Paralysis isn’t solidarity. Being Bothered from a place of safety isn’t the same as doing something useful. Anguish isn’t participation. Collapse isn’t virtue.
Category: Feature
Holding a Firefly: The Chapter That Says Yes
The chapter that undoes me isn’t about loss. It’s joy—a memory glowing after everything fades. Editing it is like holding a firefly without crushing its light.
His-and-Hers: His Vodka, Her Permission
I hoped someone else was to blame. The math said otherwise. No fraud. Just a his-and-hers tab, a pattern, and the truth that hollowed me out.
Confession isn’t Closure, Silence isn’t Safety
Part III is a loop: confession, silence, hope, repeat. Writing it means reliving that painful waiting; truth without closure, love without repair.
2018: the Art of Looking Away
New-gf glow and sun-soaked selfies hid Dad’s first subtle slide. I ignored my gut, but Ch. 19 won’t let me look away from the skid marks I pretended not to see.
Lies Louder than Truth: the Quiet Cost of Love
I swallowed the truth so Dad could heal; she cranked up the blame, too busy guarding her version to bother with his recovery.
We Beastly Women: Mythical Metaphors
We Beastly Women don’t always roar—sometimes we sheath our claws and burn anyway.
Protecting Dad’s Feelings Cost Me My Own
I thought protecting Dad’s feelings was right. It wasn’t. It was quiet self-abandonment. If you tiptoe around someone’s feelings long enough, you lose your own.
I’ll Share, Probably: Smells like ’99
Mom found Dad’s old glove and sent me a picture. Cue memory flood, guilt spiral, and eventual semi-enlightenment. I might even let Libby have it. That’s growth, right?
The Mirror Shows His Face (And It’s Mine)
What if the habits I judged in my dad are the ones I’m building for myself? Writing is my salvation—but could it also be my cave?