Couldn’t we just put on a little music and dance?



I Am Struggling

I’ve written daily, sometimes multiple times in one day.

Until a couple of months ago.

A family member read something I wrote.

Panic ensued.  Demands for an answer were made.

I felt cornered, trying to explain myself, that this is what I, as a writer, am compelled to do.

To allow my heart to bleed across the pages, oftentimes revealing the most painful and harsh thoughts.  Letting them escape my mind and body in a way that relieves me of the pressure that builds within.  A release that ensures that thoughts will never come to action.

But it has almost stopped me in my tracks.  I begin to write the realities and truth of what I am feeling.  And stop.

I am struggling because I want to write, I need to write… but I can’t write without honesty.

How do write again?


Her Mr. Big

Marathon watching Sex and the City

recalling the Mr. Big in her life story.


He brought her soul to life each time

he gifted her with his time and presence.


But she was never enough as he chose

others instead over her meager offerings.


So much time she gifted him, she

never became a part of a sisterhood.


How she regrets not finding her

Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda.


How she regrets Mr. Big…