I’m nine years old, it’s late summer, and I’m playing tag and roughhousing with a group of boys in the churchyard. My mother is standing on the church steps with the other adults, talking and smoking cigarettes, stretching out the fabric of the evening until the stars are visible. Occasional shrieks of laughter punctuate the… Continue reading The Problem with Perfect
I don’t always recognize when I’m feeling depleted. Emotional exhaustion has a way of creeping up slowly, day by day, getting closer and closer, until it takes over. Then I feel it—the emptiness inside, the well that has run completely dry. I crash. I have nothing left to give. It has taken absolutely everything I… Continue reading When Healers Need Healing
I have to instill in myself what my parents could not—I have to know that I’m safe, no matter who is in or out of my life.
I reasoned that in an unsafe world, expressing pain would expose a vulnerable weakness that others could exploit. It seemed wiser to keep it all to myself.
I remember the seething, white-hot rage I felt inside. I wanted to burn shit down or blow it up and leave a trail of ashes behind me. I had finally connected the dots between a father who was emotionally absent and impossible to please and the men I had attracted into my life. Guess what?… Continue reading Healing the Father Wound: My Journey from Rage to Reconciliation
I spent most of 2015 grieving the loss of my mother. The following year was consumed with celebrity deaths, the election, and a general feeling of malaise and anxiety over what lay ahead, both politically and personally. It was supposed to be a year of recovery for me, a year to get my groove… Continue reading When a Witch Doesn’t Feel Like Witching
Cleaning out my purse is a weekly ritual for me, because I can’t stand digging through unnecessary items to reach the one thing I need (usually, it’s my car keys). Receipts tend to accumulate more than anything else. I buy something and shove the receipt down in my purse, as I’m grabbing the handles… Continue reading The Receipts We Carry
Can you recall the exact moment when someone stripped you of your voice? How did that one incident affect your self-expression and creativity? What did you do to heal yourself?
She goes by several names…Mary, Miryam, Magdala, Magdalena. I won’t speculate on her origins or elaborate on the Gnostic teachings that describe her as Sophia, the original female principle, the Goddess. Many have already devoted books to the exploration of her mysteries, but I will leave all of that for the scholars to pick apart… Continue reading Service and the Art of Self-Care
I wrote this poem after contemplating how often women deny or suppress their own power because of shame or social conditioning. I believe many, including myself, have felt that we lost our sensual selves along the way somewhere. The truth is that we can't ever lose something so dear, but we can (and do)… Continue reading Hazardous Material