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That (Not This) Abby Rose

Because humor is a defense mechanism and this is cheaper than therapy

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Author: Abby Rosmarin

Author of the Amazon bestselling The Secret to a Happy Marriage, and the upcoming novel The Ballerina's Guide to Boxing, coming March 2021. As seen on Huffington Post, Bustle, Thought Catalog, and far too many social media platforms.

Anger

February 28, 2021February 28, 2021 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

Within the first two punches on the heavy bag, I feel something well up within me. “Oh, I’m apparently angry,” I say, with all the detached objectivity of a biologist studying their animals. “Don’t lose your form over it,” my husband warns, the man who not only tells his Icarus when she’s flown too close… Continue reading Anger →

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Innate

February 12, 2021February 12, 2021 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

“Out of all these memories, what do you think is the message from them that you want to undo?” “That I’m not worthy of love,” I tell my therapist. We have moved from emotional mapping to figuring out the baseline for my EMDR. “And what would you want to replace that message with?” she asks.… Continue reading Innate →

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Emotional Mapping

January 31, 2021January 31, 2021 Abby Rosmarin1 Comment

"Now this -- this can be put in its box, we can put its lid on it," says my therapist. "And we can leave it in the closet, and only return to it when we want to." I smile -- although she can't see it, through my mask -- and continue my deep breaths. I… Continue reading Emotional Mapping →

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Platform

January 21, 2021January 21, 2021 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

I went outside to find Hecate sprawled in the run, motionless. My rooster had been alive the day before -- the crowing had been an audible announcement of that. There was no sign of trauma, of attack, of illness. In some ways, my rooster looked like they were taking a peculiar nap. It was the… Continue reading Platform →

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Hindsight

December 21, 2020December 21, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

When the woman who had been my grandmother for the last decade died, I went to the ocean. It wasn't planned. I just knew I needed a drive. And I drove. I wove through backroads like I have countless times before, when my soul would be stirring and the only remedy was making the scenery… Continue reading Hindsight →

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Indian Summer

November 15, 2020November 15, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

It’s an Indian Summer, as the saying goes. Or used to go. It’s another term that strikes sour with time and understanding. It ages itself out and is left to its own devices alone. But, just days after there was snow on the ground, when the chill wove its way through the weavings of my… Continue reading Indian Summer →

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Heartbeat

November 1, 2020November 2, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

"Notice your heartbeat," I tell my students. "Without trying to predict anything, can you notice what happens when you breathe in... and breathe out?" It's one of the tricks I use in my yoga therapy groups -- the only classes I currently teach. Ironically, a hospital setting is the potentially the safest place for me… Continue reading Heartbeat →

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Inevitable

October 9, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

A fox came into our yard last week. Last week, while the chickens were ranging freely, while I was blissfully indoors and pretending like that was adequate supervision. I didn’t even know anything was wrong until I came out to a pile of scattered feathers and not a chicken in sight. Something is wrong. Something… Continue reading Inevitable →

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Ephemeral

September 27, 2020September 27, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

I'm greeting the fall with insomnia. This is a common occurrence. The seasons change, and I mark it with pock-marked sleep. It's a ritual between nature and my nervous system, my circadian rhythm a secret Druid. I don't worry about it too much. Sleep and I have always had a tenuous relationship. It is the… Continue reading Ephemeral →

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Hope & Time

June 12, 2020June 12, 2020 Abby RosmarinLeave a comment

Time is not a constant entity. This much, even a lay person knows (a child can recite E = MC2, even if they don't exactly know what it means). It's affected by gravity -- time at sea level moves a little slower than time in the stratosphere. I've been feeling how relative time is --… Continue reading Hope & Time →

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