Chapter 7: One Year Post-Coming Out, in Paris
One year later, I spend a week in Paris mulling over my queerness and my close relationships.
Chapter 5: How We Found Out
By now, y’all know almost everything. And of course, this is just my side. If you were here with me, at my little house in Tennessee (I moved here in 2020), I would put the kettle on & give you a huge, cozy blanket and ask your Consent before sharing this story with you.
Chapter 4: Shit Gets Real (Thanksgiving 2021)
This is the culmination of the Adult Trauma I’ve gone through.
Chapter 3: Grandpa Knows Best
Micah and I break up in January of 2018. He moves out that February, and in with some of our mutual friends. The apartment he moves into in Wicker Park is a party house.
Poem: The Real Me
“The real me knows that Dad will come around, that I am his girl forever.” Xo, E.
Chapter 2: #Triggered
It’s the end of June in 2023. I’m 33 years old. And two weeks ago, my next door neighbor moved her son and his fiancee into their place. No big deal, right? In anyone else’s life, SURE. No big deal. In mine, past Emily tried to date her adult son. Big sigh.
Freedom from Alcohol (my roadmap)
My thoughts on quitting drinking at the time (about one year after). Xo, E.
Missing Her (a poem)
Here is a poem I wrote two months into dating Kayla, fall 2020. Kayla is a voice actor and would write music in her “home studio” that she set up in her closet.
On Earth as it is in St. Valentine (a poem)
“Tell me, What are your heart-centered moments?” Xo, E.
My Native Tongue (pt 1 of 3)
The night my Grandpa Ed passed away, he came to me in a dream. The dream was peculiar, vivid in a way I had never experienced. I was 10 years old. Our big, brand new house was on fire, and it was pouring rain outside.
Chapter One: Choosing Yourself Can Suck
I wrote this piece in spring of 2022. It is based on what I went through starting in September of 2018. All names have been changed. Everyone mentioned has their own side and part to this story that is completely valid.
October 11, 2018 (a poem)
“They simply hug it, and it vanishes.” One of my favorite poems that I have written. Xo, E.
End of Covid Journal Entry
Year 3 in a pandemic, my boundaries as a therapist look a little different.