My father — front left. My mother — front right. The day after their wedding, at the Newton, KS train station, leaving for Paraguay in 1943 When I was a kid, my dad was my hero-doctor. He stitched up my chin three times after I fell again and again and…
I ended my last post with this question: Really, what’s the point of having relationships with people if I can’t have sticky, messy, real relationships that will help me grow toward greater wholeness, less loneliness and a longer life? But the question remains, is…
Even if (maybe especially if) it Scares Me My prior blog posts suggested that showing up vulnerably with others is necessary if I want to be truly known. I introduced research concluding that not being known makes me feel isolated. And feeling isolated makes me…
One of my last blog posts reviewed some of the things I’ve learned about the interconnectedness of loneliness and social media: Loneliness is a growing epidemic, seemingly fueled at least in part by social media use. Social media use is rampant and growing, seemingly…
The wounded feet of one of my father’s leprosy patients — circa 1950s In a prior blog, I wrote about the importance of touch in my intimate relationship. When my partner and I discovered “the skin thing” over 20 years ago, we thought we were onto something new….