On the third day of my involuntary incarceration in Psych Ward 2, my husband finally called.
When I spoke to him, my heart lightened when he said he was proud of me. Happy I was taking this seriously. That he and my children would be waiting for me.
Yet as

The first two days I spent curled up in the fetal position. Trays of food were brought in, taken out, and replaced with others that would remain untouched. I couldn’t pick my head up off the pillow. Sleep was the only escape I had.
Hours earlier, they’

I will play a role. I will play a role. I will be a good wife. I will be a happy wife. I will not say anything. I will play nice. I will play nice. I will play a role. Just play a role. Just play a role. Your greatest

It’s hard to write when your hands are shaking.
I promised you all, however, to tell the full story. And, unlike some people, I stay true to my word. Even though, as I write this, it feels like rubbing salt into the wound. I am writing through pain,

I will not fight with my husband. I will not fight with my husband. I will sleep in the guest room again.
Because when we try and have a nice evening, when we watch something in bed, together, and then talk or engage, somehow, it turns into a fight. So,

I received a somewhat disturbing email last week. I had just finished an interview for the podcast, and I was feeling good. As I have been lately. Good enough that I sometimes wonder if I’m deluding myself. You’re not supposed to like work. Be happy. Feel

We went to the shore for Easter. The weather was supposed to be nice, and we figured it was worth the hour and a half drive.
Elizabeth, my youngest, could have resurrected Jesus herself with her screams. Then there was Emilia, frustrated with her little sister’s screams, and

I’m sorry for the delay. Things have been…weird around here.
My therapist has thrown out the word ‘manic’. My parents have expressed ‘worry’ and dying on a hill has entered the vernacular.
And the past few nights, when I couldn’t