It was September 2004 when my mental illness worsened more than ever before; due to several factors I won’t go into here. My husband was quite concerned and decided to take me to the mountains to recover. Prior to the trip, I found that my mother seemed quite unwell, always in her bed napping. My father and I discussed the matter, but he said her doctor just told her to get some rest and take some pills he prescribed for her. Continue reading →
Sometimes I sit down and write a letter, e-mail, or card of appreciation to someone (or some organization) for the good work that they do, or the kindness they show me or people I care about. I didn’t always do this, especially in my youth. It is something I started to do more in my late 30s. Of course sometimes if I see them face to face, I might express the appreciation verbally. That is appreciated, but I think that when it’s written down it is often extra special. The person can keep the note or card as a memento of sorts. They may even be used as words of recommendation for others to read. Also, the writing of the expression shows an extra special effort that spoken words might not equal. Continue reading →
Following my first love, Mihai, across the country was an exciting prospect. I was just so happy that he loved me enough to want me to join him, and not leave me in New Jersey. I was only about 22 years old at the time. I had never lived with a man before. I guess deep down I thought this was a first step to an eventual marriage. Continue reading →
NOTE: This post contains some mild sexual content. If you are under 18 years old or prefer not to read such content, please skip this post. I only included it because it’s relevant to this part of the story. Also, I have changed the name of my Polish American female friend to Krista.Continue reading →
Falling in love has never been as easy as making scrambled eggs for me. Not to say I didn’t have my fair share of crushes over my earliest years, but somehow I knew the difference between the two. Continue reading →
I remember that this photo was taken in late May 1998, just days after my husband and I got married. We had been weaving through the beautiful narrow streets of Rome, Italy, where we spent our honeymoon. With no particular destination in mind, exploring hand in hand, I recall almost no people in the area, except a superfluity of nuns whom we passed on the street right before. Suddenly we stumbled upon this bridge, Ponte Fabricio, which we later learned is the oldest original bridge (62 BC) in Rome. This pedestrian bridge crosses the Tiber River to Isola Tiburtin, the only island in the part of the Tiber River which runs through Rome, and the smallest densely inhabited island in the world. Again, there was no one around in the vicinity except for us. Continue reading →
Pluck me from this horrid place that I have lived in for so long. No, not from my literal home with you, my love, but from the jail of its inner rooms.
You know the jail itself is solely in my brain. Outside with you are miles of beauty. And yet you only ever look through my jail window at me, saturated by grey and black. Though I do see a glimpse of the outside beauty past your face, it seems surreal and distant. Your face looks sad and frustrated. I kiss it through the jail window, but we both want more. Continue reading →
As a tot, you had a thick round crown of beautiful brown hair, with a smile that charmed, and eyes that set my mind at ease.
You were always a quiet little boy, but when our family lost your grandmother I saw deep sadness in those eyes. They spoke of deep regret and loss. I cried with you and we hugged each other tightly, with your head softly upon my breast. Continue reading →