Love Letter #79 | She Assaulted my hair

Symbolic of life, hair bolts from our head[s]. Like the earth, it can be harvested, but it will rise again. We can change its colour and texture when the mood strikes us, but in time it will return to its original form, just as Nature will in time turn our precisely laid-out cities into a weed-way.

– Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

Love Letter #72 | Assaulted

My sense of security was wiped. The notion that we were relatively safe was a false reality and that incident gave us that rude awakening. I had no peace after. I barely slept and panic attacks were served with breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Love Letter #59 | PTSD After Falling In the Pedestrian Crossing

As we start 2020, let us not focus on the negatives that slowed our progress. Let us, instead, focus on how we use trauma to push us into greater dealings.
May this new year find you or direct you in and towards greatness. May this new year see us conwuering fears, getting over hurdles and brushing that dirt off.

Let us not become victims of our hurt. Let us, instead, be triumphant.

Happy New Year.

Love letter #35 | The time my ear became a deadly playground

Dear, World. How long has it been? “Too long!”, is what I’ll say if you ask me again. But it really has only been a couple of days. I’ve been holding back on an experience I had in July (2013). My failure to share this with you at an earlier date is only based on…