connection, authenticity, vulnerability…oh my!

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I am a writer who lost my voice. What’s a writer with no voice? A tortured soul. An affliction. Like a swimmer who has lost a lung. A pianist who’s lost his hands. Like a singer whose vocal chords have been severed.

The craft was lost. The lifeline cut. The music silenced.

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how i do grief, and my serious mad girl crush on Jeanette LeBlanc

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I have a little grief gremlin in my head, he moved in at 3am PST on March 25, 2014….he took up residence¬†while my mama was taking her last breath here on this earth and my heart cracked wide open and a huge gaping hole knocked my world off it’s axis.

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