cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“We women in our late 40s need a scapegoat,” my doctor, who is the same age, said, “and hormones are usually a viable option.” I wasn’t prepared to hear my doctor use the term “scapegoat.” That’s a term usually reserved for my psychology and religious circles, where abuse is often the topic. But she knows…
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“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” Psalm 23 speaks to me loudly as I continue to walk down this path that seems so familiar to me. It is not one I would have chosen to traverse; yet it is one that I find myself on. One could say that…
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Standing in the florescent glow of Super Target it happened. A throng of ponytailed and legging-clad mothers had just dropped little ones at school and entered the store, eager for a cathartic wander through the aisles, me included. I turned toward Starbucks to get my morning Chai when I happened to glance at the cart…
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The statistics on mental illness in the U.S. are sobering. According to NAMI, one in five adults experience mental illness each year; for children, the prevalence is only slightly less at one in six. Anxiety and depression top the list of most common diagnoses and frequently occur together. Also troubling is the rising suicide rate.…
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No baby has blessed my womb Disgrace my lot, disgrace my doom Never feeling the growing inside I said I was OK with it. I lied. Never feeling touch, skin to skin No offspring from me, no next of kin Never seeing eyes open in wonder No baby, my heart asunder Never hearing cries in…
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“Why do you say you have no one?” Stare. “What makes you feel no one understands?” Stare. “Can you make a box in your mind and fit the stories inside?” Stare. Blank. I stared. Thoughts echoed inside but I didn’t dare say them out-loud.
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For many years, I believed the lie that the only way of coping with the parasitic fears and deep pain in my life was to bring injury to my body. I still remember the young teenage girl standing in front of a dressing room mirror, fighting back tears and thinking this was her only option.…
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I have a pharmacy on my nightstand. Every night, I pop a number of vitamins from four different containers. Water, vitamins, water, vitamins, water. Then there’s the orange pill bottle. It’s not a multivitamin and I can’t get it over the counter. Out of all the pills, this is the one I’ve taken the longest,…
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“So, what have you been up to lately?” she casually asked across the table strewn with half-drunk margaritas and now cold food. The dreaded question finally happened and an annoying ache clawed at my belly. Taking a deep breath, I came up with an answer that seemed appropriate to the evening and less shame-filled than…
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“I grew more depressed. And also I grew a muffin top.” –Jamie Wright from The Very Worst Missionary Dear Depression, We’ve known each other for quite some time now. The first time I met you I never got your name. You extended a hand like you were some kind of savior, arrived to shield…
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