What is my fault? This is the question I wonder about often as I Let the Cymbalta slide down My throat. What am I to blame for? What can I lay to rest — what Outbursts and frenzies That erupted from me When my mind was Rubbed raw by discontentment And curdled in its own…
In reading the pile of reports the school sent over regarding my youngest child, I thought: that’s not me. On every occasion in parenting, I am reminding how very few people I encounter — whether as friends or acquaintances — who really understand me. They do exist, and they are ridiculously loyal. But the by…
Adoptive kids have a special layer of wonder in their lives. Why am I in this family? How did this happen to me? Who am I really? What might have been? This special layer of wonder undoubtedly will shape them and their life direction, as all mental efforts do. But as I worry this thread a…
Patti said: “I haven’t been writing much for fear of cyber-whining.” Ohhhh Patti. I hear you. I counted. There are TWELVE posts from the last six months in my blog’s draft folder that are almost 100 percent flushed out. But each time, when I got near the end and thought about hitting “PUBLISH” I stopped myself.…
