Just a quick introduction before y’all lovingly spam my inbox with concern (for which I am grateful, truly), please remember; writing is my therapy.
Therapy, for the most part, isn’t a pretty, neat nor tidy package.
It can often be ugly, raw, messy.
This is what this piece of writing is. And for this I make no apologies, not this time, I’m sick of apologising for how I feel. I’m sick of disclaimers (which ironically in its essence is what this is) for how I feel. Just know that this piece of writing reflects where I’m at this week, this singular week. It is not my perennial state.Read More
At the beginning of this year, I found myself in a major funk. It was the kind of black fog that I go through at the end of each winter.
As winter draws to a close and my body is desperately craving warmth and sunshine, I find myself slipping into a weather induced, depressive headspace. I could easily spend every and all day under my doona, or my ‘cocoon of depression’ as my husband refers to it.