Oregon & Beyond.
I was a victim, then a survivor, now I choose to thrive!
So many parents avoid these proper names, instead opting for pet names. Using proper terminology is uncomfortable for many and using pet names becomes a cultural thing. Now, think about that. Let it sink in. Parents are uncomfortable using proper terminology. They’ll call a penis a weiner, or say flower for vulva, but they don’t call an eye a lookie. Or a nose a smellie.
Do you have three children or four? The answer is – I have four. But it is a question that almost always needs an explanation. I imagine that it must be similar to how a mother whose child has died must explain herself. And, yet, my daughter hasn’t died.
He opened the door to the office and in his hand was a plate of food. My food. I thanked him and put it down beside me – right of my laptop. It looked so good and smelled even better. I kept typing away, answering emails, rat-a-tat-tat on the keyboard and without missing a beat I typed with only my left hand and grabbed a fork full of tilapia with my right. My glaze never leaving the computer screen.
I cringe when I hear or see people say things akin to, “I’m sooo OCD!” When did OCD become a social norm, or something to strive for? I find myself having to justify my OCD diagnosis by saying things like, “I TRULY have OCD,” or “I LEGITIMATELY have OCD.” As in, I take medication for it and it disrupts my life.
I opened my eyes, sleepily. Looked straight ahead. Down the hall. Confused. “Who’s the mom?” That’s the first thing that came to my mind. My mind. Mine.
Everything looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place anything. I had the sense of belonging, but I didn’t know how I belonged. What was my role? Who was I?
THE “R” WORD I couldn’t breathe. I was using my inhaler religiously, but still, I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t wheezing, but I was short of breath and coughing. It was reminiscent of my bouts of pneumonia. I was using the inhaler more often than I should have been, yet, still, I couldn’t breathe. I […]