I recently wrote the article What if 2020 wasn’t the worst year of your life? on Medium. This effort to share the trauma of surviving suicide is the first thing I have written since Geoff died that felt good, true and real and like the voice I seem to have lost since his death. I've been writing various short stories based on minor moments or external prompts, most of it ending up in the junk pile (I never throw anything away). I keep writing because it gives me pride and energy, things in short supply these hard days.
I'm so frustrated that suicide and grief are the topics that are flowing through me right now. I have so much I want to say about social justice, systemic privilege, political tolerance and so many more topics. But as with so many aspects of my life right now, the grief sucks the juice out of every other grape in the bunch. So I'm writing my experiences and finding unexpected comfort in giving voice to others who are stuck in this vapid box of raisins.
We live in a world where my digital presence is necessary, but you should know I'm better in person.