When do we share depth?

The inspiration for the blog came from a conversation I had with the program director of my masters program.

After meeting me and speaking to me briefly they acknowledged, “You’re an obvious candidate for this cohort, but I’ve got to tell you…I’m worried you think…

A Series Interruption

I woke up to a nagging numbness in my wrists and didn’t think anything of it.

The numbness got worse, and I couldn’t feel my arms. Then my ankles. Finally, my throat.

I thought it was restlessness, a sign of stress so I opened the door to…

A Series Continuation

I have spent too many hours of my life in meetings.

Some though, stand out to me vividly regardless of how much time passes.

One of those meetings includes a high school principal, and every member of his administration and counseling staff. Specifically, an older white, male…

A Series Introduction

I want to start this blog with a story.

Picture a children’s gym open for free play. There is an open room of gymnastics equipment, and it’s full of preschool aged kids running and climbing and their caregivers on the sidelines.

I am one of those caregivers.

A freedom I have experienced in not working full time for an institution is space to share more of my writing publicly.

I started blogging just about two and a half years ago, but recently I’ve been blocked.

Not blocked from writing, but blocked from writing for outside audiences.


Coming Outside

I spell comfort

c e m e t a r y,

maybe because

of its open energy.

my shoes wait below

a steering wheel,

maybe because naked feet

crave blades of grass.

where the purple blends with green

I sense my grandmother,

maybe because well loved



183 Days Old

Between the time I first laid you down

and sunlight coloring the blinds,

I pick you up to comfort you

fifteen times.

Each time I repeat,

your body is safe

aunt Amanda is safe

your bed is safe,

you’re okay.

Reflecting now I wonder if you


I’m not an easy crier,

surrender is hard for me;

surrender to myself especially.

when emotions whirl and hover

clenching moves from my

rib cage





I hear myself acknowledge

my fear of crying

somewhere open to others,

in places where my feelings

need soft padding


Steering away, and back

littler than you,

I think without explaining

as the edge of your lip curls.

before you cry

your distress reaches me;


I think without explaining.

magnets repel and attract,

create distance and remove it,


that some materials

pull closer.

you pull me close,



bless those echoes,

she typed;



with all the sincerity

of an action

following a disclosure.

it wouldn’t have mattered

what was said,

because transfers mark the space

before and the space after,

nothing about

our special what

invokes them;

only our sharing,

and the splitting of time.


Amanda Lindamood

Writer. Thinker. Facilitator. Advocate. Invested in accountability for power based violence, creative initiatives, and meaningful, nuanced dialoguing.

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