I was born in Oregon. But I have very little memory of it. When I was four, the desert became my home. The land that has prickly pears and citrus. We aren’t known for fresh …
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Wild Blackberry Bushes of Trauma
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#ReturnTheLetter
I found a place for my letter. Yes, THAT letter. At the end of September, while everyone was gripped by the scenes of Dr Blasey Ford’s interrogation by a prosecutor from Maricopa County, AZ, I …
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Soiled Innocence
Today, oh what a dear blessing to my soul. I was able to visit the home my family lived in when I was 0-4. Southeast Portland (Woodstock). Marcia, a precious family friend who lived two …
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No Man’s Land
I was reminded today that some of my posts might imply I’m on the other side of the battle—risen and racing ferociously through to advocacy for survivors. Having it all together. Strong. Warrior. Clean post-battle …
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Sound of Silence
“When the solid ground is falling down underneath my feet; between the black skies and my red eyes, I can barely see….” — Eye of the Storm I woke today in anguish. Heart and soul …
