I ran because I liked the way it hurt. Not in the Nike-Just Do It-way, but in the I-really-need-to-increase-my-therapy way. Running started in earnest in early October as an agreement with my husband. I had been diagnosed with PTSD, gotten... Continue Reading →
Lunch is my most difficult meal next to breakfast. I can never decide what I want to eat so I've begun only alternating between two options: tomato soup with (burnt) grilled cheese and chunky tomato soup with (burned) grilled cheese.... Continue Reading →
Her hair shines with the day-before-yesterday's shower. It hangs, slightly curled and floating down her shoulders, matching the brown wood grain she sits against. Her light blue eyes are alert and absent, scanning the passing faces for the one she... Continue Reading →
I decided that I would write every day for Lent 2013. I felt the spirit lead me away from fasting because I default to prefering suffering instead of the goodness of the grace. I haven't written much this week because... Continue Reading →
I came down to the water to sit at the feet of the City and watch 5 o'clock hit, which is when everyone in NYC keeps working. Except for the puddles of black snow hiding in the shadows, it felt... Continue Reading →
I only played basketball for two years, and I was only allowed to play on defense. Which was sometimes awkward. Towards the end of close games, the coach would sub me in when their team had the ball and sub... Continue Reading →
I'm alone and waiting for the laundry to dry that I've put off all day. 35 minutes left. I began thinking about doing it at 11am when I woke up to kiss Ted goodbye for his first Saturday emergency work... Continue Reading →
Poor Ted came home to me bawling on the couch. Is there anything worse than a newly wed husband coming home finding his young wife weeping her makeup off? "I-I-I- - -TH-TH-THIS," I wailed pointing to my computer which is... Continue Reading →
It's been almost a year since I've written. I'm sorry; I've been busy. I got a husband. Became a wife. Began therapy for my psychiatric disorder. Fought depression, anxiety, and myself. Quit my job. Faced my night terrors. Found my voice. Emancipated... Continue Reading →
C. M. Sangalis 