I’m not journaling. The pretty notebook I use to share my thoughts and feelings in lies nearby on the floor. I’m only feet away from getting it done, but my avoidant-urge is strong, my counselor’s admonishments about the importance of letting things out notwithstanding. I’d blame my depression, but using that as an excuse when…… Continue reading Not journaling, definitely not crying.
Originally posted on From famine to feast. :
we all have needs. we have wants too, but wants are different. it’s hard to believe that sometimes, but it’s true, though the distinction gets lost. my pocketbook pays the price of the incorrect labelling. it’s hard to call our needs by name in this age of constant…
In “The Chronicles of Riddick,” the titular character is told by the Purifier, as they observe “converts” receiving the Necromonger mark, that the sufferers are learning how one pain can lessens another. I always thought the Purifier was incorrect. New pain doesn’t cure old pain. It does, however, distract, which allows you to shift your…… Continue reading Muted self-hatred and listening skills.
That’s not entirely true. Sometimes, it is too late. That’s why now is generally better. I’m almost never pleased post-procrastination. I’m regretful of late. I want more from my life and my reality. I suspect I’m not alone. I feel old and spent and used and tired. Some of it’s nature – I tend to…… Continue reading It’s never too late.