Time, Untethered

Her hand is in mine; clammy because it is hot on these streets that smell of burgers, oil, and urine. She tries to lace her fingers with mine. I pull away slightly, aware of the implications. “My mother didn’t like holding my hand,” she tells the therapist casually. “Sweaty palms triggered her.” She is old … Continue reading Time, Untethered

Curtain Call

My thoughts running through the maze I hold inside my pounding skull keep me company reminding me when my eyes search for love for understanding for hope I am not alone.   I am tied to the whispers the whipping post I toss over one shoulder and the never-ending scorn scraping my open wounds.   … Continue reading Curtain Call

The Prison Cells We Hide In

I always struggled to maintain friendships with women. It was easier for me to hang out with men. I knew exactly how to talk to them, how to act around them and was confident in my direct approach. Women scared me. We always seemed to be hurting each other. The idea of a united front, … Continue reading The Prison Cells We Hide In

Anita Hill, Christine Blasey Ford, and me

I was too young then… too small and insignificant to understand what bravery looks like… to know the pain of disbelief… I was too young to see her… too young to be moved to act on her behalf. I was not young enough to escape her fate. 9,853 days should be long enough to figure this … Continue reading Anita Hill, Christine Blasey Ford, and me


Triggered. You laugh at the word and point out how overused it is these days. You sit in your leather chairs, backs comfortably reclined as you swivel behind the glossy desk proclaiming your entitlement. It is so easy for you to roll your eyes and then apologize for your reaction. Your genitalia allows you to retract … Continue reading Triggered


Trauma follows me wherever I go. It likes my attention...wants me to let myself get wrapped in its claws...consent to its talons tearing through my skin...participate in the letting of my soul's blood. Trauma and I are inseparable. It likes to stand so close to me that it looks as though we share the same … Continue reading #metoo

Broken Grief

This feeling…this sad feeling…covers me like a blanket…suffocating me slowly. It is not a new feeling…it is an anticipated one. Do not project…they told me…do not lose faith in humanity…you can never know the outcome…you can never know for sure. So I tried not to project…not to expect to be hurt… But I am not … Continue reading Broken Grief

Dear Asshole

(trigger warning - please don't read if you are not in a safe place) Dear Asshole, I wonder, when you kiss your wife, if you remember what it felt like to shove your tongue into my mouth...your teeth hitting mine as you demanded I open my lips more.. I remember. I can still taste your … Continue reading Dear Asshole