a masochists memoir

i came here because i need to write. i haven't written consistently since i started having children 15 years ago. my children have healed my heart in ways i never thought possible but there is still a part of me that needs attention and the pain radiates in ways i haven't felt before.

someone picked up that part of me a couple of years ago, in the middle of the night. he held me like he knew i was broken. scooped me up like i wasn't a burden or laden with walls as tall as you could imagine. i hadn't ever been held like that.