I’m seventeen years old. The first place I go to when I get my driver’s license is church. I’m hungry for Jesus. I’m dating a boy who loves Him very imperfectly but his family embodies Grace and Love in a way I have never experienced. I want what this family has. I need it. I… Continue reading That Time I had a Mental Breakdown in Church
Mom, I’m writing because I’m angry. I’m angry because you’ve changed. I’m angry because who you are now is who I needed you to be then. You are fierce and strong. You can be harsh, no doubt. Mean, certainly. But you are at least a warrior on my team. You will fight against everyone else… Continue reading A Letter
I stay up and wonder why. Why the desert. Why the hollow. I’ve spent six weeks with my spiritual guide. My sage. My yogi. My Ace. I’ve been inspired and taught and shaped and explored. But my heart comes up crumbly and achy and dry. I have no scriptures on my tongue. No heart revelations.… Continue reading Dead Bones
Let me tell you a just little something about self-compassion. History shows I can be downright mean to myself. Imagine something b****y you might say when you’re stressed, snappy, hangry, or feeling back-stabbed. This is what I’ve said to myself for everything, including the tiny things. I can’t handle even the slightest bit of criticism… Continue reading Self-compassion
Ms. H’s class was a cool place to be in the fifth grade. I was a natural at using the Thesaurus feature in Microsoft Word for all of my papers, so she was of the belief that my vocabulary was quite developed at that tender age, when really I used Thesaurus as my final step… Continue reading beautiful stripped me.
Hello Pain. Hello Shawna, you came back. Do I have a choice, at this point? You always have a choice. Welcome. So glad you are here. Thanks. I see you’ve got one big, gaping, scarring thought on your mind. Should we talk about it? I’d really rather not. It’s kinda the one thing, the one… Continue reading I Remember
Let me paint you a picture. Let’s say your friend has broken their arm, it hurts, they are complaining, and they can’t really move it. You being the smart person you are suggest that your friend should to go to the doctor, and your friend is adamantly against the idea because one time some doctor… Continue reading this is me. running away.