Big And Happy

I must have been ten years old when I overheard an older cousin of mine say “I bet Tova will struggle with her weight her entire life, just like her mother”. I had no idea what he meant obviously—as far as I was concerned, there was nothing wrong with my weight just like I didn’t see anything wrong with my mom’s either. I was just another average looking ten year old who loved skipping rope and playing hide and seek, as well as eating ice cream on hot days. But…

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PTSD Sucks

My husband had surgery in mid-December. He got hurt snowboarding. I didn’t deal well with any of it. PTSD sucks. Seeing him semi-conscious pre-surgery with a nasal cannula, hooked up to an I.V., with blankets covering him to his chin put me back to a place I never want to return. His eyes were closed, his breathing was slow, and I was helpless. It wasn’t the same thing. He was going to wake up and be just fine. Not have to learn to walk again. Not have to be in…

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Giving Up Control: Stop Life’s Crazy Pressure

I’m a control freak, I’ll admit it. When I was young my favorite activity was creating, and performing plays with the neighborhood kids. These were plays I wrote, directed, choreographed and, of course, starred in. I enjoyed having the loudest voice, the ultimate say and most importantly, the feeling of accomplishment it created. Yes, some thought I was bossy but at the end of the production, they were happy to have followed my lead. This lead to other power positions; Captain of the patrols, head choreographer in the drama department,…

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Divorce and Panic Attacks: True Story

Panic: The Early Years. Other kids had imaginary friends growing up, I had panic attacks. I think I had my first panic attack when I was four. I remember a big one when I was seven, visiting Opryland. I began hyperventilating during a stage show medley of country classics and had to be taken to their medical center. (But really, was it a panic attack or a way to get the hell out of Opryland? I mean, who visits Opryland in the Tennessee summer heat?) Panic attacks were frequent visitors,…

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I’ll Keep Watching

They say smell is the strongest trigger of memory and I completely agree. If I close my eyes, I can still smell her. Rave hairspray, Nina Ricci perfume, slightly sweet cigarette smoke from her Virginia Slims and Tide detergent. These were the smells of my childhood. These encompass my mother. My mom was the type of woman who exuded class. She got up every morning and went through the ritual of “getting ready.” This included days where we had no place to be and days where we did not even…

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