Let It Go

Sometimes I genuinely wonder if I’m going to survive being a parent.  It’s reminiscent of the time that we bought a 6 drawered Ikea dresser and started to put it together casually on a Saturday afternoon.  Eight hours later we were all crying in a pile of screws and instructions with not a single wordRead more


The whole world is holding its breath, waiting, for the cruelest amount of time, which of course, is the unknown end. No amount of press and data can tell us when we will once again open our doors and greet one another maskless. The whole world is turning purple from the effort of keeping it all in,Read more

Self-isolation has made me sharper, like the cactus we pass on our walk. Every day the same sidewalks, the same pace, as if we can outdistance the stress. My husband is quiet as I snap at the toddler- he knows why I’m sharp. He can see the stress gnawing at the ends of my rope.Read more


Trite as though it may be, I have learned that mourning the death of a patient is much like allowing yourself to be still while a tide washes over you.

Sometimes I’ll come home, sore and worn with a heart that is so heavy I swear I can feel it in my chest, and I cry and cry until all the grief has been poured out of me like a spilled drink.

Other times I will be driving and a song comes on, or I will see someone or hear, read, or see something and a memory will overcome me suddenly, leaving me gasping for air.

The Better Part

I used to hear this reading and find Martha underappreciated. I saw myself in her, as the misunderstood person who was just trying to keep everyone afloat, who had every right to be stressed. Through my anxiety lens, taking on more than you can handle is normal Holding others to the same impossible standard you give yourself is expected. Festering bitterness is justified.