WordPress is one of the few places I can be fully me. It’s an odd, being somewhat anonymous while also being, if you choose, incredibly open. Or, at least, more open than is my nature in the real world. It makes me happy to be here, to read what other people write, to pop in on people sharing similar stories and struggles. In the early … Continue reading So much gratitude.
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.
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 