Category Archives: Writings

With 45 minutes left until my noon session, I talk aloud to myself. “Ok, if we take ten minutes on each room—kitchen, living, dining—we’ll have fifteen minutes to write a progress note and get water.” I rush to the espresso knock box; it’s overfilled with espresso grounds, as is the compost bin of odds andContinue reading “Domestic Olympics”

I’m wondering if the Remarkable 2 digital notepad is the perfect Christmas gift for me. Plusses: it would be my all-in-one writing spot, basically replacing paper. Journaling in my own handwriting and then converting it to text for my blog would be pretty killer. I could use it for Spanish—practice tests, new vocabulary—and also asContinue reading “Unremarkable Presents”

That last one—the relationship with myself—matters the most. And it’s my ambiguity about how to do that that leaves me susceptible to disconnection. “I’m sick of hearing myself tell these same stories and get worked up. I want closure.” My client’s desire to finally close the doors and make peace with the past felt likeContinue reading “Doggedly In My Own Corner”

There’s pressure behind my eyes. Heavy, pulsing on either side of my eyebrows. This sickness hit me from behind—midnight bedtime: healthy. One hour later: the back of my throat turned into two punching bags lined with razor blades. I had just been thinking, right before I landed in sicky-land, that I hadn’t been sick inContinue reading “Under the Weather”

I baked a three-tiered confetti cake from scratch for Evelyn’s family birthday party tomorrow. And because I’m the chef and lick everything, I know how tasty and how moist it is. I also know the work that went into it, and that giving myself the night off from writing is well-deserved.  See ya!

I’ve become too much like a stenographer in my writing. I bore myself. “I did X,” I write Y. In math lingo, it’s as stimulating as 1 = 1. I want to sledgehammer the confines within which I find myself. Obliterate their caved-in walls. Only a Titanic-sized vessel of dynamite will do. Then the AmazonContinue reading “The Need For Love”

The slip of a toe from the pedal, the momentum lost—bodies pushed forward, then backward into their padded rests. It’s this ebb and flow, the negotiation between “Faster!” and “No, slower,” that swirls in the depths of her psyche’s ocean. And yet writing coaxes it all to the surface. Until a side trip—two crabs holdingContinue reading “Setting the Stage: A Poem”

Evelyn took the video game controller out of my hands and replaced it with her own.“We’re swapping, that way you can’t yell at me anymore,” she said. I wasn’t yelling—just repeating myself at a volume somewhere between “I need a manager” and “something’s clearly amiss” at a restaurant table.Which, in my defense, it was. SheContinue reading “Overcooked Parenting”