Originally posted on unbolt me:
a slip of flame wags like a red-tailed fox o’er candlewick sill in the moonlight box sets ghost birds aflight in lucent flocks o’er vespertine forest and druidic rocks the road yonder runs thither throughout the ages its footprints tell the story of hatchling sages from trees bedangled with their birthing cages open, in spirals, zig-zagging in stages no questions,… Continue reading Eggshells & darker nights.
Those who jumped in half-lit expecting a polemic on censorship are about to be tragically disappointed. The only real connection to Dr. Seuss is that this is about letting go. [i] I should’ve paid closer attention to “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” earlier in life. I used the title mostly because I liked the way it sounded in my head. It’s also accurate: I did … Continue reading “I threw some books in the trash” and other Dr. Seuss stories.
When you add chronic pain to mental illness, you get a perfect storm of fuckery. It’s a miserable convergence that’s leaving me not only unmoored but unable to figure out how to fix the situation: I’m distracted by the miseries of pain and pins and needles that rip up my body in greater and lesser degrees daily. Some days I’m almost pain-free. I don’t feel … Continue reading Chronic pain and mental illness.
Originally posted on From Famine to Feast:
Letting go of my eating disorder means grieving. It’s a loss. I’m losing my coping mechanism and my support system. I’m cutting out a piece of me, and that’s a wrench, despite it being the right choice. The excision will leave a hole, and I need to fill it. Whatever I choose has to feel more important than the eating… Continue reading Grief.
From Famine to Feast 