I woke up this morning well-rested but dreading the two-step commute to my work computer. Working from home is a luxury. I love the company but not my current job. I love my managers and team but not talking on the phone for 8 hours a day. I love being in control and having choices... Continue Reading →
Changes to the Blog (My True Identity) or “The Woman Behind ‘Dylan Whittler’”
Dear Readers, I’ve been contemplating some things over the past few weeks about the blog and where I want to take things moving forward. Everything isn’t set in stone yet but there’s one thing I want to come out and say now. Dylan Whittler isn’t my real name. I wrote a blog post about that... Continue Reading →
A Writer’s Warning: Writing About Trauma
Dear writers of trauma, You and I both know that writing about trauma can be cathartic in any form, be it fiction or nonfiction, novel or personal essay. We are encouraged, as writers and storytellers and trauma survivors, to “write our truth” so we can heal but there is an underlying occurrence that I don’t... Continue Reading →
His Room
I met him in the Spring—by accident.He was sweaty that first day, like hehadn’t showered in weeks, though the real culpritwas the scorching heat of the sun that seemed to have no end.Our friendship grew into a tangled web of danger,and trying to navigate his room was harder thana ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope.I felt... Continue Reading →
On the Rare Mornings I Feel Too Much
On the rare mornings I feel too much, my heart slams itself against my trachea and the world nestles hard on my esophagus. It is not unlike a hummingbird flinging itself against a still, sharp, rain-washed window. On the rare mornings I feel too much, my breathing collapses upon itself, repeatedly, like someone squeezing my... Continue Reading →
Musings of a Wanderer 