Lovesick
What’s happening now is an undoing. It’s a ripping open of these scars, and an outpouring of love. It’s burning like molten lava as it leaves my body. It’s feeling bare and exposed. It makes me want to vomit
Friends to Lovers
I shy away from talking about my marriage and my love life too much; atleast I feel like I do. Depending on who is on the other side of the conversation. It feels embarrassing. It feels like others might mock me. How could she really have such a respectful and loving marriage? Do those exist? And with a man? Where did she find him?
Celebrating Steve Authentically
When somebody dies, it’s easy to feel like we owe them a grand celebration. Where we can all gather round and share the happy memories. Upon more thought, this felt very performative to us. We both had chosen to not have an active relationship, and had not for the past 2 years. To have to be in a room full of people from my father’s past, that knew nothing of our current relationship with him, felt phony.
Untethering from my father
Depression knew him better than most people. It lived with him for years of his life. It convinced him that their history meant more than all the glimmers of goodness other people brought into his world. It promised a future free of pain if he would lay down his trust. In a life filled with so much pain, how can anyone blame him for falling for it. Those who knew my father, and I mean really knew him, can rest a little easier knowing he is no longer in pain. In exchange for his pain, depression didn’t tell him it’s trade off.