Faces of Fortitude
Poem and Art by K. Rose QuayleFrom the book - This Business of Becoming Mad Golden then, that afternoon, and brindled was the skyfairytales still had an end,and trains yet passed me by.The...
Last month I sat in the studio to take an updated self portrait and reflected on the past 5 years since starting this project in 2017. This project began with a wave of emotion and excitement ...
met Mariangela nearly 9 years ago. I think I remember every detail about our first meeting, because well, its Mariangela, and no one forgets meeting her. I can save the sorted details f...
My earliest memory of grappling with the concept of suicide occurred when I was 9 years old; the night before my first day back to school after summer break when my mother was in her room sta...
Every morning I sense a feeling of guilt, from where this emotion comes from is unknown and at times extremely confusing. My brain seems to try and pull a reason from somewhere, was...
As this school year began I sat in a staff meeting. The school counselor clicked and a slide showing behaviors and warning signs of suicidal students. I shifted in my seat, the descriptors pa...
I was born with a brain that has never been remotely interested in things that are good for me. If my brain was an actual person, that person would sabotage me at every turn, then photoshop A...
In 2007 my father killed himself. My father was brilliant, hilarious, and a great dad. His mental illness was undiagnosed, but looking back I see that we navigated his illness for most of ...
You may have heard that Seattle has been a bit of a, shall we say, ruthless, frigid bitch these past few weeks. It has already been declared the snowiest February on record and we aren’t even...