When I first lost my son Charles to suicide I would go downstairs and take my hand and run it over the rosemary from the herbal basket my friend Preston sent. I would bend over, breathe in the scent and slowly exhale.
They say lavender is the grief herb. But for me, it was rosemary. I can’t really explain what it did for me other than I experienced a moment that hit the pause button on my grief and offered me a rare moment of peace. and comfort.
I often walk in the morning with my friend Virginia. And we … Read more...
I’ll never forget that day; it was the last day I saw my best friend’s face. We were in the 8th grade, and we were ending the academic day to begin our weekend. Originally, he was going to spend the evening with a mutual close friend and me, but he opted to go home.
In retrospect, Sean didn’t seem fine, but the excitement of our school’s sporting events clouded my judgment … Read more...
Author’s note: this is neither wholly irrational nor rational. There is a method to my madness, and madness to my method. This is a perspective, a state of mind; not a statement of fact but a report from the shadows most dare not report on.
I am a monster. I am a burden. I hurt those around me who love me. I hurt those around me who don’t even know I exist. I hurt myself. I hurt.
The previous paragraph is not rational in an objective sense. I know this, intellectually. I can and have run rings … Read more...
We did the first round of auditions today for the audiobook. And the ebook is up online in all countries there is an amazon. If your country is not listed below, go to your Amazon site and search for, “diary of a broken mind anne moss rogers.”
Kerry Rhodes and I were recently featured in an article in the newspaper about supporting the recovery high school in Virginia. And I was on an NBC news segment about the same bill, HB 928 sponsored by Del. Carrie Coyner.
I am driving very fast for I have a destination and I want to get there. Multiple drugs coursing through my bloodstream.
I have my instrument of death. I can’t remember when I last ate, my appetite as extinct as my sleep. Rolling over up and down in the sheets for three months restless as a snake. Sleep depravation ravages one’s soul to a ghostly wan draft.
I move from the loungeroom saying goodbye to an oblivious mother down in the garage. My souped-up old sports car, a Toyota Celica is heavy and reliable. I back out … Read more...
She entered the church wearing a gown few over 50 could wedge a thigh into. Heck, that gown would be a fantasy for a 35-year-old. The fitted mermaid style gown was punctuated with a pair of designer Colorado-style cowboy boots.
Lloyd, once the paster of the church in which they wed, beamed with pride in his 007 style tuxedo as his bride waltzed confidently up the aisle to her soulmate. The groom’s father presided.
Hosted by Jennifer Huffman at Richmond Wellness Center, we had the intimate book signing event I was hoping for. Fifteen at first, and then seventeen people later, joined us as I spoke and then had a worthwhile discussion with group members. A small group offered the opportunity to really catch up.
Then two people showed up randomly who thought that Richmond First Friday was being held at the location. First Friday is an event where artistic and creative shop owners keep their stores open on the first Friday of the month.