finding Tuesday…

There’s a space between underdoing it and overdoing it that other people call Tuesday. I seem to have misplaced mine. It feels ridiculous to me that I, an intelligent 48-year-old woman, still don’t have the sense to stop and rest when I need to. I haven’t ever really known how to. Not consistently. But it’s … Continue reading finding Tuesday…

A close-up of a worn, vintage baby doll with pale skin and gray hair, lying partially inside a tattered cardboard box. Only one glassy brown eye and part of the face are visible, giving the doll a haunting, unsettling appearance. The background is blurred, emphasizing the eerie focus on the doll’s eye peeking from the box.

back in the box…

Sometimes, I just stop. Not because the day is over. Not because everything’s done. But because I’ve reached my limit. Sensory, emotional, existential—doesn’t matter which. My system throws a little internal breaker switch and suddenly it’s time. Back in the box. It’s not a literal box (though if you told me I could crawl into … Continue reading back in the box…

my history of understanding friendship — act I: the bracelet-making soulmate and the life-sized goodbye..

When I was a kid, friendship felt pretty straightforward. You’d walk up to another kid on the playground and ask if they wanted to play. If they said yes and were nice, boom: friend. If they said no or broke one of my sacred, unspoken rules? Not a friend. Just some kid with poor judgment. … Continue reading my history of understanding friendship — act I: the bracelet-making soulmate and the life-sized goodbye..