All I Ever Wanted

All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. Without the clothes, the bling, the boys, all the heavy stuff. To be deliriously happy without watching the tick-tock of the clock, afraid that your time for bliss had past. It has not. You deserve to feel joy, wonder, love and laughter until your heart beat’s quiet. All I ever wanted was to see you smile wide and large, for

The Lithium Chronicles: Volume One by Nicole Lyons’ Advance Review

The Lithium Chronicles: Volume One by Nicole Lyons – Advance Review, Jacqueline Cioffa I was truly honored and moved to receive an advance copy of Nicole Lyons’ forthcoming book, THE LITHIUM CHRONICLES with Indie Blue Publishing (Spring 2019). The powerful voice, incredible woman and fierce advocate are a gift to the written word and humanity. “Nicole Lyons is one of the most exciting, vital poets of our generation.THE LITHIUM CHRONICLES is

It hurts, Ya' Know: reblog from @stigmafighters

I am honored to be included on Stigma Fighters.  No matter who we are, we cannot face Mental Illness alone. Sarah Fader and Stigma Fighters are doing important work sharing, discussing and opening the conversation. Say NO to Stigma, YES to empathy, understanding and kindness. The time for positive change is right now.   Stigma Fighters : Jacqueline Cioffa   It hurts, Ya’ Know by Jacqueline Cioffa The earliest picture I have of me lives in

“Heartstrings” A Woman’s Workshop

To write from a safe place, to nurture and to listen are the greatest lessons I can share. Storytelling starts with an idea, a perspective, a memory, an observation, an opinion and a healthy dose of imagination. Writing, good writing begins with the most honest, painful, sincere, sensual, scary and absurd memories. Stellar writing must start from a sacred place of truth, examining both the dark and the light. Women today

THE RED BENCH *Cover Reveal*

A DESCENT AND ASCENT INTO MADNESS A decade ago I made a commitment to myself and a promise if I could write my deepest, darkest truths, fears, and wildest dreams on the page, I might have a shot at surviving the depths of hell I was living. THE RED BENCH essentially became a one-hundred-plus-page creative exploration, and the purest stream of consciousness, and the most essential tool in my survival

At Water’s Edge

Time moves fast separating the then from the now What if I imagined a palm tree pause?There’s a place beyond the palms where the wind blows hot Where the sunshine is warm and sweetSavor the good fortuneDon’t sweat the small detailsLife is not supposed to feel only goodOr only badIt’s over in less than a minuteDon’t blink or you might miss itThe pink grains of miniscule seashells wash up on shore Sands of

caught-crossfire

Catch and Release

A label cannot define the sublime essence of youIt means little if not nothing when you’re navigating the unique journey exclusive to you Sensitive sweet smart kind inquisitiveThose are not labels but words with depth and meaning All the ways you’re seen thus farYouth is a magical mystical time and a strange place to find your footingPlease don’t believe the world is so shallow so small it can define youBut it will

I Am Adam Lanza – by Jacqueline Cioffa

I Am Adam Lanza, Dec. 14, 2012 A decade ago I lived a frivolous, spoiled, privileged life. An International fashion model, I worked in more countries than I can count. Freedom was something I took for granted, until the earth fell from under me and my whole world shattered. My first psychotic breakdown took away everything I knew to be true and buried me whole. The paranoia, delusions of grandeur, mania,

An Honest Life

I wonder what dreams you gave up so that we could follow ours? I wonder how much pain we caused, and yet you never complained. And what about before us, when you had your own first family? You provided shelter, comfort food, and stability when you lost your own mother so young. That must have been hard, and yet you carried yourself with grace and grit. You have been carrying

The Inheritance Tax

Please do not underestimate the fragile girl who has been broken. The grown woman climbs barbed wire fences unapologetic, her jagged and cut limbs battle cries that honor the scars. Bleeding profusely shrugging off the pain, she is awake and determined. The girl is immune to the swirling, incessant noise hovering overhead. Simply choosing to embrace the beautiful and worst kinds of misery. Nah, man she’s better than wasted breath.