photo of a woman with blue pants sitting on a green sofa
Sibling

Navigating Project Stalls: Insights for Sibs

Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com I have a confession. Somewhere around page 100 of the sib book I've been writing, I stopped. (Not the book proposal that was just accepted.) This blog, in a book. I hired an editor. She did a once-over, and I did not finish the corrections. Not because I ran out… Continue reading Navigating Project Stalls: Insights for Sibs

a stressed woman leaning on a concrete wall
Sibling

Was It Stress โ€” Or Was It Something More?

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com I've been in and out of therapy as an adult. Not because something catastrophic happened to me. Not because I had a single defining trauma. But because growing up as a sib left marks I didn't fully understand until I was well into adulthood โ€” and some of them I'm… Continue reading Was It Stress โ€” Or Was It Something More?

old photo with a woma with down syndrome holding her toddle nephew
Sibling

When Penny Said “I Know You”

My dad's sister Penny had limited speech. Most people couldn't understand much of what she said. But there was one phrase she had down cold โ€” one phrase that was perfectly clear every single time. "I know you." It didn't matter if she'd just met you or known you for decades. Penny greeted everyone the… Continue reading When Penny Said “I Know You”

a man holding a megaphone
Sibling

What I Kept Blaming on Perimenopause (And Why That’s Not an Accident)

Brain fog. Trouble concentrating. Feeling like you're constantly a half-step behind in conversations. Exhausted after social situations that didn't used to drain you. If you're a woman of a certain age, you know exactly what I just described. Perimenopause. Obviously. Or maybe ADHD โ€” because apparently half of us are just now figuring out we've… Continue reading What I Kept Blaming on Perimenopause (And Why That’s Not an Accident)

guest writers, Sibling

The Night My Brother Died, I Started Writing to Him

I started writing the night my brother died. Not because I had a plan, or because I thought it would become anything. I just didnโ€™t know where else to put everything that was happening in my head. So I wrote to him. Iโ€™m a neurodiverse writer, which basically means my brain doesnโ€™t switch off neatly.… Continue reading The Night My Brother Died, I Started Writing to Him