Episode 003: the episode Lizzy wishes didn’t have to exist. A deep dive into what Lizzy’s CPTSD looks like, what caused it in her body, and how she cleaned up the mess others made.

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Printable list of CPTSD accommodations:

Square breathing phone wallpaper:

Resources mentioned :

Electric bike

Knit weighted blanket

Leakproof water bottle

Noise-cancelling over-ear headphones

Weighted eye mask

Weighted hoodie

(Note: most of this stuff is a little pricey. I acquired this collection over a long period of time, and mostly on credit, but it was all worth it. What matters is that you get the best version you can of the tools that are helpful to you.)

Concepts mentioned:

27 Club

Aphantasia

Intensive outpatient program

Internal Family Systems

Korean War PTSD

Locations mentioned:

Mintzer Brothers Hardware

St. Joseph’s Orphanage

Theme song: “Controversy” by 40 Watt Hype

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I drew on my twenty years of restaurant work to write this story, and I hope that shines through when you read. I chose to share a scene from the perspective of a waitress with a dangerous and delicious secret, and I reserved a seat at one of her tables just for you. Please, dig in and enjoy.

Check out the original prompt here:

SUM FLUX

The Waffle House

Somewhere in the sticky syrup flood…

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3 months ago · 97 likes · 25 comments · Sandolore Sykes and SUM FLUX

Benny and Lolo

Rock ‘N Soul slaps onto the Wurlitzer, and “Cry to Me” fills the Waffle House. Benny on the grill’s in a sentimental mood today, and it’s his turn to run the jukebox, so it’s been this shit all afternoon. I don’t have the heart to tell him to change it to something we actually want to hear. A tense family of four gathers themselves from the table in the back and leaves in an earthquake of angry whispers. Gotta wipe that table.

Golden hour filters Benny’s cigarette smoke, which mingles with the swirling trails coming from the few diners along the counter. The Owner got big ideas and drilled that new Honeywell into the wall last week, and now the smoke cloud twists over to that corner. The door jangles as Benny steps outside for a moment of sunshine.

Next on the turntable: “As Time Goes By.” Good old Dooley Wilson. I blush, recalling my first-ever date, when the boy who sat behind me in World History took me to see Casablanca at the fancy drive-in movie theater at the edge of town. (I remember when Lon Detler finally agreed to sell part of his land to Mr. Philip Smith so his company could build the Orwell Ozoner. The op-eds in the weeks before flew fast and thick.) I forget my date’s name now, but I remember the panic and curiosity foaming inside me as his hand slid up my thigh in the backseat of his old Super Deluxe. The seat was beige velour in my own left hand as I braced underneath him. I turned my head to the left and stared at my fingers, watching them stroke the fabric’s pile back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t know I was a virgin, and I didn’t know how to tell him. I didn’t know so many things. How long have I been staring out the window?

Benny tries to sweep me up into a two-step as he comes back inside from his cigarette break, but I dodge his grasp. Cut the shit. Customers are watching. I know he has a crush on me, and Mom always tells me not to encourage the boys. (I have no intention of encouraging them anyway, but for a different, curvier reason than Mom’s approval.)

I twirl to Dooley’s croon as I head to check the coffee pot. The sad puddle in the bottom won’t do for the dinner rush, so I start another batch. Coffee filters are running low. The same week we got our smoke-eater, we found ourselves with a new percolator that came with a bright orange coffee pot. The Owner knew Barbara Goette from their time studying at Freiburg, and in the days leading up to the arrival of the new coffee setup, he told anyone who would listen how radiant Barbara had looked when he first spotted her across the glowing green quad. None of this meant much to me, of course, never having had the chance to leave Orwell, much less the state, very much less the USA.

This is all to say that passion is the reason The Owner insists on serving Nazi decaf, which should not surprise you, since coffee is a major and ongoing point of contention here. Maxwell House is a nonstarter as long as Benny’s around. We found out the hard way that the sight of the blue can gives the guy shell shock, so we serve Folgers because it’s easier to change brands than it is to train a new cook to fry eggs the way Benny does. I don’t understand how he pulls it off with those shaky hands, but he keeps the regulars coming back, so he’s worth the extra cost of the red can. One thing he can’t do: scrambled eggs. Rumor says it’s because he saw a man get shot in the back of the head during the war. (I hear things a lady shouldn’t while I’m working. I like being part of the club who get to hear the real story, and I’ve learned not to repeat it when I get home. I just wish I could dress like the boys if my coworkers are going to treat me like one.) Jesus. How long has that guy in the corner been trying to get my attention?

My uniform feels hot, but not the way my nylons boil. Every minute, my skin pushes away the crisp Dacron dress like some strange magnetism, but the hands of God himself always seem to wrap it back around me. I see Benny’s button-down, slacks, and apron, see his body covered neck to ankles, and scream inside as I wish for a shield between the world and my body, which seems to be a black hole for stares of men. I see them, sitting at the counter, how their eyes dart away, anywhere in the room but my ass, when I turn. I see the down-up-down-up flicking as they fight to make eye contact while they crave my breasts in my dress. Don’t even get me started on how they joke about the little paper hat.

Click-slap goes the jukebox, and Chet Baker croons “Everything Happens to Me.” Jesus. Benny’s really in a mood today. I know it’s his turn to pick the music, so something has to be done. I check to see if the coffee I started earlier is ready. Just finished. God, I’m good. I pour a fresh cup with a dose of cream, no sugar. Wipe the table in the corner when you get back out. I paste on my most motherly smile and walk back through the narrow hallway that leads to the kitchen, where I find Benny pouting over the flat-top as he watches an egg fry. “The lunch rush was long today. Brought you a cup.”

Benny eases a spatula beneath the over-medium and slides it onto butter-slick white toast waiting on a corner of the flat-top.

“What do you want, Lolo?”

“Checking in, bud. What’s up with the sad songs today?”

“Oh nothing, I’m just going to die alone.”

“Benny…”

“No, really. I asked her to the mixer they’re having at the Legion next week and she laughed. She laughed, Lo.”

I work to keep my expression neutral. Benny has been in love with Rachel, the girl who works nights and weekends at the ice cream shop, since before the war. In my most honest hours, I can admit that I have been too, only I don’t get to put on torch songs and make it everyone else’s problem. (The last time I went to the shop, she gave me an extra scoop in my root beer float and winked. I thought I would fall off my stool.) Benny sees something flash across my face and decides it’s a critique.

“You think she’s too young for me.” This is so far afield that it makes me physically tired.

“No, I’m just having a long day.” It’s too much to hope that he’ll ask a follow-up question. “Drink up. The next rush will be here soon.”

I nudge the cup closer to him and head out to the counter, my mind ablaze with two thoughts: she didn’t want him for the mixer, and my shift ends in ten minutes. I try to stay busy. Fill the napkin dispenser. Shine the soda machine. Wipe that table. Don’t think about Rachel’s perfect lipstick on her perfect lips.

Finally, the dinner server arrives, and I win my freedom for another night. I spend a little extra time cleaning the grit from under my nails as I wash up in the employee restroom, and I even take a swing at a cute ponytail. Don’t make eye contact on your way out the door or someone will want something from you. Benny’s day be damned, I slip a nickel in the Wurly and Helen Forrest sings “Mad About The Boy” in my wake. Time for dessert.

Episode 002.5: a short poem about knitting, envy, and growing up. (I used to watch my mother crafting on the couch, well aware that if I tried to get her attention she would be frustrated with me for breaking her focus.)

-

Read along here:

Teach me that which steals your eyes from my face,

This thing that overrules my every earnest case.

What drug do your needles pour that I cannot overwhelm with my glowing teeth?

I could be the best cigarette, if only you’d let me.

A blade between your bones for all the times you bruised my skin,

A silence when you cry out for comfort.

Sky, be my own needle lancing lightning into those who strike me.

Green sneaks into the beds of the trees, damp and surprising.

-

Theme song: “Controversy” by 40 Watt Hype

Episode 002: an adventure in shifting identity.

Theme song: “Controversy” by 40 Watt Hype

001: a tour of body hair attitudes, advice, and removal techniques within one rural 1990s Vermont family.

Mentioned in the episode:

The Schick Personal Touch

The Epilady

Theme song: “Controversy” by 40 Watt Hype

EPISODE 13: Things begin to fall into place.

FEATURING: pattern recognition, sleep deprivation, knitting to avoid scrolling, half-ass vs. all-in, the complicated nature of long friendship, no-hotheads policy, the nature of time, well-intentioned friends, further explanation of why Lizz posts poems on Substack, fear of the silly and the small, the impossibility of proper adulthood, masking as a neurodivergent person, growing up in a conservative town, escaping that same conservative town, what happens in a room full of experts, craving the dopamine rush, struggling to stay focused during recording, and falling for her own bullshit in the best possible way.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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POEMS MENTIONED:

EPISODE 12: Lizzy finally lets go.

FEATURING: upheaval, loneliness vs. fear of connection, how Lizzy starts the day, blind spots revealed, an eventual and colorful surrender to the Artist Date, the privilege of problems, a painful memory softened, post-holiday burnout, watching Mom numb out with food, easy shortcuts to attention, a most jealously guarded identity, the one thing all addictions have in common, falling down the notifications rabbit-hole, why Lizzy started her poetry Substack, learned habits of growing up poor, the prohibitive cost of ADHD assessment, one boundary she MUST keep lest she turn into an asshole, humans vs. iPhones, a moment of synchronicity during recording, and terraforming herself during early adulthood. Also, she answers a list of revealing questions.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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You watch the local news on the old cathode TV with its big fat ass, your eyes glued to the ticker at the bottom of the screen announcing closures, eager to watch your elementary school’s name scroll by.

You know that they’re just being cautious: you just played outside, and the air really doesn’t smell like trouble.

But sometimes, it’s crisp and unfriendly in your mouth, like an apple still on its way to ripe.

That type of air is your fair warning that it’s gonna be a big one.

On those days, you head to the hardware store with your father and you help load the truck bed with the ancestral supplies: fifty-pound bags of rock salt and a fresh shovel to replace the one that wore out last year, this time with a fancy ergonomic handle that curves like a swan’s neck.

You learn these ways when you’re young.

The first few winters of your northern life are a precious time of snowmen and sledding and joy.

Then, the year arrives when your motor skills come together enough for you to hold your own tiny shovel, and your family introduces you to the blizzard battle.

It’s an all-hands situation, a winter storm.

(I was five when the Blizzard of ‘93 smacked into my home state of Vermont.

It was terrifying: the air so full of flakes I couldn’t see past my little, outstretched arm.)

When snow falls hard enough and fast enough, it’s important to get out there and do some maintenance shoveling.

If you don’t, you’ll be snowed into your own house before you know it.

Storm winds can pile a snowbank in front of your door and pack it in tight, no problem.

So it’s better you get out there into the worst of it, and it’s best that you bundle yourself like you mean it.

Your gear-up will take a long time: in the movies, it would be a montage.

(For the love of God, remember to pee before you start.)

• Long underwear (both shirt and pants)

• THICK socks (two pairs)

• Leggings

• Jeans

• Waterproof snowpants (the kind with suspenders, preferably, since you’re gonna be doing a lot of bending and squatting)

• Waterproof boots (leave the UGGs for another day)

• Sweatshirt

• THICK winter coat

• Hat

• THICK layer of Vaseline on your face and lips

• THICK scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face (as many times as you can, not just once all cute like you’re walking in Central Park in the fall)

• Coat hood zipped up all the way over the hat and scarf

• Handwarmers into your mittens

• Mittens on BEFORE you open the door

Gearing up is a meditative process, not meant to be rushed.

Every cold-weather item you own is inherited from an older family member.

Nothing fits quite right, but it all feels like home.

You use the layering time to prepare mentally for what lies ahead: wind, cold that makes you leave your body, and the pure physical toil of scraping, lifting, tossing.

You do it not because you love it, but because you need your home to remain standing once the storm has passed.

The nice part about a blizzard’s volume of snow is that it makes everything quiet.

It’s a cone of silence around you that only includes your breath and the snap of snow-clumps under your boots.

It’s a weighted blanket over the trees, the buildings, the power lines.

It quiets the people, as well.

It’s hard to have an argument when you’re out of breath from unavoidable physical labor.

Once the maintenance shoveling has been done for the hour, you head back inside, victorious, and make the promised hot chocolate.

(Swiss Miss is the all-time, uncontested gold standard, but store brand was usually what we had around growing up unless it was a special occasion.)

The pros make it with milk instead of water: the texture is better and you need the calories after all that hard work.

(Your parents might put a little coffee in theirs, but you’re still in elementary school and far too young for that.)

By the time you finish your drinks, enough blizzard snow will have come down that you’ll need to dig out again.

But, that’s alright.

Just keep cycling between the shovels and the cocoa, and don’t forget to wave to the neighbors.

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EPISODE 11: Lizzy shares some uncomfortable revelations.

FEATURING: synchronicity vs. the internet, finding where to fit in, decision brain vs. creative brain, a prescription for haters, a conversation with Lizzy’s father about the future, bullet journals, joy vs. duty, teaching people how to treat you, a career U-turn, a gross oversimplification of how she trains new hires in her cafe job, fear of seeking the help she likely needs, and the importance of continuing to grow through life. Also: an itchy nose and the thought of Alpine panthers.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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Inspired by Nobody’s Girl and the recent arrest of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor.

KISS THE FEET THAT FROZE

I had one myself:
A cousin not really a cousin,
A person who taught me that once a door closes
It might not easily open,

Not in my own time, anyway,
But at some distant point on the line,
I and those memories
Both made their escape in the night.

No one holds words in their teeth to respond to the story.
It requires lines that folks wish didn’t exist,
So they take time to assemble, 
Tumble out oddly, teetering, fumbling. 

Trained to be his humble helpmeet,
Raised up in the glory of suffering,
Good thing I contain multitudes, because
There was never enough of me.

What an absolute, glass-smashing disaster
To rend the body of someone so small.
Give me shards over hands, give me finding the fault,
Give me something to keep me from punching a hole in the wall. 

Now, comes the part where I make the patented Lizzy Co positive twist,
Take a left in the road to drop off the folks who don’t want to know,
Reassure them that the world still has its mighty sunrise glow,
And life contains its gifts.

The souls who can stay
Weren’t born that way.
I bow to the people who rattled the same bars I had to,
I kiss the feet that froze when they couldn’t run.

I can barely behold you for blinking from brightness.
Don't you understand what a lantern you've become?
Your light burned away all the unlovely madness.
It's not your fault you were the chosen one.

Thank you so much for reading my work. See you next week.

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EPISODE 10: Lizzy shows off some artwork.

FEATURING: the difference between thought and action, the peril of multitasking, giant ice cubes, PMDD challenges, why hiding grief is a bad call, constructive vs. destructive criticism, her standards for someone in a leadership role, watching her mother struggle in a support role, rule number 1 of teaching beginners, why gatekeeping is for jerks, when she realized she had adult agency, adventures in self-publishing, hardassing her way to the top of the foodservice org chart, pivoting during the 2008 recession, and why she’s resistant to the Artist Date.

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THE NIGHT CAFE

Step inside the night cafe:
It opens after dark.
Baristas froth moon-lattes,
And there’s lots of room to park.

To pass on by the night cafe
Would be a crying shame.
Who wouldn’t want to be someplace
Where people know your name?

A special thing occurs when the stars rise.
The doors to the cafe all come unlocked,
But no matter how hard you squint your eyes,
You won't spot the key-holder. (She’s a fox.)

She’s not the only animal you’ll meet
If you venture into the night cafe.
This place is host to many gentle beasts:
Slow-moving vegetarians...mostly.

An octopus works four groupheads at once,
Steaming the milk just-so as coffee pours.
Here, the wait is short, and if your funds
Are low, someone will spot you. (But, of course!)

A lone wolf washes dishes in the back.
In his case, the night cafe provides
A bit of time and some space from the pack.
He scours, rinses, wipes the cups bone-dry.

Some strange hybrid of creature works the till,
A thing all feathered, muscular, and free,
Alive in the sunlight and counting bills.
(That sweet, bizarre, lovely creature is me.)

So won’t you come into the night cafe?
The candlelight is bright enough for words.
Have a seat, your drink is on the way.
Your plate is brought to you by chirping birds.

When you’re all done, just know you’re welcome back,
Each evening, when the sun turns down its sheets.
The night cafe will give you what you lack.
The night cafe will meet your every need.

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Thank you for supporting my work.

See you next week.

EPISODE 9: Lizzy celebrates the halfway mark.

FEATURING: the relief of lighthearted assignments, getting past the pleasantries, making time to grieve, how writing poetry is like pooping, pathological demand avoidance, surprise opportunities, Catholic fear, once again being called out by Julia Cameron’s insight, music school mentality, overworking the dough, the two types of latte art students, blocks vs. niches, living with a jealous mother, her own envious nature, and her longtime love of collage.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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FEBRUARY 7, 2026

What is the center stone?

Is it the man having a tantrum I bounced from the building?

Maybe it’s the baby wearing tiny winter boots.

Perhaps, the little girl who loves hot chocolate,

Or the gleeful perimenopausals cracking each other up.

It might be the perfect breakfast sandwich I brought home.

It could even be the lover who waits to turn me into the full moon.

Hello there, you handful of bright and dark sparkles.

Give me some time.

I’ll place you just right.

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Thank you so much for reading my work. See you next week.

EPISODE 8: Lizzy finds a moment of ease.

FEATURING: growing comfort with Morning Pages, the perks of self-forgiveness, a struggle to remember self-care, growing up Catholic, being fully called out on her own bullshit, a proud moment, burning bridges for health and wellness, the tenuous nature of financial security, aphantasia, setting the tone, rejecting the poverty mindset, and the joy of a room of one’s own.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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Read more

*pretend Jesus is whatever authority figure you want

●●

Please keep my baby girl this little forever.

She’s so perfect.

I’ll never let anything happen to her.

●

I know, she’s a real gem.

My dad did a great job when he made her.

Enjoy her while she’s this little, because she’ll be grown in a blink.

Remember to let people help you out with her.

I’m supposed to be the hero around here, not you.

●

I have to do everything myself to make sure nobody messes anything up and hurts her.

If I look away and something happens, I’ll never forgive myself.

But, I promise I’ll do a perfect job.

●

It’s not your forgiveness that matters, it’s mine, remember?

And, you don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be good.

Please, please take a nap, drink some water, and let somebody pitch in.

You’ve got good neighbors and friends around you, and a husband who actually wanted children.

My mom wouldn’t want you to have as hard of a time as she did, kiddo.

●

My baby used to be so sweet and now she’s cranky all the time.

It seems like the better she gets at walking, the angrier she gets.

She’s so disobedient that I’m scared she’ll end up in Hell if I’m not careful.

I know I’m going to Heaven and the thought of not seeing my baby again in the afterlife is just not acceptable.

Please tell me what to do.

●

It’s all about love, remember?

Well, sometimes it’s about flipping tables, but mostly it’s about love.

So, just love her.

When you’re cranky, there’s always a reason why, so put on your detective hat and figure out what’s got her so upset.

She’s not doing it to be a pain in the ass, she’s trying to tell you something is wrong.

Be the adult my father grew you to be.

I’ll be watching.

●

This little girl doesn’t appreciate how good her life is compared to mine.

She won’t offer anything up for the souls in purgatory the way I’m supposed to teach her and I’m losing my mind.

No matter how many times I spank her, she just keeps being a nasty little witch.

I’m trying so hard to keep her safe from Hell so she can enter your Kingdom and she just seems to want to burn.

●

I hear you, I really do.

Look, I know we both had tough starts in life, but that doesn’t have to be something you have in common with your daughter.

I didn’t die the way I did just so you could keep on suffering too.

The wars you’ve been fighting are over and you’re just swinging at nightmares, kiddo.

She doesn’t need to be scared of the world to be a good kid.

●

I haven’t heard from you in a while, but she’s been talking to me quite a bit.

Please don’t make me come down there again.

●

If you two have such a great relationship, she’s your problem.

I’m done.

Lizzy’s Mom has notifications silenced

●●

(If this poem moved you, please consider participating in the Minnesota relief effort. There are so many children there.)

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Thank you so much for reading my work. See you next week.

EPISODE 7: Lizzy’s feeling avoidant.

FEATURING: the origin story of Lizzy’s addiction, avoiding the caretaker role, shifts she’s noticing in her Morning Pages, flushing the mental pipes, the demands of problem-solving, her decade in therapy changing thought patterns, what she learned about control from the AA rooms, why she doesn’t submit to lit mags anymore, the fear of hope, how the “yes, and” of improv comedy helped her mental health, why mistakes are a chance for connection, the boundaries required of a person working an unusual schedule, the joy of solitude, the crab bucket in which she grew up, learning what she actually needs to have a good day, the millennial financial struggle, and her current mental transition from put-upon young adult to powerful woman.

ABOUT THE PODCAST: Curious about The Artist’s Way but not ready to take the leap? Working through the weeks alone and looking for a companion? No matter where you’re coming from, this podcast is for you. Welcome!

Lizzy Co approaches this material from the perspectives of ADHD, PMDD, C-PTSD, and alcohol addiction recovery.

Lizzy Co does not make any claim of ownership to any of the material from The Artist’s Way presented in this podcast.

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◎

ICE rains on a frigid city.

A new diamond glitters on a young woman’s hand.

◎

Waters warm that should be frozen.

A child knows butter for the first time.

◎

A hard memory surfaces that I didn’t know was there.

A different, kinder one rises to meet.

●

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Thank you so much for reading my work. See you next week.