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Regarding the Stories and Language we have for Love and Attachment. I am tired of being ruled by pressures, insecurities, fears, and the long, self-imposed limitations created by the neglect and abuse of my childhood. Likewise, I no longer wish to rely on self-isolation as a form of protection. I’ve processed, embodied, and healed…
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Considering self-soothing, attachment, and transformation. Part 1 : Bears. Can I tell you a story? It’s about a very young, very shy little girl who felt alone, unloved, and often unsafe. A little girl who, rather than seeking reassurance from her family, learned to tolerate those troubled feelings by sucking her thumb and desperately…
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…and Other MisAdventures in Attachment Injury and Trauma Response. Tristan and Isolde with the Potion (1916) by John William Waterhouse Public Domain. Cropped from original via Wikimedia Commons Content note: This essay discusses trauma, childhood neglect & abuse, fawning, dissociation, neurodivergence, sex, and—gasp—Pre-Raphaelite art. Have you ever heard of limerence? I hadn’t until very recently.…
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Or, how to find community when you don’t quite fit. Generated by ChatGPT, 11/08/25 Content note: This essay discusses infertility, breastfeeding, dementia, caregiving, childhood trauma, complex PTSD, grief, and loss. I have not had the best luck with support groups. Or rather, maybe it’s just more accurate to say that support groups are complicated,…
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Happy St Jude’s day to you all! Today I registered for spring classes here at DCCC, and I am over the moon about how much I love school and how good it feels to flex in this way. I am killin it. I am writing all the time. I am taking good care of…
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If you had told me I would be weeping for anything other than sheer relief a month and a half after two hospice journeys and my seven-year career as a caregiver ended, I would have told you to shut your pretty mouth. But here I am, heartbroken and lonesome, crying myself to sleep. Oh,…
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Or how many times can I use the word “fuck” in a single of writing? I tend to think about my nervous system only when I am feeling fucking nuts: the escalation of flight, the shutdown of freeze. I know this kind of dysregulation all too well. These are my steadfast, vigilant companions, and…
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Three of Swords from Tarot of Mystical Moments by Catrin Welz-Stein, Reversed. Hospice for Haters Hospice for the Hopeless Hospice for Healers? The last syringe of morphine I administered to my mother on her deathbed was met with a clamped jaw, pursed, unyielding lips, and tears rolling down her cheeks. I will probably never…
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The Moon from Mystical Moments Tarot by Catrin Welz-Stein For most of my life, I’ve felt like a failure. A rather fair-to-middling one, I grant you—I did have loads of privilege and a cussed determination to fall back on—but a failure nonetheless. Let’s get right to it. I started struggling—and failing—young. My entire academic…
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I admire this human endlessly. I marvel at her regularly. She was a rare and brilliant gem. Today is Becky’s birthday, and boy, do I miss her. I miss her warmth, her charm, her talent, her goofiness… I even miss the feeling of being so much less—less charming, less impressive, less popular, all of…
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Kiddo and I had an archery lesson. I managed a few bullseyes. The rest were hers. Today is my 51st birthday. If I ever have moments of doubt about how well loved I am, all I need to do is remember how, each year on June 10th, the tiny computer in my pocket practically…
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Writings from April to June, 2025 [Nine of Swords from Tarot of Mystical Moments by Catrin Welz-Stein] My mom died six months ago, right before Christmas of 2024. And I have a confession. But first, allow me to state a few things before I share my admission. I want and need to, so you…
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My mom died a month ago. I have everything and nothing to share about this. I am not even sure what kind of post I want or need this to be. About her? About me? I am left living with only one of those things, so here we go. As most of you know,…