Thursday, April 5, 2018


I need to write about what happened to me in the past two years. I don't want to.

I need to put these words down, though. I need to get them out of my body, stop carrying them. They have been stalking me lately. Tap-tap-tapping on my brain. You need to look at me.You can't ignore me forever. I'm hurting you.

I need to write about this because until I do I can't process it. Until I do I don't really have to process it. 

I have to process it.


Monday, March 26, 2018


I am so angry.

I'm angry at this world that I was thrust into, unwittingly. That we all are dragged into, not by choice.

Is it a gift? Is it?

I am angry that it feels like in order to survive this place, this world, this country, I need to feel less, see less, know less, care less.

It feels impossible to keep going otherwise, sometimes.

What is this place? Why is this place.

Living is so easy and so hard. For every solitary being.



I am so angry

about it.

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Dear Maximum Security Diary--Part 1


I finally found my journals, which I feared were lost forever when my parents moved while I was away at college--I NEVER got over it and pestered my father for about 15 years until he finally found the missing box holding all of my young little musings. I've been reading through them and...they're hilarious. And kind of sad. So, you know, me in a nutshell.

I've decided to share some selections here, partly to give the people what they want (I feel guilty about not writing much in the past 2 years) and partly because it's just funny, and partly because I'm avoiding working on the book because it's hard. This is much easier and provides much more instant gratification.

So, here's Installment 1, from Edie, Age 11:

Saturday, 11/21/92 

Dear Maximum Security Diary,
This is my first entry in you. J---‘s party was today. It was okay but as soon as the part was over the trouble started with my brother, C----. This started a giant pillow fight that started lots of tears. Some from me too.
For some reason mom seems to hate me. I just ask a simple question & she snaps at me. She never listens to me. She’s too busy snapping. “Snap, snap, SNAP, snap SNAP!!”
If only they would listen. I’m always afraid to say anything to them because I’m afraid they’re gonna make a big deal of it as they usually do. I hate it when they do that. And when I tell them they’re doing it they always say they’re not so in a way, it’s a lost cause.
Good night!
Friday, 11/27/92
Dear Maximum Security Diary,
My brother C----‘s friend, B----, is spending the night tonight. Boy do they make noise! I hope I can confide in you with this. I’ve been pretending I have a boyfriend! (Secretly of course) If anyone found out, I’d die! I’ll have to remember not even to let K----- read my and diary and she’s my best friend. Oh, well.
Today Saved by the Bell: The Movie came on. I recorded most of it. I forgot to unpause at one point and didn’t copy about 5-10 mins of it. I felt so stupid after that. Oh, well.
B---- and C---- are still talking & there [sic] supposed to be going to sleep. I hope I get at least a little sleep tonite. If I’m lucky.

Sunday, 11/29/92
Dear Maximum Security Diary,
If I could commit murder and not get arrested I would. C--- is getting on my nerves! The lettle [sic] twirp is going to pay one day. I really do need a boyfriend. I wonder if L----- has kissed T--- yet. Gosh I hope not. I’ll die! I still think he’s cute. J----doesn’t interest me anymore. IF I did his name would have been mentioned already.
I may not have to go to school tomorrow. I hope not since I don’t have my spelling work!
I hate Dad and I never want to see him again! I really wish he’d flush himself down a toilet! It would do us all good! I could do this: [insert hand drawn face with tongue sticking out] to him! The dumb, stupid, dweeby, JERK! (and I don’t mean a genuinely educated, rich, kid!) Ohhh!
P.S. C--- started a diary! I’m dying to read it. I know whatever he wrote is bad because he told me that it is! Him & his little games. Uggh!

Monday, 12/14/92
Dear Maximum Security Diary,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in you lately. So, we have a lot to catch up on in my horrible, trash dump resembling life.
For starters, I got braces! They hurt so bad the day after I got them. I didn’t go to school! Oh well.
Then the trouble started with all my friends. First A--- started to ignore me. Then I started taking my anger about that on K------. So, she got hurt because I started talking to A--- a lot to try to get her to remember that I was alive. This is before the L----- chapter began. It was almost her birthday and she was having a slumber party. I didn’t find out that she was having it, K---- was going, and that I hadn’t been invited until about 3 days before the party.
So now I hate L----. I’m not even going to start the Ly---- chapter!
Now the family problems. Actually, they’re more like mom problems. She’s been pushing me to (sic) hard and hogging in on my social life. First, she takes up most of my time with music lessons & ballet rehearsals. Then she’s making me be in this stupid Christmas play at Auntie’s church. She’s probably gonna make me miss a dance! If I miss the dance K----- might not be able to spend the night on Friday! That better not happen! I wish Mom would LEAVE ME ALONE!!! FOR GOOD!
So, you know, nothing's really changed in 25 years. Cool. Also please note that I literally wrote "Dear Maximum Security Diary" before every post. So precious.
Stay tuned for the next installment. There's SO MUCH MORE!

Monday, April 10, 2017

Gut (aka INFJ woes)

I haven't written about this here before, but I have a confession.

I believe very strongly in the Myers-Briggs personality types, and...

My name is Edie, and I'm an INFJ. This means a lot of things. But what it means most of all is that my "gut" stays telling me things I don't want to hear.

It's always right, too. It annoys the fuck out of me.

Often, what it's telling me is "This is not good for you. You need to step back. You need to step away. This is not what you need or want. You don't have to keep doing this. You don't like this. It's not right."

Then, like clockwork, my brain: "But, how do I know? Are you sure? Am I sure? I think I'm being too particular, too picky. This should be good for me! This should be what I want! Why isn't it what I want? It used to be what I want. It used to be what I want? Why doesn't it feel good? I don't want to hurt them. They are so good and nice and love me. I love them. This is good. This is fine. Right?"

I really shouldn't be asking that question so much, I don't think. 

"This is fine, right?"

All the time. On repeat. Never sure.

And I can never, really, say yes. I can't ever, really, relax into something being fine. Safe. Good. Right.**

Not for long anyway.

I have felt it before, for brief, beautiful moments--that feeling of safety, right-ness, clicking.

Then it goes.

Something happens. Maybe big, maybe not. Maybe a hundred little things. Little moments, little pin pricks. Little things that smart, that really shouldn't matter much, but they all really do. They all sting and they keep stinging.

There's this INFJ thing, where it feels like we can predict the future, can see how things are going to play out, especially in interpersonal interactions, based on hundreds of little clues that we process faster than we're aware, that manifest as an instinctual Knowing of something that we can't really know. But we do know. To our core, in our bones. We know how this person will react to that person, we know that so-and-so is feeling hurt right now about something no one else even noticed, we know that this other person feels left out, we know with this person, or that person, or you, or them, whether or not we'll be seen, if we'll feel safe, or if we won't. If it is right, or if it's not.

I hate it.

I can't ignore it.

It's happened again.


**An article on describes this experience perfectly:

"INFJs are far less interested in validation and are more interested in protection. They don’t need you to agree with them, they need to know you’re not going to hurt them, even if the fear of hurt is deeply unconscious.
There are some INFPs that have experienced trauma in the past and fear being hurt by others, but that’s more a product of wounding than anything intrinsic. The most protected, well-treated INFJ on the planet is still going to have something inside them scanning for people who would be deliberately hurtful."

Monday, February 13, 2017


Hi lovelies. This is one of those posts where I'm not in therapy so I'm writing instead. Feel free to skip right over this bleakness.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

I'm (well, the New Lesbian Podcast) is back!

Hello lovelies!

Well. It's been a minute. Life has finally settled down enough (i.e. I have achieved the Major Career Goals I've been working toward for the past 10 years) and I have enough distance from my breakup with Elle (we're still close friends, btw, and I'm sure I'll have lots to say about that, and how very lesbian it all is, in another post later) to finally finish editing an episode of the podcast that we recorded almost a year ago, with some of our lovely friends. It's called "Queer Round Table" and it's a great episode, full of a lot of interesting topics, and a lot of laughs, and a lot of crickets (we were outside, in the woods).

So, you can search for the New Lesbian Podcast on iTunes or whatever podcast listener you use (though it might take a day for the new episode to show up) OR you can listen in the player below, OR you can click the link below to listen on the podcast website, where you can also find every single episode of the show, since they eventually disappear from the iTunes feed.

New Lesbian Podcast website

I'm also working on answering all of the email questions I've gotten this past year, so stay tuned! I haven't forgotten you guys, so watch this space and the podcast for that.

So, in other words, I'm back!


Friday, March 11, 2016

Can't not.

Well. I finally NEED to write.

Why, you may wonder?

This weekend I'm packing up all of my stuff and moving it out of Elle's apartment.

Elle's apartment.

Not ours, anymore.

Was it ever?

I don't live there anymore. I haven't for awhile and it's better that I don't. Of course.


The fact that this is what my weekend will be, that this weekend I will be packing my self out of that space where so much happened, where so much was gained, and lost, has rattled me. I feel awful. Depressed. I think I'm dehydrated. I feel fuzzy and sad and anxious and lonely and also ready for it to just be done.

I feel out of sorts and like I don't understand what my life is. Why is this my life? How is this my life? I feel completely out of control and terrified. I also know that I did the best I could (whatever that means, whatever that's worth). That this needs to happen. Needed to happen. I know all of that.

I know that I have capital-g-capital-t Good Things happening, too. And I should be, and am, really fucking grateful for a lot of things, for what I have, even as I feel so utterly, helplessly unmoored. I am grateful.

But I'm mad. I'm mad that everything is so hard and that at the end of the day you always have to deal with your shit alone. No matter how much love you have, how many people are supporting you, how many things are good.

Still, at the end of the day only you can deal with your shit. Only you can lie in the bed you've made.


And it all hurts.

Even the good, right things hurt?

Ain't that a kick in the pants.