A post by this fellow, Anonymole, got me thinking about experience and the poor use I make of my life. I have never had anything that would qualify, in most people’s books, as “experiences.” I have never traveled more than 75 miles from home. Never camped or drove across the company. No concerts. No bungee … Continue reading What is experience and how can I get some?
Tag: anxiety
To grandmother’s house we go: #SepSceneWriMo
She woke up with sweat trickling down the sides of her face into her ears. A strange night. Bad dreams. It was gross but why worry about it? She changed and went back to bed. It happened again a few nights later. Well, the weather was getting very warm now, and she was still using … Continue reading To grandmother’s house we go: #SepSceneWriMo
No exit: well there is an exit, but it’s sealed shut. A retail story.
Based on a true story about a lowly department store administrative assistant…. “EEEEP! EEEEP! EEEEEEP!” Oh no! There must be a fire! My eardrums! I jumped up from my desk. “EEEEP! EEEEP! EEEEEEP!” I have no time to walk around my desk! The shortest way is always a straight line. I climbed up “EEEEP! EEEEP! … Continue reading No exit: well there is an exit, but it’s sealed shut. A retail story.
Some twisted roots unearthed among the leaves of an old diary.
Picture yourself on a nice, sunny day, under a big, shady tree, digging a hole to plant some flowers. You take your little shovel and dig, and you soon find some roots in your way. Over-enthusiastic growth, yes; difficult to remove, yes. But removable with effort. You dig them out, you plant your flowers, and … Continue reading Some twisted roots unearthed among the leaves of an old diary.
Is it you, or is it me? Struggling with a fictional character.
My protagonist’s boyfriend has been secretly begging me to allow him to cheat on her. I didn't want things to be this way but unless she shapes up, there may not be a happy ending. I may have to do something we both might not like. What was meant to be a portrait of depression … Continue reading Is it you, or is it me? Struggling with a fictional character.
The pain in my ass is what makes me a pain in the ass.
People seem to be more open lately about invisible pain, sickness, disability, or mental illness. That’s a good thing. It means you don’t have to try to justify your existence as much. Maybe you could even share your problem with someone else (like your ever-so-compassionate boss!) and get a response that doesn't include a dirty … Continue reading The pain in my ass is what makes me a pain in the ass.
Damage control, saving face, and the little egomaniac.
Who's the opposite of the inner critic? The inner egomaniac. Locked in an eternal tug-of-war with you in the middle, the critic tries to tear you apart, while the egomaniac tries to shamelessly patch itself up. I can barely look in the mirror when I think of all the times in my life when I … Continue reading Damage control, saving face, and the little egomaniac.
As P!nk aptly put it… Don’t let me get me
Guilt. Ineptitude. Stupidity. Immorality. Shame. Imposture. These aren’t really all that different when you think about it, right? Just the variety of tactics that the one and the same inner critic uses to help us destroy ourselves. Scratch that: “critic” is too nice of a word. “Monster” or “demon” is more like it. Who knows … Continue reading As P!nk aptly put it… Don’t let me get me
How to unwaste wasted time?
To the depressed out there, do you have a trigger flush that sends you swirling down the toilet along with all your shitty thoughts? And when you're swirling around, do you mistake the shit for yourself? I don't know about you, but I really don't want to do that anymore. And if you don't want … Continue reading How to unwaste wasted time?
Plowing through depression while planting gratitude.
T.S. Eliot wrote that “April is the cruellest month, breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire, stirring / Dull roots with spring rain.” I would submit that spring is the cruelest season. But it doesn't need to be. Farmers plow their fields each spring, while we the depressed plow … Continue reading Plowing through depression while planting gratitude.
