i realized this morning, right after i (far too aggressively) tugged on my prized cashmere sweater- the one reserved only for days when you need extra comforting- and right before i stomped defiantly back in the direction of BED, that i am nervous to talk to you, body. i am squirrelly inside, agitated from the buildup up of thoughts +…
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dear body, something happened here.
dear body, can i get a witness?
it’s been almost a year since i wrote to you. or rather, i’ve started plenty of letters, (like, so many) but i haven’t finished a single one. in what appears to be an ongoing barrage of both high + low key traumas, it turns out that some seasons are simply too personal, too tender, too fraught for words. sometimes when you are…
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dear body, i am building us a shelter.
dear body, when i started writing these letters, it was mostly just a way to process all the health scares we’ve been having, a small but cathartic act of defiance against a growing new collection of diagnoses. a list that frankly, scared the shit out of me. *deadpans to a camera that isn’t there* something shifted along the way though,…
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dear body, it’s all close to the surface now
it’s 10:18 on monday morning and i am still lying in bed where i have been for the past 3 hours, both too tired to get up and too awake to sleep when my phone buzzes next to me. “hi, mom”, i answer. “hi honey. okay, now listen, i don’t want you to get upset, but yesterday I was talking…
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dear body, take the trip.
dear body, i love how you are fully awake and present when we are in new places. there’s something about new sights, smells, and sounds that makes you sit up and pay attention in a different way. or maybe it’s just how time takes on a new attitude… how it speeds up and drags on during travel. how it teaches…
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