I started writing the book I’m working on in 2014. I had this idea to gather dating and relationship stories from people I knew, and I’d compile them into some sort of essay collection or litter them through a novel…I figured that all people are voyeurs and dating stories are full of scandal and misery, so it would make for very readable material. Friends sent me some juicy and delightful tales, and I stole a few more and changed some critical information…then, I started writing.

The book initially was a friendship tale between two women who co-host a dating and…


Thursday morning, my daughter’s teacher asked them to pull out some blocks for a math measurement exercise. Flat paper blocks that were meant to have been cut out and kept neatly in a baggie, apparently. Blocks from a piece of paper I SWEAR had been labeled “optional work” when it was sent home weeks ago. All the kids with good parents had baggies full of paper blocks.

Obviously, I’d long since recycled the dumb paper with the dumb blocks on it to try to keep my dumb house clean.


Someone asked this online, and I responded with a pseudo-joke. I said, “Right now, if I died, they’d remember me as a dragon lady always yelling at them. I’d really prefer they remember me laughing and making them laugh, coming up with creative adventures, as honest and real and kind. But mostly I think they’d stand up at my funeral and talk about how I withheld snacks. What about you?”

A good friend called me out on my evasive techniques, noting that I shrugged it off with a joke and then handed it off to others to answer, instead of…


I never would consider myself the pinnacle of peaceful parenting. There’s not much chill or zen about me, I’m pretty EXTRA extra about everything, but my anxiety, impatience, and need for control is all lit up maximally by parenting. As much as I desperately wanted these kids and am keen on them, at some point every day since they’ve shown up I’m like, “Boy, you’re STILL here, huh? Woo, this is a lot. Almost too much, one might say?”

Once when the little one was a toddler, she and I had a slap fight in the bathroom and I’m pretty…


TW: murder of women, racism, transphobia, police violence, verbal abuse, misogyny

The phrase “not all men” is trending again…in reaction to another man murdering another woman- this time the victim is a white woman, Sarah Everard, who was taken and murdered by a white man, a stranger, an off-duty police officer, while walking in London. A POLICE OFFICER, a public servant paid to protect us. (Wait for it- “Blue Lives Matter” will trend next, if it isn’t already…in fact women were thrown to the ground and arrested by other officers at the vigil for Ms. Everard in London, godDAMMIT).

So…


I tell my kids daily that they’re loved, loving, and most importantly….lovable. It doesn’t matter by whom or in what situation, they are always lovable. Sometimes, in the moment, they’re… not being especially lovable, but their lovability is not a transient thing. They are always worthy of love (even when acting like fried turd nuggets).

I am working on applying this same care to myself, but fucking hell, it’s hard after 30 some years of being certain I’m never right, never good enough. It’s grace I’m looking for. I remember sobbing in church when they taught about God’s huge love…


There are so many parts to a life, and you forget what they are and how they work until you move and have to recreate the whole machine, part by part. I have admiration, but little envy, for those who move frequently for jobs and service and such. Like untangling one thousand necklaces. The pandemic doesn’t help, of course.

All that is to say, I just cried while watching a video montage teachers at my kids’ new school made for the students, talking about how much they miss being together, and encouraging fortitude. I cried because they seem so warm…


Trigger Warning: sexual assault

In January, 2015, twenty-two year-old artist and writer, Chanel Miller, was unconscious when 19 year-old Brock Turner sexually assaulted her on the ground behind a fraternity house at Stanford University (Palo Alto, CA). In June, 2016, Turner was found guilty on all charges, and Ms. Miller addressed him in court at his sentencing, with a twelve-page statement she wrote from her court alias, ‘Emily Doe.’ The statement was published and went viral. In 2019, she published the memoir about her experience during those years and publicly married her alias and herself with, “Know My Name.

I…


REVIEW: ‘JUDAS AND THE BLACK MESSIAH’

I’m giving myself some time off to gather up all the corners of me and shake the Sarah stuff back to the center again. I had gotten stretched out, bruised, spread thin, lost who I am at my core. I’m re-finding and re-defining her. TBD. ;)

Meanwhile, I am reading, watching, learning, resting. Hungry for art to teach me, excited to share what I learn.

I’ll drop a review of “Know my Name,” as soon as I’m done reading it- spoiler alert: it’s a stellar, must-read and I can’t believe Chanel Miller, the author…


Jo stared at the celery for a full fifteen seconds, trying to remember if she had to buy the organic kind to avoid her family growing tails. A whiny voice behind her started it’s “MoooOOOOOOOMMMMM” siren, and she closed her eyes for a beat before responding. What she wouldn’t give to shop alone. To have no kids complaining, begging, orbiting her like planets. She didn’t want to be anyone’s sun today. She was so tired. Tired of them. Tired of this. This…what? This routine? This role? This life? She just wanted to be left alone.

On cue, the guilty spoiled…

Sarah Zimmerman, Writer of Words

Frank and funny, Sarah writes the hard stuff of marriage, parenting, woman-ing. Ravishly, The Belladonna Comedy, Pregnant Chicken, & more. Twitter: @sarahzimzam

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store