Michelle Elizabeth is an author, essayist, and mother living in Colorado. You can find her stories and essays on the Internet. Michelle is a Yale Workshop alum. Please consider supporting her work by leaving a tip.
My Life With Fibromyalgia
I can’t remember the last time I felt normal. The moment, so long ago that I hold it with the same nostalgia that one holds their Christmases of childhood or their college years. I have Fibromyalgia. It’s a chronic illness that causes widespread pain, extreme fatigue, stomach issues, and brain dysfunction.
Recollections Of My Father
The earliest memory I have of my father is a product of my overactive imagination. It’s me, age nine, looking out of the bedroom window of our rowhouse imagining that he’s out there somewhere too. I wanted to believe that he was sitting at his window, looking out at the moon and wondering where I was in that moment.
What I’ve Learned In The Last 40 Years.
There’s something about being at the midpoint of life that has me feeling contemplative. It’s almost like it would be a disservice to myself if I didn’t take the time to look back and review the last forty years of my life to learn from my mistakes as I move forward.
I Took A Gap Year In My Marriage
A gap year is typically used to describe the year high school students take to find themselves. During that time, they work or travel in an effort not only to discover themselves but to figure out what they want to do with their lives. But when we inadvertently applied that same logic to our marriage, it brought us back from almost getting divorced.
The Night Watcher
In 2012 they started finding the bodies. Richie knew that once they found one, they would find them all. Their remains were strewn about the open space like a patchwork quilt of decay. He had taken his time and buried them deep in the earth. Sometimes he prepped the area months before he had even settled on his next conquest. Once all of his preparations were completed, Richie would look at a map, gas up his Ford pickup, and set out across the country picking up odd jobs along the way.
In Defense of Valentine’s Day, Sort of
Every February, all of those feelings of rejection and not being good enough come flooding back to me. My hatred of all things romantic started young. I was in elementary school the first time I learned what rejection felt like, and I would repeat it every year until adulthood.
How Not To Be A Douche
The fastest way to get rid of your douchebaggery and become the good human you were meant to be is to be nicer. But nice can be hard to achieve for some people, especially when the world seems bent on bringing out the worst in you. Regardless of how hard you try, you manage to miss the mark.
It was just a normal day. That’s usually how these sorts of stories start, with the narrator waxing poetic about how today was no different than the day before it. I went through my normal morning routine without a hiccup and made it to the Metro on time. The train was late, as usual, and conveniently empty. I went to the back and found a seat opposite a person who immediately caught my attention.