Cry. Cleanse. Flow.

Releasing that which no longer serves you is exhausting work. You head into it thinking “oh, I’m gonna be so much lighter and my heart less cluttered, and life is going to be so sunny” until you realise, if you were perhaps holding on a little too tightly, that release means burning with anger, waking up in tears and feeling like a tornado- completely out of control and unstoppable. Scary. Lonely. Tiring. We held on for too long because it was comfortable, and we maybe thought we could be immune to all this release yuck, if we just didn’t release.

We all do this. Hold on too tightly to things we think we need, think we deserve no better than, or think we’ll be worth less without. Finding that magical balance where we’re woke enough and still enough to let go early enough that it’s a gentle flow but not so early that we don’t learn from it seems a very distant and impossible dream when you’re neck deep in self-actualising sludge.

The cool thing though, about having a big, dramatic, angry, tearful release, is that it usually brings up a whole lot of other things that we need to let go of… or RE let go of because we grabbed back onto them as we flailed about in the uncertainty of release. So we get to work on these things again, and grow a little more.

The tangible stuff is easy to identify; you break up with the friend, or the partner, you quit the job, you move suburbs or states or just houses. The big, practical things are easy (if not complex), but it’s the intangibles that slip in and poke at you quietly while all the other noise is demanding your attention… it’s those bastards that need the soul work.

Fear, self doubt, an overactive inner critic; tearing apart an already fragile version of yourself and weaving their way through the chaos of that big release we’re working on in the physical realm. Filling gaps where light and positivity might have shone through and making the whole situation look daunting and messy and overwhelming.

For the moment, I’ve just shaken off the fog and gathered this whole mess into a slightly more manageable pile. I can see the edges of it, and, therefore I can see past it, and around it, and realise that it’s just that, a manageable pile of mess to sort through. Kinda like my house, all the time (ha). I’ll pick up a piece at a time and work through where it fits and let go of everything I no longer need, that no longer serves me. I’m basically Marie Kondo-ing my inner world. This might take a few days, a few weeks or a few months. But it certainly won’t take long before that big pile becomes a few smaller ones, and I’ll feel like I can face the world a bit easier than the last couple of weeks have been.

Soul work is hard work. But it’s so worth the effort.

Full moons over the range

This place completely quiets my soul.

From the moment I drop over the mountain, a calm consumes me. Sleepy, haunted towns and vast rolling hills welcome me home. The air is clearer, the sky is brighter and the people are happier.

Lots to ponder on this sneaky overnighter. How fortunate that the moon is full, so sleep is a stranger, and I can let my mind slow and my heart dream. My world is so changing at the moment. I’ve dived head first into a big turbulent shift that I’d been watching roll over the horizon for months now. I’ve taken some punches with this one so far, as expected, but I’ve righted myself quickly, and not spent too long in the fog, the darkness, or the fire.

For sure, I’m not done. This journey is just beginning, but I’m so proud of myself for how I’ve managed this wave thus far. I’ve had awakenings about the truth of me; my worth, my power. My ability to heal myself and others… And where I need to be focusing my energy moving forward.

A dream has come true, a perception has been shattered, and a goddess is emerging. I’m ready for what the universe is bringing me.

A full moon. In an enormous country sky. Eyes are back on the prize. The prize has evolved a little, and it looks pretty exciting.

Ready, set, tantrum

How do you support someone who isn’t ready to be supported? How do you find that balance between caring enough that you are helpful, while not caring so much that you burn yourself out flogging a dead horse, so to speak. No one can heal without first deciding they’re ready to heal. All the therapy and support and interventions and medication in the world can’t help someone who has decided they’re not up for helping themselves. And I get it. I’ve been there. Wanting someone to “fix” me, make me “better”, give me the answers. But no growth happened in that space. I simply became a victim of my own life and my own decisions… and the funny thing about holding a victim mentality, is that it’s never your fault, never your responsibility, so you just hand the blame from person to person and continue perpetuating your victimhood.

As soon as you own your life, and your decisions; things start changing. It’s a fact that nobody can run your life better than you can. Even if you’re a mess of an adult, you’ll do a better job of it than anyone else could ever do. Every decision you make is the right one for you at the time. Whether it takes you on a magical journey of happiness or shoves you into a messy pile of lessons you didn’t want to learn, it was the right choice. Because YOU made it.

So how do we support those who don’t want to be supported and are happy and comfortable and safe in their victim mentality? I don’t have the answers. I’m writing this to try to work it out myself… at uni we were drilled about not being able to “save everyone”. This was such an important lesson for so many of us. At some point, as therapists, without doing damage to our clients, detach… ok, so how do we detach from our stagnant clients without damaging therapeutic relationships?

I think, in the simplest form, we need to take all our fucks back. When I meet a client, I offer them one of my fucks that I have to give. And see if they accept it. Most do, because they see each new person as the promise of solving all their problems for them without having to do any work themselves. As the relationship progresses, you can offer them a couple more, invest a little more and develop a healthy attachment. Often, though, at some point, the client will start trying to hoard your fucks. Their inner child starts demanding attention, and throwing tantrums, sulking and withdrawing, trying to get comfort and soothing from an external source. While they’re in child, they’re not healing. Instead they’re projecting, putting walls up, resisting all change, resisting all help. I’m not, for one second trying to minimise the real anguish related to depression, anxiety, ptsd etc… this is all connected, but very different.

So we have a stand off… clients hoarding the fucks we’ve given them without using them, or respecting them, and us feeling the draining sensation of being clawed at energetically, in sometimes the most hostile of ways, because they’re hurting and feeling us standing our ground and not giving any more fucks… gently collecting our fucks back from them, it feels like a game, which I suppose it is… in a way. Because life is a game. Standing our ground with all of our fucks tucked safely away. We can be kind without giving up of ourselves. And if our clients aren’t going to appreciate or respect us, we absolutely do not need to tolerate it.

The next chapter usually consists of more tantrums and triggers and resistance. But that’s ok. Stand firm, calm, kind. The chapter after that is usually a humbled and slightly bettered human, asking politely for support, and you may feel inclined to rerelease that original, recharged fuck for them to hold as a reminder that you care.

Today I give no fucks. They’re all mine. If my clients aren’t going to use them, I’ll take them back. There’s a lot of energy in them that I could use for myself right now.

You might need to revisit this question a hundred times throughout the course of someone’s journey through mental illness. Some days they will be more willing than others, some days they will cling tightly to everything that destroyed them because they know nothing else.

If you’re a healer, remember that you can’t save everyone, and not everyone you meet will be ready to be saved in this chapter. But you’re still an important part of their journey, so don’t give up because the universe needs you.

Dirty work

Lately I’ve had this beautiful balance of hard work on inner self, and limitless abundant bliss. I’m not working on the hard shit for a few weeks anymore, it’s a couple of days of reflection followed by a few days or a week of deep, true happiness. It’s an incredible ride. But I’m exhausted.

There’s no highway exit where you have a little no-mans-land to cleanse your palate before being awash with the fresh emotions of the next wave, it’s more like emerging from a sauna after an hour or 2 and diving into fresh, powdery snow… shocking. Invigorating. But by the time I’ve adjusted to one climate, it’s changed on me again, and I find myself inappropriately psychologically dressed for the situation.

Supporting my clients is getting easier. I’m getting fit for this sort of work. I’m not as externally drained anymore. Which is amazing. I’d been fearful of the inability to regulate myself when dealing with clients on the reg, and that I’d be burned out before even having a chance to begin. But internally, I almost feel like a passenger on my own journey. Like I’m watching myself get pulled this way and pushed that way, and dragged around like a mum of twins in a lollyshop. Removed from it. But still very much feeling the end results.

What am I uncovering? What’s being unlocked? I’m loving myself more. I had a moment over the weekend where I had my whole experience with mental health and self esteem played out in front of me like a training montage in a movie. When it finished, I felt a gentle weight on my chest as if to ask “well, what do you have to say about that?” And I was shocked to hear myself talk about how proud I was of myself. How much darkness had shrouded my soul and how triumphantly my soul has shone through. How such a broken and battered relationship could heal so completely. Someone that I hated, is becoming my deepest love- myself. Seams of gold rippling iridescently though shattered sections of my life. Repaired and beautiful, and safe. It was such a beautiful meditation and I’m so grateful.

Today I need alone time… Last night I didn’t want to be alone. It’s gentle. The emotions aren’t harsh. But the flickering between them is laughable in its intensity. It’s a ride. I’m glad I can enjoy my journeys now. I used to hate the journey. Always focusing on the destinations… but the destinations never came. Cuz there are no destinations. Only the journey.

It’s been a while…

“Write”, I urged myself. “Just write.

“Just sit down with a blank page and let things fall out of your head. Don’t think about it. Just do it. That’s when you’re most raw, most honest, most profound.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lost and so settled in my life. The deeper I dive into my own personal growth and spiritual journey, the more out of touch I feel with so much of the world. I uncover deep wounds and heal them, I explore new perspectives of old opinions and play with their application in my life, yet the more I try to explain it, the more crazy I feel. It’s hard to pull yourself out of your own world, where you’re learning and hurting, and healing and trying to understand why you are. Most times, I don’t WANT to reconnect with the world. It’s hostile out there. It’s selfish and unjust, and cruel. But when I do reconnect, I find smiles, mutual exchanges of energy between strangers and excellent coffee.

My life at the moment is a bit… I’ll find the word later… my days consist, through supporting my clients, of revisiting my darkest hours. Seeing myself in my clients tears and anxious fidgets. My days are so controlled, spiritually, energetically. I hold space for clients without saying a word and allow them to feel things that they normally don’t make time for, or feel silly for feeling, or wanted to avoid. Sorry. Sometimes you gotta feel them. And I’m right here with you.

Of course this has had an impact on my inner world. I’m seeing so much severity and cruelty in the stories these beautiful women are sharing and I feel blessed to have made it out the other side of black holes and self destruction. I’ve recognised some guilt coming out of that too. Guilty that I had such an incredible mother to literally keep me alive through those days, nights, weeks that I was staring helplessly into the abyss. She held my tether and let me stand there as long as I needed to, but when I collapsed, she pulled me towards her instead of allowing me to tumble over the edge, and resuscitated me with unconditional love. Guilty that I’ve found incredible connections with therapists and not had to spend half my energy FINDING one let alone working with one. Guilty that I had the eduction opportunities that I’ve had. Guilty that I’m using my hardships to see right through all my clients’ defences and protective words.

It’s the guilt that has been eating at me.

Apparently.

Guilt was my go-to emotion. Guilt was what I worked on for so many years with my therapist who has helped shape who I am as a mental health worker, and who inspires me to be an incredible counsellor one day. Guilt. And fear. Fear I’ve worked through a bit with timeline therapy and hypnosis more recently… but guilt… guilt because I had ALL THIS and still managed to struggle with anxiety, depression and eating disorders. What right do I have to feel like that when I’ve lived such a charmed life. Only child, incredible humans for parents, ponies, puppies, music, whatever extra curricular I wanted.

Of course, this guilt is unfounded, irrational. It’s the same as feeling guilty for getting cancer, or MS, or a headcold. Mental illness doesn’t discriminate between socio economic groups, or ethnicity, or religion. Mental illness is an illness. I fought mine with support because I was MEANT to get through it and flourish. Because I’m MEANT to support these people now.

When my clients ask me if I’ve ever felt like I just wanted to stop existing, I can, and always do, respond honestly with “yeah. Yeah I have. It’s a really dark place to be, and I’m sorry that you’re there. I’ve felt that” I don’t want to make them “feel better”. What they’re feeling now is valid, and real, and important. And they need to know they’re not alone feeling like that, that they’re not weird, broken, unworthy.

Weekly, I hear “my life sucks, sorry” at least 3 times. My vibration increases, my breathing slows, and I offer them some of my energy, (Silently. There’s so much of my work that doesn’t involve words). My life sucks. I remember saying it. Feeling it. Thinking it. Always told I was ungrateful and spoilt… No! My life, inside my head, was a fucking nightmare. Constantly telling myself awful, hateful things. “You’re not worthy, you fucked up, you’ll never make it out of here, you’ll never achieve anything, give up, fatty, no one will love you with a chin like that, a nose like that, a belly like that, hands like that, a face like that”

Now I hear my clients indicating that their head it telling them these things and my heart breaks for them. No one is louder than your own inner critic, your own self doubt. They scream at you. Inside your head becomes so noisy and impossible. People tell you things from the outside that get run through the “hate-filter” in your head before you hear them. Then people get angry that you didn’t listen to them…

Sometimes my heart remains heavy. If I’ve had a hard week myself (like this week), I tend to stay a bit too connected to my clients and my heart feels a little weighed down. Writing this made me realise that I’m carrying some stuff that isn’t mine. And now I can work on letting that go before I get to my next client, so I can support her fully.

“Write”, I urged myself. “Just write”.

Dinner

Hey girl, in the supermarket, staring at shelves. Hoping she just looks stoned instead of pre-panic attack… Since illegal drug affectedness would be more socially acceptable than a panic attack about what to have for dinner on a Monday night.

I see you.

I feel your chest tighten, I see you wring your hands and watch your eyes dart around- not seeing anything- avoidant.

A lady excuses herself and removes asparagus from the shelf infuriatingly confident and nonchalant. Entranced by her effortlessness for a moment, you just watch her, gracefully extracting more and more food off the shelves, before you’re brought back to the present by a gentleman ducking in front of you to take some grapes. You don’t like grapes, so you feel a little sick suddenly.

The overwhelming choices of absolutely nothing that you could bring yourself to eat. The thought of a single bite makes your stomach tighten. It shouldn’t happen anymore, you’re thinking to yourself, berating yourself for not being better at being normal. “I should be able to do this, I HAVE been doing it- why is this dark fog closing in again?”

You’re paralysed. You’re mute; which is just as well- You can’t draw attention to the fact that you’re so overwhelmed by food. Food that we eat. We don’t even have to be friends with it. Just boil the rice and eat it. You can’t be afraid of that? But you are, it’s terrifying. It feels like it’s eating you. From the shelves- closing in, consuming you from the outside in. Screaming at you to make a decision.

Maybe the reality is that you’re just not hungry. You’ve eaten a late lunch and aren’t ready for more food yet… but you’re supposed to eat, it’s dinner time. So now what?

Choose a lighter option. But did you eat enough today? Is corn on the cob a meal? What about a head of broccoli?

Ok take the prepackaged meal. That’s a meal. It says so.

Hey girl, in her bed. Too full. Head spinning, and a melee. You were not alone in the aisles, and you are not alone now. I see you. And I love you. Every day you battle your own head. And every day- you win. No it SHOULDN’T be like this, and no it’s NOT fair- but you are one fearless goddess, taking it on daily. Waking to face a gauntlet of varying strength, every day. Sometimes forfeiting the battle to recoup- other days running at it so furiously it simply seems to get out of your way.

I know you will be ok. And I know you will work through this bump, because you are strong. So strong, and so powerful.

Gifts

It’s really easy to take for granted the beautiful things we have in our lives. 

It’s easy to be too tired, too sick, too busy, too focused on this other thing right now… what’s not easy is finding the time, making the time for all our little blessings. 

It might be easier for us to come home after a long day and tell our doting dogs to go away because we’re “not in the mood”, it might take less energy to not tell your partner about your day, or something important because you’ve had a big week… but how much extra energy will it take to repair damage caused by a communication breakdown when we continue to not tell them important things, and how easy will it be to find your dogs missing because they’ve run away or tried to follow you out the gate to be with you? 

Sometimes it’s only our perception of how much effort is required that is off- sometimes we just get wrapped up in our own little world and forget about everyone and everything else. But this closes us off to so much more than we realise. When we’re trying to shut off in order to conserve energy, we miss so many opportunities to absorb energy from the world around us and the people and animals we connect with. Energy flows back and forth. If we are only giving, and blocking energy from being received, we’re disrupting the flow. 

Receiving is a skill that many of us do not naturally possess… or rather have been taught not to practice. Receiving is so often seen as greedy, selfish inappropriate behaviour, but I couldn’t disagree more. Receiving energy from people, animals, plants, the earth helps to continue the flow of energy throughout the universe. The more you receive, the more you can give.  

As I said, sometimes we don’t even realise that we’re shut off to receiving. We get so wrapped up in our own world that we forget there’s even another dimension other than our own physical space that we occupy.  Some of you reading this will be like “whatever, she’s nuts, I receive heaps”… do you though? When was the last time you sat on your own and breathed a little? Watched a pair of cockatoos graze peacefully on grass seeds in the middle of suburbia? When did you last take a moment to stop and consider that every single car on the freeway contains a person with their own life, their own energy imbalance, travelling on their own journey? Have you ever sat in a park and marvelled at how 25 of the same variety of tree, all planted in a row, have grown into a completely individual shape, despite having had very similar starts to life? And have you ever really allowed those trees to feed you a little positive energy? Unique and generous, and asking nothing in return in that moment. 

I might sound crazy to you, this post might seem totally out of the blue since it’s probably been 12 months since I last even looked at this blog, and my writing flow will be well and truly out of whack; but the more tired I get, the more I fight little health setbacks, I realise how important my giant slobbery dogs are, how connected my birds want to be with me, and how generously my cats pass on energy to me every day, and how lucky I am to see the sun, and the moon, and be amongst the trees. 

My job is giving. I literally get paid to give my energy to people. And I love it. But it’s just so important that I can receive as well. From everywhere. What’s the point in having a rewarding job that is essentially a transfer of energy, if I don’t have enough energy for myself, for my partner, for my feathered and furred children?  A friend shared this image this morning and as I slowly crawled out of bed late, after taking the morning off to recover from this head cold turned minor chest infection, I so appreciated what it had to say…

You’re allowed to make sure you’ve got enough energy for yourself. Try, just once this weekend, to take a moment and see what you receive as well. It’s ok to need to pull back; just don’t build a wall in front of yourself, remain open as you retreat. Allow gifts to flow through to you so that you can step forward again and continue to share your beautiful gifts with the world- whatever they may be. 

Hug your pets, tell your partner how your day was, and marvel at nature. Sit on a tyre swing, lay in the sun, start at the stars. 

Justin 

Grief (in death). Days become minutes, hours become weeks. Time doesn’t matter anymore and the world disappears a little. One moment you’re driving to get a coffee, the next, you realise you’ve parked, and have been sitting in the car for 20 minutes staring at a shopfront- taking nothing in, letting nothing out. 

You hang, suspended between real life and your little grief cave, and wonder which way you will be swung next. Maybe you’ll snap to and go get your coffee; maybe you’ll close your eyes and let the tears flow for a moment, maybe you’ll write a blog post. It doesn’t matter though, all options would be appropriate and correct. That’s the thing about grief, there’s no right or wrong. Only the process- whatever you need. 

Grief meets different people in different ways, it treats different losses as completely individual and demands different responses every time it visits. The loss of a grandparent is very different from the loss of a child, the loss of a pet if very different to the loss of a best mate. A loss at 85 is different to a loss at 35. You’ll never grieve in the same way for 2 different souls. You can’t. Because each loss teaches you something about yourself. Whether you realise what you need in times of grief, or whether the loss of a particular person has direct, practical impacts on your life; you’re a different person for every loss. So each one is new. So you never get used to it. 

You can get good at grief though. You can learn to accept the process, look upon your responses with curiosity and without judgement, and allow yourself what you need to process through it gently and kindly. 

I’m pretty good at grief. I welcome it. I welcome the pain that comes with it, the waves of emotion, the moments of relief watching a funny movie or laughing with a friend. I welcome the multiple day-time sleeps and the exhaustion and the headaches from crying. My grief is a testament to my love for the lost, and I won’t minimise it. 

You don’t get to put a time limit on grief. Maybe you cry and sleep for a week straight and get up and get on with it. But maybe you cry for a hour then get busy finishing what you were doing, then stop and cry again. Then not sleep. Then sleep a lot. Then cry again. Then laugh for a while. Then cry. For weeks. Months. Years later you’re triggered by a photo, or a familiar feeling, or a memorable smell, and you choke back tears for a while because you think you “shouldn’t” still be sad about this. The truth is, you never really stop grieving for someone. You just get further down the process and it’s gets easier to carry on. You’re going to be triggered by those smells and sounds and sights. And it’s ok to release. You’re going to be sad on birthdays, you’re going to struggle with the first time you do anything without that person. And that’s ok too. 

Grief is easily shared. Often other people are experiencing it at the same time as you are. Whether your family just lost a pet or your close friends, the Australian music industry and,(seemingly) all of Facebook just lost a fucking legend- you’re usually in it together. Share with people. Share the memories. Share the disbelief. Share the laughter, the tears and the heartache. Share the process and help each other grieve. 

If you’re alone in your grief, be ok with sucking some healing energy from the universe and being kind to yourself. Take baths- don’t take baths. Pamper yourself- or let yourself go. Do whatever you need to heal and don’t be afraid to call on friends- or even strangers, for some love and support. 

No one is immune to grief. Don’t pretend you are. It doesn’t need to be a scary process. There’s no right or wrong way to process, no right or wrong list of things you need to get through it. 

Rest in peace, Yustin. I love you. So many love you. Until we meet again- I’m going to get that coffee…

A few shades darker

So I finished my degree and the universe has grabbed a handful of poop and hurled it at me, as if for fun. Not to really challenge me or change my life; but just “whatever sticks- you gotta deal with”… I can almost hear the giggles as it runs away.

I’ve been struggling to find the imagery for how I’m currently dealing with it, so I’ll just say that if I don’t laugh; I’ll cry.

Is post uni life as good as I’d imagined? Yes. Am I having a lovely time reconnecting with my partner? Yes. Am I enjoying sitting down with no guilt? Yes. Do I already have more time and energy to give my horses? Yes. Could I have done with 2 weeks in Fiji instead of loved-one crises and a shit time at work? Also yes. A hundred times yes. But post uni life, overall, is really living up to the hype.

The best/ most tangible change in me after finishing uni, is that my eyes are open, and so is my heart. I know I can deal with all these things thrown at me, so I just am. I’m just dealing with them. But dealing with them doesn’t mean just sucking it up and overwhelming myself- it means looking for some guidance and support for myself so that I can better support my friends; its arranging meetings with my boss to discuss the not so fun situation at work, it’s taking a bath and losing track of time to the extent that I have to top up the hot water- let me tell you, it’s been a while since I’ve had a bath that long. I’m open to opportunities, I’m open to learning, I’m open to love and I’m open to adventure.

I still reek of coconut. My skin is painted a delicious golden. I’m pensive and contemplative, and emotionally exhausted after every day at work. But I have an enormous ball of firey hope inside me, telling me that it’s all good. That it’s all temporary and to just enjoy the ride because it’ll be over before I know it.

I’m building dreams and mapping out draft blueprints in my mind. I’m realising that my dreams are so much closer to becoming a reality now, and I’m actually BELIEVING that I can make them happen.

The final countdown

It’s been a while since I’ve posted because I haven’t felt my thoughts and feelings could be articulated with any real structure or flow… 

I’m currently sitting at the end of the world. The end of my world for the last 4 years. The end of my degree. I feel like Truman when he gets to the wall of the set on his little boat. Like, holy crap; there’s a whole other world outside of this! A world of enough sleep, fit horses, fit humans, spray tans and waxings… Of Sunday morning sleep-ins, of movie days, shopping days, weekends, ACTUAL WEEKENDS- the end of a week of work, not the beginning of a week of uni. 

Being this close to the end (2 weeks for those playing at home) has reminded me how many things I gave up to get this done. All of the above. Sacrificed- for the greater good. Time with my partner, family, animals- cut down to barely existent. I’m looking back on some of the big choices I made for this, and I’m so proud of myself for committing so wholeheartedly to the journey.  Everything is temporary- this too shall pass. And it’s finally passing. I’m nearly on the other side. 

I’ve had a few moments of apprehension and doubt about who I might be without uni- because, let’s face it, I’ve basically been a tertiary student for 10 years with all the dropping out of degrees and whatnot- but most of that has made way for the excitement now. I’m excited to have no “should” to get done. No assignment I COULD be starting with my spare time. I’m excited to not have to block out entire weekends and tell my partner that even though we live together, he can’t see me all weekend, and when he does, I’ll be irritable and distracted. I’m excited to get back into a routine of frivolous but powerful beauty procedures- spray tans, fresh hair always, painted nails and eventually a little more tone and a little less bulge. I haven’t looked after my body over the last 4 years. I’ve basically just eaten what I needed to get through, eaten what was easy and cheap, and not even tried to stop muself consuming entire family blocks of chocolate and multiple bottles of wine over an essay-writing weekend frenzy. Now, im not saying I’ll be going paleo and starting now crossfit- I just look forward to being able to listen to and respect my body a little more. 

Two weeks. In 2 weeks, I will have submitted a video assignment and written critique, a 1000 word discussion on my findings from another assessment, attended an on campus workshop and submitted a 5000 word report on my time throughout the course. As well as going to work, feeding 4 horses, 3 dogs, 3 cats, 2 birds and 3 humans (we have a ring-in at present). This is the final haul. This is it. I only have to make it to that wall at the end of the manufactured ocean and I’m free. 

I’ve had my breakdown. I’ve cried over nothing and slept for 2 days straight. That’s done. Now I just have to get it finished. Write the words, attend the things, write the words. 

I’ve ordered $50 worth of bath bombs, am booking a spray tan next week for the day after the final submission, and can’t wait to spend weekends with my love, annoying the hell out of him, going out for dinner and seeing friends because I don’t have to lock myself in to the house and write all Saturday night… 

Write the words, attend the things, write the words.