My ex was abusive. Punching, kicking, etc. When I mentioned the choking to my therapist her face froze—and she has a pretty good therapy face. It is the number 1 indicator that the abuser is going to kill you. I am lucky that I got out, though I still live in fear; this woman is lucky to be alive; this ‘man’ and…

Lack of affect. He is a sociopath.

Seriously a treasure—this is her eating hot wings:

Team Purple: bras that are meant to hook in the front. No spinning necessary. Easy on, easy off.

Not true. I went to a Stanford-level school, and initially thought I had gotten in because some admissions offer took pity and knew, somehow, I wanted to escape the suburbs/reach better weather. (A+ GPA, great SAT and ACT scores, a ton of extracurriculars, won all the awards, etc.) I assumed everyone matriculating at…

The Liars Club. Lit. Cherry. (memoirs)

Oh my god, my first year of teaching I was supposed to teach ed to junior high students in a very Catholic country. I ended up in the hospital with dengue fever instead. WORTH IT. As a very lapsed Catholic, I do not know how I could have kept a straight face/toed the party line if asked the blunt questions. 

I was baptized twice (Catholic church) because my mom thought the first one ‘didn’t count’. Crazy comes in all religions.

Wow, they ‘hate’ other people exercising a basic right? (Speech.) I am shocked! SHOCKED.

Is it wrong that I am glad that, if convicted, they will be registered as sex offenders?

I did.

Look up pathology.

It’s as unfortunate-looking as her book cover.

Well, I hardly think she is on par with being a Nazi.

Thanks! I just added her to my ‘to read’ list.

I agree. (Poet here.) And she has an unusual-ish name—Ailey O’Toole is not exactly as generic as Sarah Smith or whatever.

My cat is dying, and I am thankful for my many years with her.

As a survivor. I feel the opposite. To me it means, Someone who professed to love me tried to strangle me to death and the only reason he could not get to his guns was because he was so busy trying to choke me out/punch me in the face/throw me into things while I escaped the apartment.

Honestly, I could—breakfast (with yogurt/granola/oatmeal/hot bran cereal), in smoothies as a snack, and in salads, which for the most part make up lunch and dinner. Snack-wise, I just grab handfuls.

THIS. My abuser literally wrote me a letter about how he was the real victim. But...I was the one in the ER, in Domestic Violence Court, calling 911. But he was the ‘real victim’ because I told people. (Black eyes, bruised torso, jaw all swollen shut--not exactly injuries you can hide.)