Susan Pogorzelski

Today's my 33rd birthday. Hold on a second. I need to let that sink in... Thirty-three. I'm shaking my head in disbelief, not because I feel old--although most days my body acts like it belongs to an eighty-year-old--but because every year feels like another chance for healing, for hope, for health. There was a time when I didn't think I would see my 30th birthday. Twice along this Lyme journey, I almost gave up and gave in. Every day I wake up ready to do battle against this

"There's more than one way to be brave..." Write one last letter. That’s what fifteen-year-old Amelia’s psychologist says when she tells him about her time capsule—a My Little Pony lunchbox she’s buried in the backyard garden after listening to the preacher on the corner shout about the end of times. One last chance to leave her mark when the world's been shaken to its core by a national tragedy not even the preacher sees coming. One last story of humanity’s ability to endure

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” - THE GREAT GATSBY- Today marks the 15th anniversary of 9/11, and I wish I knew what to say. Last year, I wrote this blog post in which I talked about that September day. I wanted to write "all those years ago" just now, but it doesn't seem so long ago after all, does it? Not when the past seems to constantly buck against the present, reminding us that we're the sum of all those moments and memo

I like to think I’m a writer by nature. I like to think that’s why it’s easy for me to pour my heart out and be vulnerable in these written spaces. But when it comes to talking in front of an audience on the internet, well… Maybe not so much. There’s a world of thought swirling around my head, and here, on this blank page, I can take my time and hunt for the right words and reflect upon these feelings until I understand them. There’s a comfort that comes from writing, but sha