My name is Katie Mae Mitchell, and I live in northern Georgia. I work as an English teacher at a small private high school, and from time to time, I type some thoughts here to share with you.
I began this blog something like nine years ago when I was a young mother to one baby boy and lived in a house in the woods with a big front porch and all my days stretched before me in a predictable and certain path. I’ve left those entries here, but now that woman feels like someone else entirely, a lifetime ago.
My world as I knew it exploded in late 2014 when I found myself a single mother to two preschoolers, and I wrote every piece of that grief right here on this journal. Sometimes with shaking hands at 2am when only a handful of people read these words. But I just kept writing and writing and writing until it lead me to the other side. Many of my current readers found me in that time as my writing made its way to Huffington Post.
About a year after that, my grandmother died, and I again understood that suffering has something to teach me. I thought her life had shown me all I needed to know, but as it turns out, her last weeks taught me everything. I chronicled those days here as well – stringing words together to give voice to grief yet again. And in that process, I pieced together the two greatest losses of my adult life to make something new of myself. Like all of us, I’m still becoming.
In addition to this blog, I’m a contributor for Huffington Post. My writing has also been featured on Sweatpants and Coffee, Club Mid, Role Reboot, Mamalode, Alternet, Mothers Always Write, and Mamalode’s food site, Mama Nom Nom.
I’m a Georgia Girl, born and bred, and I have a lot of love for my home state. I’m currently writing a book that weaves together recent experiences with decades of personal history to explore the shape left behind when someone we love leaves us and the new shapes we have to inhabit as we grow and evolve. As a seventh-generation southerner, I’m exploring how the changes in my own life have mirrored the evolution of the region itself. The result is a memoir that stands as a searingly honest interrogation of grief — both finite and ambiguous loss. I’m currently working with Folio Literary Management as I continue to write and revise.
If you’d like to reach out about things you’ve read here or are interested in my writing for your site, send me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org.