Self Harm, Depression, and Monsters Under the Bed

WARNING: This post is real. It talks about real things and real struggles and real pain. If you know that it’ll be too much for you, skip this post for now.

I first noticed it in high school. That empty nothing that made my chest feel hollowed out and my brain like a cavernous echo chamber. I remember thinking, “Huh. That’s weird. I don’t feel anything.”

There wasn’t sadness or loneliness or pain. Just nothing. Vast, empty, nothing. Continue reading “Self Harm, Depression, and Monsters Under the Bed”

The Reinhard Chronicles: Life Lessons from the UP

The doors were frozen. Actually frozen shut. Who knew that -14 weather could freeze all your car doors in place? We certainly didn’t. Welcome to the Upper Peninsula.

Now, let me be clear: Just because I’m from Georgia and went to college in South Carolina does not make me a southerner. And contrary to popular belief, I will not sulk my way through a northern winter because it “too cold outside to function.” BUT. I do think that when your doors freeze close, and your nose hairs freeze together the second you step outside, that maybe it’s time to move south. Continue reading “The Reinhard Chronicles: Life Lessons from the UP”

Snail Mail: The Art of the Handwritten Note

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Do you remember the last time you got a letter in the mail? I don’t mean a Christmas card or a wedding invitation. I mean, when was the last time your received a letter from someone, “just because”? It doesn’t happen very often anymore.

Chesh and I just had a bunch of people over last Friday for a sushi and movie night, and we watched “You’ve Got Mail”. There’s a scene somewhere toward the beginning where Granddaddy Fox mentions that he wrote letters with Cecilia Kelly, the original owner of The Shop Around the Corner. Joe Fox looks surprised, asking “You wrote her letters?” Granddaddy Fox smiles, “It was called mail. Cecilia had beautiful penmanship. She was too young for me, but she was enchanting.”

Continue reading “Snail Mail: The Art of the Handwritten Note”


Sometimes I find myself so incredibly alone. Alone and tired. I miss…something. I want to go back but, like a fading dream, it slips away from me before I can remember. Sometimes I think I know what it is and where I last left it, but I’m afraid that if I go back it won’t be the way I remembered it. It’ll be different. And worst of all…maybe it’ll be the same, and I’ll be the one who is different. Continue reading “Hiraeth”