I miss Word Press. I miss writing. I miss doing pretty much everything, even though I am doing some things. It's just that it's all done under the veil of depression which makes me discount the matteringness of it all. On the bright side, I've been doing a lot more stretching so should I find …
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. …
I don’t want to be fat. I’ve been obsessing over it lately, just a little. Maybe a lot. The perceived extra ten pounds is incessantly on my mind. I feel like a failure. Because ten pounds is the difference between being an acceptable human being and scum of the earth. And it’s definitely about the …
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.
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 …
