Packet of Wildflower Seeds

I have had some medical mysteries over the past year that remain unsolved. While they are relatively minor in nature, I generally catch a ride on the "worst case scenario" train and end up fretting that I am dealing with something serious that will only become more difficult to manage because it wasn't identified early enough. I am usually afraid while waiting for my appointments. And yet... There are other times I think to myself, "maybe God is finally giving me the end I requested." I try not to indulge in such thoughts, but there are moments I can't help it. Then I wish I would have my answer sooner so I could just get it over with. I ponder what would happen after I was gone. Who would come to my funeral? Did I make enough of an impact on any of my students that they would show up? Some of my friends live out of town; I don't see them very often anymore. Would they think the journey was worthwhile? Heck, some of my friends live in the same city, and ...

I write for a lot of reasons.  Sometimes, I simply like the way a word sounds or the feeling it evokes, so I craft a poem around that one word. "Obsidian" was my favorite word for a long time. It conveys depth, mystery, glossiness, and darkness all at the same time. Several poems from high school feature that term. Other times, I am writing to sort through my emotions. I've shared several examples of that already. Writing can be very therapeutic, though I admit it is powerless against my strongest episodes. Many times, I am writing to tell a story. A couple years ago, I shared my short story "Faded Glory," a ghost tale with a Civil War twist. In grade school, I would craft stories with my best friend as we explored the worlds of Star Wars  and  Pirates of the Caribbean.  I may share more about those in the future. Today I would like to talk about stories that also serve an emotional purpose. I have written tales and poems in which I allow myself to experience th...

If I haven't said it already, pregnancy was not as glamorous as I assumed it would be. I mean, I didn't expect it to be a perfect experience, but it definitely threw me a few curveballs. There were some discomforts in the moment and some lasting souvenirs from those periods in my life... ...including stretch marks and loose skin. To be perfectly honest, I am jealous of those women who "bounce back" so well, you can't tell they were ever pregnant. My stomach bothers me. My sister once asked, "if it bothers you so much, why don't you get surgery?" Well, I have considered it. I've done a little research, looked at before-and-after pictures, hunted for less-invasive alternatives. There are several reasons I don't think I would ever go that route, however. First, it costs A LOT. The surgery itself is usually more than $6,000, and that doesn't include facility fees, anesthesia, etc. That much money could be spent on multiple nice vacatio...

I don't have a ton of memories of my paternal grandmother. Part of that is because she died while I was still in grade school, so I didn't have as much time with her as I did with my grandfather or even my other grandma. Part of that is also my fault. Being an anxious introvert, family gatherings made me somewhat nervous when I was growing up. (Actually, to be perfectly honest, they still do!) Whenever I could, I would retreat to playing with my siblings or the family dogs. My aunt usually traveled with her rescue dog TJ, and when she visited my grandparents' house, TJ would sometimes stay in the basement. Heading to the basement to play with TJ was ideal for me: I got to hang out with a dog while avoiding all of the people upstairs. Of course, my disappearance also meant that I missed out on interacting with my relatives. My grandmother noticed how much I loved dogs, though. One day, we were outside in someone else's backyard. She stood next to me and said, "I...

This sure is a strange time, isn't it? Somehow, it also feels very normal. Perhaps that is due, in part, to the fact that so many things need to continue as before. Many of us still have to do our jobs, even if those jobs look different than they did prior to the quarantine. For those of us who are parents, we also still have to take care of our children. And man, has that part been tough. My children are sent a daily list of recommended "enrichment" activities. The list itself is enough to fill a regular school day. Everywhere you turn, there are other suggestions about how to keep your kids active and engaged while they are at home. There are numerous live stream sessions involving art, music, dance, reading, fitness, science, and just about any topic you can imagine. You can take virtual field trips to national parks and museums. Plenty of other organizations have put together activities you can do with your family. Here I sit. I have anxiety. My own school has dec...

Awhile back I shared a poem I wrote about the experience of partner abuse. At the time I wrote the poem, I had a newborn, and I imagined that a woman might choose to stay in an abusive relationship because she felt she had no way to provide for her child otherwise. My child is now older, and as she has grown up, I have imagined how abuse might seep from a spouse to a child. Would the mother continue to stay in the relationship if she thought she had no other options? Would she see her children hurt and decide it was finally time to leave? How would she protect her children? Could  she protect her children? I wrote this poem to sort through my thoughts and feelings about the topic. As with the last poem, I drew from several sources. I digested news stories and imagined what I'd do in similar situations. I cried after hearing what friends have endured. Yes, I've been hurt, too - with words only and certainly not to the extent depicted here. As I sat with the pain, I wondered ...

If you have read even a fraction of my blog posts, you know that mental health is an important topic to me. That probably makes sense due to my own personal struggles. I also worry how my illness will affect my children. Does it impact how I respond as a parent? Is it something they will inherit from me? I have additional reasons to be concerned about the latter. I alluded to my husband's family history in a previous post, but I feel ready to share more fully his story (with his permission). My husband's father suffered (and, if we are being honest, died) from schizophrenia. I didn't know this when we first started dating. I didn't even know that his father was deceased. At the beginning of our relationship, someone mentioned to me that they thought his father was no longer living and asked if it was true. I had no idea, so I asked one of my husband's best friends about it. The friend actually believe his father was still alive. However, shortly after we began d...