The fight with my parents has seemingly resolved itself, yet the past week I’ve been waking at 3 a.m. in what I believe are panic attacks.
This is new for me. I don’t really panic. I get sad. I cry. But I don’t

Today is my second daughter’s first birthday. When I dropped her off at daycare this morning the teachers had a sign and balloons and started singing Happy Birthday. Then Ms. Nadiyah came over to me and said, “Can you believe it! She’s one!”
When

The thing no writer will say is their agent probably hasn’t called in six months. That they speak to their agent twice, maybe once, a year. That in reality, they’re terrified of their agent.

https://wordsofwomennewsletter.ghost.io/things-you-can-control/

When you get a message like this, when someone showers you with their interpretation of your actions, it doesn’t just make you feel bad, it makes you question yourself.

She’s caught off guard. She doesn’t understand. She disagrees. She thinks I’m seeing things wrong. Either way, the conversation is being had. I am saying the things I need to get off my chest. She takes it surprisingly well, I think, after she hangs up. Five hours later a text arrives.

“We have a game we play when we’re waiting for tables in restaurants, where you have to write the five things that describe yourself on a piece of paper…”

I can tell by her hair, her posture, the way she’s walking. It was Brittany –the witch (as I now refer to people in front of Emmy) who made my life Hell through middle school and high school.