Imagine if you had a sweet, little cozy house. You tend it well, doing all you can to keep it all pretty and quaint. While it’s not the house you imagined yourself owning, you have found yourself loving it; loving the simplicity of it. Outside you have planted a yard chock full gardens for all things to grow, all surrounded quaint little white picket fence. Read the rest of this entry »
Archives for category: grief and loss
I have had a wretched six months or so; actually almost a year now as a friend gently reminded me last week. It was good of her to do so, as I had lost track of my wallow and it is time to get on with it. Read the rest of this entry »
A revisit from an old blog, but still the same guy two years later! Read the rest of this entry »
A remix on this Mother’s Day of my two favorite blogs about my two favorite people in the world….
I kinda think they hung the moon… Read the rest of this entry »
My neighbor Frances is 89 years young. I would estimate she is just as much, if not more of a southern spitfire as she was back in 1924 on the day she was born in farmhouse down east (as we say here in NC) in Elm City. Frances has seen me through many a life trial always without fail, inviting me into her grandma like home when I ring her buzzer. Read the rest of this entry »
Last week, I found myself on the receiving end of a big, fat, loud “Pshaw.”
I guess Pshaw is what you call it, that’s what it sounded like at least. An exasperated sigh plus eye roll; an unspoken, “Oh brother, give me a break.” Read the rest of this entry »
I treat children for sexual abuse.
It is not so much a task of erasing memories, but of diffusing them; decreasing the impact and diminishing the power of the symptoms of trauma. Helping kids sort and put fragments into drawers and compartments and teaching them how to manage how the trauma; the triggers and hypervigilance are now a part of their life. Read the rest of this entry »
I was sitting quietly in my infusion chair at chemo, surrounded by very sick, very bald people; feeling and looking very much like a weary, sick, bald person myself. Yet inside my head, I was brutally beating myself up.
“God damnit Lauren, you have got to find your A-game to kick this shit.” Read the rest of this entry »
Once, when Amelia was just a wee little one, maybe 6 years old, she was going through a particularly hard time. She was so, so worried about an assortment of things; anxious in the way that kids get at that age when development moves them into more abstract thinking. Simply, it is an age when kids start thinking thinks they never thought before, things that never occured to them before, so it is hard for both you and them to get your hands around the free-floating anxiety. They cry for no reason and they are afraid of things, but can’t tell you exactly what it is that is spooking them. Read the rest of this entry »
after five years 