My childhood trauma sometimes triggers a cycle of events that leave me in a no-man’s-land of helplessness.
This is a guest post written by Joshua Rivedal. Read to the end for details on his projects. Captain’s log, Stardate January 2011. Where unfortunately many have gone before. I’m twenty-six years old and thinking about dying… actually I’m not being entirely truthful. I’m dangling halfway out the fourth floor window of my bedroom in
Depression kicks me in the nuts on a regular basis. After my revelation yesterday, I think my brain decided to get back at me. I had nightmares regarding my mother’s ex-husband, my family’s number one abuser, Dirk. I dreamt of endless arguments. I begged, pleaded, raged, and prayed that he would understand. My mother wasn’t
This time of year, Arizona is wet. Very, very wet. Yesterday it rained a lot. I drive a teeny little motorscooter and rain doesn’t mix well with safety on two wheels. Yesterday, I had to wait at work until the rain stopped. As soon as it cleared up, I popped on my brain bucket and
Fourteen years ago, I formed my most vivid holiday memory to date. July 4, 2001 is a day I will not be forgetting. Dirk, the true genius of DIY plumbing, made our family an arsenal of firework-powered weapons. Most notably, he made a series of steel pipe “guns” which shot bottle rockets. As you can imagine,
The ‘Stigma Fighters Anthology Volume One‘ went up on Amazon recently, and it includes an exclusive article by yours truly. Stigma Fighters is a non-profit advocacy group on a mission to educate folk regarding mental health issues. There are some powerful, beautiful, and (sometimes) heart-breaking stories in the 230 pages of unbridled honesty. It is
I was thinking about my old house again (go figure), and I remember a nasty old well we had. Our water source had been converted over to County utilities years before we came to squat in my childhood home in Arkansas. Long before the fire got the property, the ice wreaked its havoc as well.