Browsing Tag



Ebb and Flow

Nurture, by Philip Kanwischer

Oh, hey there! I’m shacked up at my all-time favourite coffee shop, listening to my all-time favourite writing music and I have just about eighteen million things to write about.

It’s time for a list.

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Motherhood, Olive

Holidays Apart: How to get through Christmas without your kids(s)

Holidays Apart - How to get through Christmas without your kid(s)//
My marriage split open on November 20, 2014, and I made the decision to end it on December 15, 2014.

I don’t think there’s ever really a good time for this sort of thing to happen, but doing it immediately before such a staggering season of events –  Christmas, then my 31st birthday, then New Year’s and then Valentine’s Day – felt like a barrage of punches to the face in quick succession. Bam bam bam bam bam.

That first Christmas, I invited Olive’s dad to spend Christmas day with us. I was in shock and I didn’t know quite what else to do. I was still trying to pretend things were normal, desperate for Olive to hold onto the sense that things were fine, even though I knew they would soon be very, very different.

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Feminism/Gender, Musings



I have many thoughts about Beyonce’s new visual album. She released it as a one hour journey through song, video and spoken word.

The first words out of her mouth on the very first track are

You can taste the dishonesty, it’s all over your breath.

I was not prepared.

So much of this album wasn’t written for me, sung for me, or performed for me. It’s steeped in rich black culture, flooded with strong black women, I recognize that and I step back from that. (if you’d like to know more, this is a fantastic read)

The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman, the most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.

That first line, however, began to uncoil something for me. Those song lyrics interspersed with poetry by Warsan Shire.

Something don’t feel right
Because it ain’t right
Especially comin’ up after midnight
I smell your secret, and I’m not too perfect
To ever feel this worthless…

What’s worse?
Lookin’ jealous or crazy? Jealous or crazy?

What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you…

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Two Nests

When you separate, one of the most challenging parts isn’t leaving your partner or cleaving your life in two. It’s not the packing or the moving or the goodbye that never really gets said – the silence speaking for it. It’s not even the circumstances in a separation like mine.

The worst part is the kids, or in my case, kid.  No matter what I’ve lost, she’s lost more. Each time she transfer back and forth between us, that becomes plain to see. I can see that she doesn’t understand why I don’t go with her to our old house.  I can see that it’s hard for her to adjust to two houses, two sets of rules and expectations and boundaries. I wish I could fix it for her, but all I can do at this point is make it as easy for her as I can.

I know that there are lots of other kids going back and forth between parents. I’m very new to this, but over time I’ve found a few things that make the process run a bit smoother. I’m sharing these tips below in the hope that they might help you if you’re in a similar situation,  and I’d also really appreciate hearing yours in the comments if you have a bit more experience.

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Girls change colours, by Agnes Cecicle

                                     Girls change colours, by Agnes Cecile

I wonder when I will stop measuring my life in Time Since and Time Until. Does it ever stop?

It’s funny, on quiet mornings I find myself sifting through these dates, these collection of times where the clock stopped and it becomes marked forever in my mind as “the time when…”

These moments are it, you know? These are the moments when everything changes. Sometimes you’re aware of the meaning even as it’s happening, other times you can only begin to grasp the significance in retrospect.

A few weeks ago it would have been my sixth wedding anniversary. Nine months ago my marriage fell apart. I return to this every so often, the number of months since, because it is necessary. I am still so in it.  My divorce isn’t final, working out the details of everything is profoundly stressful and sometimes it seem like it will never end. So I have to do this, to count and revisit and remind myself of where I was then, and how far I have come to be here.

It’s no small thing- it’s like months sober. Months free. The numbers mean something, you know?

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