This is a print I bought from Alexandra Miller, a young artist I met in 2015. I remember her being almost painfully introverted as we completed the transaction, perhaps surprised that I’d taken such an interest in this print. It’s a piece that I imagine most find heavy, almost grotesque.
The second I saw it, I told others that I saw hope.
Continue reading Becoming untethered
The pain was excruciating.
It felt like someone was grabbing a muscle in the middle of my back.
Then squeezing it.
Then twisting it.
Then stabbing it.
Over and over again.
Continue reading Too young to feel old
Those of you who’ve followed along here know that I’ve been open with my life, with the joys and struggles that make up my authentic story. Early last year, my world, the life I imagined, came crashing down and I raised my armor in defense. I shut down. I swore that I was done living my life as an open book, done with vulnerability, done with deep relationships.
Then I met K.
She didn’t try to fix or rescue me.
She didn’t ask me to be anything but the broken mess I was.
She gave me space and time to figure my own shit out.
She was patient and understanding so I could work to rebuild myself.
She chose what was healthy for her, and never once asked that I do anything but what was healthy for me.
Continue reading Breathing in the joy
The holidays can be a rough time, can’t they? Especially if your memories of the season are difficult to process. I’d planned to take the 2017 holidays off, but that would just be hiding from all the negative emotion instead of letting it pass through and make way for new traditions. So I’m opening my heart to a new season of life and will see where it may lead.
This is one of the most salient pieces of art I’ve ever seen — and I have my kid to thank for it. He’s heard me talk about these issues at length, and I’m proud that he sees the importance of us engaging with them and each other’s stories.
One request. If you start it, please watch until the end. Warning, this is difficult to watch. The language is intense and NSFW.
Just heard a older patient say “I’ve been a tough cookie all my life, but the cookie’s crumbling.”
I thought about the bravery it takes to make a statement like that, to admit our mortality. Don’t forget about the tough cookies in your lives. They’re likely the last to ask for the hand they need.
I can attribute most of the disappointment and heartbreak in my life to over-idealized expectations of the people in whom I invest myself. I’m working more on finding fulfillment in the investment itself, rather than being so adamant about the karmic return.