My father kept an old Yamaha acoustic guitar in his bedroom. Sometimes I ran my child-round fingertips over the strings just to see if it was still in tune. It was, then. I whispered secrets into the sound hole, and it always whispered back. It smelled of dust and spruce and something metallic, like aContinue reading “On Father’s Day Weekend”
Tag Archives: trauma
After He Strangled Me
The next morning I went downstairs to breakfast in the dining hall as usual, but it wasn’t usual. I sat beside my brother, poking my spoon into the cereal I’d let go soggy, and I avoided looking up from my bowl. My hands were shaking. My pulse throbbed in my throat. I had done everythingContinue reading “After He Strangled Me”
The Ninth Assault
Webbstock is a tradition at Webb Institute going back to 1979. All about booze and bands, it runs from daybreak until long after sundown the first weekend in June. Students, alumni, their families, and close friends are all welcome to attend. There’s an all-day barbecue along with adult bouncy castles, inflatable slides, and other carnival-flavoredContinue reading “The Ninth Assault”
In the Aftermath
Jonathan’s assault was among the least violent of the assaults I’ve survived. In fact, to some people, it isn’t an assault at all. But its effects have been every bit as long-lasting and devastating as the rest of the abuse. * * * It wasn’t what he did. It was who he was. He wasContinue reading “In the Aftermath”
The Eighth Assault
You think you know someone. You let your guard down because you tell yourself they wouldn’t. They couldn’t possibly. They’re practically family. Maybe they’re shitty to other people sometimes, other women. But not to you. Never you. * * * I’d known Jonathan since he was in junior high. He had come home with myContinue reading “The Eighth Assault”
Healing Through Dance
Because trauma is of the body, it must be healed through the body. I needed a safe space where I would be supported, where I could practice trust, where I could begin healing in my body. Only one place could offer me that. The dance studio. * * * I was 30 years old. IContinue reading “Healing Through Dance”
Breaking Away
It took me two years. Healing from abuse, finding the confidence to believe that you are capable of leaving—it takes a long time. It also takes seeing the other life that is possible. * * * The spring I was 30, I began to make friends with a coworker of mine at the college. WeContinue reading “Breaking Away”
My Breakdown in a Bus Depot
And then I went to New York. If you have been asleep, New York will slap you out of it. I boarded the Q47 bus and watched the sunrise from the bus window, mentally reviewing Manhattan’s grid of streets and the carefully plotted route that would take me to the Hotel Chelsea for a nightContinue reading “My Breakdown in a Bus Depot”
After the Rape
In at least ten states, what I survived might not legally be considered rape. The only thing that would help my case is that we were living separately. But even then, a rape charge still might be thrown out since I had not yet filed for divorce or separation. States such as Maryland, Nevada, Mississippi,Continue reading “After the Rape”
The Seventh Assault
CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT We all want beautiful stories of survivors. We want to see people rise above cruelty with dignity. We want to see someone defeat the unethical with ethics, the unfeeling with compassion. We want to see someone whose survival is threatened, yet they respond with the generosity, the dignity, and the heroism ofContinue reading “The Seventh Assault”
The Trailer Park MFA 