Catherine Kenwell
Bio
I live with a broken brain and PTSD--but that doesn't stop me! I'm an author, artist, and qualified mediator who loves life's detours.
I co-authored NOT CANCELLED: Canadian Kindness in the Face of COVID-19. I also publish horror stories.
Achievements (1)
Stories (94)
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I Got Beat Up in Our Dog Park
Ever wonder why I talk about brain injury and PTSD so much? I’ve sustained at least four concussions, plus meningitis, and two of those brain injuries were partnered with PTSD. The first, in 1985, and the biggie, in 2011, resulted in PTSD and PCS (post-concussion syndrome).
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
CHRISTMAS AT NANA'S
Christmas dinner was finally ready, and Nana called the family to the table. The presents had been opened; fragments of wrapping paper had already lodged themselves into the sofa cushions and underneath the coffee table. Any initial excitement of the day had long since waned, and the family had retreated to its regular routine. But now it was time to eat and go home.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Horror
I Was the Best Faker Ever
I'm true to myself now, and it's not gonna happen. Not today. Sometimes that’s enough. I can say that, now. There were days when I’d wake up wishing I hadn’t, and days when I’d consider driving my car as fast as I could, over a bridge or into a brick wall.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
How We Aged 16 Years During COVID
I have a theory. The pandemic has aged us, and not just in the way we might immediately think. Yes, we’re tired and we might have to dig deeper to find compassion and kindheartedness, but I think we collectively grew from babies to teenagers in 2020 and 2021. And here’s what I’m talking about.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Journal
In 2021, Mrs. Claus Goes to a New Home
It took six years and COVID-19 for Mrs. Claus to return. When my mom died, my dad’s life was shattered. They’d been together for 65 years and she was his world; he’d sunk into a deep depression which exacerbated his other health problems. As determined as Mrs. Claus was, hunkered down in her dog-eared box in the storage room, she couldn’t brighten my dad’s spirits come the holiday season.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Families
How a Lipstick Named Gabrielle Fixed My Broken Self
If I’d broken my leg, things would have been entirely different. What is it about a plaster cast that allows strangers to ask what happened? A broken arm, from a slip on the ice. A fractured femur, the result of a skiing accident. Suddenly, the boundary of appropriate questioning breaks down into curiosity, then sympathy. Or the sharing of a similar experience, and comments about healing times and rehabilitation.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
I Discovered My True Friends When I Went a Little Cray. Top Story - December 2021.
Since my series of brain injuries, I’ve thought a lot about friendship. I’ve learned who my friends are, and who they’re not. And I treasure relationships more than ever. I appreciate the love of my friends, but I’ve also had to distance myself from friendships that are emotionally or mentally unhealthy.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
