In my book You Don’t Look Adopted, I made my mother the other as a way, in part, to deal with things about myself I did not know how to accept and/or embrace.

I have the sense that feeling like a bottomless pit, for me, has come from a core decision that I said NO to life when I was born and separated from my mother: not this life, not you, not them, not it, not me.

Karri and I were talking about her upcoming Adoptees On episode, and we were excitedly saying how much we loved Haley and her show, and then it came to me that we should tell her in a way that she can’t run away from—not to her face but ON SCREEN!!

I don’t know how to grow things. I know how to go to the store, buy lettuce, and then go out for pizza and let the lettuce rot.

When your father writes what he wants you do with with the body, you pause.

Most people see the fab four crossing the street, but I see them walking away, leaving.

I mean, you’re going to die anyway, so you might as well make the most of the time you have here.

I tend to resort to greeting cards when I’m not able to come up with words myself, but I still always have a hard time finding a card with words I can relate to or want to say.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved a turkey…

Enjoy this post! It’s my gift to you.

I kept thinking I was on the wrong groove: I was a needle stuck in static, a train that was in danger of flying off the tracks. I lived with a body sense of not safe, not home, not okay. I thought I would write my way to okay, but I wrote about being not safe, not home, not okay, and so there I was—not safe, not home, not okay.

Increasingly, I am working on thinking mostly about the past to thinking mostly about the present and the future.