This piece talks about suicide which may trigger some. Be mindful. I have a pink leather Kate Spade purse I rarely use. Never use. I’m going to keep it anyway. For one thing, it sparks joy. It’s too small for my wallet, too casual for an evening bag, and too lush to toss into a …
It’s not that I’ve not been writing. It’s that I hate every word and send my attempts to the electronic paper shredder in the sky. All of it was meandering crap I couldn’t bear to look at. Pointlessly pointless. Unfortunately, regular deleting has a deleterious effect on productivity. New plan. No deleting. Post the less …
I count. Not all the time, but not infrequently enough for the behaviour to surprise me when I notice. At least I count in my head most of the time. Doing that type of thing out loud brings questions I prefer not to answer. Ditto to all the oddities I sometimes exhibit – perhaps my …
[Trigger warning. I reference self-harm. It might be disturbing.] I have a vague headache and I’m deciding between marijuana and ibuprofen. The numbed-out life has an appeal. I didn’t eat breakfast until about eleven. Definitely headache-contributing behaviour. I wasn’t hungry. I’m never hungry these days. That doesn’t stop me from rage eating compulsively every now …
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. …
