When I Tell You My Story

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 →

Voicing My Story

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.

“Life is brutiful.”

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 →

Women’s Rights are Human Rights

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 →

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