Ohhh vooooiiice — where are you? I waited for it at dawn, and again at midday — this elusive, nebulous idea that the self will declare itself, seat itself on the throne of our lives. I want to find my voice. I don’t have a voice. I feel voiceless, the muted ones say.I need toContinue reading “Is That Okay?”
Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl
TSA, You Listening?
It’s the witching hour — for my cats. I make a psst — like a tire losing air — when they chomp the plant or swipe at the dream catcher’s feathers. I release the sound sharply and they drop what they’re doing, ears perked, staring. A stare that says, We’re not doing anything. Because I’mContinue reading “TSA, You Listening?”
The Witch’s Work of Becoming
The sandhill cranes are back — high-in-the-sky dinosaurs, extra-large and extra loud — circling in drunken loops before landing in the pasture. It’s early, but they, and a stunted grape hyacinth pushing up in the driveway circle, press a kind of juice through me — like plums smashed into wine. They offer the hope ofContinue reading “The Witch’s Work of Becoming”
Do Not Go Gently
For three years, give or take, I sat in church basements and event rooms and stood to say, “My name is Jaclynn, and I am an alcoholic.” Sometimes it came out like a mouse’s squeak. Sometimes it boomed like I owned the loudspeaker. Shame, pride, and every belief I held about myself met me there.Continue reading “Do Not Go Gently”
With Arms Wide Open
Writing in a journal-y, memoir-ish style, I toe the line between sharing and not sharing. Do I regret the abortion, or the “fuck Trump” post? Nah. But when I have to poop—should that make the cut? Probably not. That might cost me my reader’s appetite. The details of my best friend’s job at Western StateContinue reading “With Arms Wide Open”
Stick a Fork In Me
I need real advice. The thought hits hard as I press 10-lb weights, standing on my too-thin, cat-scratched yoga mat, lifting them fifteen times overhead. I’m up at 6 a.m.—finally early—to hone my voice. I shifted bedtime to 10 p.m. for this hope. And here it is: a clear, booming M-80 of a thought. ButContinue reading “Stick a Fork In Me”
The Cost of Watching Her Grow
The pain of teaching Evelyn letter writing is over. The days of prompting, asking her to sit up straight, of her scribbling letters too quickly—sloppy, performative, fishing for attention or comic relief—are gone. The hack, which has worked the past two mornings, is in effect. In a wide-ruled notebook, I told her to write. FirstContinue reading “The Cost of Watching Her Grow”
Protecting the Nervous System
I’m very good at hitting the unfollow button on Facebook. It’s a gift. I’ll be scrolling, absent-mindedly consuming, when suddenly I’m mentally arguing on behalf of the person they didn’t consider in their hostile—usually politically motivated, often passive-aggressive—post. That’s my cue. About face. Reverse scroll. Time out. My body gets keyed up fast—like ripples underContinue reading “Protecting the Nervous System”
Running Into Myself
After reading the line, “What is it like to be you?”—and the idea that it’s a question no one can truly answer because we can’t step far enough outside our own frame of reference—I looked up from Children of Men, turned to Dave, and asked him. He paused. Where I imagined he’d ask me why,Continue reading “Running Into Myself”
Going For Gold
I wanted to mention, for a second, the divisiveness—the politicized, sometimes hostile way people push their beliefs. It’s easy to spot. It’s as if someone drags their toe through the dirt. “A line. See?” Then they stand behind it. That’s what humans do. Especially when they’re scared, threatened, or looking for belonging. I know itContinue reading “Going For Gold”
Going On 40 