How years of gaslighting still whispers his name

I had walked into a wormhole. Propelled back into time, I entered the bar where I used to wait tables till 3 am. The place where most of my co-workers could find me crying in the kitchen in between orders, reading a text from my phone. Two years later and it was almost the same staff working behind the bar. I weaved through the crowd as I listened to the same cover band I had listened to playing the same songs to a drunk crowd. My husband was outside on the patio drinking with his friends, but I had wandered…


Once More With Feeling

I had decided I was going to do a few bumps of cocaine Saturday night. Or maybe even MDMA depending on my mood. This decision came on the same day as my one-year anniversary of sobriety. It took me about a day to realize this was the most idiotic plan I had come up with in a while. Why was this even on my mind? The worst part was I had no intention of drinking, I planned to take a hard left directly into a bag of cocaine. This logical thinking came from the same person who had cut out…


Thoughts on Healing and Writing

What a decade it’s been.

After three long hard years of recovery, I am finally resurfacing from under the surf. I am finally breathing, deep and full.

What I’m most grateful for, however, is to have been able to work and complete the first draft of my memoir “Hello from Bordeaux”, while simultaneously unearthing a lifetime of traumas and addictions. It isn’t a coincidence. Ever since I started taking my writing seriously, healing has been an integral part of my writing process. Both journeys started the same summer, three years ago. The writing most likely…


Seychelles, 2012

Months after entering my twenties, I fell in love for the first time in my life. My twentieth year was a loaded year as it was simultaneously the best and the worst year of my early twenties. And truth be told, I fell in love twice that year, split in half by two choices I made. One led me to such beautiful memories, I still talk about it today, ten years later, with the same breathlessness and awe as when I first experienced it. …


Sometimes, the idea of writing about my past makes me feel sick. And some days, I can’t bare it at all — I look at my computer in disdain knowing I should be writing. So, I catch up on a show instead. Smoke some weed and take a shower. I set up my laptop real nice on my kitchen table facing the window, and sit down. Instead of writing, I text my sister and stare out the window. I waste time as I watch one of my neighbours wash his apartment windows. …


Yangshuo, China 2011

This morning, I woke up with an email from my ex after nearly four years of silence. The email was full of self-serving apologies. Sawyer was urging me to believe he was a changed man and had gone through a spiritual transformation. He hoped I was well and told me he wasn’t expecting my forgiveness but “needed to get it off his chest.”

Years ago, this email would have ripped me in half, starting deep within me. It would have then travelled up my throat, making me cough with anxiety before paralyzing me from head to toe. We had been…

Naomi Loud

Witchy Writer. Currently living in Montreal, QC. Podcast : The In-Between. Insta: naomi.loud

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