No More Distractions

We are coming up on the 1yr anniversary of being in lockdown for a global pandemic. In March of 2020, the United States recognized that the COVID-19 virus was actually a threat and many states, like my own, imposed movement restrictions on their residents. It was only supposed to last a few weeks, a few months at most. Now it is January 2021 and we have no sign of anything letting up. Continue reading “No More Distractions”

Writing Workshop 1

Originally posted on an old blog on July 10, 2019

This was written in a workshop and the prompt was the first line from Rudy Francisco’s poem “Petal” from his book Helium


The tongue has a jagged beauty

Some of the words you say are beautiful enough enough for the flower garden, bright and happy in the sun. Some of your words are like shattered glass that I have to tip toe around. I miss the days of dandelion words shining yellow in dark days when all is thought to be lost. You would bring me so many yellow flowers they would burst like fireworks from your pockets, the words you spoke were unconditional and reverent. Small words, child words full of love and hope that you now you wield like a broken bottle in a bar fight. Not always because of me, but always directed at me. I am no longer the sun around which your little planet revolved but the annoyance. The cop, the judge, the one who restrains, the one who controls. You don’t see my pain as you cut me. I try to hide it when I can. You are learning life. You know I will never leave. You don’t know that I understand. I have been there. I have hurt with my words. It is my penance to accept the scars you give me as punishment for the scars I have given. You don’t know what one day you will have scars to match mine. I hope you accept them with grace. I hope you are patient as they are created. I hope you will be able to see the beauty in them as I have.


Amherst Writing Workshop 2

Repost from one of my old blogs. Originally posted on July 17, 2019.

In 2019 I participated in an online writing workshop with Amherst Writer’s and Artists. One of these days I will be able to afford to take the certification classes to run my own workshops. We would get a starting line and then run with it.

This is one of the prompts we were given.

It takes a while for our experience to sift through our consciousness…

Like when I gave birth to my son and experienced post-partum depression. All you know is the moment. It makes perfect sense tat the time. The, a few years later, you see the pictures. Read the words you wrote. Remember some of what you said or why you make certain decisions and you realize how things truly were.

It made sense to me to be overprotective. It made sense to me to not ever let him out of my sight. Now, 14 years later, that very first year is a blur. I have little memory of our first year together as mother and son, as a family other than it being hard, that it was too much. That I wanted to leave.

I don’t have the same problem with my daughter. I knew how hard it had been the firs time. I sought help, got better. I remember. I will always regret not getting help with my son. Then again, I do remember trying. I remember telling the doctor and being told I had to go elsewhere for help. I remember being devastated.

The funny thing is how trauma sifts through the filter of time. How a young love was toxic, but realized too late. How stubbornness was really helplessness. How things were much worse than they seemed.

The good thing is how it allows you to forgive yourself. To not make the same mistakes. To learn and do better. Maya Angelou once said, “When you know better, you do better.” It is in the distance that we learn.