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…and Other MisAdventures in Attachment Injury and Trauma Response. Tristan and Isolde with the Potion (1916) by John William Waterhouse Public Domain. Cropped from original via Wikimedia Commons Content note: This essay discusses trauma, childhood neglect & abuse, fawning, dissociation, neurodivergence, sex, and—gasp—Pre-Raphaelite art. Have you ever heard of limerence? I hadn’t until very recently.…
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Or, how to find community when you don’t quite fit. Generated by ChatGPT, 11/08/25 Content note: This essay discusses infertility, breastfeeding, dementia, caregiving, childhood trauma, complex PTSD, grief, and loss. I have not had the best luck with support groups. Or rather, maybe it’s just more accurate to say that support groups are complicated,…
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ENG 100, Paper 1. Tech Reflection. Oct, 2025 How Changing My Relationship with Social Media Made Everything Better. I was addicted to social media. Fully addicted, and I hated it. For more than a decade—from installing the apps on my first smartphone until just after my 50th birthday—checking Facebook and Instagram was the first…
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Happy St Jude’s day to you all! Today I registered for spring classes here at DCCC, and I am over the moon about how much I love school and how good it feels to flex in this way. I am killin it. I am writing all the time. I am taking good care of…
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If you had told me I would be weeping for anything other than sheer relief a month and a half after two hospice journeys and my seven-year career as a caregiver ended, I would have told you to shut your pretty mouth. But here I am, heartbroken and lonesome, crying myself to sleep. Oh,…
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Or how many times can I use the word “fuck” in a single of writing? I tend to think about my nervous system only when I am feeling fucking nuts: the escalation of flight, the shutdown of freeze. I know this kind of dysregulation all too well. These are my steadfast, vigilant companions, and…
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Three of Swords from Tarot of Mystical Moments by Catrin Welz-Stein, Reversed. Hospice for Haters Hospice for the Hopeless Hospice for Healers? The last syringe of morphine I administered to my mother on her deathbed was met with a clamped jaw, pursed, unyielding lips, and tears rolling down her cheeks. I will probably never…
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The 10 of Swords from Tarot of the Mystical Moments by Catrin Welz-Stein The title of this essay comes from Annie Kotowicz’s short and sweet memoir, What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic. Consider this a set of CliffNotes to my experience of neurodivergence and related subjects. In each section, I will share…
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The Moon from Mystical Moments Tarot by Catrin Welz-Stein For most of my life, I’ve felt like a failure. A rather fair-to-middling one, I grant you—I did have loads of privilege and a cussed determination to fall back on—but a failure nonetheless. Let’s get right to it. I started struggling—and failing—young. My entire academic…
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I admire this human endlessly. I marvel at her regularly. She was a rare and brilliant gem. Today is Becky’s birthday, and boy, do I miss her. I miss her warmth, her charm, her talent, her goofiness… I even miss the feeling of being so much less—less charming, less impressive, less popular, all of…
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Kiddo and I had an archery lesson. I managed a few bullseyes. The rest were hers. Today is my 51st birthday. If I ever have moments of doubt about how well loved I am, all I need to do is remember how, each year on June 10th, the tiny computer in my pocket practically…
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Writings from April to June, 2025 [Nine of Swords from Tarot of Mystical Moments by Catrin Welz-Stein] My mom died six months ago, right before Christmas of 2024. And I have a confession. But first, allow me to state a few things before I share my admission. I want and need to, so you…
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My mom died a month ago. I have everything and nothing to share about this. I am not even sure what kind of post I want or need this to be. About her? About me? I am left living with only one of those things, so here we go. As most of you know,…
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In the days leading up to the covid-19 social isolation, I felt a distinct thrill like you might on the eve of a snow day or the moment the lights go out and you have to find the candles, but as I face this first full day, I just have to say that I…
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When I decided to move home to be the full-time caregiver for my family, I expected the hardest part would be to manage my mom’s ever-increasing dementia. Of course, this would be hard. The world tells you how hard this will be and I had few illusions. I also wondered if being a for-real…