I started this post in March of 2015 but was too freaking messed up to publish it. Reading it over today, it still stands as a testimony of how horrifying it is to be in the throes of a PTSD episode. It's time to share it.
My life is dynamic (no change) and I find myself drawn less and less to ongoing, public reflection (big change). Yet, I feel like there are things I want to - need to - tell you. But... what? How? In what order? Do I need to consult my calendar and outline everything significant so that… Continue reading Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Today is a day that will go down in herstory. 3 million women and honorary women marched around the world to make their voices heard. Our voices. Our outrage and love. Our fears and hopes. Our refusal to allow the horror looming on the horizon to go unchallenged. Apparently, the world has our back too.… Continue reading You were marching for me
Our cat died on October 26, 2015. A week before Russell left us, he began a new phase of life. His week of hospice wasn't a bad life. It was an odd mirror of his normal routines. Instead of making his way through his usual day, we simply carried him. Russell Scot Fry adopted us… Continue reading A week of cat hospice
It takes me a while to figure out how to incorporate new things into my life. My typical practice is to muddle along with an idea wrapped in frustration until I have an aha that reflects how simple the thing really is. Yes, I try my damnedest to complicate things. I've been taking tai… Continue reading To Tai Chi or not to Tai Chi – getting over myself
If a mental breakdown wants my attention, it should request an appointment.
A good, cathartic cry might be just the wonderful storm that leaves the garden refreshed and ready for planting.