You can’t make them feel what they just don’t feel.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

“Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t
You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t”
— Bonnie Raitt

I was one to hang onto relationships long after they were over. Every guy I fell for, I envisioned our future together. I saw us settling down, getting married, having babies, being successful, whether the guy had shown any interest in sharing those things with me or not. I wanted so badly for each one to be THE one, I couldn’t/wouldn’t see what was right in front of my face.

I realized that Scottie, my first boyfriend, had…


Ten books up in smoke…forty more to go

Burn Baby Burn! Photo by E. O. Elliott

I wasn’t kidding last week when I wrote about setting fire to my journals. I burned ten books yesterday. There are about forty more to go. Our old barbecue grill makes the perfect incinerator. We haven’t used it in years so it’s nice to pull it out of its corner on the patio and put it into service some sort of way.

This has, surprisingly, NOT been an emotional event for me. I was afraid that it could be but alas, it isn’t. I’ve always been fascinated by fire so tearing the books apart and tossing the pages into the…


No one. I’ll make sure of that.

Photo by Prophsee Journals on Unsplash

Do you ever wake up in the morning and the answer to a question that’s been haunting you for a long time suddenly makes itself crystal clear? Maybe it came to you in a dream? Or maybe it was something you watched on television before going to bed that manifested itself overnight? Who knows?

I woke up today with the answer to a question I’d been asking myself for years. What in the hell should I do with my private journals? And finally, this morning, I knew.

Every Saturday and Sunday morning for over twenty years, I sat in bed…


Even on our worse days, we could still bond over a favorite film

Photo of television by meltingdog from FreeImages

The Chicago Sunday Tribune newspaper would hit the front porch with a loud thud. I’d run out to scoop it up and bring it inside. Before dropping it on the kitchen table and letting my brothers have at it, I’d grab the big, color comics section and the TV Guide.

It was my job, as the youngest member of a family of movie fanatics, to comb through the TV Guide and note if someone’s favorite film was airing that week. Of course, this meant that I had to know everyone’s favorite. …


When to call them out — and when to let it go

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

So, I was on the phone yesterday with B, a member of my family. And once again, B told me a lie. I say once again because, for some crazy reason, B has developed a tendency to casually drop a little lie or two into our conversations. Not every time we talk but, the older we get, the more frequently she’s doing it.

I’ve been annoyed by it. Of course. But I haven’t been too worried. Her lies aren’t usually compulsive. There’s nothing pathological about them and I’ve never felt that she suffered from any sort of disorder. …


Surviving the front lines of love and war

Photo by Shvets Anna from Pexels

I turned eighteen smack in the middle of the sexual revolution, but before the AIDS Epidemic. For about a decade there was nothing to fear except a few nasty but treatable STDs. I was single and mingling for a long time. And I learned that there were, basically, three kinds of relationships. My guess is, there still is.

Situation #1. You meet, say, in a bar or a club. And he’s hot. You spot him on your first cruise around the dance floor and with loins on fire, you bump, grind and sway to the music with him until closing…


When you know in your heart that you can’t forgive, stop trying.

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich from Pexels

They say that forgiveness is at the root of moving forward. To get passed the anger and heartache, we must forgive the ones who caused it. Okay. Normally I’d go along with that. It’s healthy, it’s positive, it’s progress. And I’m all for progress.

But when you’ve been double-crossed by someone close, and the idea of forgiving them feels like being sentenced to scrubbing shitty toilets with a toothbrush for the rest of your life, it’s best to face facts. You will never make peace with that.

My mother raised me on kindness and fairness, wrapping it all up with…


Here’s how to avoid the pitfalls

Photo by Frank Zhang on Unsplash

I was born into a blended family. Really blended. My mother was a widow with two young sons and my father was twice-divorced with a teen-aged son and daughter. I came along as the centerpiece of our two families’ union.

Sometimes I felt the pressure of that but for the most part, I grew up protected and adored. I was a teenager before fully grasping the whole step-brother/full brother/half-sister thing. We weren’t raised that way, you see. As far as I was concerned, I had three brothers and a sister. Period.

My father’s first wife was Sally, the mother of…


Does the chosen one meet your needs?

It’s a Tango, baby! By ArtNews for Pixabay

My husband and I have been married for twenty-five years. And I’ve spoiled him.

I swore I wouldn’t do it. I tried early on to be mindful of every plate of food I dished up for him, every back rub, every time I yielded to his judgment. But it seemed as if it couldn’t be helped. I slid right in and spoiled him anyway.

Why? Because I loved doing it. Especially in the beginning. I loved gauging just the right amount of food to put on his plate. Not too little. But not too much. …


“And whatever you do, don’t get pregnant!”

Photo by Luve Christian on Unsplash

Scottie and I were in the front seat of his stepfather’s roomy Impala. The drive-in that night wasn’t very full and it felt as if we had the whole southwest end of the semi-empty lot to ourselves. Do you remember what that felt like? A dark night, a steamy car ? It was like we were the last two people on earth.

The movie speaker was turned all the way down while Marvin crooned “Let’s Get It On” over the radio. We were going at it, touching, rubbing, tugging, licking, everything BUT laying ourselves flat on that front bench seating…

Edwina Owens Elliott

Illustrator, graphic designer, self-published indie author. Lover of beauty and creativity in every form.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store