Between five and seven pounds

I wasn’t going to write about my eating disorder today. I have a draft post about my PTSD waiting for revisions. I’ve resisted looking deeply into it to date but had big plans to do so in the somewhat near future. Those plans flew out the window this morning when I put on the jeans that are supposed to be baggy only to find they were less baggy than expected.

Just like that, my mental equilibrium got shot to shit…
Continue reading Between five and seven pounds

It’s a bad day, not a bad life.

Dark days.

We all have them, the depressed and neurotypical alike. The difference, I think, is in how we respond.

Days that suck, days that make us think we shouldn’t have bothered getting up happen to everyone. Days when the milk is sour, so no cereal, and the car maintenance light comes on and you can’t afford repairs, and the corner store is out of diet Pepsi, and work is hellish, and you get home to find the cat vomited all over the carpet in the front hall. Those kinds of days.
Continue reading It’s a bad day, not a bad life.