GiaB prompt #2–2 time — “The days are long, but the years are short,” a person once said to me soon after I had my first child. I was confused then, but eight years and another child later, I understand. The days are long, and the years are short. There are some days, deep in…

GiaB prompt #22 intimacy — As I rummaged through the overflowing laundry bin at the bottom of the laundry chute I came across my husband’s favorite bike shirt. I was sorting for a load of darks and the shirt is white, but I know that doesn’t matter to him because when he does the laundry…

Was picking up after me too much? — Dear Cleaning Service, I thought the last four years went okay. Sure, we took that year or so off from one another while a worldwide pandemic ravaged its way through our community, and I tried my best to clean my own house. I mean, I was home, and we weren’t…

Please stop telling us about your poop. — Dear Four Year Olds: I get it. You poop. I poop, too. I know it’s exciting for you, especially after all of that time you spent pooping in a diaper. I am sure it feels good to let it go free in the toilet now and flush it all away…

Or is this a lie women tell themselves? — A couple of months ago, I learned about Only Fans. I know, I was late to the party on this one. If you are late to the party, too, Only Fans is a social media platform where people can subscribe to follow a user to gain access to the content…

Please don’t yell or play Janet Jackson — What if you have experienced trauma but don’t meet the formal criteria for PTSD? Can you still have responses related to trauma in your life? Why, yes. Yes, you can. My parents argued throughout my childhood. The mild fights were screaming and swearing at one another, while the scarier fights…

Where I go when I find myself in an existential hole — What am I even doing here? What will it be like when I die? On nights when I allow myself the space to think too much and too deeply, my brain digs itself into a deep existential hole. …

I hope you’ll always like me — To my sweet boys Maverick and Abel, Maverick, you are 7, and Abel, you are 4. I am deep in the trenches of parenting you; of “mommin’ it hard” as I like to say to my friends. I am tired. Constantly. Long ago I lost the ability to pee by…

I walk into a box. It is too small for me. My shoulders brush the walls when I spin around. I can not make big movements. I have to shrink to fit and feel even slightly comfortable in this space. I have been in the box for a while now…