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Recent Posts
- Disability Pride and Why It Matters
- In the Company of Elivra
- Thirteen Years
- Waiting for Max Shadow
- Learning to Like Myself – A Reflection
- The Labyrinth of Me
- Levels and Lymphocytes
- The Impossible Mountain
- The Able Body and the Mountain Within
- A Maven Clad In Raven’s Clothes
- The Cyclone That Life Can Be
- A Personal Victory!
- The Language of Smiles
- A Dance with the Waves
- A Journey of Ten Years
- The Lessons I’ve Learned
- Boats of Many Colours
- The Light of Small Joys
- The Deity of the Waves – Thoughts on Chemo and the River Within
- This Is My Journey
- Pushing Through
- Happy Birthday Max Shadow!
- Bodily Able – A Reflection
- The Power of Forgetting
- Captain Maven and the Shadow Man: AVAILABLE NOW!
Author Archives: Jamieson Wolf
A Broken Connection
I like to think that my legs are talking. While writing the other day, I remembered the old story my mother told me: That my brain was like a hub where all the telephone operators were. All the veins and … Continue reading
Posted in Memoir, Muscles, Spasms, Walking
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Mirror Me
I’ve been looking at myself in the mirror a lot lately. I wonder, however briefly, how someone can love someone that looks like I do; knobby knees and legs that are too long. Muscles that spasm and shock the body, … Continue reading
Posted in self esteem, Spasms
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Beautiful Skin
Today my legs are made of stone. I can feel them dragging. They are heavier than usual and I wonder how I could not have noticed before. I touch my calf muscles and there is no give there, there is … Continue reading
Posted in Muscles, Spasms, swelling, Walking
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Falling Forward
I like to think that when we walk, we are in a constant state of falling. Think about it: We take a step, we are falling. We take another step, we are falling. The only thing that stops us from … Continue reading
Posted in Walking
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A Title and a Sigh of Relief
I did not sleep at all last night. I sent Scott what I had written of my memoir and the moment I hit send, my belly was a mess of nerves, a hot bowl of anxiety soup. The internal voices … Continue reading
Oh. Crap.
My publisher, the lovely Scott Pack from The Friday Project, asked to see what I had written of my memoir. Oh. Crap. What if he doesn’t like it? This is my ultimate fear, I think.
Posted in Memoir
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The Counting Stone
The Elephant Man has returned. I got a ride home from work last night. From Elgin Street, I walked to Confederation Park. I knew the spasms were coming; I felt them riding in my friends car, a subtle throb that … Continue reading
Posted in Memoir, Spasms, swelling, Walking
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The Dark Mark
I had my first year wedding anniversary on Saturday. I can’t believe it’s been a year that I’ve been married. I also can’t believe that Robert and I have been together for almost three years. It seems like a few … Continue reading
Posted in self esteem, The Past
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Snake In My Path
I’ve come to think of pain as a snake. My shoulder is still sore, still spasming, still convulsing under my skin. It beats as if a heart rests there, as if it is something alive. Which, in a way, it … Continue reading
Posted in Muscles, Spasms, swelling
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A Heart That Is His
Over the weekend, my husband read what I had written of my memoir thus far. From the time he asked if he could read it to the time he was done and I heard him step away from his computer, … Continue reading
Posted in Memoir
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Two Steps at a Time 