It all came rushing back in an instant and suddenly it wasn’t 2020 anymore. It was 2005 when I first met him and 2008 when we started dating and 2012 when we moved in together. It was a million memories escaping from a box I could have sworn I’d sealed and buried interminably. He stood … More 2020: the hits | part II | loved and lost.
“Things don’t really get solved. They come together and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” – Pema Chödrön It was a year for making room, more than anything else. It often … More 2020: the hits | part I.
I can’t stop thinking about 2017. I’ve developed this dreadful, irritating fear that maybe 2017 was the peak of it all…maybe I’m never going to reach that kind of good again. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve scrolled through my photo library from 2017, searching for some kind of hidden message – a … More when she was good.
Should the universe decide to offer an award for the most loving and respectful breakup in history, we’d probably win. Turns out Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin didn’t invent the term ‘conscious uncoupling’ – it’s been around for decades, used as an alternative theory or philosophy for divorce. My partner and I didn’t get divorced … More the way we were.
One of the things they don’t necessarily tell you when you get sober is: the jig is up, kid. Meaning: you can’t bullshit yourself anymore. Meaning: you can try all you want to convince yourself you have no idea what’s going on, but the little voice at the bottom of your soul is forever-audible when … More i wanna get better.
For months now, maybe even a year, writing lacks it’s former fluidity and I’ve struggled to put words down on paper. Sometimes, a thought will form and I’ll grab my phone and punch out a few quick lines or paragraphs about a topic I plan to explore later…but always, the idea sits unformed and abandoned … More from where I sit.
In a quiet corner of suburban Michigan on the third floor of an apartment building there sits 605 square feet of resonant space. The place I built my bones. When I moved in in April 2015, the apartment felt anything but sacred – more like a holding cell, a place to temporarily accommodate my belongings … More love song to solitude.
April 2016. When did it get so fucking hot? I thought anxiously, praying to god the sweat beads accumulating on my upper lip weren’t as noticeable as they felt. I was severely under-dressed when compared to the overall fanciness of this shindig and severely overdressed for the suddenly scorching late-spring Michigan weather. My outfit consisted … More no longer and not yet.
Probably, I’ll lose a toenail or four and I’ll almost certainly end up shitting in the woods in the rain hating all of my life choices. I’ll cross paths with venomous snakes and stand on the side of a road, thumb in the air, cursing the unfortunate necessity of hitchhiking alone despite promises to myself … More suit and jacket.
Hi baby girl. Come close. I need you to hear me. I need you to open your heart, just a sliver…I need you to let these words in. You don’t have to believe me, precious girl. Not yet. Just listen. And open. There are things I am not, and this is important. I am not … More five hundred.
brittanybare 