(Although you probably should.)
On Tuesday afternoon, my phone went off with a news alert about something that had happened in Louisville, Kentucky. I live in southern Indiana, directly across from Louisville, and it’s a city that profoundly breaks my heart every day. It’s a city steeped in history—much of it rife with discrimination, racism, poverty, and violence of... Continue Reading →
Over the past couple of years, I’ve been working to heal to a point where I’m comfortable sharing my story. Writing my first memoir helped that tremendously; now that my story has been written and subsequently read by complete strangers, it’s gotten easier, somehow, to verbally share my story in face-to-face interactions. While I don’t... Continue Reading →
It all begins with my story, one that began long before I could even speak…one that continues to haunt me to this day as additional memories surface. The thing I’ve learned about healing, though, is that I have to start with what happened to me, that way I can process my feelings and find a way to deeply understand that as much as I didn’t deserve what happened to me, I am also more than the sum of my traumas. And, in part, this is what happened to me.
Over the past several months, I’ve noticed a significant amount of anti-Italian humor on Twitter. Perhaps it’s the algorithms, and I’m seeing more of it because I’ve posted a bit more lately about being an Italian-American, or maybe there is a surge for some reason I’ve yet to discover. Whatever the reason, the reality remains:... Continue Reading →
I’ve been reading Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving by Pete Walker, and yesterday, I read chapter six, “What is My Trauma Type?” As I was reading, I realized I’ve had different responses to different traumas, which completely blew my mind. For years, I’ve struggled identifying my “trauma type,” primarily because I believed an individual... Continue Reading →
Every summer, it happens. The cookout gear goes on sale. SUVs laden with camping equipment and boats speed down the interstate. Tri-color attire appears en masse as matching flags are raised on porches. All of these things happen in a celebration for the day American colonies declared their independence from King George III’s tyranny. Yet... Continue Reading →
I stayed up last night to watch the coverage out of Kyiv, listening to reporters talk about the latest developments with over the sound of explosions. It’s a sound I’d never heard before, except in movies…and it’s a sound I’ll never forget. Since I was a teenager, I’ve always owned shirts that say “Make love,... Continue Reading →
Last Monday, I started reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle. Again. I read it last year when I was in a prolonged triggered-state by the investigation into my former teacher’s sexual misconduct—a gift from my bestie. I started reading it again last week because it was the only thing that made sense to me. And after... Continue Reading →
Whenever I read nonfiction, I have to keep a stack of flags nearby. I always find passages that I want to blog about, or quotes I want to remember, or articles for further reading I want to find online. Reading Missoula by Jon Krakauer was no different. I started this book August 8 and finished... Continue Reading →
As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve spent part of the pandemic taking classes online through Coursera. One of those courses is from Stanford University, taught by Anne Firth Murray. The class explores Women’s Health and Human Rights around the world, and one of our first assignments was to read the 1995 Beijing Declaration,... Continue Reading →
don't ask Liv 
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