Failure to protect
- At October 05, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Current Events, Experiences
- 2
Once when I was in Gothenburg, I was abandoned on the street at one o’clock in the morning by my fiancé. The buses and trams stopped running that late at night and so while he jumped into a cab to get home, he left me behind. On purpose.
He was angry at me. I don’t know why, I rarely knew why. Maybe he had gotten embarrassed that evening or a comment was made by someone that he didn’t like, and as usual the anger and punishment was dealt to me.
I didn’t have the money to take a cab home myself. So when he phoned me from his ride, I asked him if he would he pay the fare for me when I got home. He told me to walk. He wasn’t going to pay two fares.
Read More»Strength for broken spirits
- At June 04, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Editorial, Experiences
- 2
I cried yesterday. That doesn’t happen often. I cried until my eyes were swollen, my body exhausted, and the cats freaked out because they didn’t know what to do about me. But that is generally the way – most people (and evidently cats) don’t know how to react to someone’s sadness or tragedy.
The cause of yesterday’s crying jag might have been because I was working on my memoir and memories were stirring deep. It might have been because of the post I read by Final Girl over at Kelly Sundberg’s site*. Whatever the reason, that crying session felt really good.
While I’m not particularly prone to crying, I’ve done my fair share of boohooing over the last year and a half. I’ve shed tears because of family and friends who have been silent. I’ve cried because of arguments with my son as he tried to reach through my trauma. I’ve cried over triggers (always a surprise) and an assortment of issues which were really uncomfortable.
Yesterday was different. I cried for me. I cried for the person I was twenty years ago, the person I was seven years ago, three years ago, and for the person I am today. I apologized to all those women. Naive and trusting. Scared and alone. Empowered and strong.
***
People often tell me how strong I am. They have been telling me this all my life. They tell me so often that it has began to feel dismissive. So, what does it means to be strong and what does it mean when we are told we are strong?
Read More»The certainty of my uncertainty
- At May 03, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Editorial, Experiences, Features, Musings
- 4
No one teaches us how to think. It’s not something we learn in high school and it’s not until perhaps college where we may be instructed as to the fine art of critical thinking or logic and philosophy. Many of us make important decisions based on emotional thinking.
Several months ago, friends and I were sitting around my strangely colored living room drinking cocktails and discussing the state of things. “Things” in this case would be politics, divisions between genders and society, physics, magic, writing – we frequently have such discussions here in Boston. We are not afraid of expressing opinions and having gentle (sometimes not so gentle) debate.
I can’t remember the exact topic of conversation at the time but my son who is a student of physics at UMass Boston said to me, “Why are you always so certain about things?”
Read More»How living abroad can break your heart
- At April 23, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Experiences
- 2
It is something that many of us might aspire to – the adventure and romance of living abroad. And while for some it is all of that, with travel to nearby foreign countries, new friends and new languages, there are ways in which living abroad can break your heart – no matter how effortlessly you have managed to fit in to your host country.
Being away means exactly that. So when there are weddings, graduations, births, or funerals which take place in your home country and you can’t go, either due to work or financials, it can be a devastatingly lonely event for those who have chosen to live in another country. It might not even be something as traumatic as a death or as joyful as a marriage. It could simply be that one day you are walking down the street and are struck by a feeling – an all consuming heart-wrenching knowledge that someone you love very dearly is 3,582 miles away.
Read More»Oliver Sacks – Write as if you knew your death date
- At April 01, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Experiences, Writing
- 0
I’ve become obsessed with the writings and lectures of Dr. Oliver Sacks. Not only was the man absolutely delightful – he had a sense of humor that often causes me chuckle through the lines of his essays and books – he was one of our greatest minds and a break-your-heart beautiful writer.
Sacks, a British neurologist and author, had an insatiable curiosity at what his website describes as “the far borderlands of neurological experience”. Through his writings for the general public, Sacks described for us conditions such as Tourette’s syndrome, Parkinsonism, migraines and musical hallucinations, phantom limb syndrome, schizophrenia, and Alzheimer’s disease. He explored what it meant to be a conscious individual and how our brains make us who we are. Dr. Sacks wrote and lectured about these things so we could understand them, infecting his audience with that same sense of awe one might experience when learning something new about the universe.
Read More»Cigarettes and Malice
- At March 25, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Musings, Writing
- 0
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve entered a post here. I’m not going to apologize for this because I believe my readers understand that there are times one needs to regroup and reflect on one’s path. The path is as important to me as the end destination but often the path is arduous and can be all consuming. The end is just the end. It doesn’t require a lot of work.
This isn’t to say that I haven’t been writing privately and I’ve written for a couple of different publications – namely Venü Magazine and Artscope Magazine – which has been deeply satisfying. But before sharing posts here with you, I feel a certain responsibility to be sure of the content I’m writing, the authenticity of my voice, and the validity of what I am sharing. These are self assigned essays, and posts which appear here are often something between the private thoughts I jot in my journal and the offerings I may provide for any editor of public consumption. It’s a tricky terrain.
It is said that a significant part of recovery from trauma includes embracing your thoughts and emotions – to really feel them as opposed to pushing them aside and soldiering on. There is a need to find answers to certain questions but there is also wisdom in being able to sit and accept the questions – many of which may go unanswered. For now. Forever.
Read More»A book and a bouquet
- At January 17, 2018
- By Lisa
- In Experiences, Musings
- 0
While we travel to arrive at a destination, it has always been the journey which spoke to my heart. A long car drive home at night, quiet and uninterrupted, or the excitement that comes with lift-off. There is the ambiance that accompanies the sound of a train along the tracks, and the companionship of a book and a bouquet illuminated by the compartment overhead light. These comings and goings are the expectant beginnings and reflective ends of an adventure. The act of travel.
Years ago, I took the train to New York City quite frequently. During one such trip I decided to indulge myself for the ride home and purchased something noteworthy and something beautiful. A treasured book and a bouquet. When I arrived home, they sat together on my desk as a reminder of that most recent trip. Later the book took up residence on a shelf, its pages stuffed with ticket stubs, receipts, and postcards. I loved this whole idea of a book and a bouquet so much that they became my ongoing companions on Amtrak.
Read More»How I became a writer (and the single life)
- At October 31, 2017
- By Lisa
- In Musings, Writing
- 0
It’s autumn now. The leaves turn gold and red. The Morning Glory vines have shriveled and turned brown, the chilly nights altering their assent toward the roof of the porch. Autumn makes me self-reflective and I’ve been thinking about where I’ve been and where I’m going. I consider the paths and opportunities available to me and these ideas remind me of my youth when all things were possible. I became a writer partly because of my mother’s insistence that I become a reader. She told me that books would “take me away” to far away lands, introduce me to interesting people, and teach me about the world.
My mother would strategically put books in places for me – on the back seat of the car and on the tank of the toilet. Always a book and a Reader’s Digest. This was pretty good thinking on her part because where else could I go when in a car or in the loo? But as a young girl, I wasn’t interested in books. I was interested in bugs and hanging around in the woods with my dog.
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