Tag Archives: Therapy

So I Turn Myself To Face Me

The Diana anniversary stuff interests me in an entirely personal as well as a wider cultural sense as it reminds me that twenty years ago I was in the cusp of a huge emotional and mental breakdown which was to … Continue reading

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Smoke And Goldeness

My sore throaty voice place continues to make me sound like I’m having my larynx scraped by tiny oesophageal dredgers, all made of razors and thorn. Allegedly this means I am emitting sexy sounds. Personally I think I couldn’t be … Continue reading

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Scooby Dooby Doo, To Be Is To Do

Heavy-lidded apathy rules Saturday. It might not be apathy; I can’t be bothered to analyse myself deeply enough to know for sure. It might not even be Saturday: words are just words, they’re not genuine representations of anything. You know, … Continue reading

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No Direction Home

Wanderlust: the desire to hike, if you want to get all Middle High German on the motion, which too few people do these days. It’s a word that came up in conversation with my son during our travels last week. … Continue reading

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Toys In The Attic

I’ve come to the end of my therapy sessions, today we worked on an action plan for trying to enable me to better recognise the signs of relapse in future. So I’m totally cured now and will never be insaniac … Continue reading

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Go Forth (of July)

Writey, writey, thinky, thinky, therapy, therapy-y. The brain bone’s connected to the finger bones apparently. Which might be why I consistently flip the bird at any coverage of Donald ‘Fuck’ Trump. But happy America day anyways. Firework bagels and cranberry … Continue reading

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Tarr Very Much

Biting off more than you can chew, lesson forty seven billion. I’m trying to go out and do stuff, to reconnect with the outside world. It’s something my therapist and I talked about. She’d probably like me to share this … Continue reading

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