Real Life

Theft by Finding: Diaries (1977-2002) by David Sedaris “A surprisingly poignant portrait of the artist as a young to middle
There it is. The ugly truth in black and white. That elephant in the room I am trying to let go and forgive him for daily. He cheated.
Do we just go through the motions -- planned and meticulous? Is everything an equation to the best paying job? A formula
It is okay to admit that anxiety is a real, terrifying medical condition.
He doesn't have any physical handicaps. He has all 10 fingers and 10 toes. But what does this picture not show?
The suggestions below may prove helpful as a means to create balance with what news is shared with you. I am a believer that
As the final notes of "Pomp and Circumstance" fade into the distance and the reality of an uncertain future dawns, I offer
I just sat and cried. Minutes later, Ethans heavy breathing surrounded me, I felt his little curled fingers pat my head. "Ahh
I envy those mums, the ones who seem to have been given the "perfect" children, the ones who, at the drop of a hat can find a sitter and head off out. The ones who can pile their darlings into the car and drive off to the beach for an afternoon. The ones who can plan a family holiday.
I love the opening scenes in most movies. As a captive viewer, I get to meet the seemingly pretty, smart and very together protagonist and watch her in her every day life. I like to see her morning routine, meet her family, learn about her job and see her happily living her happy life.
After my son, Ethan, was diagnosed with a rare and fatal genetic syndrome called Hunter syndrome, my husband and I were offered a place in a support group for parents who are raising children with special needs. We didn't have a babysitter, so I found myself sitting alone in a circle surrounded by strangers four months after Ethan was diagnosed.
Just when we started to recover from the Perfect Christmas blues, New Years hit and once again we were reminded of our plight
The doctor had just left the room. He did excuse himself ... but I had no idea why he left the room. We sat there. The silence still ringing in our ears.
The stories of our lives -- as told through status updates and pins and photographs -- are incomplete. Yet it is all too easy to forget that what we see are simply snapshots, moments in time, titles to the chapters of people's lives.
Do you ever look outside of yourself and think, I wish I could do that? As I dive deeper into the world of travel writing, I find that once again I am only seeing the outer edges of a bubble that holds the real stuff inside. It's just like everything else, the ideal snapshot only tells one side of the story.