Mended Musings

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  “There is a common misconception in our culture about who suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and what it looks like. A quick Google image search will lead you to believe that the majority of those living with PTSD are men in uniform, when the reality is that women are twice as likely to develop it as men, and it can be acquired in a number of ways. Not all wars take… Read More

I discovered David Bowie in my dad’s record collection in 1982 when I was 12 years old. I was mesmerized by Ziggy Stardust and listened to that record incessantly. In my daily life I was trying hard to suppress overwhelming feelings but when I heard those songs, I could cry and lament because it wasn’t me – it was the music. It allowed me to express feelings that scared me in a… Read More

When I come across a picture of myself as a child, I fight against what I see. I see her smiling face but most of the time, I don’t remember being her. In my childhood memories, I’m not really a child at all but something other. I’ve been in recovery for awhile now and I still struggle with explaining what that means, what it means to have never really felt like a… Read More

I’m sitting in my yard with my laptop and a bottle of Method All-Purpose spray. I really want to write but I can’t figure out what story needs to be told so I focus on the mosquitos instead. I’ve sprayed my ankles with insect repellent and anything that dares to fly near me gets a shot of the Method. I chuckle at the irony that non-toxic plant-based household cleaner makes those suckers… Read More

We go to the beach with nothing more than a towel, a bottle of water and a bag for seashells. No phones, no camera. No umbrella, chairs, cooler or sunscreen. We did a full on beach day like that a couple of days before and within 2 hours, the kids were ready to leave. What do you mean you want to go back? When your dad and I used to go to… Read More

I’ve been angry since my sister died last September. And sad, of course. Confused. Broken open in new places (as if I needed more breaking…see, there’s that anger). Right after she died, there were signs everywhere. I felt her presence. I could hear her voice say, “Karen…”. To me, it was the way you call someone’s name when you want to gently but urgently wake them up. A couple of months after… Read More

I usually don’t post a piece until after I’ve had some distance and have been able to gain clarity around the emotions. I have struggled with whether or not to post this one because I’m still in the midst of the experience. I’m still sick over it, I’m still trying to get in touch with my body and its signals. As I write this, I have a horrible cold. Maybe it’s because… Read More

I’m a big fan of The Sisterwives and am always floored by the courage and fearlessness of the people who share their stories there. Now it’s my turn and I’m both excited and a little nervous. I keep thinking… I needed to share this. What the hell am I doing? There are too many details. This barely scratches the surface. I can’t do this. I can’t not do this. It’s a story… Read More

Every so often I read a book that sticks with me, makes me remember where I came from and reminds me of the resiliency of the human spirit. Wounds of the Father: A True Story of Child Abuse, Betrayal, and Redemption by Elizabeth Garrison is such a book. Elizabeth suffered unspeakable childhood abuse but what she focuses on in her book is her descent into drug and alcohol addiction and how she… Read More

I don’t know if I can adequately thank everyone who shared The Secret Keepers on social media, reblogged or emailed it to their friends and loved ones. The post was shared hundreds of times and the response was amazing. You are my heroes and you very well may have helped to change someone’s life. If you wanted to share the post but just weren’t able to, I appreciate and thank you too…. Read More