YOU ARE THE REASON
The Bowery Presents
@theartofmadeline
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Discoholic 🪩
shark vs the universe
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Today's Document
One Nice Bug Per Day
h
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Love Begins
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Sade Olutola
Show & Tell
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
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@galwithgloves
Never is a Promise
Every time I get my hopes up, the fact of his years of avoidance and neglect rears its ugly head and drowns it deep down in a flood of hopelessness and anger because the foundation is sinking, the walls are cracking, the roof is old, who knows what’s hiding in the walls…and it’s all too much for others.There was nothing to make him step up, nothing to have him grow up, instead cosplaying as a…
Update
We can’t sell our marital home now after the inspection came back and that sale was justifiably cancelled. While our house sits empty and rotting after years of neglect because he cared only to plug into his computer all day, now leading us to have to sell the house under his mandate of “as is” (he told the professionals that he’s not interested in any repairs and our divorce decree requires…
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Drowned
Men need to stop acting surprised when the women who loved them, to her own detriment, finally crack… With her rage and suffering spilling forth towards its true owner, Him. She is not the problem. She is the single flame fighting to stay lit despite storm winds and rain working to extinguish her spark time and again. Echoes of his dreadful presence haunt her mind, her doorways, a cracking…
Misery
I am sad. He is unbothered.
Too Loud
I sit here and at night when it’s quiet, I can hear my mechanical mitral valve just ticking away. Tick, tick, tick. My reminder that I’m alive, with every moment marked by the clicking of metal doors inside my heart opening and closing. It’s my reminder that I’m alive against the odds.One time in recent years, I was speaking happily to him, the wasbund, about this sound. How I can hear it at…
Good Riddance, 2024.
This year has been an awful one. And yet the awfulness will not cease until after 2025 is on its way. I had to file for divorce from my husband. He left me no choice. He wasn’t going to do it even though he had discarded me for a 29 year old married Finnish mother online. I’ve not been able to write much. But my plan is to write more, be free and able to write more, once the divorce is final…
March 10th, 20 years later...
March 10th will mark 20 extra years I’ve gotten to live, since my 2nd open heart. And I’m still haunted by the audacity of someone recently telling me that I don’t belong (later tried to claim a caveat, alas that caveat stunk like dead carrion). It just hit me tonight, these two diametrically opposed occurrences.I have 20 years as proof. I was blessed with these years all because of a fluke with…
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Flowering Among the Weeds - Repost
I originally wrote this blog entry as a guest blogger in August 2016 for the Arthritis National Research Foundation and shared it via this blog. As the guest blog posts are no longer available, I thought I’d repost it fully here, especially due to the pandemic’s continuing impact and a need for this personal reminder: Flowering Among the WeedsBy Kristin Seaman Sharing your life with a chronic…
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Busy Bones
I am still alive… to the chagrin of my neighbors on NextDoor. Now, an update to a macabre little free-write from a November 2018 post. Enjoy… Busy Bones She was running out of room. Where could they go? The skeletons were all over the house! Pushed to the back of closets. Stuffed behind the couch. Hiding under beds and behind doors. Was there anywhere else they could go? The cellar…
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Insufficient Storage
Maybe I should write a story about sleeping one’s life away because of demands on it from my disease (need for napping was one of the first noticeable symptoms at 15), depression/antidepressant. and existing in a pandemic. Social interactions drain me more than before since my tolerance from 5 days a week is gone. It could be nonfiction. Or fictional. A fairytale. I tell myself “oh, it’s just…
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Normal.
I hate my disease. I hate having to be forced to give up so much time living with it, dealing with it,, treating it, pretending to be well when I’m not, especially in this ableist society. I have my disease because an asymptomatic virus triggered something in my immune system to go haywire and turn upon itself as the enemy. So now for almost 27 years from the promising age of 15, when you have…
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You Are Not the Martyr #1
You Are Not the Martyr #1
Welcome to a new series called “You Are Not the Martyr!” In this series, I go off on the ridiculous proclamations of so-called martyrdom that too many healthcare workers feel compelled to make due to their employer requiring vaccination against Covid-19. Truly, these people likely shouldn’t be working in healthcare in the first place. Join me as I roast their bullshit pronouncements of…
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Present Good Health is Not a Guarantee of Future Good Health
Present Good Health is Not a Guarantee of Future Good Health
If I ever find out that a healthcare worker assisting in my care isnt vaccinated because they don’t want to get vaccinated, they better hope they can outrun my fury. I know what it’s like to nearly die in ICU. I had Last Rights performed on me. I had a series of mini strokes all over my brain, with some damage occurring on right side. Before medical records were electronic, my medical record…
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NextDoor: A Series... Suburbanites Crowing About Welfare Abuse
NextDoor: A Series… Suburbanites Crowing About Welfare Abuse
Apologies for the lack of blog posts especially in this past year. I’ve been focused on quite a few other things other than NextDoor, especially since one main problematic poster on there was removed for his repeated promotion of Trump rhetoric with pandemic anti-masking and making health recommendations when he’s a handyman and not a doctor. So things have been generally peaceful.…
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NextDoor, A Series...
NextDoor, A Series…
Or why it’s a bad idea to remind Trump supporters that they’re Trump supporters during the festive holiday season. They get so upset…it’s fascinating how they don’t realize that they’re just telling on themselves. My commentary is in bold below. I must say that “copy text from image” is the most amazing thing ever! Made this all a bit easier. I do have the screenshots to back it up. So it…
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Let's Be Good Neighbors...
Let’s Be Good Neighbors…
Inspired by bullshit on NextDoor from neighbors who allow antivaxx, Anti-Mask, and Trump buffoonery to flourish.
Let's be good neighbors Yet allow people to die. Let's be good neighbors Yet not question Trump's lies. Let's be good neighbors And allow super-spreader crowds. Let's be good neighbors And shut our mouths. Let's be good neighbors Where false equivalency reigns. Let's be good neighbors Whe…
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Mechanical Heart Strings - Pitch Concept
Mechanical Heart Strings – Pitch Concept
I wrote this for a Pitchapalooza virtual event recently. I wasn’t chosen at random, but I figure I can still put it out there.
A crabby hermit clambering through different shells.
Pretty shells, gritty shells, broken shells, stubborn shells; a continuous struggle against the shells that hold us and the shells that expose us.
Shells echo sound, often the crashing waves of the ocean…though…
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