Attachment Anxiety, Distress Tolerance and Resurrection

On Wednesday, my friends Jess and Mia meet me at the courthouse where each swears an affidavit they've known me over a year and I am a good person.  They each answer in a clear, solemn voice.  What seemed like a mere procedural pain in the ass turns into something more with my friends present … Continue reading Attachment Anxiety, Distress Tolerance and Resurrection

Easy EMDR; The Edge Of Attachment Anxiety

It's been weeks in therapy where we mostly just talk like normal people who like each other except that we focus fairly exclusively on me.  "What do you still need from this?" Lisa asks me, "What would you like to focus on?" We've processed with very little complication my reaction to the Durham explosion, the … Continue reading Easy EMDR; The Edge Of Attachment Anxiety

Full Circle, Nothing Left For Me Here Now

When I drove east on Holloway Street from Durham, the once familiar path had a detour.  The very route that used to lead home seemed to remind me that isn’t the way anymore.  Still, I followed the detour through modest neighborhoods on the outskirts of Durham, my car full of camping gear and groceries. As … Continue reading Full Circle, Nothing Left For Me Here Now

Love Rushes In/A Victory Lap (1/2)

I toss and turn amid nightmares about the race, my abuser, my dead cat and Kevin.  I wake in an unfamiliar bed well before dawn knowing that I'm not falling back asleep and that today I run the 123rd Boston Marathon.  I smile in the darkness.  When I step outside it is pouring rain. An … Continue reading Love Rushes In/A Victory Lap (1/2)

Displaced Delight and a Daffodil Yellow Kitchen

I love to cook.  I love taking what's in season, particularly if I have grown it myself, and combining things just right with my practiced hands to highlight the flavors of summer's first tomatoes or handfuls of rainbow chard.  I love finding out what my loved ones' favorite foods are and studying recipes in painstaking … Continue reading Displaced Delight and a Daffodil Yellow Kitchen

A Changing Mien, Conflicting Emotions and Flashbacks

I'm near the end of a six mile easy run.  The sun has set and I'm trusting the ground I can't see as I run through Durham. I wondered days ago with a friend if my abuser had left town.  It would be a big relief to know I was unlikely to encounter that person … Continue reading A Changing Mien, Conflicting Emotions and Flashbacks

Outrunning Memories and the Color of New Beginnings

  I wake up Christmas morning with new snow on the ground.  Disgusted, I immediately gather my running things to head off the PTSD.  When I walk out the door there's more snow fluttering down, so I start my Garmin and get to work.  It is the first day of my plan for Boston and … Continue reading Outrunning Memories and the Color of New Beginnings

Comfortable With Uncertainty; The Grace I Give Myself

I run and I miss him.  I notice that I'm running when I've already been at it a couple miles; I'm neither enjoying nor struggling with it.  I'm merely hurtling my body through space in an accustomed way while my brain runs and runs; attachment theory, core wounds, one-sided conversations and conversations we've had already. … Continue reading Comfortable With Uncertainty; The Grace I Give Myself

Fear and Attachment, Signaling a Lane Change

I remember vividly how it felt after my car accident when I was finally cleared to drive.  I got in my new car, turned the key in the ignition, and shook violently with fear.  There was no choice but to drive on busy roadways.  I was terrified, but drove myself to my friend's house. Since … Continue reading Fear and Attachment, Signaling a Lane Change

A Brutal Catharsis, and the Victory of Whipping Cream

I take a deep breath and direct myself onto highway 40 going West.  I carefully manage the space cushion around me the whole drive, except for once when a big Jeep speeds up too close behind me.  I begin to hyperventilate, my heart racing, and as it pulls into the next lane I see spots. … Continue reading A Brutal Catharsis, and the Victory of Whipping Cream

Approaching peril, do I trust my feet?

As I prepare to leave in the semi-dark, my friend continues to sleep in the other room.  I strap on my running watch and consider whether to conceal my stun gun, just in case.  He doesn't even wake up this early, I remind myself.  He doesn't know where I'm staying now or which trail I'm … Continue reading Approaching peril, do I trust my feet?

Five Minutes

I hit the trail as the sun is setting; with the entire wood seemingly to myself, I push my toes aggressively into the dirt as I walk.  I do not limp.  I pick up pace.  I feel the toes of my right foot a little tighter, a little weaker, but they comply.  The remaining sunlight...