Posts about, among other things, mental illness, mental health, and recovery.
I don’t have a favourite song or quote. That suggests a singularity I find impossible to embrace. It’s a big world, full of ideas, thoughts, and musical offerings both shallow and profound. Favourites come and go. What we need and are drawn to varies with need and moment. I’m currently learning Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, 2nd movement for the piano. It’s lovely and will be … Continue reading It speaks to me.
I’m not sure I have a favourite colour, though I always choose green when it comes to game pieces and everyone knows that. My affection for green was born at the house on Valemont. My bedroom there had green carpet. My bedroom there remains the best room I’ve ever had. My mother put wallpaper up that looked like bamboo, with vines and yellow flowers twining … Continue reading I’m blue.
I don’t remember that many happy times. I know they exist. There’s one of me riding a bike I come back to regularly. Much of my past is blurry, however. I have flashes and snatches, but my memory isn’t great when it comes to the day-to-day. I blame the unholy trifecta of trauma, PTSD, and age. Worst band name ever. I drifted into a relationship … Continue reading The happiest day ever was a Saturday in December.
Once upon a time, I was pathologically afraid of spiders. When I was a child, I screamed for my father, paralyzed, whenever I encountered one. Size was irrelevant. Interestingly, I wasn’t paralyzed if he wasn’t home, nor did I call for my mother – she was terrified too. On those occasions, I fled. My father picks spiders up with his bare hands. He’d laugh at … Continue reading Spiders and me.
From Famine to Feast 