This is depression. Again.

I can’t sleep. I can’t write. Except, of course, I am writing. And I sleep some. Fits and starts. Fifteen minutes here, two hours there. Awake in-between. Awake so often. I have permanent bags under my eyes, something the self-loathing of the eating disorder loves to latch on to. It’s because I’m fat, of course. …

Continue reading This is depression. Again.

Perfectionism, a garage door, and some compulsivity.

My garage door had some work done. The other doors are going to talk – it looks five years younger, all shiny with a lustrous dark brown coat. New paint. The TLC was overdue. I’ve lived here for twelve years and prior to last week, the only maintenance the door received was an occasional drive-by …

Continue reading Perfectionism, a garage door, and some compulsivity.

Daniel X and the Total Gym.

I’ve been reading; it’s how I plan to eliminate the piles of unread books that litter my house. Unfortunately, not all my reading has been from the unread masses – when I’m sad, I want to touch base with old familiars rather than deal with new acquaintances. Still, props to me for getting through three …

Continue reading Daniel X and the Total Gym.