My Anti-Resolution

Here I am, only one day away from the New Year, unable to make any formal resolutions.  Like so many of us, I used to make promises for each year that primarily involved forms of torture or self-punishment.  Looking back, these resolutions always came from a place of feeling deficient in some way–not successful enough, not thin … Read more

His Ambivalence

I sat there listening to his words.  I had waited so long for this conversation as he revealed things that should have been said long ago; back when words meant something between us.  As they fell from his lips, I felt numb.  Nothing revealed warranted razing our relationship; transforming it from a lush oasis into … Read more

My Fortress

As the year closes, and I approach my 40th birthday, I find myself physically and spiritually drained.  Run down with fever, I stayed home for Christmas and had much time to reflect on my life and how wonderful it is compared to what it used to be like.  My life today is a testament to … Read more

Finding Christmas

For most of my young life, the holidays were a very confusing and conflicted time.  For one, I was always sick.  Without fail, I came down with strep throat or the stomach flu and could not fully enjoy the holiday.  Accompanying my various illnesses was maternal exasperation over the fact that, as usual, I needed … Read more

Loving For Survival

For my entire life, I have been loving for survival; returning to my family of origin in the arms of romantic partners and staying too long in relationships that were harmful to me.  This approach failed every time.  It is even more poignant at this time of year, when I am bombarded by photos depicting … Read more

Fragments

The most bizarre feeling in the world is when someone I hold dear suddenly becomes a stranger.  I have especially been haunted by a failed romance as of late.  It was like a death, yet there was no finality.  He exists only blocks away from me, still we are in two different worlds.  Very much … Read more

5:33

  This is the first time that I am writing about my father’s murder. Twenty-one years ago, on December 7, 1993, my father boarded a 5:33 commuter train from Penn Station, never to return home.  One stop before Mineola, where he lived with my stepmother and half-sister, my father was shot to death by a … Read more