (A “Dear Danny” Letter)
Dear Danny, I found your obituary online tonight. It filled in some holes for me but not everything. The most important thing I found though was your death date—your actual one; not the date that Ash or Chris told me that you died—(It was sometime in November according to them and my memory but now... Continue Reading →
Writing in the Midst of a Flashback
6 A.M. A nurse disturbs my nightmares, and temporarily prevents me from my ritual of staring at the wall upon sweating myself awake, to take my vitals. She wants to make sure I’m still alive, even though, by virtue of this place, I am considered one of the walking dead. 7 A.M. I try to... Continue Reading →
Come Boldly to the Throne of Grace, Even if You Panic
No one can seek God for another. She who seeks God must come boldly to the throne of grace—even with trepidation and panic attacks—and she must come alone.