Hello, and welcome to lauraauthor.com, featuring books by Laura Susanne Yochelson. I am Laura. I blog Photo on 4-17-14 at 4.10 PMalmost everyday, usually on whatever I feel like or am working through in my life. Furthermore, I love to hear what readers have to say, and appreciate everybody for their support.

My first book is called Sick: In The Name Of Being Well, I Made Myself Sick. Sick is primarily on my experiences with anorexia nervosa and is categorized in the body-mind-spirit genre for embracing a holistic approach to healing. If you haven’t read Sick, you can download it for $3.03 on Kindle.  Learn more at the following links:

Visit worldcat.org to find my book in libraries. You can also send me a contact form or tweet @Laura_Author!





On the side of Laura

People were so surprised. This can’t happen to Laura. She’s an A student. She’s a great athlete. Friends and adults like her. But as I share in my book Sick there’s a lot happening from early on that explains why I became so vulnerable to my own body, to the obsessive calculating in my head and to this deadly disease.

Two things I cover in the beginning of Sick are the death of my grandfather and being a basketball player. The death of Grandpa Sid results in me taking on too much responsibility. I feel as though there isn’t a spot for me in the family. I think that explains in part why I became so “passionate” about basketball.

There was generally focus on being really competitive and being the best. I think some of that has to do with the location of where I grew up. It also has to do with the fact that something else in me couldn’t come to fruition, which is why I had to beat other people as a way to define myself. At the same time I was really good at getting people to like me but that’s because I felt unwanted and excessive. I excel and become so obsessed with certain things as a way to prove that these other secrets are meant to stay on the side.

That sick kind of well is simulated

It is disenchanting to see other sick people who think they’re well going through the same stuff you did hoping you were “getting better” when you did that stuff without realizing how much farther there was to go in the healing process in order to truly “be yourself” again.

He is oceanic and clear

The other day I found myself surrounded by a group of teenagers. Seeing them made me think about the one I would have liked at their age. He appears happy and Californian with darker hair—slow growing like I used to be. By Californian I mean sunny, good-looking but not self-serving, oceanic and clear. Unfortunately, as it turns out, the more I became closed off with anxiety, OCD and anorexia, the less I became interested in “open” guys. I fell for more troubled, secretive and angry underneath types that I didn’t understand as if to express own undersurface of shame. In short, I liked boys who made me feel bad. Thankfully, rather than get involved with someone else, I first learned to stop cheating myself.


Last week I discovered Sick and I were mentioned in the April 2014 American University Magazine, in a section called “class notes” on page 42. I followed up to see if there might be more of an opportunity for me with the magazine and am eager to see what happens. Additionally, I received an invitation to a reception with the president through the Alumni Association for later this month, which is convenient timing. I also have a second interview–so check out my first at rebellesociety.com! The next few weeks are going to be quite busy, especially since I am finally being forced (in a good way) to wrap up the sign-off on my second book in order to proceed with talking more about it!

Not my middle school

When my family moved to California after sixth grade, I had one friend from Maryland over the years who visited me, “January.” January came twice. My other friend “Angel” and I lost touch. Nevertheless, in writing Sick, I decided to share how Angel took care of me. It was very nice of her family to have me at their house a couple nights while my parents sorted out final details with the movers. I still told Angel about my book and think she read it.

When January visited, she did not come alone but with other family, which worked out since who doesn’t want a trip to SD? I invited a couple other people to stay who didn’t, briefly alluded to in Chapter 44.

I remember, the first time January came was probably 2002. I used to keep a picture of Dad, January and me at the top of a hill overlooking my favorite water. I wore a sweatshirt from the middle school I, evidently,  no longer attended in Maryland. Is it not sad? Because here I was with this amazing opportunity at a new and better life, but dressing like I didn’t want it!


No, I’m not sick. And this post isn’t about my first book, Sick.

Although I learned in high school English not to use clichés, I am “sick and tired” of writing!

I’ve had several good ideas over the past few days but am not “in the mood” to blog.

Nevertheless, I am happy with how my dedication to various projects throughout winter and into spring has improved me as a person and a writer.

In the meantime, I have house duties, upcoming travel, multiple failed attempts at making a video, plenty of editing and walking. Look for that video coming soon, by the way!



I have a history of liking shorter guys. Not necessarily, shorter than myself, but shorter in general. Beginning with a crush in my tweens who acted as a bully against me. Following him, there was a variety of people, I guess, some taller and others shorter. Overall, I got along best with–and felt better about “Laura” around–the taller people. I less easily got (automatically) meshed in with him and kept a more clear sight of myself. Not only is this person taller, though, but different; I don’t feel like I’m turning my own life around to get impressed over him.

I do not hold anything against shorter people. However, I have worked in fitness, where in my experience guys are very into themselves and their muscles. He’s consistently struggling to compensate in some way as if to make up for a (previously) smaller size, which only makes me feel little!

I’ve always desired to be taller myself. When I walk outside, I want to feel tall. I want the people I spend time around to make me want to grow and not hold back.