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’ve been cleaning up my life, and part of that is email. I’ve been furiously unsubscribing to the junk advertising that poses as things I need to know. And yet, occasionally, some of my subscriptions bear fruit. Take the newsletter I recently received from Clementine. Clementine, for those not in the know, is a hypnotherapy/mediation…… Continue reading Self-Love is a good call.
Off the cuff ramblings (or “off the curr,” whichever appeals more). I should’ve realized I was depressed when I drew a chart on the whiteboard to keep help me keep track of my medication. I’ve been struggling to take the pills consistently. That’s kind of adorable: it’s three pills a day I take with meals.…… Continue reading Charts for depression.
I’m not writing much these days. Heat, apathy, and sickness, both my own and familial, have contributed to my sense of futility and ennui. I’m uninterested in almost everything, save for bad news. It’s good when one’s view of a dark and depressing world is confirmed. Bring on the stories about climate change and ugly…… Continue reading First times, revisited.