Abuse

The other week, my therapist used the word “abuse” when referencing events in my childhood. I myself have used, though not necessarily embraced, the word in my own descriptions. Somehow, having a trained professional identify “abuse” was worse. When I think of abuse, I think of something active, something malicious and pernicious. When I thinkContinue reading “Abuse”

Things I Know

I’ve learned a lot of things throughout my life. Some I learned in my nearly three decades of attending school; some I have learned in my decade of teaching. Others, I learned in the twenty years of practicing and “perfecting” bulimia. These are things I wish I did not know. I wish I didn’t knowContinue reading “Things I Know”

No One Cares

No, this is not a pity-party post about how no one cares about me. It’s actually a pretty liberating thought: no one cares! That is to say, I’m a very happily married almost-40-year-old mother of 2 small children. NO ONE CARES what I look like. My kids don’t care, and my husband certainly doesn’t careContinue reading “No One Cares”

Old Wounds

I recently went up to my attic and lugged down a dusty old box that held my old journals. I cracked open the yellowed packing tape and opened one with a Precious Moments cover, dated 1995-1996. I have only faint recollections of anything that happened in the 90s, or really anything much of my childhood.Continue reading “Old Wounds”