Instead of Leaving My Abuser, I Left Myself
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Questions, followed by blank bubbles, empty, eager to be chosen, to be filled with meaning. I sat frozen, sweaty-palmed, heavy-breathing, heart racing, as the nice lady from the non-profit helped me fill out a questionnaire. “Some of these questions might be triggering,” she gently warned, “we can take as long…
To Not Losing Oneself Within Another’s Arms
In one of my all-time favourite comfort shows, Sex and the City, one of the main characters, Miranda, during brunch with her three best friends, in a moment of frustration, asks, “How does it happen that four smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends?” As a woman in her late twenties, like Miranda,…
Working With A Dying Man
Today marks two years since Papa’s passing. I recently rediscovered these musings in my Google Drafts. I wrote them while employed at IEC and bits and pieces after his passing. He often told me that he wanted me to write about my experience working with him (very Jan of him). “You could call it Working…
Memaw’s Closet
In memory of Pansy Anderson It’s an odd thing to pave the road for someone who is about to die, the sterile logistics of losing a loved one. You make funeral arrangements like calling a restaurant for a dinner reservation. You discuss cremation or burial, like asking a friend which dress looks better before a…
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comitted to: LEaving people and places better than I found them.
Abigail Sefzik 