For nigh on fifty years I was like most people – very quiet and private about my personal life. I barely shared my inner world with myself, let alone anyone else. But now I live my life like the door to my house is wide open and everyone can see inside. And there are reasons for that profound change. Let me see if my humble words can explain a little bit.
A story for those who are long-recovered or want to understand more about the origins of eating disorders. For family members of those suffering. For women who have ever been worried about their appearance and how they fit into society. The unpleasant sexual experiences almost universally experienced by women. And the ongoing impact of childhood emotional neglect by parents who hoped to do their best but severely lacked the skills to raise happy children.
I have to say, 2021 was kind to me. While 01 January is just an arbitrary date nevertheless, we wrap boundaries around dates and look for patterns. It is the way it is.
I wrote a book. You’ve probably heard me banging on about it over the past few months. Years even. But now we’re at the pointy end of the process.
You know how bad news comes in runs of three? That’s my superstition at any rate… Well apparently good news can do the same thing.
If you’ve known me for more than about five minutes, then you probably know I’ve written a book. It’s been an intense labour of love and like most labours, there have been some painful moments.
Dear Sleep, I’ve been thinking of you lately. About all that time we spent together – so comfortable with each other and […]
Once upon a time, I bought a pair of shoes. I bought a pair of shoes at 3 AM and when they arrived, I didn’t remember buying them. At the time of this unfortunate shoe-purchasing incident, I’d been taking pramipexole for around 5 years. I’d had no side effects and had yet to experience any augmentation (that would come later).
One of the first, and most prolific, things I do when my restless legs are restless, is to stretch. I find stretching offers wonderful – albeit very short-lived – relief and is something I can do anywhere, anytime.
I’ve been absent. Absent from so many things in my life. One of the key components of my recovery has been writing. Since 2016 I’ve been writing up a storm. I couldn’t even hazard a guess at the number of words that have dribbled out of these fingers in the past five years. But let’s just say it includes 390 blog posts, 40 insomnia articles, an awful lot of journal entries and one whole book. Amongst other things.
Writing a book was a mighty endeavour – one I never really dreamed of but slowly as I wrote more and more, and was encouraged more and more, I started to think it was an achievable reality. And while I’m not yet holding a book in my hot little hands, I know I will be by the end of the year.
As an insomniac, I know I often use the words “never” or “none at all.” “I’ve been awake all night.” “For days on end.” But most of the time, an exhausting sleep still involves some sleep.
I found the most fabulous manuscript assessor for my book – the inimitable Julie Gray. She recently asked me to contribute a guest post on […]
I found the most fabulous manuscript assessor for my book – the inimitable Julie Gray. She recently asked me to contribute a […]
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m not sure who “they” are, but sometimes I feel that absence means the heart grew sicker. Writing is my cathartic outlet so when I stop writing I know something is going on.
