I can’t find the written words, so here they are today. I’m not brave and I’m not strong. The painting is called ‘rootless’.
Here’s a painting I completed recently. My second attempt using acrylics. I really want to say that I like it. I can get as far as, ‘I think it’s reasonably OK’. My lack of confidence isn’t just that. It’s low self esteem, it’s a struggle to reward myself and recognise achievements. It’s frustrating is(…)
Now when I talk of being scared, I don’t just mean a mild apprehension or even slight panic. When I say scared, I mean pit of the stomach, nauseating fear. But what terrifies me isn’t always the ‘obvious’ for someone like me. Closed doors. I loathe walking up to a closed door and pushing it(…)
If I could, what a phrase. But I’m going to try to explain what things are like for me. In case it might help others understand a little. I was reading something on The Mighty.com and saw a quote that struck me. I’m afraid I can’t quote the original source as I don’t know it.(…)
One of the reasons I decided to write about my experiences is because I basically got to a point where I felt so low that there was nowhere else to go. It was a perfect storm of circumstance if you like. Things came together imperfectly to create the perfect low. Added to this ‘stuff’, I’d(…)
I don’t set out to write most days. It just happens. And the timing isn’t set either. Again it just happens. So maybe this is as much a diary as anything else. I don’t suppose it matters really. Having depression and being hormonal do not make for a good combination. That’s my thought for(…)