In good therapy, you usually start talking about one thing and find out you’re really talking about something else entirely. That happened yesterday.

Does your twelve-year old self want to hang out with my twelve-year old self? My 50 year old plans to hang out with her so we can completely lose it together over this hilarity:

Billy Joel, what were you thinking?

People keep telling me the story isn’t over. But actually, the story I was writing is over.

I told a friend once that an empty nest would have been difficult for me in the best of circumstances. But this…

Since I stopped going to church, I feel more myself than ever. I’m (slowly) starting to transition from blaming the church culture to accepting there’s two people in every toxic relationship, but I know, most likely, I will never return. Sorry, Abuela.

YES! I am practicing gratitude. Trying to let go of all the things: control, bitterness, resentment. And I pray in the shower. Lately, it goes like this.

While my conscience crossed her arms, my subconscious grabbed the steering wheel and drove through my dreams. Even days later, I remember the dreams well. All of them involved former church communities.

Whatever it was, it set me on a path where I have yet to stop feeling lost. My relationship with food and wine used to bring me so much pleasure. Now I feel like they hold me hostage whether I indulge or not.