PTSD, an improper diagnosis because post is past and this is our present

preamble: discovering breasts under my nightgown was one of the most traumatic experiences of my childhood. from that very moment i was trapped in a world with a constant bombardment of sexual attention so aggression i simply could not breathe. they no longer saw me. the me, i had been. the somersaulting-head-standing-singing-and-climbing-trees-daydreaming me was lost. overnight, i had become flesh…

mark 12:31 (expanded wanda addition to ensure enoughness for all)

Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these. Here’s the thing… I don’t want you loving me the way you love you with your overstuffed calendars and empty carryout tins   I don’t want love that’s squeezed in between teeth whitening and that 3rd Starbucks before car pool   I don’t want…

a woman with an issue (sermon from a couch)

there was a woman with an issue. 12 years she lived with a hemorrhage. 12 years, she bleed. all her money spent. no one could tell her why. no one could cure her of the issue. for 12 years, she lived. sick. tired. ostracized. alienated. defiled. broke. defeated. who doesn’t understand this woman. this woman…

if nothing else, you gotta respect the hood (the motherhood that is)

everyday i stand in complete awe of my position as a mother. and by awe i mean i’m generally scarred shitless about the wellspring of responsibility that is mine to navigate. and for those holier than thou types, take a moment and think about it…as a mom you hold the key to your child’s soon-to-be-adult…

i am an artist because my mother never told me to shut up

my mother never told me to shut up. i’m sure she wanted to and probably still does. on. a. daily. basis. but the truth is she never did tell me to shut up. not only did she not tell me to shut up when i talked she listened. and i knew she was listening because…