I live with anxiety and c-PTSD among other neuroses – humble brag – and lists are my happy place. I find them aspirational and inspirational. I can tend to aimless wheel spinning with my puttering – reorganizing the library again is a lateral move no matter how it soothes anxious feelings – so lists can lead to me feeling productive at the end of the … Continue reading To-do lists – an off-the-cuff joint.
We’re our stuff, and our stuff is us, and our stuff is garbage, not in a metaphorical sense with regards to the quality of its execution or its greenwashing, but in the literal sense, in that most of our stuff is trash, or will end up there, not while we’re here, of course – in that case our stuff is valuable, all of it, the … Continue reading Stuff
The introduction The death of my mother has been the strangest experience of my life. I’m not experiencing it much yet – I remain fairly dissociated and depersonalized. Everything feels not quite real to me. Even though I know it is. Nothing is as I thought it would be. Once again, television has lied to us. We had the memorial service for my mother yesterday. … Continue reading Turning the page.
I’m wearing a pair of pants that are a little too tight, and in terms of eating disorder recovery, that’s a pretty epic win. [i] That I’m wearing pants – not baggy jeans, track pants, or yoga leggings – is also a win. Pants were in the category of “clothing allowed when my body is perfect.” Until then, it was baggy bottoms – bonus points … Continue reading Tight pants and other sins
From Famine to Feast 