Writing on trauma, recovery, and being human
Honest reflections on complex trauma — the hard days, the small wins, and everything learned along the way.
Latest writing
Nine to thirteen. Where the panic attacks were built. Last time I ended by telling you that you’re off shift. This is the post about where the shift…
Age ten. A parking lot. A baseball bat. About a year after the morning I wrote about last time, my parents started talking about getting back together. I…
My first memory, and what’s in front of it Most people’s earliest memory is a birthday, or a beach, or a dog. Something warm and half-blurry that their…
The one grief I can feel all the way through I can tell you the worst things that ever happened to me in a calm, steady voice, in…
The thing that worked before anyone gave it a name Two posts ago, I told you that talking has never once reached the thing that’s wrong with me.…
The symptoms everyone mistook for progress I could recite the worst of it in a flat voice. Everyone called it healing. I can tell you the worst things…
New reflections land here regularly. Follow along, and read at whatever pace feels right for you.
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