Something Weird Happened
December 4, 2017, 11:56 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Hi. My name is Carrie and I suck at therapy.

I like to sit there in a chair or a couch and give one word answers and drive psychologists crazy. I like to close up, feel awkward, sometimes even lie if it can get us out of a certain topic fast.

(Hi, Carrie.)

I like to say “I’m not sure” and “maybe” when asked if what I just said was maybe related to this or that or maybe even this. I can’t connect thoughts or memories. I can’t open up.



This is why I have famously gone through therapists quicker than I go through seasons of Friends.

I got kind of tired of it. My psychiatrist said it was kind of fucked up and I should try something different. Hypnotherapy.


I straight up just said no the first 15 times she mentioned it to me. There was no way I was ever going to get relaxed enough for a STRANGER to enter whatever trance I was supposed to get into to answer questions FROM MY SUBCONSCIOUS. Do I even have one of those anymore? I don’t use it very often since it usually is associated with sleeping and yeah I don’t do that very well either.


I finally, FINALLY, tried hypnotherapy today to just say that I tried it.

Guys. Weird things happened. I’m not trying to sound like a special snowflake or whatever…but weird things happened.

First of all, I had to lie down on this lady’s couch, which usually skeeves me out. I don’t like other people’s couches very much because everyone’s stuff has a distinct smell and usually it puts me on edge for some reason that I’m sure has to do with why I need therapy.


I laid down on this couch and closed my eyes and could hear ALL THE NOISES IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. No way this was going to work, but I was going to go through with the whole thing for the whole time just to say that I tried. I closed my eyes and listened to my therapist tell me how to relax.


It totally worked.

I felt like I was sinking into the couch. I felt my head roll to the side and my hands went limp on my belly. I could hear her the whole time; I didn’t black out or anything, but things behind my eyelids kept getting darker and darker–like I was riding an open elevator and each floor was blacker than the one before. That sounds creepy as heck, I know, but it’s really what was happening. It was like curtain after curtain of blackness closed in around me.

I remember thinking, “Wow this might actually work.”

I remember waiting for her to ask me questions (she didn’t this session).

I remember waiting to fall deeper into some sort of trance where time and space fell away from me.

It never happened and as soon as I felt myself get completely relaxed…or as relaxed as I was going to get…I was being told to wake myself up and sit up when I was ready.

I found this strange since I had only just started to get into the full relaxation mode and it had only been about 10 minutes of listening to her talk.

I opened my eyes and sat up slowly.

“How much time has passed?” She asked me.

I told her 10 minutes by my count. She smiled and shook her head.

I had been on that couch for 30 minutes. The session was over.

She asked if I remember anything of what she said. I thought OF COURSE I DO THIS JUST HAPPENED.

But guys.

I couldn’t.

I could remember specific memories that she had asked me to conjure up while relaxing but everything else had slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.




I’m going back on Monday and she is going to ask me questions then and I have NO IDEA HOW THIS IS GOING TO GO AND I AM A LITTLE FREAKED OUT BECAUSE SOMETHING DEFINITELY HAPPENED.

Therapy-1; Carrie-0.


November 10, 2017, 9:32 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Mia London. She wanted a Justice League birthday party because she was awesome. Her mom drove the half an hour to Party City to get all of the over priced licensed paper goods to make this dream come true.

the justice league

So cool. These people are so cool.

LITTLE DID SHE KNOW that waiting in the aisle marked “Justice League” was this:

justice league plate

“Huh,” she said to herself while crouching down to look deeper into the shelves, “this can’t be right.” There was no Wonder Woman to be found.

Mother and child explored down the aisle on the girl side thinking maybe Wonder Woman had her own section full of awesome products. I mean, the movie really was that amazing.

But, this is what she found:

super hero girls

Superhero Girls? Or something.

Now listen. It’s not that she has anything against Superhero Girls but her daughter wanted a damn Justice League birthday party with the entire Justice League featured. She was in a predicament and could tell Mia London was getting a little upset, too.

The frazzled mother ended up getting half Superhero Girls and half sexist Justice League to at least have something. But, it’s going to look terrible and YES SHE CARES SORRY.



Also as a side note: The Avengers products had Black Widow on them. WHAT IS HAPPENING.



The Fighter Still Remains
October 15, 2017, 11:58 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

This is not a story about sexual harassment or assault. This is not my “me too” story.

This is me looking around and wondering why it takes celebrities being scum–just like normal people are scum–to provide a safe place for women to “come out” and admit that they were victims of the same actions.

What even is a safe place? Is Facebook a safe place? How many women will watch those brave statuses scroll by and wish they were at a place in their lives where they could hold up their quivering fist–rage or fear, it doesn’t matter–and shout “me too” along with their sisters.

It isn’t Facebook that’s the safe place. It isn’t our homes, towns. It isn’t this country that’s a safe place for women to admit that they have been taken advantage of in a horrific way. That safe place lies in our connections to one another. It’s not a location on Google Maps; it’s threads that run from one heart to another. Angry hearts. Incomplete hearts. Hearts that still feel guilty or ashamed.

So, my dear sisters

if you are not ready to write those two words as your status

if you are not ready to voice your “me too” and come clean as–not a victim–but a warrior

know that it is not in those statuses that women are mustering their strength. There is no club that you are missing out on by not being ready.

The strength for women has and will always be the slight nod to one another, sometimes silently, sometimes with bold and fiery righteousness. But the strength is there and it is the same. You are a fighter with your quiet nod just like the bold and unapologetic.

Grasp onto the threads that go from all of our hearts and keep fighting your own internal battle.

You are strong

You are a warrior

You are a fighter and the fighter will always remain

whether you say “me too” or quietly nod.

We hear you, sister.

October 1, 2017, 1:44 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


I know some of you may be looking at the pieces of clothing you have from last fall and wondering what to do to make it a little more up to date.

Do not stress–nay, worry–dear readers. I AM HERE TO HELP YOU WITH THE CUNNING USE OF SCARVES.

That’s right.

Scarves! Right? RIGHT?

Pretty much everyone wears a shit sort-of tee shirt and jeans…I mean just ever. It would be easy to just throw a black scarf over this and keep it basic (and in fact, would be the case for most of these outfits) but we are going to think outside of the box today. Instead of a black or black and white scarf that will add zero interest to this outfit, let’s try a cream windowpane blanket scarf because this girl is standing next to the water and her neck must be cold as hell.




This is maybe the most glorious coat I have ever seen in my life and I would maybe sell my Tiny Human for it (DHS–WOULD NOT SELL MY CHILD FOR A COAT. DEFINITELY NOT. PROBABLY NOT.). What do you pair with such a amazing and detailed piece of fashion? I decided on the faux fur scarf to kind of elevate it to that Scandinavian look that we all want to achieve but can’t because we are American and all we can really do is buy $2 plates and stuff mice from Ikea. Plus this scarf looks super cozy and would be extremely versatile, say, with even a white shirt.




But what if you want to go on a date night? WHAT IF YOU FINALLY DECIDE WHERE YOU WANT TO EAT IN TIME TO HAVE A DATE NIGHT? Also? What if you want to channel the most goddess version of Stevie Nicks possible? This dress oozes romance and a bit of Practical Magic good-witchyness. The perfect match for it is something just as magical. Get yourself a crushed velvet shawl that can double as a proper scarf but can also be thrown across your shoulders when the evening chill gets a little much.

(Dress available at link: Vetue Boutique…..also it has pockets)




It’s fall. You wall want to throw on your Hunter boots and go apple picking, don’t you? Yeah. I thought so. While I’m not super on board PERSONALLY with paying $20 for a bag of apples that I picked myself, I am super on board with this adorable sweater and skirt duo paired with a cable knit infinity scarf.





All black does not mean you have to be cold. Look at this amazing bleached out scarf with hand drawn zodiac signs on it. I found it on Etsy and you can even decide which signs you want displayed on it. I’m not here to tell you embrace some goddamn color because that’s none of my business but you can still wear some beautiful things to transition to a more cozy look for the new season.




Over sized cardigans are God’s gift to women. They don’t cling. They hit us right below the hip so no one even has to know what’s going on there, they cover your butt so you stay warm and can sit on cold grass if you need to try to bend over to tie your Tiny Human’s show and fail…I mean the list goes on here people. This fringe scarf is featured in maybe the second hottest color of the season right: RUST. It’s flattering on every skin tone and frames your face in AUTUMN. If this is the new mom uniform, I’m not mad about it.




OY WITH THE MUSTARD YELLOW. Guys this color is so popular I even have THIS EXACT BLANKET SCARF to go with …well…everything…but especially my mustard colored cardigan. It’s a tricky color that I feel like a lot of fair complexioned people just walk by in H&M but I am here to tell you to give it a shot. I have the pales skin IN THE SOUTH and I think I pull this off pretty well….at least, I hope I do. If I don’t, my friends have some explaining to do.

Amazon is a great place to buy some inexpensive but trendy scarves and to be honest you would be surprised how long you can get wear out of these things. Most you can find for under $20 so go on the site, look at your closet, and fill up that shopping cart. Your neck will thank you.

Wingless, Thus Silent
August 31, 2017, 9:46 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


I was in an antique store, glossing over vintage books when I came across an old illustrated insect field guide. I gently flipped the pages and marveled at how science can become art simply with the invention of a camera.

One figure in particular, the ant, caught my eye.

It wasn’t the extraordinary detail of the illustration. It was actually a pretty basic drawing. Three black spots with legs. My Tiny Human could make an ant using her small fingerprints.

It was the line used underneath to describe it.

Lasius niger. Black Garden Ant.

Wingless thus silent.

Wingless. Thus silent.

For some reason that line stayed in my mind and started to spin webs of ideas of how the world really works around us.

Is it true that the only ones who actually get voices in this life are the elevated and superior in mobility ones?

Sometimes it feels like it.

Sometimes it is easy to feel like an ant. I drive a used Kia Sportage. I buy my clothes second hand. I have nothing great to speak of about my life that deeply impacts the world as a whole. An ant that walks a certain line each day, does work, works with the common interest of the other ants, and walk the same line the next day. Quietly.


Who am I, after all, to think that my voice is greater than anyone else’s? Why should I be heard? There are people out there

people with wings

who are already making so much noise.


These people float high above us and it would be amazing to say that they all say wonderful things with the gift they have been given; that they make a beautiful song, necessary noise that changes the world for the better.

But it seems lately that those who are being given the power to be heard above everyone else are the very ones that need to be silent.

Do not tell me that I am an ant.

Do not tell an ant that they must be silent.

Do not fill the world with the knowledge that to lack wings is to lack a voice.

Tell me that to have a voice is to grow wings. 

Tell me that if I want my own voice heard I have to elevate myself.

Tell me that if I want to see something change in my lifetime, I have to float to the top and make my own noise.

Wingless thus silent is not the way any world should work.

Wingless thus brave.

Wingless thus working on it.

Wingless thus persisting.

There is more than one way to fly, dear readers.

Nightmares about Mean Girls
August 22, 2017, 12:27 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Ever have one of those dreams where you have it, wake up for a minute, and the when you fall back asleep it’s still there in your head happening?


I just had that happen.

And it was about mean girls.


The over under of the dream was that I was older middle school/younger high school–which is when I was bullied–, and that I was at some sort of sleep over camp. The original girls in my life weren’t there but my adult friends were. The friends I have come to know and love.

One of them in particular pushed me so far emotionally that my mother had to be called twice to come for me, which of course then caused even more girls to make fun of me.

When I was in middle school I dressed funny. I wore baggy pants, and bright colors with stickers all over my face. I once wore a beanie baby on top of my head all day and the next day two popular girls had started a rumor that I was a lesbian.

Girls are fucking mean.

They manipulate you. They gaslight you. They make you feel like you are wanted and then they ignore you. They make you feel like they care about you but then go radio silent for days on end.

No body really talks about how mean girls are. We send our daughters into school and tell them to be kind to everyone around them.

I was.

I was kind to everyone around me and I was bullied so hard in middle school that I would hide in the nurses office and pretend there was something extremely wrong with me. One time I was so convincing they took me to the ER to have my appendix taken out and when they did the ultrasound saw that it was not infected.

I know every single one of the girls that made my life a living hell at one point. Almost all of them have turned into lovely people whom I have no issue speaking with, but some I still keep an arm length away.

Sometimes mean girls turn into mean women, and I am very wary of this.

I am sending my daughter to the 1st grade in 6 days. Last year, in Kindergarten, she won “Most Thoughtful” and it is true. She has always been the kid in the classroom who wants to make sure everyone is happy and that she is pleasing to them.

I don’t know if 1st grade is too early for mean girls. I remember mine really started in 5th grade–that dissection of cliques–but maybe it’s time to at least give her a general chat that the only person she has to please in that room and take care of is herself.



So, yes, Tiny Human: The world can be a magical place and I never want you to lose that sense of innocence and wonder but as you progress down these hallways in this building I cannot be in with you, I need you to know that it is ok to protect your heart above all else.

The damage done to mine during those years have, unfortunately, become irreversible. But I’ll be damned if I let my little pixie of a child be eaten up by mean fucking girls.

Ariadne 1&2
August 15, 2017, 11:30 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


I do not know how long I have been sitting here

Olive trees loom around me, providing shade for certain parts of the day

but other parts, I burn.

Strange Cypress trees rise from the ground like silent sentries.

Keeping him in

Keeping me out

I sit here.

Waves of wind rustle the leaves and carry with it a far off sound.

Inhuman sounds

Human sounds

I cannot tell anymore.

My knees are raw from sitting on them

the skin, cracked and bleeding

sand working its way under my skin every time I shift my weight.

My  hands are empty.

They once held a wooden spindle

that never seemed to run out of thread.

My hands grew tired

and my heart grew heavy

as the days went by and I remained here

in wide open spaces

sitting on my knees

and waiting for him.

I sobbed and wailed,

pressed the spindle up against my little body

felt the sharp edges of it pierce my clothing

and then my skin

and then it disappeared entirely.

My hands are empty,

the thread being pulled from me now.

My own body.

From the softness of my belly.

I am no longer an anchor.

I am tethered to him.

Like an umbilical cord.

Like a stream between two bodies of water.

He churns and I feel everything.

Every step

away from me

towards a fight that might drag me along.

At least he gets steps

At least he gets fights

I do not like these wide open spaces anymore

There is too much air. There are too many trees.

I would feel safer in the tight walls of a labyrinth.

I do not know how long I have been sitting here.





I do not know how long I have been sitting here.

There is a sudden tug on the thread coming from my belly,

Like a marionette

I stand up

Grab the thread with both of my hands and try to wind it back into me

I have one job

My whole life I have had one job

To reel in the thread when it was time

It is time

I am thrown side to side

I am forced to dig in my heels

To keep from being dragged into the fight

He has found the monster

He is battling the monster

I have one job

To lead him back out

To me

I do not know how long I have been sitting here

The violence does not seem to last very long

Suddenly the thread is very still

The air feels very thin


As if we are all afraid to breathe

I feel a slight tug on my thread

He has done it

He has won his battle and now may come back to me

I tug on the thread to let him know that I am still here

I do not know how long I have been sitting here

But I am still here

I feel the thread start to grow slack

It is no longer unraveling from somewhere deep inside of me

It is coming towards me

Through the mazes upon mazes

Through the great labyrinth

I wait for hours, centuries

I lost track of time a long time ago

I see him, then

I see him emerge with the sand swirling around him and block caked on his knuckles

His face

He does not see me

I wave a hand

I run towards him

He walks right by me

Pushes me down back into the sand

“What is wrong, Theseus?” I wail at him

He turns his head, my thread still in his hand

And suddenly I know the answer to my own question

Theseus is dead

This is the monster

And he is dragging me around by the thread