He lived with me. No contract had been signed. I didn't ask for a lodger. I had asked on multiple occasions for him to leave. When it became obvious he wouldn't leave without a prompt, I packed a polythene bag full of sandwiches and threw it up the garden, where it smashed into my lame … Continue reading The House Guest
I didn't hear anyone. I had been playing with my doll, putting a new pink dress on her. It was a cheap doll and its body was hollow, not rubbery like a Barbie. They couldn't afford expensive toys, not now daddy had lost his job. A person grabbed my arm and I threw the doll … Continue reading Surplus
‘Mornin!’ Isla threw her woven shopping bag to the floor and quickly untied her headscarf. ‘Mornin,’ Alick shouted from behind the counter, bent down, picking up an array of books donated by a young woman earlier that morning. It had been such a large pile they had collapsed and fallen to the floor, scattered themselves … Continue reading The Village – A Story About The Consequences Of War
My latest post about adoption over at Psych Central. https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/06/10-things-not-to-say-to-an-adoptee/
I'm over on Psych Central again today talking about adoption again. https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/06/27-2/
I've been given the wonderful opportunity to have my own blog over at Psych Central. I wanted a place to speak about mental illness, adoption, life on larger scale for a while, so I am incredibly excited. My blog is called Adoption: Rewriting Our Narratives and it will be updated weekly. Here is the link https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/05/they-found-me-in-a-vegetable-crate/ … Continue reading They Found Me In A Vegetable Crate
The black cars stood stationary outside Fay Dury's residence. People trundled by in the grey sleet, water jumping at their ankles, clothes greasy with rain. Some of them looked across at the house and bowed their heads, others stopped for a moment and performed the obligatory sign of the cross. Large doors stood open beneath … Continue reading Fay Dury
I can't remember getting depressed. It didn't appear out of the blue. I simply, over one long hot summer, stopped being who I thought I was. Depression is like that I find. It creeps along, quiet, unassuming, and often unnoticed. For something so ambitious and uncompromising, so relentless and persistent, the efforts it adopts to … Continue reading When Once A Teenager And Very Depressed.
On February the 11th 1963, the poet and novelist, Sylvia Plath took her own life. Her two children, Frieda and Nicholas were upstairs in their beds, as their beloved mother, downstairs, put her head in the oven and removed herself forever from their lives. We know Plath struggled with mental illness, perhaps none more so … Continue reading Let’s Talk About Suicide.