I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.
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reframing femininity
I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.
Read MoreToday I saw a caterpillar smashed on the sidewalk. She met her demise before she met her destiny. Sometimes, I want to be that caterpillar. Pleading that my life might somehow end. This desire for eternal rest comes because emptiness has found her way back to me again. I try relentlessly to fill her but…
Read More“Seriously? Again? Now?!” I frequently hear myself exclaiming these words in exasperation and despair.
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