Z’s Wonderland


When She Leaves for New AdventuresBy Z Zoccolante I’m amazed how she clears out almost everything to leave on a new adventure, shedding physical things like water droplets, piles of clothes, candles. Each special object, wanting them to be taken, reused, and it reminds me of that things that holds inside of me, that part of me that makes a nest or a home or some storage vessel for my past or my present. Maybe taking a sense of...

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The Common Thread with All My Therapy ClientsBy Z Zoccolante As an associate psychotherapist I’ve seen many different therapy clients for many different reasons but I’ve noticed a common thread.  There seems to be an internal struggle. A part of us wants freedom and a part of us feels tied to old patterns and fears. We want something different but what we have feels familiar.  It’s the same way that kids often get attention....

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Blue Morpho LoveBy Z Zoccolante When she opens her eyes, salt tears dried against her cheeks, she remembers that she’s capable of expansive romantic feats and feelings, like oceans and sky. Fingertips tracing infinity, her name in his mouth.  They travel together through the dark sides of the moon and meet again, against thousands of others who crowd into the room as it dims and dancing lights swirl around the ether, playing the...

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This Is What I Know – On Racism and Me By Z Zoccolante I’m a white girl born and raised on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. This is what I know. As I’ve traveled around the mainland, and foreign countries, I’ve watched how the color of my skin allows me to move through the world in a way that I can blend into the background, or even be invisible. Even in Europe, if I don’t open my mouth, my Italian features place me in a position...

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When I Don’t Recommend ForgivenessBy Z Zoccolante  For those of us who were raised in some type of religious setting we probably got a lot of mixed messages. Some of those are around forgiveness and this taboo idea of being selfish.  As a therapist who works with trauma I hear many stories from people whose protecting parties in childhood (or the adults who were supposed to have protected them) have failed them resulting in...

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In the Winter of Things UnsaidBy Z Zoccolante This weekend at my side spa job, Cannon in D plays through the hallways – my wedding song, as I drift back in memory the strange pictures as though they were yesterday but of a person I almost don’t remember.  I can piece her together like watching a movie of someone I was close with, like friendships that have drifted apart with distance and growth, untethered from the mooring,...

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