Search

I question

When I spend a lot of time working on my book, it happens.


I start questioning my sanity.


I sit there, paralyzed...panicking.


Wanting to rip open my chest to make the pain stop.


I question who I am.


If I'm a good person.


If I'm well-intentioned.


What if I'm evil?


What if I'm hated?


What if nobody likes me?


What if I'm completely wrong about everything?


What if my version of reality isn't accurate?


Am I stable?


Can I be a mom someday?


Can I be a wife? A girlfriend?


Am I crazy?


If anyone knew what I went through, why would they trust me?

Recent Posts

See All

There's one that survived a cult. She still emails other survivors. The ones who have lost themselves or others. She works with the police. She documents what happens and works on her book. She does t

I spiral. I feel like I did when David told me he had cheated. I feel like I did when Michael said goodbye in the parking lot of San Jose. Or when he left me in the elevator. I feel it rush in my body

I buy kayaks. Bake brownies. Reupholster my chairs. I make spreadsheets and book hotels. I write out grocery lists and buy new clothes. I want everything to be right and ready. That's who I am.