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
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
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
I come home from class in Raleigh. I'm tired, and when I walk in the door there is my spouse holding my bathrobe. "Put this on." It isn't a request. I ask what's happening. Apparently I am being recruited into one of his childhood Christmas memories, no matter that we haven't discussed it or that … Continue reading Holiday Flashbacks and Panic Attacks
We were supposed to have a holiday party together. Though it’s been off my calendar for weeks, I haven’t forgotten. There’s a snowstorm coming in. We'd talked about how much fun we'd have sequestered at his place during the first snowstorm, so I am sick with grief and dread and missing him. All day long … Continue reading Grief and Longing, Loneliness and Depression
It's Saturday morning. I've turned my alarm off because I'm sad and tired and don't care. I lie in bed and note that it's raining--hard--and think how maybe I've slept enough to actually do sort of a long run. I go open the shades and scowl at the rain pouring down. I think about runners … Continue reading A Remarkable Day; Long Run and Flip Turns
I send a volley of emails back and forth with the concussion specialist that amounts to; "I can't do this anymore. Please prescribe all the drugs, I am desperate." He doubles the Prozosin that's supposed to help with the nightmares. I take my new dose--and Advil for the headache I have most of the time … Continue reading Disappointing Pharmaceuticals, Nightmares and Another Missed Run
We talked on Friday and didn’t begin speaking for a long time. As he held me in his arms, as I took in his heartbeat and the scent of his skin and my own sense of homecoming, I let go of so many words I’d thought of to say. I finally offered simply, “I was … Continue reading Sprinting, Self-Care and the Myth of Mara
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
It is Sunday morning, the day I was supposed to attend an event with Kevin*. We've been talking about it for over a month. We haven’t spoken in almost a week--a week of panic and grief, confusion and anger. A week of troubled sleep and half-eaten food that tastes like dirt. Christian is meeting me … Continue reading Sanctuary; Where Is My Safe Place to Fall?
I wake up in the middle of the night, anxious again. Remnants of nightmares swirl through my head--something about my abuser and something about my boyfriend. Sleeping on a park bench. I don’t remember. My brain starts in on pointless one-sided conversations. I turn onto my side and try to calm down--I'm not breathing right … Continue reading Deflated Determination and the Edge of a Panic Attack
Exhausted, frightened and overwhelmed, I walk up to Christian's door lugging a bag of groceries, a plant, and the suitcase I'm still living out of. I open the door with my key and he looks surprised to see me; after not sleeping last night I guess I forgot to tell him. I explain that we … Continue reading DUSA Progression Run as Emotional Support
I keep feeling this sense of unease, and I've been judging myself for it. Anxious attachment, I notice when Kevin* pulls away slightly in bed and I grow distraught. Or when he isn't holding my hand quite as much as I think he did last week. Or when I think he's giving me just a … Continue reading Anxious Attachment and Failure to Communicate
Usually I wake a few times at night, blankets askew, irritated. I've either had a really troubling nightmare or heard some bump in the night; likely both. So I lay there, exhausted, frustrated, needing and wanting sleep that doesn't come. Eventually the alarm goes off and I rise, grudging. Some time later I'll unroll my … Continue reading Sensational, Asinine Things Like “Blossom Your Heart Open”
content warning: domestic violence, sexual assault I wake in my friend Erin's beautiful Lakewood house before morning's first light. Her dog doesn't even stir from his spot next to me in bed. I brush my hair and teeth, put some clothes on and meditate, and we walk around the neighborhood with the first flickering of … Continue reading Sexual Abuse/Assault/Violence; Does The Label Matter?
I only get twenty minutes and I have to go slow. My closest friend goes with me. I'm occupied chattering with him and then there are these girls running the trail ahead of us. They're slow. I'm supposed to be running slow--I should stay behind them. I try to...
Ray hands me my computer, some papers. I take my pillow from the bed and we try to move to the next room. He's too close as I try to pass. "You need to step away from me," I bark out in a strained voice. I shouldn't have told him...
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...