When my second kid was an infant, I had a nervous breakdown. I look back at the blog entries for that time and it’s not really there. I thought I was revealing myself, and in the posts, the crazy is obviously there, but the gravity of my situation never made
When I saw my parents on the way to a wedding last month, I tried to get my mom to consider respite care for my dad as his dementia progresses. “I’ve been looking,” she confessed. “But I can’t find a male nurse. There’s plenty of females in the business, but
Am fast discovering the impossible — after fantasizing from the time my oldest was about six months old (ten years ago) of that day, THAT GLORIOUS DAY, when my youngest child would go off to kindergarten, I would loose the tender shackles of full time motherhood, and be restored to
Starting to feel pretty sure going to therapy is like playing with a Ouija board, in which whatever entity has pissed you off so bad that spending $140 cash money to bitch to a stranger seems like a reasonable option, is drawn back into your realm. Before therapy, I was
Last week I gave up the ghost and went to therapy. I know talking it out, taking care of oneself, healthy to ask for help, all that. But last week, I was a middle aged woman, ugly-crying in a stranger’s office at 9:00 in the am. On the balance, I