The great thing about lots of physical health issues is that it balances my neuroticism. Balance soothes my OCD. Balance doesn’t soothe my restless legs. The restless leg syndrome (RLS) emerged after I stopped taking benzodiazepines. It’s a not-uncommon problem related to benzos that nobody mentions. Thank God I was just starting in-patient treatment for…… Continue reading Restless leg syndrome (RLS), or why I started punching my thighs.
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…… Continue reading Chronic pain and mental illness.
What do you call a writer who doesn’t write? In my case, you could call her a gardener. Except, I don’t do much gardening either. Bits and pieces here and there, which is most of my life these days. A bit of this, a bit of that. It’s not that I can’t stay on task…… Continue reading Pain, pain, pain, complain.
I still get props, and I still don’t like it. I mean, on the one hand, props. On the other hand, props? I think I’m ambivalent because the praise isn’t for world-stopping thighs or brilliant prose. It’s for nothing in particular, in fact, and relates not at all to anything special. That this is not…… Continue reading More props for the mundane: we need to stop it with that.