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some stuff i've written about healing

day 7: my body afraid of love

I told her about how sometimes I can feel my ribs shrinking, how my shoulders curve inward to protect my heart and I have to consciously remind myself to breathe, breathe, breathe.

How I Will Remember This House

Last night while I was mowing the lawn barefoot by the last light of dusk, I found myself wondering how long I’d be here. Is this little rental on the north edge of Minneapolis a many-years home, or just a right-now home? I don’t know.

The Truth About Waking Up

I read your message last night, the one you sent a week or two ago. You told me about how my faith and hope are helping you hold on to faith and hope even when you want to give up. You…

Day 16: Healing

I don’t need a calendar to tell me it’s been a year. I can feel it in the air when I step outside, the crisp wind that tears leaves from trees and sends them skidding down Minneapolis sidewalks. Images crowd…

Day 08: Learning Poetry

  Today is National Poetry day, so I want to share one of my favorites with you. I first heard it from my friend Stephen, during our cross-country road trip at the start of this year. Somewhere in the Utah desert, probably….

Day 07: Playing with Legos

I’m sitting on the floor in the boys’ bedroom next to an ocean of Legos. The three-year-old is building a monster truck, or at least an abstract impression of a monster truck. Every few minutes he lets out a roar…

Day 04: Figuring My Life Out

I had an existential crisis before I got out of bed this morning. This isn’t particularly unusual, although the source was slightly unexpected: Mindy Kaling. I was reading Is Everybody Hanging Out Without Me? (as you do on Sunday mornings)…

When We Are Healing

When I read these words by Sarah Ann Roginsky, I feel like she is speaking the heart of so many. She says things here that I have felt myself, many times. Maybe you’ve felt this too: Healing. It is not…

Confessions of a Recovering Cynic

For years, I wore the label on my forehead in big black letters: “Cynic.” I was eighteen, nineteen, twenty and immersed in a dysfunctional system where authoritarianism and cognitive dissonance ruled supreme. I was a boy becoming a man and…

Life in the After

Becca Rose is one of the bravest. Not only in the way she writes her story of freedom, but the way she fights to live that story. Becca blogs at bookwormbeauty.com and is the only person I know who tweets even…