When the panic attacks started, I felt betrayed by my almost 40 yr old body for remembering so vividly how panicked my 20 yr old body felt.

This might seem odd to you, but it makes sense to me. 

I don't intend this to become a free for all in bashing religion, even though expressions of my hurt will likely come off as salty.

That I have to consistently put food & water in my body to survive is my biggest peeve of being human.

my third poetry collection, goosesong, is now available for purchase

Stream of consciousness: sometime in the time after I hit my head real hard, I promised myself to be unhinged as often as possible.

a poetic telling of my latest holiday

Months ago, inspiration blessed me with the idea to re-labor a poem from my last self-published collection, creating a series of topics...

My inner church choirgirl needs hymns for optimal holiday whimsy. Whatever you are listening to, I pray you have a blessed season.

Much of my Becoming a Mother story is saturated in trauma. I don’t need to drudge up painful details anymore in search of validation ...

All the right spices for a maddening depression. Restorative however, is my belief that God redeems; makes Holy what was Horrible.

I can’t decide if continuing to attend church is brave and essential to my eternal spiritual welfare, or masochistic and twisting metaphoric

an OCD confessional

Today's wildflower is reclamation; the sacred work of detaching from harmful energies through realignment with our soul & purpose.