YOU WILL NEVER BE NORMAL on display for Mental Health Awareness Month at Village Well Books, Culver City. Today my first book, YOU WILL NEVER BE NORMAL, meets the world. I put my whole self into this memoir and I’m …
(Photo by Aram Sabah on Unsplash) The waiting is large as we count down to the book release date of May 4, silence in a void of stilled voices, anticipation and apprehension together, delicious and harsh, awaiting the launch of …
A good friend forwarded a NY Times story to me about the complicated grief following the death of abusive family members. She thought of me because of my book, You Will Never Be Normal, about living and healing with dissociative …
Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash PTSD, DID, all those acronyms First, what is Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID? Dissociative disorder used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder and that’s how many people still think of it. To dissociate …
Interview with Author: Catherine Klatzker (from Medium) Read more »
My books have arrived! The long-awaited happy day. I have carefully printed, cut out, and affixed address labels to padded envelopes, written notes, and signed copies of gift books to send as thank you to a few champion supporters and …
Reflections on New Year of the Trees Living in a treehouse, one notices the tree. When the luster of the leaves fades, at first I wonder why. When they begin to yellow and drop away, I notice there are more …
http://www.theintima.org/unexpected-catherine-klatzker
The power of syntax, rage, and intergenerational trauma In Becoming Myself, Irvin D. Yalom recalls a late night when he was fourteen: his father had a painful heart attack, and he waited with his mother for the doctor to arrive, since they still …
I found this poem and photo some time ago and it resurfaced today, a memory from the midwestern home where I grew up. Readers of my blog and those who know me may have even seen a version of this …
Late night thoughts in COVID lockdown Sometimes my dreams are regular dreams, rhythmic and steady. Sometimes in the night, my hand cups my left breast and I startle awake at the galloping pace that rattles my fingertips, and whatever I’ve …