There is an energy needed to write. I’m not talking about physical or mental energy. I’m talking about energy from somewhere deep inside that propels you to dispel the noise, the consequences, the point… and do it.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve exhausted

I’m sorry for the delay. I thought sending my proposal out would give me more time to write. Instead, it’s given me more time to think—which is far worse.
Lately I’m spinning between wondering if I’m getting divorced, pining for

My husband has always been embarrassed by me. If I’m honest, that’s been the through line of our marriage. I’m too much. Out of line. For years, I took this at face value—believing everyone else must see me that way too. Only

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,