I’ve had four solid panic attacks over the last two weeks. Sometimes, you’ll get a hint of one pending but you can head it off. This was not the case here. They’re all connected to foster parenting, and the fear I’m doing something wrong or have made a mistake. My brain is not a fan of the mistake, and since everything I’m doing right now … Continue reading Tidal panic attacks – they ebb and flow – an off-the-cuff joint.
How old were we when someone first spoke to us about trust? Was it a warning – trust me, you don’t want to know – or a request to behave – I know I can trust you to be a good girl? How was the concept of trust first articulated to us? I have no idea. We experience it before we can put a name … Continue reading Trust is a responsibility.
“If I could turn back time” isn’t a wish to go back in time. To me, the latter is a jump of some significance – to the third grade or to 1653. The former is usually event-specific – I want a do-over for that one thing. For instance, I would have held onto my hockey cards from 1982. My estranged daughter texted me yesterday. I … Continue reading If I could turn back time – an off-the-cuff joint.
I’m folding a couple of the T-shirts that haven’t yet been demoted to dryer status when all of a sudden, I’m thinking about my son’s father’s reaction when I told him I was pregnant. We limped along for another two and a half years, but he never quite forgave me. [i] That isn’t what I’m thinking about, however. I’m thinking about the day he came … Continue reading Memories are the darndest thing.
From Famine to Feast 