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Merry Christmas to you, Jeremy, in jail!: A very PTSD Christmas Eve

I love Christmas. I’m a Christmas nut. Perhaps the result of growing up on a Christmas tree farm. I love the music and the movies and the pine cones on the mantle and the gingerbread cookies my four year old insisted using the cowboy hat cookie cutter for. 451 more words


The world needs our stories, not our statistics

by Lindsey Kukunda

I met a young Kenyan lady who told me that at 15, her parents sold her body to a man who was to pay the school fees they couldn’t afford anymore. 678 more words


pretending to grill in the garden of eden

I have lost some weight recently. A goodly amount, I think it’s fair to say. Only ten more pounds to go. I weighed 150 pounds nine years ago when my trauma began and by 2013 I was 224 pounds. 1,863 more words



With an election year in full swing, women’s issues are at the forefront. ¬†Does a woman have the right to say what happens with her body? ¬† 363 more words

Film Reviews

I have slept in the bed with evil

I am wearing all black today. I am in mourning. I am not going to make a joke about my goth days in high school. I am not going to compare the title of this post to that awful made-for-TV movie from the nineties starring Tori Spelling, “Mother May I Sleep with Danger.” This is no joke. 838 more words


Lemons and sugar in the snow

My husband and I are trying to get out and meet new people, to try to make some friends. “We’re putting ourselves out there,” I said to him as we discussed it the other night, “so to speak. 1,411 more words