Tag: writer
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Honest Healing
Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere, how truly alone I have felt in my life. I lean across the window sill in my bedroom to push the window wide before bed, thinking about nothing more sinister than the cool night air and it’s delicious contrast to the warm, soothing sheets while I sleep. My […]
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Disassociation
You know that feeling when you arrive at a destination, you park the car, and then you realise you have absolutely no recollection of the drive there? Or when you leave the house, get ten yards down the road and have no idea if you shut and locked the door, so you turn back and […]
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Trying Not To Get Chair Shaped #1
Dear followers, As you may, or may not know I have recently decided to give up my day job and focus all of my energy on my own business, a business that leapt up and tackled me out of nowhere I might add. It’s going very well, in case you were wondering. There is only […]
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Trying Not To Get Chair Shaped #2
This week in “Trying Not To Be Chair Shaped”, I thought you might like to see the chair I’m trying not to be shaped like. It’s this. It’s this chair. Comfortable, sleek, the arms might be upside down. I love it, but I don’t want to be shaped like it. I endeavour to exercise more […]
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The Last Shift
Today’s the day. I first entered employment at seventeen-years-old simply because my mother needed financial help. I continued to work hard at college and do well in my A-levels during the day, and then in the evenings and weekends I would go to work in a grocery store working on a checkout and bringing home […]
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Isolation
Understanding the Narcissist He made me feel completely alone in this world. I am still unpacking the how and the why of that in my therapy sessions. None of it was overt, which is why it’s so difficult to unravel, I think. At no point was I ever expressly told not to have friends, not […]
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Thinking About Nightmares
Last night she was lost. We were by the coast, the air was stringy with salt and sand, and I was somehow hollow and overflowing both at once. Her father was there, in the dream. Her being lost was vaguely his fault, but he was trying to help I think, in his soul-sucking, selfish own […]
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Happy Birthday To Me
My thinking has been completely reframed as the day progressed. I woke up already entrenched in my trauma responses, choking on anxiety and this enduring feeling of unworthiness. The pattern of abuse that I have previously been exposed to doesn’t exist anymore. This post tracks my thought processes, and my awakening as I stepped out […]
Emma's Writing Things 