Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

The Trials and Tribulations of Emotional Contagion

The Trials and Tribulations of Emotional Contagion

We had an evaluation for my oldest son's food aversions this morning.

The doctor said she'd seen a lot of children who had reflux as babies, and went on to experience similar problems. She seemed confident that we could treat it, but said it would take time.

I watched the appointment as though floating above the room, witnessing the dynamic between my husband, my son and myself through a stranger's eyes. My son was getting bored by the end of the session. He wanted to play with my wedding ring, then my phone. I gave him both; my husband took both away. We seemed like caricatures: Too permissive; too strict. Coddling mother; domineering dad. 

Afterward I bought a muffin to share. My son started crying and stamping his feet: He'd wanted one all to himself. I felt my attention fray like cheesecloth. Brain fog set in, as it always does when one of the kids veers toward a public tantrum. 

(Is this normal? A dissociative response? It doesn't seem to bother my husband the way it bothers me.) 

Since I started "mucking around in my memories," as I call this self-administered EMDR, I've realized just how keenly I sense other people's emotional states. That explains, I think, why I'm so slow to trust strangers. Why I grit my teeth around people with inner demons. I can feel the weight of them looming. I breathe in their energy and make it my own. 

I used to hold my breath, as a girl, whenever my school bus passed a graveyard. Didn't want to inhale any wandering spirits, or so the old superstition goes. 

Maybe I should start holding my breath during my kids' tantrums. Maybe it would help. 

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To Be Ordinary

To Be Ordinary

An Interview with Amy Kurzweil of "Flying Couch"

An Interview with Amy Kurzweil of "Flying Couch"