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

Why I become emotionally attached to fictional characters

I become emotionally attached to characters in the books I read and the TV series I watch. Not all books or series, they don’t all elicit deep feelings for me, but the characters who do are very real for me. And even to me that sounds strange. For example, when my life gets too stressful… Continue reading Why I become emotionally attached to fictional characters

Facing our minds through menopause

I’m reading The Change by Germaine Greer, which is her book about women, aging and menopause. I have found that menopause and aging in general about women isn’t talked about much, even among women, and Greer talks a lot about that. Women talk about their periods and their experiences of being pregnant and with childbirth,… Continue reading Facing our minds through menopause

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

Am I really a writer? I’ll have to ask my journal

Writing to find myself I’m not sure why it took me so long to admit to myself I’m a writer. The irony is I’ve been writing a journal since I was a girl. So you think it would’ve been a natural revelation. I still keep a journal every day. It’s the way I wake up… Continue reading Am I really a writer? I’ll have to ask my journal

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…