Rook Riley

Things have started creeping up on me in my dotage. The occasional adrenaline dump and shakes, night terrors, and compulsive security checks around the house. None of this happens with any regularity because that would be helpful.

Writing helps when sand blows through my brain, bringing that smell off the desert with it. It helps when I find myself hyperaware and on edge for no reason. It helps when I want to blow up over spilled juice or the fact that my little one can’t find his shoe again. It helps because there are things that need to be taken out of my head and put on the page.

Therapy helps.

Writing is better.