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.
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.
# 3 Walking in love Here’s what it looks like when you tell people you’re romantically involved with a man who is twenty eight years older…a man who was born the same year your parents were born…a man who is also your boss: shockingly dull. Ours was a slow and methodical coming out. My partner … More 2017: the hits [part II]
Twenty one days into January and I’m only now getting around to writing this piece…which is sort of a really fantastic metaphor for how 2018 is unfolding thus far. I’m cold. To the bone, I am cold and I cannot seem to get warm. No matter how many baths I languish in or pairs of … More 2017: the hits [Part I]
My feet are planted firmly on the ground. My life, to an outsider, appears simple – boring, even. It doesn’t feel boring…at least not the kind of boring we ascribe to the uninteresting. Maybe it takes another soul who’s survived years of groundlessness, fear, and chaotic discontentment to understand the ethereal beauty of my day-to-day. … More all is calm; all is bright.
I originally wrote the following in Spring 2016. It’s been sitting as a draft ever since, though I’ve returned to it from time to time…like someone studying the pages of an old photo album. As I settle into my second year of sobriety, it’s become more and more difficult to remember what it looked like … More the look of it.
brittanybare 