Thankful

As we reflect on gratitude this week, it’s hard for me to pick just one thing I’m most thankful for. My heart swells with the fullness of gifts I have in my life. This Thanksgiving, I am especially thankful for friends. My friendships fall into separate and distinct categories.[…]

Well folks, now you know the worst of it (See post, “In The Well With Tolstoy”). Being a creative type, I sometimes imagine something worse happening to me in the future, but thankfully, so far, nothing has come close to losing my brother and father to suicide.  Sometimes[…]

With the events this past week concerning one, Harvey Weinstein, I have decided to repost this piece of memoir. I did not tell anyone about the following events for years. I was sure what happened to me was every bit my fault. I believed in many cases, women got[…]

Note: One and one-half years after my psychiatrist left me hopeless (Click here), my dear brother took his own life when he was twenty-five years old. This event would define the rest of my life. There is the “before” Robert died, and the “after” Robert died. I was[…]

Note: My husband just read this post and said if he didn’t know better, he would think this was something that happened to me recently. He is expecting calls from friends, “Is Linda all right?” I explained to him that people who read my blog know that I[…]

Close to the Edge

  I had run from Michael the Archangel in 1973 and was living with my rescuer for about a year. At first, I felt relieved and somewhat settled. I knew I had some post traumatic stress symptoms. For instance, when my boyfriend attempted to put his arm around[…]

Keep running when you question.

Questions about long-held beliefs can lead to fear. The path to the other side is to move through, and not around the questioning of your heart. My own questions came early. I came to a relationship with Jesus Christ in a wonderful church in the middle of a[…]

Another hot, muggy day in the City of Angels; smog so thick my eyes burned. I wiped away another streak of black eyeliner, catching it as it ran down towards my cheek, and I kept walking, keeping time with the jingle bells that hung from the end of[…]

Spare change

A simple choice, really. Walk to the bottom of the hill, cross the street, and stick out my thumb to hitch south to Hermosa Beach, or keep trudging down the hill with my arm out towards the street, my thumb hooked forward, hoping some poor soul would be[…]

  (The following took place about 8 years before my brother’s suicide. I was fifteen years old, and my boyfriend, who would soon become my first husband, was twenty. He introduced me to gang bangers, prostitutes, car thieves, and a pimp named Slim. I quickly lost my innocence).[…]