I. I want to go all the way grey. Maybe even lavender. It feels like it might be time.

II. The things I’m painting out of where I’m at right now are making where I’m at infinitely more bearable. This is something I wish I could adequately convey to my students.

III. I have been having some experiences lately that made me wonder if the early (completely fucking wrong and truly harmful) diagnosis of D.I.D. was a correct diagnosis. Examples: I forget that I said things. I forget that I did things. Like that time I blocked my therapist on Facebook and then thought she had blocked me. Like the time I told someone “Do not even mention <insert this thing to me> ever again” and then thought that person was lying to me when they failed to mention it. Like the time when I moved the trailer six inches. (Private joke, but given how alarming it was to hear about this later, not really funny). Like how I can be in enormous pain and just fucking gutted and someone brings their pain or whatever else to the table and it feels like some other part of me just steps in. Takes over the face. Says “You, get out of here. Let me handle this.” And suddenly, I’m all mom (or whatever else is needed in the moment – sex kitten, warrior, clown). All trace of angry, in pain me, falling apart me is *fucking gone*, and I am all about whatever the person before me most needs/whatever the moment I am in requires to get through it.

I have been informed by a professional that all of these examples can be explained. Alcohol (which I swill regularly because, hello. Have we met?) + Amygdala hijack is especially culpable with regards to the memory issues. The ‘switching’ feeling *is* dissociation but it isn’t D.I.D.

It’s all fucking trauma. All of it. I am not broken. I am traumatized.

She pinky swore, and I believe her, because why would she lie?

IV. Renee and I on Facetime – “If it can be broken, let it break. If the truth can break it, fuck it. Let. It. Break.” <——This is life.

V. My therapist agrees with Renee. She also agrees with me that there’s nothing broken about any of it. It needs time & tending. And as for me, I need solitude & ease, and all of that is what I’m giving, and I believe.

VI. I love it when someone you love photographs you and you really love the photo because, to me that tells you that they are seeing something in you that you really love.


Sal took this photo of me. I love it.

She has amazing workshops, and her latest is ALL ABOUT CATS!

VII. I had to lose you to find me, and that’s okay. I’m finding me. You find you. Maybe we can meet up later.

VIII. This song:

IX. This song.

X. And still, butandalso, I still choose me.

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