To my sister-in-arms who can barely breathe after the betrayal—your lungs will recover, your heart will heal.

When I was a teenager, I nearly died in a tent fire at a family reunion. The flames from an overturned old-school propane lantern erupted near the door and melted the zipper shut, sealing me and three other family members inside. Luckily, family members outside our burning tent were able to rip it apart and … More To my sister-in-arms who can barely breathe after the betrayal—your lungs will recover, your heart will heal.

“WTF is wrong with you, lady?” and other gruesome moments in the ER—an infidelity story for all struggling marriages.

I microblog (write and share in smaller snippets) over on Facebook and the other day, the Wizard of Zuck showed me this photo—wanting me to know it was my most commented on photo of 2016. Mmkayyyyyyyy??????? I’ll roll witcha, FB. Not sure it’ll be what you had in mind, though. Because this was back when … More “WTF is wrong with you, lady?” and other gruesome moments in the ER—an infidelity story for all struggling marriages.

That thing that almost killed you? Well, it didn’t. So now it’s likely your new purpose in this life.

My teenage daughter and I temporarily tatted up for an inspiring local event called IGNITE, some years ago. We got inked with one word that intoned what I was ever longingly looking for at the time—purpose. The only thing I’ve ever truly wanted to be without any doubt was a mom. Beyond raising my children, … More That thing that almost killed you? Well, it didn’t. So now it’s likely your new purpose in this life.

Ending your too-long struggle with secrecy and shame: tell your hard story to break the heavy bonds of self-imposed silence and finally begin to heal fully.

Once my secret was told, she surprised me by saying, “Me too.” And then we wept together. … More Ending your too-long struggle with secrecy and shame: tell your hard story to break the heavy bonds of self-imposed silence and finally begin to heal fully.

The reason we end our silence and finally disclose our sexual abuse.

I was 10 years old when my ongoing sexual abuse at the hands of a male relative finally ended. I don’t remember how old I was when he began molesting me, only that I was too young to understand what was happening and what it was called. Or that it was criminal and demented and … More The reason we end our silence and finally disclose our sexual abuse.