Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Dying

Anxiety

Posted on November 11, 2018

Anxiety is a fickle thing, and it lies dormant within your brain, your soul, until you least expect it. It often rears its head at the most inopportune and vulnerable moments and leaves you scared it will happen again. I have wrestled a lot with anxiety in my life, and it stems from multiple events – and the symptoms are triggered when my body is attacked by lots of different stress all at once or over a long period of time. The first time I had a “real” panic attack, I was sitting on the couch at home by myself. My wife at the time had just gone to work, and I was eating re-heated stuffed shells that her mother had made for us…

THE WRITE LIFE: Writing Prompt #2

Posted on March 27, 2018

As a continued effort to write more, and maybe inspire others to write in the process – I am going to be posting writing prompts here and there. Feel free to use this prompt, or others – found under the WRITE LIFE category tag. * The above image is a painting called “Madame Mazois On Her Deathbed” by Henri Regnault.     An old person lies very close to death. You are there in their last moments, and they relay some poignant events from their younger days as a sort of confession, taking comfort in your presence. What images and scenes do they describe to you?   Check back often for more writing prompts. As always, feel free to share results if you end…

On Seeing My First Dead Man

Posted on August 17, 2015

I was eleven years old when I saw my first dead man. I came through the front door of the house, clutching my bloody head, wondering if I should tell my mother about how I was knocked out just a few minutes before by one of her drunk friends. I staggered into our living room on the right, looking down at my shaking hand, at bloody fingertips that I’d touched my scalp with. I winced as pain radiated through the back of my head and neck. My forearms were also pulsing with pain. I could hear shouting. There was a frenzy in the living room. “Mom?” I said. She didn’t hear me. She was blowing air into the dead man’s mouth, but only after…