Remarks on marks.
This scar marks the place where you were. This wound marks the place where you are. Remarks on marks. Continue reading Remarks on marks.
Author: Michelle
I've lived with mental illness my whole life. I walk hand-in-hand with my neuroses these days, and sometimes I write about what that's like for me. I prefer the peaceful coexistence of détente to the open warfare of the past.
I'm also in recovery from an eating disorder that ate decades of my life, pun intended. It's been hard: recovery is very much a walk through hell - the rainbows, puppies, and chocolate fountains come later - but it's worth it. Recovery lets you have the life the eating disorder promises and lies about 💜
This is depression. Again.
I can’t sleep. I can’t write. Except, of course, I am writing. And I sleep some. Fits and starts. Fifteen minutes here, two hours there. Awake in-between. Awake so often. I have permanent bags under my eyes, something the self-loathing of the eating disorder loves to latch on to. It’s because I’m fat, of course. If I was thin, everything would be fine. If I … Continue reading This is depression. Again.
Uncomfortable with mucus.
I’m okay with other people’s mucus. In truth, I seek it out. I’m a helper. So, I’m okay with difficult truths, with hard and painful and ugly bits. I’m not good with reciprocity. The facts of existence, I’ll share. The ugly bits underneath, the feelings, not so much. They remain locked up tight. I venture forth occasionally but only after much thought and only after … Continue reading Uncomfortable with mucus.
The rules.
Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not do a whole bunch of things, actually. Every religion and ever philosophy has a list. Not killing is one of the more popular prohibitions. One of the many they all have in common. It’s a shame we’re so bad at following the rules. Especially the “not killing” one. It seems so obvious. Although we don’t do particularly well … Continue reading The rules.
From Famine to Feast 