Dear me, The modern woman is single. Not always by choice. And somehow… fine with it. She craves the good stuff. Intimacy. Admiration. Protection. But they’ve been out of stock...
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Dear me, The invitations this week arrived later — if at all. A quiet shift. Me stepping aside, and them feeling rejected. Eyes speak louder than the third glass of...
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Dear me, Another week. A few bottles of wine. A few girly lunches. A few online purchases. Different days. Different nothing. I was noticeably quiet this week. I’m stepping back...
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Dear me, I am an accomplice. A serial yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. To everything but myself. For safety. For comfort. Me and my pain became partners in the illusion that...
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