My therapist asks me this a lot. Not because she’s a stereotype (she isn’t) or because she likes to ask things ironically (she doesn’t), but because we are both learning that I don’t really let myself feel anything. I’m really great at taking care of other people and looking after their emotional needs, and I’m pretty […]Read More And how does that make you feel, Whitney?
Missing out on the job I’ve wanted for five years knocked the air out of my lungs. The Big Breakup Heartbreak pushed me to the ground and rubbed my face in the dirt. It left me feeling disoriented and unsure of myself. The Little Breakup Heartbreak gouged open old wounds and left me scared of […]Read More Perspective
It’s been two months since the Big Breakup Heartbreak and less than twenty-four hours since the Little Heartbreak. This isn’t some sort of “my one true love has been stolen from me forever” heartbreak, because I think you have several true loves in your lifetime: people who teach you things like how to steal diamonds, […]Read More Little Heartbreak
I have officially been single for one month. Though I don’t know what “officially” means, since the relationship never was confirmed on Facebook, so I couldn’t make it officially “over” via Facebook either. . . If a relationship status is never updated, does that mean the relationship wasn’t real? I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Kind of. […]Read More Happy Monthaversary to Me!
This is the list of things to do when you find yourself heartbroken, or bored, or depressed, or lonely, or hungry, or slightly (or extremely!) constipated: 1.Write about it. Write in your journal until your wrist hurts and you worry that you’ve developed carpal tunnel or arthritis or gangrene or leprosy. Then crack your wrist […]Read More The To-Do List
Mid-last week, I decided to make a list about all the Great Things About Being Single Again. The number one thing on that list? How much longer a tube of toothpaste will last me. When I discovered that, I laughed for a solid eight minutes. It was one of those side-aching, cheeks-hurting kind of laughs. […]Read More Hello. It’s Me.
I was originally planning on writing about why I am scared of my laundry basket. Not the basket itself, per se, but the heaps of clean clothes I put into it every week and never fold, because why do that when you live alone? Where was my accountability? My laundry basket looms large in my […]Read More Change of Subject
It began, as it always does, with Florida–the nation’s phallus. Around 7:30PM on November 8th, I paced around my mom’s kitchen eating ice cream and praying to whichever God likes girls who stress-eat ice cream while pacing around their mother’s kitchens. When Florida went for Trump, I started sobbing. I know that I tend to […]Read More The Downward Spiral
Back when I was a delusional college student, I used to dream about becoming a professional partygoer, like Tila Tequila, minus the tequila and the whining. I was enthralled by the idea of getting paid to attend parties and make the parties cooler. Here’s the thing. Even in college, I hated parties. I don’t like crowds. […]Read More Now What?
I stopped writing after the election. I didn’t write my morning pages. I only wrote poetry when I had to, which was once every other Friday for work. I didn’t touch my book. I couldn’t even look at my blog. I mean, no one else was looking at my blog, either, so I didn’t feel […]Read More Our Voices Matter