I had a panic attack last night because the counters were dirty. There I was shaking, heart trying to climb out of my chest ala Alien, and my brain running away in storyland. Because the counters were dirty. Initially, because I’m human, I was pissed. Like, “this? This is the hill we’re dying on today?... Continue Reading →
Today is Mental Health Day. It would be swell if I got to deal with my mental health once a year. For me, and anyone else who struggles, every day is mental health day. Often “good” days can be tainted with a sense of wondering when the shit will hit the fan. The “bad” days... Continue Reading →
If you asked me, (no one did) the hardest part of depression is admitting to yourself that you’re depressed. Following the woman in a black dress analogy, she doesn’t announce herself. She doesn’t even make herself at home. She silently climbs on your back and begins whispering in your ear. Her whispers become the painted... Continue Reading →
I’m 37 tomorrow. Last night, I realized that 3+7=10=1 in numerology. 36 is 3+6=9. Aside from the ability to do basic math, (I’m a big kid now) in astrology, 9 is about endings, and 1 is about beginning. New cycle. New start. In the tarot, 1 is the magician card - the master of the... Continue Reading →
I’ve been reading Touched by Fire. It’s a study on mood disorders - particularly bipolar - and artists. It’s so fascinating but also eating me up a bit. Reading the facts about Poe, Van Gogh, Woolfe, Tenneyson, Lord Byron...on and on...it’s cathartic to feel not alone and certainly in good company, and depressing to read... Continue Reading →
Talking about rape, abortion, adoptions - also the last 20 years of my life. Don't read it if you don't want to read about yucky stuff. Go anywhere else on my blog, there's plenty.
The hydra is finished I modify my appearance with important events. I celebrated my driver's license with getting my cartilages pierced (and literally starting to date the dude who would become the father of the girl represented by my left shoulder) A tattoo goes on to mark something for me. (Literally, no shit Sherlock) Figuratively,... Continue Reading →
...Instead of running with anxiety, I’m questioning it. “What is this [discomfort of whatever form] saying to me?” Has been more helpful then “I’ve ruined everything and I am a worthless idiotic sack of shit” (believe it or not!) Earlier today, I did it and then went to meditate, and just now I did it and realized I needed to flop for a few minutes.
I got snake bites in December - it had been something I wanted to do since I was young, so I did it. A happy byproduct was that my lip hurt so badly, I couldn't bite my nails. I was able to grow them long enough to cover them with fakes, and today, I took... Continue Reading →