This post is part of a series telling a longer story. You can find yesterday's post I Am From White Also, But Not Only here. I asked in my group of writing friends, holy misfits in their own ways, would you please pray? Would you pray for me because I am knots and nerves and every bit that little girl who didn’t want the wrong answers to reveal she couldn’t explain herself. I had seen the link on a friend’s Facebook page for an Authors Retreat for People of Color. I was excited that my …
God
I Am From White Also, But Not Only: Part 1
We did an exercise. A poem with I am from. I've done it before with SheLoves. There's something kind of like it on my About page. But this is what I learned about myself. I am from white also, but not only. I was a girl who believed herself to be unlike the others. I had dirty secrets and broken places and I could never force the jagged bits down smoothly when I pushed up against the fringes of the gathered ones. I would approach tentatively and stand at the edges dipping my toes into hope, …
Dead to Center: Living with Bipolar
On the good days I fear that I’ll get sucked back under, churned wild under the waves, like a spin cycle set to run too long agitating me this way and that. I feared it when I was jubilant and every good thing was like low hanging fruit, so ripe and easy to pluck from the branches, heavy with worth and promise. I fear the fall. Sometimes hope terrifies me. I’m not supposed to say that. It seems contrary to all the good things like faith and promise and trusting God. Here’s the funny thing. I …
