Spencer Richard

Author - Spencer Richard

Writer, Heal Thyself

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It’s been almost two months since I wrote for my website. This may be because the last few things I’ve written have had some severe negative influences, especially the last article in which I talk about my history of self-harm. So I sit down today to work on my novel, which is about the only thing I have been working on since then end of January, and I finally know I am ready to...

Self-Harm

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When I was a teenager, there was a period in time that I physically harmed myself. I was never extreme as one might think, since even the words self-harm conjure up a thousand horrors, but I got into the habit of getting depressed, purposefully tripping myself to fall onto rocks or down steps, rapping my knuckles over concrete til they bled, or cutting myself on the face with a knife. I feel that...

Why I Write (And Other Reasons to Live)

Why I Write

This is a loaded article. ‘Why I write’ is the sort of thing that could set me off into a diatribe of such self-focused, self-congratulatory, ego-maniacal deliberation that I wake up two days later in a daze like I was drunk on wine. ‘Why I write’ is dependent on how I understand my self as an individual. Anybody who knows me knows that I write things, after all. I write...

An Experiment In Giving

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Deep down I can be a real asshole. This is no revelation to some of you, I’m sure. I remember an event when I was nineteen years old. To put some context: nineteen years old, I was living at my parents place. I never graduated with my high school class because I did not yet grasp the importance of discipline. Naturally there was a rift between myself and some of my friends, who at this time...

Good Fathers Do Not Shake Their Babies

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Photo credit: Juliane Riedl In prenatal courses, the teacher is required to spend some time talking to the group of parents-to-be about Shaken Baby Syndrome (SBS). Our nurse-teacher went one further and demonstrated how easy it was to perform. She grabbed a baby-sized doll and shook it four times with stringent arms. “Why won’t you stop crying?” she said, punctuated on every...

We Are Caterpillars

caterpillar

My daughter, after a long two hours of not being able to have skin-to-skin time with her mother, finally got the opportunity. She was strewn with leads to monitor her heart-rate and breathing, her nose was attached to an oxygen tube that made her look like a tiny rhinoceros, and an ugly IV was taped to her arm to ensure she would get enough nutrition. A tangle of cords, a new human life. What...

What It Means To Relax

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I wonder how many times you do the same thing I do. You get home from work and merrily sit down in front of the TV, unfocus your eyes, and relax. I could browse around StatsCanada and tell you how many hours on average people spend watching movies, playing videogames, browsing the interwebs, playing on their mobile phone, or I could just acknowledge that you already know people spend a lot of...

The Return

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Life has taken some turns on me lately. I’ll take you to the beginning… Not the literal beginning because I get queasy thinking about that, but rather the beginning of my disappearance from the website. It all starts around the end of May, but not on a dark and stormy night. A Mysterious Announcement goes up to the website and I grit my teeth for what is bound to be an interesting...