I was walking to the corner store to buy candy with my meagre allowance one bright summer morning, skipping cracks because who wants a mother with a broken back, and when I looked up, I was fifty-two. There’s a lifetime in the gap, but I forget all too often the history in my history, focusing only on the ugly bits, which, excluding the eating disorder … Continue reading Criticism or celebration?
Hidden amongst the recent chaos that’s my life – the Chinese curse, may you live in interesting times definitely applies – I had an anniversary. It’s been fours years since I started my blog, an odd and lovely accomplishment that, upon the thinking of today, threw some Barenaked Ladies into my brain. It’s not the worst music earworm in the world (if you haven’t heard … Continue reading Who am I (in a non-existential sort of way)?
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 it’s a chronic condition is as valid as blaming my … Continue reading Not journaling, definitely not crying.
I’m not sure that combining an anxious nature with a creative imagination is a good idea. I think I’d do better at managing my anxiety if my brain couldn’t create elaborate, albeit improbable, scenarios. It’s a nice thought. I like it. It’s probably not true: I had three panic attacks yesterday without much in the way of inner-ugly movies. I woke up panicking: don’t do … Continue reading Mould, mildew, and anxiety.
From Famine to Feast 