Exploring the color of language — A Mango Shaped Space still occupies its very own nook in my bookcase of childhood memories. Synesthesia, a condition that takes center stage in Wendy Mass’s novel, involves the linkage of sight and sound. It’s been at least a decade since I initially read the book, but the phenomenon of…

My impulse to appease dictates everything…even my dietary choices — Three years ago, Rose*, also known as the best therapist ever, gave me a copy of Melody Beattie’s The Language of Letting Go. “It’s not because you’re codependent,” she insisted, always one step ahead of my overthinking, “but I think it’ll help with your complex PTSD.” It was a purple…

Life when the floor is the ceiling — This is the beginning of the end, I said what I meant and I meant what I said. As I was lying in bed, I felt alone, even more alone than I do on solo nights when I hug myself and go to sleep. …

The only rule is insanity — According to 23 and Me, I should know how to play chess. Of course, that’s not what the app actually said, but I am, in fact, Indian, and Indians are supposed to be able to play chess. That’s one stereotype. The best I can do is checkers. What a shame. …

In the wake of yet another sexual assault, I’m struggling to let go — “I should be used to this,” I told my friend Kelly. The two of us were sitting in a car meant for a family of at least eight. I laughed, just thinking about it. I laughed at everything she said. I couldn’t stop. In Kelly’s car, I giggled. I cackled…

Dissociation is my refuge — The world is a dangerous place, and I want a gun. I suppose I could end my story here, the way I do in casual conversation; six letters and a perfectly placed apostrophe stop further questions in their tracks. I’m fine. I tack on a “thanks for asking” if I’m…

I Don’t Want to Lay My Weapons Down — I am from the jungle. Of course, it’s not really the jungle anymore, and I’m not even really from there, but a man who considered himself Wise Once said that I am what my father is. …

Learning to embrace former triggers — I have eggs in my refrigerator. For the first time in over two years, I have eggs I intend to use in my refrigerator. I open the door, look at the eggs for a fleeting moment, then close the door again, but I will use the eggs. I promise to…

And I’ll continue to do so — When I was a kid, I thought love was a bad word. That, along with ‘stupid’ and ‘yucky.’ I remember the day my little sister, only two years old at the time, proclaimed that I was yucky. That didn’t go over well. Neither did the time I was trying to…