Tired of the nagging fear of inadequacy that the books gave me and desperate to silence the voice saying, you should be doing more, I took my mom’s advice.
Farewell, My Lovey
But Lovey, she’s ten; it’s time to let her go. Everything she needs from you, she already has—except the will to leave you.
Someday, I Will Be Able To Write About Food
Someday, when food is not my best friend and worst enemy, my punishment and reward, my drug, my escape, my prison, I will write about it.
Five Things I Know Better Than to Wish For
Underneath these selfish and unrealistic wishes that skate across my mind is the knowledge that wishing alone won’t make it so.
- Page 2 of 2
- 1
- 2