The virus stole my father, but not how you think

In the beginning, when the virus hit, my father died. I wasn’t even able to hold his hand as he passed. I wasn’t allowed in the hospital. Instead he died alone among strangers. I had always pictured being by his side. That was how it happened in my mind. Me holding his hand, so he… Continue reading The virus stole my father, but not how you think

Being raised by a narcissist and the fall out

I grew up with a narcissistic Mom. I don’t think that was all she was, but she certainly fit into that disorder. She was a bully, psychologically abusive, neglectful, cruel. And having to deal with that coming from her while I was a young girl has shaped who I am in many, many ways. Even… Continue reading Being raised by a narcissist and the fall out

Accepting I’m a writer, finally: It only took about 20 years…

Have you ever felt as if writing weren’t a real job? That saying you’re a writer is kind of fanciful, and even selfish? I absolutely have! It’s really ironic because I started reading when I was four and devoured as many books as I could from that time on. I mean I LOVE to read.… Continue reading Accepting I’m a writer, finally: It only took about 20 years…

Journalling to honour myself: Writing has saved my life

Journalling through my life I have been writing a journal for over 35 years. I began as a young girl as a way to express feelings I couldn’t any other way. And also feelings I couldn’t understand. I didn’t have a safe person close to me that I could confide in. And even though my… Continue reading Journalling to honour myself: Writing has saved my life

Back to writing: Why are my characters being rebellious? They’re just fictional, right?!

I read through the first draft of my novel. I have 68 pages done and about 40 more to come I think. I’m beginning the most intricate part of my novel, the ending. When it all comes together. Or when the shit hits the fan depending on how you want to look at it. As… Continue reading Back to writing: Why are my characters being rebellious? They’re just fictional, right?!

Expressing our inner questions: Writing and reading as therapy

Writing was something I started as a very young girl. I could read when I was four and my earliest journals started after my best friend was killed in a fire when I was five, he was only six. That was not something I could make sense of. I wrote from the age of five… Continue reading Expressing our inner questions: Writing and reading as therapy