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...

Moving On: Part 1

Not long ago, I held that white box again.  Almost everything I own has been in storage these 11 months since I left.  I held that box and cried again at that relic of once great hope now lost forever.  What on earth could I do with it?  I couldn't stand the idea of...

Here Comes The Sun

That's not an unusual morning--some ugly dream and then I wake up feeling awful.  Naturally, I want to go back to sleep and try again--maybe I won't feel so tired and desperate.  I understand that each choice I make will either take me deeper into that black pit of despair--or out of it.  The coming out won't be fast, it won't be painless...

Face The Day

Running is like breathing to me--as natural, as simple, and as necessary.  Without it I often feel like I can't breathe--a great deal of my best coping happens as my feet beat a steady rhythm on the trails.  In the woods, I feel powerful and fast--that pushes back against the anxiety and fear. I've let out a lot of anguish in the shelter of the trees.  I've passed so much joyful time...

A Wounded Healer

I struggle with deep shame over my mental illness.  Though I'm very clear it is not my fault, though I know that this is a response common to trauma survivors--the shame is very real, very persistent, and very convincing.  It tells me that I am too powerless, too broken, that I will never recover or experience healthy love.  I am so afraid that these things are true, I'm tempted to stay silent in...