New: A Solemn & Ordinary Life. #Self-Care in Living with Depression

on one level, her day-to-day life had become solemn and ordinary; awkwardly commonplace, when {self-care} is at the top of her To Do. she thinks. what kind of person needs that to do? — a person that deep down disgusts herself. she starves herself all day long until her hungry body confused enough to relentlessly…

{I Lost the Month of May: A poem} by Melody Harrison Hanson

I lost the month of May somewhere between watching my mother suffer extreme pain and mental confusion. I felt her pass by heavily; Time, slowed to a crawl as I was watching. And now, the month of May is gone. Time lost cannot be retrieved. I know this as my friend’s cancer roars in wildly. This third…

{rough thoughts on love and mortality in the middle years}

I have no business writing when I need to be packing, preparing, paying bills, picking up prescriptions, cleaning house, and washing laundry, readying myself and the family for me to leave town.  These are very drafty thoughts on aging parents, ailing friends, launching teenagers, and being human.     Love and Mortality in the Middle Years Our…

Life is not Pass or Fail: A Mother’s Day Remembrance

I have always seen “weakness” as a defect and here on this blog I say a lot about what I consider to be my own weaknesses – the narrative playing in my head and here on these pages for years has been a fear that I am too broken and weak to be useful at all….

Why So Silent? (And My New Superpower)

I have a super power — Invisibility. I’m having a difficult time sorting things – knowing that I want to be writing, but accepting life, which includes very little time for creativity. My camera has fallen silent and well as this blog. I have done a little writing, including a piece for my church on the Eat…

{Blue Devils}

I live in a place of morbidity, where death hangs round, a constant companion.  When you have lost a parent you are constantly aware. Each moment, even pointless ones, are fraught with weighty meaning because there may be no more. And yet there has been so much pain, roads traveled, days endured the blue devils of hell traversed together….

Step On A Crack {A poem about Living}

She drank coffee at 4:29 in the afternoon but knew it won’t do the job on a soul that’s stopped dead. And no amount of caffeine is going to wake it. It happened a long time ago, so far back in time she can’t see it, certainly can’t remember when a little girl of puddles…

I Never Wanted to be Like My Mother

I never wanted to be like my mother. My mother stayed for more than 40 years in a marriage that broke her heart.  She admits now that she was afraid. She married in the late fifties, when women couldn’t even have a bank account in their name.  She was a teacher and worked to put…

MOTHER [a poem about a parent aging]

Something shifted in the cosmos today as I became a giver, her One. The one who thinks like a pastor, fondly listening inside to her heart which is lonely. The one who touches like a nurse, open to the clues, simple hints about pain. The one who creates food to share, serving the body and…

Three Simple Words

I am broken.  I’ll be quick to admit that about myself. It is no use trying to hide it.  And that is in some part what my blog is about — hoping that I can help someone else. Most of my adult life has been spent sorting out my broken heart while trying not to…

Growing Old is so Uncool!

Over the last five years my life story has been full of tension and some might say tragedy.  The process has been grueling and traumatic.  My parents have made a problematic imprint on my life.  I am working toward the days when I can celebrate again the good people that they are, but I must…