Esquire Theme by Matthew Buchanan
Social icons by Tim van Damme



Falling Around You.

I had to say goodbye to my favorite client and his family tonight. I am devastated about it. I can’t stop crying. He and his brother were the sweetest, most loving, funny, and lovable children on the face of the planet. They were too little to understand that when I left it would be for good. Forever. I don’t always love the kids I work with, but there are some that are just special to me, and they were

Our goodbye session was so memorable. I brought their mom a potted plant as a parting gift; I wanted to give her something as a reminder of me but also as a reminder of a new opportunity for growth. I also brought a puzzle for the boys so that they could have something to build together as a team. Families are supposed to fit together like pieces of puzzles after all. At least that is what I hear.

The boys’ mom made me gluten free pasta per my request and we all sat and shared a meal together. I brought cupcakes, which everyone seemed to enjoy. They were the sweet end to a bittersweet evening. I helped the boys’ mom do their bedtime routine by reading a few stories to them and then hanging back, observing their mom perform the tasks through which she will guide them the rest of their childhood. When it was time to say goodbye I gave the boys each a goodnight hug with the mom’s permission and said it was fun working with them. I reminded them I wouldn’t see them again. All they could ask was “Why?” And no matter how many reasons I gave them none seemed to make any sense to them at all.

After they went to bed, I held back a few tears and continued paperwork with the client’s mom until it was time to pack up my things. I had remained relatively stoic up until this point, but then I became kind of awkward and unhinged. I kept meandering around the house, looking for things I may have forgotten. I think I just didn’t want to leave. I turned on the porch light for myself—something that the client’s mom used to do for me. In retrospect, it seems kind of symbolic that I wouldn’t let her help me because I had nothing more to offer her or her family. I walked sullenly to the car in total darkness, and I drove myself to the first place I could think of that might help me feel better: the bench at Prescott Park overlooking the water where I said goodbye to Colin over the weekend.

The further away I drove the more heartsick I felt. I tried to think of someone I could call that would be able to support me and truly understand my pain. I couldn’t think of anyone. I have many friends, but most of them don’t really get what I do. Each of my friends and family has something special to offer me, but what I lack is just one person who gets me and can be my shoulder to cry on. I am missing that piece to my puzzle—the one person I can call no matter what happens in my life. I have 954 Facebook friends, and I have never felt more alone in my life than in the car at that moment.

When I got to the park, I walked over to the bench, and I was reminded that I need to be my own pillar of strength as I was overlooking the water. There is something admirable about my ability to support myself, but it can also be isolating to be entirely self-reliant. I wish I knew how to help myself let others in.

I have been listening to nothing but Ingrid Michaelson’s song “Over You” for the past few days in anticipation of this final session with my client. There is a lyric in the song that goes, Maybe if I tell myself enough, maybe if I do, I’ll get over you. I’m falling around you. I feel like I am falling to pieces around someone I have loved and lost. Every time I say goodbye I am reminded of the pain I felt when I said goodbye to others. I know it’s cliche, but I feel like a missing puzzle piece. I just want someone to pick me up and put me back where I belong because I can’t figure out where that is, and it’s lonely out here where I am.



Dreams Are Not All Optimistic

I had a dream I was chasing J. last night. She invited me to find her. She said follow the moon and she would be there. I found her at a hide out on the top of a mountain but she was off flitting about with no intention of ever spending time with me. I felt very lost.

Dreams are not all optimistic. Many are reality based.

The moon symbolizes femininity and intuition and represents a hidden part of ourselves. I am lost in the symbolism of it all—even more lost than I felt in the dream.

Ingrid Michaelson - Over You (feat. A Great Big World)

My new favorite song. Thanks, Derbsworld for sharing it on Tumblr. Admittedly, I have been listening to it on repeat since the day the album was released.


Maybe if I tell myself enough… ?



Classy as hell movie and wine night with @skoomach sans @derbsworld

Classy as hell movie and wine night with @skoomach sans @derbsworld



Failure, Success, Somewhere In-Between

You always pass failure on your way to success.
- Mickey Rooney

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted in this blog. I’m sorry. I feel like we are on two tangential paths that aren’t doing their best to cross lately. 

Mickey Rooney died yesterday. It’s the end of a Hollywood Era. I like to think that he and Judy Garland are hitting the vaudeville stage in the afterlife. If there is an afterlife, I suppose. Who knows what happens when we die. 

I received a call this week from my friend Rachel, with whom I was very close to in college, though we have drifted apart because of literal distance (that’s partly why I appreciate you and I so much). We had a mutual friend, her name was Emily. She was smart, a brilliant writer, and deeply, deeply tortured. She was the first person I’d seen with deep scars on her forearms, and the back of her legs. But she wore them both with pride, and with imminent shame.

Emily was a poet, a writer, an outsider, and I connected with her on that level. I also kept myself at a distance because her mental illness scared me. Leave it to an anxious person like myself to begin to question how far away I was from madness. Emily’s sexual abuse, her bipolar disorder, her inability to take care of herself was coupled with this immense, intense beauty and strength that I don’t think I’ll ever come across again. I know I struggled with an eating disorder and identity issues, but Emily had been there and then some. This isn’t about comparing battle scars, but respecting and appreciating and loving them.

The last time I saw Emily in person is when I was living in New Hampshire. She was married, she had a dog, and we joked and laughed and made trips to Exeter and talked writing. I encouraged her to share her story — and she in turn made me feel like my voice was worth something as well. It was hard to be friends with Emily — her intensity, good and bad, was like the surface of the sun. One could get lost in her flares. But myself and Rachel, and the three other girls that lived together all through college who called themselves the Quad (Quad = family) took Emily under our wing. We wanted to protect her, and love her, and show her love within herself. Though she lost the battle, I believe that we did our best. 

Emily knew love, despite her pain. And she is loved even in passing.

I don’t know the point of this entry. Maybe that’s the point. I’ve been trapped in a bubble of uncertainty and depression and frustration and way-seeking that I truly failed to recognize how good I have it. I may not have money, or stability, or security, or the love of a significant other — but I have so much more. Death and loss does a lot to remind oneself not only of shortcomings, but assets. 

And I miss you. I’m sorry we haven’t talked. Maybe I’ve been selfish in my depressive state but that’s what depression is, right? I just want to run up and hug you and embrace for a million years. Thank you for being a light in my life’s journey. Thank you for being the wonderful person that you are, and know that you are loved. Forever and always, in sickness, in health, in faults, in deeds, in successes. You are my true friend and I treasure daily the bond that we have and share. 

You lift me up when I am down, and I hope I do the same for you. Even if it’s across the miles.


words can’t describe

how lost i feel inside

how rage and wistfulness

and anger rips my delicate lining.

words have always been my comfort

my go-to in times of need or self-discovery

now, thinking of a word is like pulling a 

wooly mammoth bone from the thick tar

of its undoing

the smell of asphalt

reeks of my faults

my inabilities

my failures

my sadness

words were my savior

now nothing can save me

if i don’t untwist my tongue

crack my knuckles

unhinge my wrist

pick up a pen

and once again

begin to dream.

for now i am lost

in a sea of ink

as it clings to my skin

ripping away my flesh

as i drown

lost to the ages —

if i can’t find my words again.



A Letter FROM No One

J. -

Perhaps you wrote to me because I posted about all the good I wanted the Universe to send you. Perhaps it was merely coincidence. All I know is that I heard from you, and I was happy about that. I was also happy to receive the article you sent me about how to lessen the intensity of my polycystic ovary syndrome symptoms by using natural remedies.You signed your letter “Sending you love and light.” That made me both happy to receive your letter and sad to keep losing you over and over and over and over and….

I was not happy that when I apologized for my part in our story—hurting you by never responding to your last letter, for example—I did not receive an apology from you for hurting me. I see you still have not realized the importance of accountability, nor have you probably stopped justifying your actions. And, I see I have still not learned to stop giving out what I hope to receive only to be disappointed in myself.

And now, you say we are on “speaking terms.” How can we be on speaking terms if all that we share is silence? And I’m still angry that you slept with someone else in case you didn’t know.

Of course, I am angrier with myself because I have not gotten over you, and I chose to be with someone I knew would hurt me to begin with. Sure, if I changed my attitude about everything that happened and if I converted my belief system to align with yours, then I might feel better, but I am stronger than that. Damn it, I know that I am right. It is NOT wrong to want monogamy. It is NOT wrong for me to request that my girlfriend not sleep with other people. It is not irrational to believe that the title girlfriend implies monogamy. And, it is also NOT wrong to want an apology from you. Furthermore, you were angry that I decided to take space when I was angry at how you treated me with such blatant disregard. Why does that make me a douche bag? I was saving you from my anger. That’s called love.

I bought myself tulips yesterday because I found myself feeling angry, hurt, and lonely all over again. I figured if I bought myself flowers it would model for me how I should be treated in a relationship. Goodbye, $15. You look pretty on my table but you in no way equal the simple “I’m sorry” I could have received for free.




A Letter to No One

Dear Jessica,

I just bumped into your mom while we were on line at the grocery store in the same check out. She says you’re doing well. You’ve quit your job and have started your own business, she said. I’m proud of you.

I know it did not end well with us, and I still blame you for cheating on me. Ugh, sorry. I didn’t mean that. Well, I did. Lucky for me you won’t be reading this. I am sorry that our situation worked out the way it did, and you did not choose me. I am sorry that even now I haven’t let you go. If I had it maybe would not have been so difficult to see your mother tell me how well you’re doing in the grocery store.

If things had been different I might have been shopping with you and your mom at the grocery store. Or, if things had gone differently toward the end I might have been able to tell her to say hello to you instead of just saying, “Please say hi to Jess’s dad. I am glad to hear you’re all doing well. Enjoy your family dinner.”

Instead I said things were going well with me—that I was tired but going home to watch a movie. I didn’t mention my cat. You would have been happy that I found myself a feline companion. We talked about that when we were together. I said things like, “I’m working a lot, but things are really good.” If things had been different I would have told the truth. I would have said, “Things are really hard right now; I feel unsettled and am still not sure where I belong. Please tell Jess I think of her often and am glad to hear things are going well for her.”

But, no. No. People don’t tell the truth in grocery stores. People tell lies and then go home and write about how shitty they feel on Tumblr. People tell ex’s moms that things are great, smile awkwardly, and walk away from memories. Again.

I think of you often. I think I said that already. I thought of you when I adopted my cat and wondered how happy you would be for me about that. I thought of you at Christmas when I wildcrafted some lovely flora for our Christmas dinner table, and I think I thought of you this week, but I can’t remember why. Oftentimes, when I think of you there is never much reason for it. Now, I am sitting here wondering if and what you think of me.

I hope wherever you are you don’t blame me and hate me and spew shit about me into the Universe because I really loved you as a person, and I think it is so hard to let go of you because there was so much good about you to let go of. I don’t spew shit into the Universe about you. That is why I am writing to you now. I want the Universe to take the good things I feel and felt about you and bring them to you so that your soul can know that I still care about you and miss you. Allmost every day.

I am not sure how to end this letter to you…to no one. I think it’s symbolic of the fact that my feelings for you seem endless. For now I guess I will just end it and hope for resolution eventually.



Some Songs

Some songs are the soundtrack to leaves dancing on gusts of wind,
Some echo hearts breaking
Or love renewed again.
Some drums beat steady on, pulsing percussively through my veins
While piano notes form gently falling drops of rain.
My blanket is a melody
that wraps me and warms the cold.
Your song is a comfort I’ll never hold.
Losing you has wrenched my heart;
I still can’t believe you’re gone.
I’ll never stop missing you
As the song plays on.



No Place like Mediocrity

There are times when I wonder
If it was really worth the trouble
To travel to Oz
To defeat a witch of demons
with a bucket of water
And a one way plane ticket

But even home is an abstract
My own backyard is hidden
And far away, it seems.

I don’t want to face the world
It’s failure
My failure
My never ending cycle of defeat
And discouragement

There are good things,
People say -
If you only look inside
Yourself you’ll find them.

But they don’t understand this world
Don’t know that luck is more prevalent
Than talent -
And even talent is testament to
Who you know
And who you blow
And who knows you

I can’t succeed in a hamster wheel
It’s no longer fun;
But exhausting.
But I’ve been home,
And the sepia-tones offer nothing
And the road less-traveled is
Less-traveled for a reason.

You only get something in this world
If you’re born into it.
And I wasn’t, so life is meaningless

We shuffle along, not wanting to
Face that inevitable truth -
But we can never go home again
Once the truth is known.

There’s no place like mediocrity.