I have been rehearsing my mothers death since I was a child.

I judge her freedom. I envy it. I wish to want it, but I don’t.

Growing up with feelings of inherent worthlessness I fought to have worth.

On the other side of that is uncertainty, space newly emptied and ready to be filled.

Healing as if it’s a linear process / broken / healing / healed

In the fall I asked on Facebook “who am I?”

When I bury or run from feelings, they still come out, just in strange ways.

Grow your hair as long as you like it. Color it. Go natural.

Here is what I’m learning: feelings are the heart of everything.

Whether it’s conscious or unconscious, we all do it.

Part of what makes grief so hard is that we don’t have a cultural framework for it.

It’s been a year since one of my best friends of the last decade left this world.

December was incredibly complimentary to grief. I wasn’t the only one who rarely knew what day it was.

2020 started and ended with big losses - my friend T-boy and then my mom.

Underneath the Christmas tree was a minefield of disappointment.

Grief, like death, is non consensual.

I mustn't let anyone get close enough to me to see ‘the thing.’

They are longest when the light is low

This was the feeling I both desire and avoid.