He was an awesome big brother for so many reasons (besides rockin’ big frames just like his kid sister).
“Catherine, we need to talk. You know, sometimes, when you see the cats in the yard, and it looks like they’re wrestling on top of each other? Well, they’re not really wrestling. They’re…”
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…He is NOT talking to me about this! I can’t believe this is happening. This is so embarrassing. Don’t look at him. Just look down. Pretend this isn’t happening. Think about something else. ANYTHING else.
When my older brother Eric sat me down to have the “birds and the bees” talk at the age of 12, I was mortified. Actually, there has to be a stronger word for my emotion. I wanted to disappear. An avid Star Trek fan, I never so badly wanted teleportation …
Olympic Judo hopeful Kayla Harrison is an incredible athlete. Her strength and skill have propelled her to the top of her sport, and earned her a spot on the U.S. Olympic team in London. But according to this NPR segment, she’s sometimes frustrated at the motives behind the bright spotlight:
“Do I wish that everyone would just talk about how, you know, awesome I am — and how I could be America’s first gold medalist? Yes, I wish that,” she says. “But America wants that comeback kid story. They want the person who overcame obstacles to reach their goals. And I fit that bill pretty well.”
I’ll let you read the article to find out the obstacles Kayla is speaking of. If she’d rather have more attention focused on her atheleticism than her emotional backstory, …
After the NCAA issued its ruling against Penn State today, part of me celebrated that the egregious cover-up was being treated seriously, and part of me mourned the justice that was not done after my brother’s death, after the deaths of four other victims, after thirty years of abuse was shoved under the rug.
That’s good. That’s a step in the right direction. But I can’t help getting mad all over again. By the time Robert Larson’s (the priest who abused my brother) legacy of sexual …
The beauty of the conference center’s garden was a gentle reminder that life is good. Life is to be enjoyed.
When someone tells me they enjoy reading my blog, I’m thrilled. But, when Malena Lott (founder and executive editor of Buzz Books), told me she enjoyed reading my blog, I was over the moon. Not only because I need constant validation like an insecure puppy, but because she likes my writing despite (or because of) the dark subject matter. And how did I respond to this compliment from an experienced, talented author? Did I take the advice of my former boss and swallow my self deprecation? Sort of.
“Thank you. I really have no idea what I’m doing.” Why did I say this? Was it true? Well, yes and no. Up until …
This man haunts my nightmares, when all I want to do is see Eric in my dreams.
Yesterday morning, as my mind began to awake from a deep, restful sleep, I shifted my body ever so slightly, and a searing pain shot through my neck and left shoulder. I tested the motion again, and knew this pain wasn’t going away with few ibuprofen. I was frozen. I was stuck. I couldn’t look down. I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t look left. I could’t look right. My face was pointed slightly down and to the left, and that’s where it stayed. I couldn’t shower, I could barely dress. I had to call for help to take care of my children and drive me to the chiropractor.
But why? Why so much pain? Why have my left shoulder …
As tempting as it is so stay in the rabbit hole, the outside is much more alluring.
12 posts. 5,324 words. Thousands of views. Hundreds of comments. I’ve been telling Eric’s Story for only a week, and already so much progress has been made. But friends, I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually exhausted.
I’ve descended into the proverbial rabbit hole, consumed by the creative process. My natural tendency is to dig deeper, stay longer, until I have to be retrieved after collapsing in the depths. But this time it’s going to be different. I will only write when the words well up inside me and spill out like water over a flooded dam when my fingers hit the keyboard. When it starts to feel like an obligation, it’s time to back away.
I’m taking a break, a …