How trauma helped me find my words

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar Growing up, I was always told to use my words, but every time I opened my mouth, I was afraid the earth was going to swallow me whole. I was afraid of people telling me no--no, they didn't want to play with me; no, they didn't want to be my friend. No became the worse word somebody...

How loving a dog with anxiety taught me to love myself

I have anxiety, but I don't go around licking things excessively. Unlike my dog, who constantly has her tongue out, as if her nervousness will follow the rules of entropy and move out into the room. I rescued a dog a few months ago. She has anxiety. She takes a while to warm up to people, and even then, she has to be really comfortable with you to let you touch her. Funnily enough, I'm the same...

New Beginnings Amidst the Search for Perfection

Prozac and faith--What do they have in common? They both keep me going. I was struggling to come up with the perfect first blog post for this new site, but then I realized that this is not what this site is about. It's not about perfection or having it all together; it's about the real, the raw, the messiness, and through it all, still searching for peace. I had a blog before; maybe we were a...