When I was five I would stand outside in our back yard, with my eyes clenched shut, my arms spread out wide as though I had unfurled my wings to fly, and I would throw my head back and spin. I'd chase my invisible tail as I felt the wind wrap around my skinny little arms and watch the colours of the rainbow play behind my eyelids.

When I could no longer stand straight up as I spun I'd flop down onto the lawn and open my eyes to watch the world spin wildly while taking me with it. 

There was freedom in the spinning.

I stopped spinning like a mad little top after I tripped on my feet and crashed face first into a rock. The sharp edge of nature stabbed into my hairline by my temple and the sensation of blood oozing combined with the spinning skies caused my stomach to rumble in an altogether unpleasant way.

Spinning was no longer free. It now had a price.

I've not spun much since that moment. A few carnival rides here and some cartwheels there, both of which have had similar effects. But I've not enjoyed that same sense of wild abandon since I met the sharp end of that lone rock. I stopped chasing the spin only to find the spin has started to chase me.

My life has been whirling around in topsy-turvy jumble of sorts, as of late. But instead of those feelings of joyful freedom and glee, this spinning has ignited a storm of anxiety and sadness. I can't seem to stop the world tumbling around me no matter how wide I open my eyes. I can't find an anchor.

I did everything I knew to make life slow down. I read the books, I did the exercises. I breathed

Nothing worked and still the spinning continued.

I walked away from writing. From blogging. I isolated myself physically, distanced myself emotionally from many that I love. My fingertips are bloodied from all the things I've grasped at to make this spinning stop.

Life doesn't have an emergency stop button when you are feeling overwhelmed. Depression creeps in no matter how loudly you yell at it to go away. 

The world just keeps spinning.

Maybe the key to all of this is not to try and stop the spin but to remember that wild abandon I once felt when I was five and try to get back to that. 

Maybe the key is to try and feel the wind wrap around my arms like I did as a little girl and hope the wind doesn't blow so hard I can't catch my breath.

Maybe the key is just to spin and pray you don't land on any sharp objects when you fall.


Time Warp

Long ago, in a land far away (or rather, just meters from where I currently sit), a great saga was about to start. An epic journey (of sorts) began. It entailed many bagged lunches, forgotten permission slips and tears over homework.

It was the start of the school years.

When it began, all those years ago, it looked like this:

Now, with a senior beginning her quest for the end, it looks like this:

Of course, in between it mostly looks like this:

What? YOU try taking first day of school pictures with these hoodlums. It's impossible I tell you. Impossible.

Happy back to school day, yo.

(Now excuse me as I try to wrap my head around the fact my daughter is graduating this year when I swear it seems like only yesterday that I, myself, graduated. Weird.)

Rules of the Road

"Hey Nash, I'm going to the store. Do you want to come?" I asked him as I walked past him while he was shooting hoops and opened the car door to buckle Knox into his seat.

That's when he said the three words I've come to dread.

"Can I drive?"

It's a special time in a parents' life, those months when their kid is gearing up to take their driver's test and are scrounging for as much practice time as possible. And by special I mean 'slightly hellish.' 

Nothing bonds a parent with anxiety issues to their teenaged child more than being trapped inside a metal box with wheels, as your child hurtles you both closer to insanity or death all while trying to remember the rules of the road.

I become less of a parent and more of a screechy adult, clinging to the dash board, the seat, the roof, to anything, all while trying to keep from hyperventilating and bursting into tears.

I pulled Knox's straps tight and sighed heavily.

"Just get in the car kid."


"Your foot must be a little heavy today. You're speeding."

"That's a yield sign!"

"Oncoming traffic! Watch out for the oncoming traffic!!"

"Traffic laws aren't suggestions meant to be ignored!"

"Watch for that dog! Don't run over him! The dog! THAT DOG!!"

"A rolling stop isn't a full stop!"

"You can't stop in the middle of a cross walk! You're supposed to stop before it!!"

"You're taking the corner too fast!!"

"That yellow metal thing is commonly referred to as a fire hydrant. You aren't supposed to park in front of it."

"Um, angle parking means park at an angle. You're taking up two stalls."


The car lurched to a stop just outside the grocery store. I leaned my head back against my seat, closed my eyes and took a deep breath before looking over at my son.

I love my children, I love my children, I repeat over and over in my head.

"It's not helpful with all the back seat driving."

"I'm just calling it like I see it Mom. You should have let me drive."


Ya. Teaching your children how to drive is the BEST thing ever. From now on, I'm just strapping him to the roof until he gets his own car.