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Ink of My Life

Want to know what’s important to me? Just look at my arm, my shoulder and my feet. Each piece of artwork painfully adorned on my body tells the world a secret. It’s been my way to tell the world about my struggles and my fears without whispering a word. Every time someone compliments my arm…

A letter to my friends.

This applies to you if any of these things make sense. Even if they don’t make sense, they probably still apply to you. I don’t have millions of friends. It’s a very large internal brawl for me to really have the few I have. Getting to know each other, having our first (or ninth) fights,…

home is a sacred space.

If I open the door for you, you better know that it’s the highest honor I could bestow upon you and your court. Suffering from anxiety and facing the daily battles that brings, leaves you empty and powerless and in desperate need of a recharge. To recharge, the space must be freeing, under your control…

My routines have routines

Routine. Noun. A sequence of actions regularly followed; a fixed program. (Right from the good old dictionary) Imagine you are starting the process of baking a cake. Maybe your mom has a big birthday coming up or one of your little one’s is celebrating their first, whether it’s a chocolate cake or Funfetti flavor- just…

Is this the start or finish line?

Funny thing is the start and the finish line are both a similar bold white painted line straight across the road. One lines has large bold letters painted across it spelling out the word: Start, while the other line spells out: Finish. If only the lines were as clear in real life. We are at…

Patience is not my virtue.

House buying is definitely not for people without patience. My mother tells me while she was in labor with me, that the doctors told her not to push yet. “Stop pushing Mrs. Thrasher” I imagined they said. “I’m not!” she most likely blurted out frantically. Well since day one, I wait for no one. Especially…

Loss.

Here we meet again. This is the intersection I try to avoid with all my power. The lights are broken and always blink, leaving everyone at it to make that painful decision about who gets to cross next. That wasn’t the best analogy, but it describes the anxiety that comes with loss rather well. I…