By Cynthia Cady Stanton | Featured Contributor
There are times in life
when it feels as if
the horizon is all you have.
You want to be lifted
from your current shoreline
which has become rocky
and hard to navigate.
You have been in a season of loss
and your heart is wounded –
too much has changed for you.
Continue reading “On the Horizon [a poem]”
By Laura Paris | Featured Contributor
I’ve always hated Audi cars, people dressed in brown, chipped glasses and plates, and the noise of keys and messy beds. I hate dirt and smells, I cannot stand mess. I feel agitated if I am in a messy room. I get angry if I am subjected to unpleasant smells.
Up until last year I thought these were just my random personal likes and dislikes, you know, like how we prefer a certain color or food. I thought they were simple dislikes. Only last year, during a series of hypnotherapy sessions, did it become clear to me the fact that these objects were triggers for my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This was previously undiagnosed. During a regression session, while I was in a deep relaxation state, I recalled one episode that functioned as a catalyst that sped up my PTSD identification and realization.
Continue reading “Why I Dislike Audis: Living with PTSD”
By Surakshya Kiju | Featured Contributor
Love. The point of it all. The reason for it all.
We find purpose in love. We give meaning to our lives through love. Love is arguably the strongest emotion we human beings feel, be it for our family, our friends, or our soulmate. We pursue love all our lives. All we want in the end is to be able to love and to be loved. We go to great lengths to find love. We let love define us.
Continue reading “Love is the Reason: A Focus on Self-Care”
By Jaya Avendel | Featured Contributor
Sword of color crafted to
Stab out our eyes.
No focal point
Only intentional slashes and swirls.
Birds see too much and so
Become experts at seeing what matters.
How pretty the plastic flowers are in
Tribute to single graves.
Continue reading “In Passing [a poem]”
By Markie Doczi | Featured Contributor
I remember the day I first became a statistic. I was nineteen years old, and I had a good head on my shoulders. Not being smart was never my problem; it was extreme naiveté that had gotten me here.
My husband had just slapped me across the face for the first time. I felt the weight of the world suddenly bearing down upon my shoulders, and I could see my plans for the future blurring before my eyes as the thought slowly crept across my mind:
I’m that girl.
Continue reading “Statistics: Being a Survivor”