To cook, or to not cook, that’s the question. Once upon a time, I liked cooking. Before the eating disorder tentacled it’s way into everything, I quite enjoyed it. I liked trying new things. I liked feeding other people. It’s harder with an eating disorder, if only because people ask why you aren’t eating, or why your food is different. So, I started cooking less. … Continue reading Let’s break bread, an off-the-cuff joint.
I’m a comparative individual. I compare myself with others constantly. Both my mother and grandmother were judgmental people, commenting on others across nearly all metrics, on everything from appearance to behaviour to employment to belief systems. And although my mother did it to a lesser degree and with more grace than my grandmother, hearing others being judged and fond wanting on a regular basis takes … Continue reading I’m fond of external scaffolding, it helps keep me organized – an off-the-cuff joint.
Whoever said bad things come in threes was probably someone who was lucky. In my experience, when one stumbles across bad luck, it keeps piling on until fate gets bored and takes amusement elsewhere… Continue reading Not quite triggered, an off-the-cuff joint.
I didn’t love much about this past week – my cat is sick, and she’s not being super agreeable about medication. It’s a worry. She’ll be thirteen this May, and I’ve had her since she was about six weeks old – a rescue from the feed mill I worked out. She’s got a urinary tract infection. She’s got antibiotics, and I’m administering them, but there’s … Continue reading Things I liked about the week that was – an off-the-cuff joint.
From Famine to Feast 