Knitting
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So, yesterday
Yesterday started off great; watched an episode of DS9 with Sharon and Ginny (even though we all live in different states, we’ve been watching science fiction shows together four mornings a week for probably going on seven years now – iirc we’ve done Babylon 5, Firefly, Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate Universe, Eureka, Warehouse 13,
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Coming back to yourself
Trauma and grief can make you forget who you are. For 100 days, I woke up, I made coffee, I drove to the hospital an hour away, I spent the day advocating for my husband who was slipping away a little bit more every day, I probably remembered to eat, I kept everyone updated, and
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Recurring dreams of home. But not home. But, home.
I’ve been staring at the TV for about 15 minutes while one gunfire scene has been playing. How do they not run out of bullets? I swear, there is some dumb shit out there and tonight it’s on my TV. My back hurts because I’ve been leaning over a lot today, and it’s only 8:30
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That little voice in your head
Maybe there’s a dirty mug in the sink, with a spoon in it. Maybe you forgot to clean the crumbs off the cutting board from your cinnamon toast snack the night before. Or didn’t wipe off the stove after cooking that hamburger for dinner. Then that little voice in your head pipes up. “Look at
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Dear Tim; we need to talk about our bathroom
By that I mean “my bathroom,” but whatever. You’re still here a lot, in my head. When we first came to look at this place, I couldn’t help but laugh when we went into the master bedroom and bathroom suite. I think the whole thing was the size of my first apartment… and the bathroom
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A gray immovable rock in glass-smooth water
Here’s the thing about coming out of a narcissistic fog. You haven’t just lost your time; you’ve lost your “spark.” You’ve spent so long being a background character in their psychodrama that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have your own plotline. The Art of Becoming a “Gray Rock” Before you can find your joy,
