I was ready to fight or more realistically to fly. After four nights of barely any sleep and three days of staying indoors, I decided to get some sunlight and fresh air. I drove to a park which I know well and set myself up at a wooden table. I lay out some pens, a sketch book and a bottle of water and tried to feel inspired by the nature all around me. 8221;, he sounded distressed as he crumpled up the hairnet in his hand. I assume it came with the wig.

Random jaunt through this maze. How to make a grounding bracelet. Both sides of the wall. Integrating the light and the dark. I was describing my anxiety in group yesterday. I had mentioned that the ptsd symptoms seemed to have quieted only to be replaced by the anxiety.

Last thoughts before a well deserved sleep. Descions made before a hard earned defeat. Sore legs from a two mile run. Strawberry jam on a freshly baked bun. Whiskey The Girl That Will Do Me In. She stands behind locked glass in the store on the street end.

My life with joint hypermobility syndrome. Today started as a bad day. It was also my gym induction today and that was making me incredibly anxious so after dressing in gym-appropriate attire I pretty much spent the morning hugging a pillow pretending to watch TV and trying not to throw up or think. Mucho proud of myself right now.

Something I wrote for a stranger. Is it strange that I long to know you? I am waiting for your reveal. Where the lines that frame the shape of your face,. Every curve and cut,. Is it too odd that I sit and stare. For the first glimpse of what you look like. To travel in an envelope of light. Which I will open up and save in a glass bottle of my mind? I, for some curious reason have decided. That the picture of your face.

An exercise in honesty, integrity, and my personal attempt to overcome my fear of sharing my own soul. This entry was posted in Poetry. Am I hopeful about climate change? Am I hopeful about making a difference? These questions have come to me a lot recently, asked implicitly or explicitly by fellow activists, and recurring at the back of my own mind.

Reflections on living with mental illness. While many of the changes have been for the better, others not so much.

Welcome to the life of a little wolfing. This will touch a bit on the travelling aspect and also a bit on the situation at home aspect. My doubtful suggestion would be to move to England a.

Words from a seemingly unsound mind. On Life Of A Stiff. I had a staring contest with the monitor. Expecting to give me an answer to my query. Amounts I could only dream to amass. So these amounts should tally. Is to see that screen say zero.