I still expected him to “snap out of it,” come to his senses, want to improve, remember who he used to be. Remember who he used to be to me.
Fifty First Everythings All the Time
Gobsmacked (but I’m back…)
I suppose it’s possible to “fake it ‘til I make it,” but make it to where? Oblivion?
Mourning and Internet friendships
After reading the news, and having a good cry, I thought about how Internet friends can be some of the best friends ever.
What if he wins?
Look, I know he lies. And he’s got a thing for dictators and Hitler, and maybe a little Putin puddin’ on the side (wink wink nudge nudge).
When “just a car” isn’t just a car
Turns out, I’m attached to freedom.
When Grief takes a Twist
"Do we ever truly let go of the people with whom we’ve been intimate on some level? Doesn’t a part of them live on inside us forever?"
Letting go… of diet culture
"My participation in diet culture was not only time-consuming, but mind-consuming"
“Will you sign this?” — 8-year-old me
"I only hope that in knowing me, I enhanced their lives, too."
Show Up for Goodbye
But hospice is its own kind of limbo, isn’t it? It’s crowded with feelings, but offers no crystal ball to tell us how we’ll feel when that life is actually over.
The Needle and the Projects Done
What creative endeavor do you lose yourself in?
Lynn Haraldson, Author and Writing Mentor 