What happens when you calm the wild in your mind to open to the silence?

What I can say is that in addressing my adoption, I have had to rethink what I am.

If you gave me a trillion dollars tomorrow, I bet I could spend it and enough to get me into debt by next Friday.

One day I hope to see my disappearing acts blossom into a superpower. I hope to discover that overcoming my greatest fear and embracing the devastating losses of my past plunges me into intimate contact with a world that is always dying, always being born anew.

It’s confusing when part of feeling alive also involves destruction.

Writing a report for work.

The task is officially accepted. Time to shit myself ever so slightly.

Stealing caused me the most pain and gave me the most satisfaction.

The other day in our Flourish class, we talked about the MEGAPHONE VOICE, the voice you carry perhaps in your sternum that comments (INSIDE) on life as you lead it with your, as Ron said, strap-on face (somewhat) firmly in place.

I want my story to be liked for its plot, its characters, and its dialogue. I don’t want somebody to dislike my characters purely because they are non-binary or of non-Caucasian heritage. Essentially, race and sexuality will be almost entirely ambiguous.

It’s 6:58 AM, and the rising sun is in my eyes.

I asked Robyn if she wanted to do a webinar with me where I present some of the situations I think parental involvement could have launched me more successfully into a life as an adopted person marked by a feeling of safety in my body, confidence, and the ability to more clearly communicate my feelings both to myself and others.

You know that scene in Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams’ character, the therapist, says to Matt Damon’s character over and over “It’s not your fault”?