I appear to be a pain collector. I saw a meme describing humans that way once – organic pain collectors – and the idea stuck. It’s like the description of us as “ugly bags of mostly water.” It’s on point. (ST:TNG) Part of the problem is that I lack walls once I let someone in my life. I grew up without understanding boundaries. It was … Continue reading Relationships and pain.
Is pleasure the same as happiness? I don’t think so. For me, pleasure is transitory, associated with a specific event. Chocolate gives me pleasure. Sometimes. Fresh raspberries give me pleasure all the time though they’re only available to me in July (I’m aware I can buy hothouse or southern hemisphere raspberries all year round. I choose not to, most of the time). I’ve been away … Continue reading Pleasure.
My life feels odd. I’m adrift mentally and emotionally. I’m still bleeding from a multiplicity of wounds received in rapid succession. Things have calmed enough now to feel and attend to them. My brain is also starting to calm. My thinking brain is turning back on. Things don’t go well for me when reactivity is driving the bus. I don’t have much in the way … Continue reading puttering.
I haven’t spent a day without at least one open wound on my person since I was nineteen, usually on my face. My work on eating disorder recovery is going well, but learning not to cut obsessively at the “imperfections” on my face is harder. [i] A combination of things led to the pattern of behaviour that doctors and other smart people now want to … Continue reading The healing of (passive aggressive) wounds.
From Famine to Feast 