The Beautiful Mess
When I was growing up, I had no idea how emotionally composed and resilient my mom and dad were. In fact I’m not sure I’ll ever fully comprehend the stress they endured and the sacrifices they made so that they...
Thin as Thieves: My mother, her bulimia, and me
Trigger Warning: This story contains a graphic portrayal of my mother’s struggle with anorexia nervosa. If you are currently struggling, or are recovered, you may find elements of this story triggering. Rea...
15 Beginnings Of An Essay I Will Never Write
1.
My mom used to take me to her psychiatrist appointments. I’d bring Pogs. I was nine. She’d leave me in the waiting room by a wooden bench and a table covered in back issues of The New Yorker. I was always...
