A place for stories about chronic illness, disability, mental health, and neurodivergence.
Essays
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I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but after three years of psychotherapy with Dr. M, it was time to let go.
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I’m stuck at the traffic light on Yale and Colorado and I’m thinking about the size of the nail, the nail the Romans hammered through Jesus’ feet.
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You smile back from your bed and watch me as I attach the four clips to the blue netting beneath you.
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1. I don’t need to apologize.
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I felt bathed in golden light of understanding: my past opened up to me in a whole new way.
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In Toothpaste, the essayist learns to live with PTSD as a result of illness, surgeries, and medical malpractice.
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