The ocean calls me. I feel its wild call every morning when I rise. The anticipation of a new sunrise
awakens my soul and my body knows that I must get near the water.
God isn’t something to worship, but something to experience.
Read MoreIf someone wants out, we can’t beg them to stay, even if it means a light permanently dims with their departure.
Read MoreNo one warned me about the bone chips. I cried and cried for those pieces of you.
Read MoreMaybe it was the use of the word together that gave me the strength to take charge.
Read MoreI will never forget the feeling when I walked through that front door.
Read MoreSix years ago in the depths of winter, I was waiting for an Uber ride outside the Mall of America in Minneapolis, fanning myself in 20-degree weather. The elderly woman next to me, looking confused, asked if I was hot. She held her jacket tightly as she looked at me strangely, as if I were an extraterrestrial.
Read MoreBefore endometriosis, I never knew what people meant when they said their stomach was “swimming.”
Read MoreOne major lesson I’ve learnt is that grief is processed differently by different people.
Read MoreThis first time I heard this term was almost a decade ago, at work, of all places.
Read MoreBy the sixth grade I already knew how easily light could be extinguished, even when someone was young and strong.
Read MoreWhen my mother texted to tell me that the doctors had found cancer in her lungs, I called and yelled at her.
Read MoreOur bodies are certainly screaming grief right now. Tell me you are listening.
Read MoreI carry my most painful and traumatic experiences in my body. The body remembers. There are still some places that are so fragile and tender that they require extra nourishment, support, and intentionality.
Read MoreI’ve always had a roar in my chest. Something loud and rumbling, just beneath the surface.
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