stephanie

The only times I remember the hand of my uncle up my skirt, or the rapist's gun at my head, is when it helps another woman.

Tonight I have been writing with a woman who was also raped, and we seem to have connected due to shared trauma.

The term "peer support" seems too vague a term to describe what the sound of a woman's voice - the voice of understanding - can do to my soul. It gives me permission to be, to be alive and to be well.

There is something...

This turning 50 in the 21st Century is a little over rated. If God had given us the roadmap of aging too early in the game of life, we would have all drank the kool-aid a long time ago.I remember a girlfriend of mine, a nurse, finally giving in to taking hormone pills after trying every herb known to woman.

Personally, I think hormone pills cause cancer (my new-found fear in our decaying world) but sometimes I don’t care. Just like the cancer-causing sweeteners……I stand at the coffee...

I’ve come a long way from the days of only having a single sheet on the twin bed I shared with my sister.

I was working with a newcomer yesterday who had recently spent long hours at what I call my “cool” apartment; mostly because it has air conditioning, seven low windows facing a dramatic view of the mountains, centered and overlooking the downtown life. We were sharing our war stories and trying to put simple meaning to life. She stood in my green and tan colored kitchen trimmed...

It all seemed so normal…. My mom was married three times; Roy, Ross, and Rueben. All of them were short, fat and alcoholic. My mother worked in a glass factory and my physically abusive stepfather helped his brother run the local auto repair and gas station on the corner of 20th Street East and Palmdale Boulevard – where the only stop light in town was located. Roy, our pedophile uncle, he didn’t work but lived at the house with us kids.

Each of the previous six generations were all...

This could be a really long story. Blogs are good