Tag Archives: depression

The Fourth Assault

I really believed the worst of it was behind me. I would graduate from college in less than two years, and I would leave my parents’ house, and I would be safe. I thought I could tell who was an abuser and who wasn’t. I knew I could tell the difference. I had to believeContinue reading “The Fourth Assault”

Siddhartha

But depression does not recede with the ministering of kind words from a friend. Joe’s words had been a balm, and the pain stopped smarting enough that I could continue. But looking back, I do think depression persisted in a milder form for years—largely because of my parents’ ongoing abuse. I made poor decisions thatContinue reading “Siddhartha”

Joe

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder. Why him? Why do we gather, like moths, around the flame of one life and overlook the garden of lights all around us? Why, when I was sure I wanted to die, did I write to Joe? One afternoon, slumped against my mattress, my legs tucked against theContinue reading “Joe”

When Death Seems Best

After losing god, my community, and my reputation, I now also faced the prospect of losing my family. To leave the Mormon church is not a small thing. Many of us who leave, leave with nothing. Not our friends. Not our family. I simply was not ready for this final loss. You might think thatContinue reading “When Death Seems Best”

Why I Didn’t Play with Girls

When I was in kindergarten, my mom scheduled playdates to force me to socialize with other girls. My female playmates demanded compliments, played dolls with squeaky-high voices, and staged beauty pageants and dress-up games. Before the age of seven, they were checking themselves out in mirrors and fluffing their hair, just like their mothers. Within five minutes, IContinue reading “Why I Didn’t Play with Girls”

Circa 1939

Grandpa Ellis didn’t talk about the time he spent riding the rails. He didn’t talk much at all. He’d come of age in the company of hungry, hollow-eyed men, and he’d learned their silence well. Latched on like barnacles to the roofs of freight cars, they clicked off the miles of open country. He diedContinue reading “Circa 1939”

Let Yourself Feel It

People look at me and think it’s my rage I need to get in touch with. But it’s not the rage I’m afraid to feel. It’s the grief. To get through this wall, I have to drop my sword and go into the breach—into the darkness—unarmed. But there’s so much grief in there that I’mContinue reading “Let Yourself Feel It”