I’m a Cougar (Not That Kind)
On grief, belonging, and reclaiming the blue and gold.Content note: mentions of school violence and grief.When I say I’m a cougar, let’s be clear: I don’t mean the older-woman-chasing-younger-boys thing. Ewww. No. I mean Evergreen High School. Blue and gold. The place I’ve spent most of my life saying I hated. The place I blamed
Not Evergreen. Not Again.
Not Evergreen. Not Again.A school shooting reopens old wounds and binds us in collective grief.I felt my phone buzz in my pocket in the dark movie theater. Potential spam again? But then I glanced at my watch: my best friend. She rarely calls this time of day. My stomach tightened. Another buzz. And another. I
When You’ve Had Enough, Say When
Sunday morning therapy. I’ve got my vanilla latte in hand—because let’s not be heathens here—and ’ line, “$150 a week on therapy,” is ringing in my ears as I stroll in, ready to dive into the mess of me. This week’s mess? I go cold on people. I ghost. There, I said it. Texts
