I. I wore a racerback tank top for a few hours on Monday and it exacerbated my thoracic outlet syndrome. Usually, I’d go for acupuncture, because that’s been the only thing that works. I’m way too paranoid to go out into the world, though, so I’m nerve flossing, doing heat and cold (mostly heat), and resting it. Tried to move some pens from one container to another today and it set my shoulder on fire. Being in pain makes me stabbity.

*Pops Robax, Slathers on the Voltaren. Stays in bed.*

I feel so much empathy for those for whom being in pain every day all day is just a thing. Like, whoa. How are you not in a perpetual state of stabbity?

II. It’s been a time. *Sigh* I’ve been avoiding writing because I am sick of myself. I’ve been practicing all manner of escapism instead. Married At First Sight. Audiobooks. Naps. I took the month of December off therapy because I feel like poking the trauma bear is fucking stupid right now. You can’t heal trauma while you’re *in* a trauma. So yes. Hiatus. Focusing on the foundational stuff. Eating, for example. Sleeping. Trying not to be stabbity. Failing sometimes.

And that’s okay. I’m human.

We do what we have to do.

III. My eldest son & youngest daughter have been balms on my soul and I just wanted to mention it, because noticing the things that are a balm on my soul help me feel a little less stabbity.

IV. This meme popped up on Facebook and it was a punch to the gut. Image reads "Are you really low maintenance or are you just used to being neglected?"



V. I am using humour to deflect in all my affairs. And that’s okay. We do what we have to do.

VI. Vaccine approvals are rolling in. I have little sparks of optimism flaring in my dark heart.

I know there are already problems reported (allergic reactions) and I know I probably won’t get it until sometime next fall, but at least there’s an end in sight.

*Rolls up sleeve and waits her turn*.

VII. One of the worst things about this pandemic is what it’s done to my ability to trust people. I have always prided myself on how *unguarded* I am despite *waves at my entire life* but that is *definitely* changing. This worries me. I like myself when I’m soft and accepting and full of grace. I do not like this hardness I’m starting to experience around my edges. I am definitely more thorn than rose and getting thornier.

VIII. “Why can’t we all just get along?” some might ask (COVID deniers, anti-maskers, QAnon, conspiracy theorists, racists, trans & homophobes – I’m looking at you.)

Because 2020 has been pressure cooking us down to our essence, and your essence appears to be self-serving fucking garbage. 

See? Thornier.

IX. I hired a personal assistant. She hasn’t started yet because I can’t have people in my space right now (I’m very stabbity), but once she does start, I am going to be so relieved to have some of the things that are falling through the cracks taken care of for me.

This, and all the resting and refusal to push myself over this shoulder injury is notable progress in the arena of self-loyalty.

I’ll take it.

X. I know we’re all going to be changed by this experience. I am hoping to benefit from the way I will be changed. I can already feel my boundaries shifting more and more in the direction of self-protection.

Do no harm. Take no shit.

I am hoping this cynicism and mistrust doesn’t slide all the way over to misanthropy, butandalso, this year, man. This fucking year.

Fuck this year.

P.S. On the other hand, I am still making art regularly, so I’m calling that a win.


Swamp Witch

I. Burn out is real. My art witches are cutting me some slack throughout December, and that will help, but holy fucking overwhelm. My mental health isn’t great. I have COVID fatigue. I’m being extremely gentle with myself. Heat and serve. Ignoring housework. Wearing the same thing for days on end because it’s not like I’m going anywhere, so there’s less laundry to do. Simplifying. Embracing my inner swamp witch.

Speaking of which, one of my art witches sent me this:

It arrived at the perfect moment, and I am so thrilled with it.

II. I’m so confused about the whole vaccine roll out thing. It seems highly politicized and I’m irritated by that. Are we looking at another year before we’re all vaccinated? Does anyone actually understand wtf is going on?

III. Therapy yesterday and a conversation about separating the label from the human in order to put effective boundaries and expectations in place. That was hard and I cried because it triggered a lot of wound stuff for me BUTANDALSO it is true that shit behaviour is shit behaviour no matter what label the human in question carries. Father, mother, sister, brother, son, daughter, lover, friend…

…betrayal, abuse, scapegoating, cold shoulders, projection, unreasonable or inhumane expectations…

Shit behaviour is shit behaviour. Tolerating it is self-abandonment.

IV. I held it together for a few hours afterwards, but finally succumbed as the sun set and darkness came over my little nest – I had forgotten to plug in the twinkly lights and light the candles, so the gloom really hit me. I had a nice long crying jag all rolled up in my blankets while the dogs flanked me on either side. Didn’t reach out to anyone because I wanted to release it. I didn’t want cheering up. I didn’t want to be consoled. I wanted to cry it out and feel through it, so that’s what I did. Fell asleep all tear-stained at around 10 p.m. and woke up at 5:30 this morning. Put out my garbage like a grown-ass woman. Made coffee.


V. I have some energy today so I’m going to put it to good use. I’m going to put things up in classrooms so they’re ready to be released on December 1st. I’m going to finish the Darling Human Planner for 2020. I’m going to put up Journal52 over on Patreon and in The Wilderhood. I’m going to finish the dishes I’ve been struggling to do for a week now. I’m going to paint something.

Tomorrow, I’m doing a live ceremony in advance of the Full Moon with Eclipse in Gemini with my art witches, and then I have a date.

VI. Dating during a global pandemic is weird and awkward and a little bit terrifying, but we’re both being careful, and the alternative is – well. Not gonna work for me. I require (and deserve) good company through the long dark, so I’m going after it as safely and carefully as I’m able.

We had our first date last Saturday (at a fire outdoors at Kimi’s) after getting to know each other a little bit over phone calls and text messages. Slow and steady. He’s hosting me tomorrow at a fire in his backyard. I’m a little guarded, but I’m pushing myself to remain open because I want to find someone to couple up with through this winter (and beyond) and remaining open is the only way to get there.

I’ll tell you more about him when I feel sure that we’re going to be a thing, but I *can* tell you that he’s a grown-ass man, he activates my inner femme (as opposed to activating my inner mama), and he makes me smile. My inner swamp witch is ready to cut him off at the knees the moment he flies a red flag, though, so don’t worry about me. I’ve got me.

VII.  My Christmas plans are cancelled for obvious reasons. The prospect of being in an enclosed space with people coming in from hot spots, no real ability to distance, etc. created a hard no in my whole body. I’ll miss my fest fam, but I don’t want to give anyone COVID, nor do I want to catch it, so we will resume our gatherings when it’s safe.

I don’t know what I’m going to do instead, but I feel okay about it. I’m might just do nothing but order Chinese food and watch movies all day. Maybe I’ll ZOOM with my wee girl if she’s up for it. I can live with that as an option.

VIII. I’m getting really good at solitude and filling my own time and making the days my own. If I come out of this pandemic with anything, it will be a new appreciation for my own company.

IX. How are you doing? Are you ok? How are you handling things? What’s alive in you? What are you thinking? What do you need?

X. Human kindness is everything right now, isn’t it? It’s a balm on my soul. Thank you to all of you who practice it.

We Do What We Can

I. It’s been a while because, year-end and month-end and I have been dancing between yellow and red on this infographic. 

I keep having to remind myself that this isn’t *just a me thing*. This is *a we thing*. I’m not alone. Neither are you. It’s okay to not be okay.

Oh hey, Darling Human. It’s okay to not be okay. 

II. Pretending we’re okay when we’re not okay actually makes things much, much worse. There is something to be said for ‘faking it until you make it’, sure, but that can’t be all we’re doing. We have to give ourselves time to be with ourselves in what is true for us. It’s a cha-cha, I think. Dance in, dance out.

III. My therapist thinks I’m somewhere between depressed and dissociated, and that’s okay. However I am is how I am right now. Dissociated and depressed is a perfectly reasonable response to *waves at all of this*. Reminding myself of this helps me shrug it off and do what needs doing to keep body and soul together.

IV. And yet, mostly, I am okay. I’m eating semi-regularly. I’m toting around a massive bottle of water and sipping from it all day every day. I’m making art. I’m sending newsletters. I’m meeting deadlines. I attend my therapy sessions. I go to bed when I’m tired. I get up when I’m ready. I take calculated risks, like having distanced fires at Kimi’s, like having Lee over for T.V. marathons, like getting a 2.5 hour deep tissue massage for the first time since January 2020 because my body is *broken* from all this stress.

V. Focusing as much as I can on the little things that are working. Journal Jams. Live painting sessions with my art witches. Coffee over Zoom with my nears and dears. This week, I brushed off my journal and started writing in it again. I resumed the daily tarot draw. (2 of Cups today, and I know what it’s about. #cryptogram). I’ve stopped sending letters into the void. I pour libations and light candles and say prayers instead. I buy every virtual concert that comes into my awareness. Marianas Trench. Billie Eilish. Rufus Wainwright. LP. Patty Griffin. I snuggle in with the dogs for naps. I’m opting for The West Wing over true crime or anything that might shred my nervous system. I’m taking in less news. I check this website once per day, and I watch The National every second day or so. I’ve cut way down on ordering in because Door Dash can’t get my address right and standing on the corner in my nightgown trying to wave down a delivery driver was making me very, very fucking cranky. I add a lot of heat and serve stuff to my grocery orders. I eat lasagna for days. Or cabbage rolls. Or shepherd’s pie. Anything comforting, including Ramen. I do the dishes in stages. I ignore the dust bunnies.

We do what we can.

Speaking of doing what I can, I painted this for The Darling Human Art Journaling Program, which is wrapping up in December. It’s being released as a standalone self-guided e-course, which you can sign up for here.

VI. Can I just remind us all here that we are allowed to feel sorry for ourselves when things fucking suck? Because I’m really irritated by toxic positivity right now. Looking on the bright side is all fine and good for some, but it feels like a spiritual bypass to me to ignore *waves at all of this* and declare the rightness and goodness of all things. I think this is how we got here in the first place. Ignoring all that’s wrong. Sweeping it under the rug. Denial. Sucking it up. Shoving it down.

I think what we’re seeing play out on a global level is a massive explosion of shadow.

Let’s acknowledge it, confront it, name it, and clear it.

Who’s with me? *Links Pinkies*

VII. Journal Jam #23 was really healing. You can watch the replay here. 

VIII. I’m not over any of it, and I have people who have had this kind of grief who tell me I will probably never be ‘over it’. I believe them. that seems right to me. Some losses change us forever. They take root in us, like thorns in our sides, and we learn how to live with that, like an amputated limb.

I’m learning to live with that.

IX. It hurts because it mattered.

X. My heart is not a home for cowards. ~ d antoinette foy



It Passes Over You

I. Mars went direct a couple of days ago, and I swear I could feel the shift in my body. I tend to be quite skeptical about these things being more than metaphors, but my entire feed lit up with “I suddenly feel better”, and I was among them. The relief was palpable. I am so grateful.

II. I finished my eleven day working. It took more than eleven days, but that’s okay. I finished it the day before New Moon and that felt like really good timing.

I want to lick it.

III. Jeff Martin (of The Tea Party) kept me company for an hour via a live concert streamed into my living room from Byron Bay, Australia. I cried through it because I love his lyrics and so many of his songs are the soundtrack of my life.


I can’t wait to see him & the band live and in person again someday. <3

Not gonna lie, the concert was kinda sad. Jeff seemed sad, tired, full of longing. I felt a kind of anguish while I was watching and listening, but it was also kinda perfect. Nostalgic. Pure. Like, yes. This is where we are right now. 

It passes over you. Passes over you.

IV. I’m okay. I’m taking everything one step at a time. I’m having good moments here and there, and I notice them. I’m doing good work. I’m on the other side of the really gruelling part. I’m sad but I’m healing. I’m no longer feeling lost.

V. I’m bored, though. Bored of isolating. Bored with being alone. Bored with waiting. Bored with myself. I think I need to be doing more art because I’m never bored when I’m painting. *Note to self*.

VI. BOD opened for registration. $99 for the year. It’s going to be amazing. Look for giveaways happening on the socials.

There is a page in the classroom that includes coupon codes for The Darling Human Planner, Moonshine: The Coven, and Life Book 2021. 

VII. Tomorrow, we Journal Jam! I’ll see you at 12 p.m. Eastern. Here’s the link. 

VIII. I’m trying to keep my commitment to writing regularly, even if it’s a slog. It’s a way to keep the pump primed, to keep myself centred where I should be – here, in this life – my life. Writing helps me be here now, even when it’s kinda boring and uninspired.

IX. Art Winos today, so art will happen. I’m thinking about doing something abstract and super high contrast as an antidote to this gloomy, rainy Sunday.

X. This song, because it’s a #mood.

Never Surrender

I. I have not had the heart to write in a while. I kept opening up this little box of light with my fingers poised over the keys, but nothing would come. There is this emptiness…

II. …but, yesterday, I dragged myself out of the blanket fort, cleaned the kitchen, bleached the bathroom, did a bunch of laundry – all of which got folded and put away – stripped the bed and put on clean sheets, launched The Darling Human planner, washed my brushes, did a bit of art, and fed myself cabbage rolls. I feel a little less paralyzed today. Still slow. Still a bit lead-limbed. Still numbed out. But moving. Slow is okay. Gentle is okay.

Still. I’m a very quick person. I type fast. I work fast. I think fast, but in the last two or three weeks, I have been painfully aware of *plodding*. I am slow at everything. It takes enormous effort to find words. My get up and go has got up and gone. I think I’m in a prolonged trauma response. It feels like sleep paralysis only I’m wide awake.

I know I’m not alone.

You’re not alone either.  

*Links pinkies with you*

III. The Art Bundles For Good Sale started today, and you can find out more here. I am very enthused about it because the list of offerings is *amazing*. $4500 worth of stuff for $97 and 25% goes to charity. I contribute to this bundle every year. This year, I’m throwing in the year-long Darling Human Art Journaling E-Course. It’s a $99 value. Check out the bundle here. 

IV. I’m behind again, but I am going to get caught up this weekend. I’m determined.

V. Therapy today after a 2-week break.

VI. I’m really only typing to break the silence and because I know it’s important to keep up the ten things. My mental health depends on it. The sense of isolation I feel when I’m not writing is immense. Even if all I have to say is 2020 is hard, hello, I’m here, I’m alive. 

VII. 2020 is hard. I’m still here. I’m alive. Things are okay, by which I mean that there’s no real crisis besides the one we’re all living through. I am pretty burned out, but I know this territory well. I’ll rise again. I always do.

VIII. The West Wing is so comforting. I’ve had it on for company all day every day for days. C.J. Craig is my favourite character. Who’s yours?

IX. I’ve got Lee tonight (The Magicians) and Kimi tomorrow (Jeff Martin Livestream) and a solo date with LP (Livestream) on Saturday, and Art Winos on Sunday. Thank the gods for my bubble, Zoom, and live-streamed concerts. I am having trouble feeling much of anything about anything but I am aware of feeling really fucking grateful for the things that get me through.

X.This song on repeat because it helps and this cover is just *gorgeous*.

Holding Out

I. I’m getting there with BOD stuff and that is lifting my spirits considerably.

A Button!

A Banner!



Subscribe to get notified when the info page is ready!

II. A thing I ordered before the breakup arrived in the mail yesterday (yes, it took that long). Two pendants – a wolf and a buffalo. I had ’42’ engraved in the buffalo. I’d meant to give the wolf pendant to 42, and keep the buffalo pendant for myself, but that’s not going to happen now.

I considered throwing them both in the trash, but after some thought, I decided to keep them. They are on a silver chain and hanging on my gargoyle, who has been tasked with watching over me while I sleep.

I came to a place of acceptance over the last couple of days. I won’t throw the good out. I won’t. I am starting to have lovely moments when I remember the good and instead of it searing me, it is making me wistful. Little smiles. All that was real.

I will not let that go.

What I will let go of, though, is being failed like that. I will let go of being lied to. I will let go of being handled. I will let go of anyone who can’t meet me where I am, who can’t sit with me as I am. I will let go of people who need to ‘fix me’ or ‘manage’ me. I will let go of being an option. I will let go of being inadequately partnered. I will let go of being shelved or kept simmering on someone’s back burner. I will let go of subtext. I will let go of mixed messages.

I know things got very hard and complicated, but I deserved to be stuck up for, fought for, chosen. I am worthy of that, so I am giving up anyone who triggers feelings of low worth within me.

If I feel like I don’t matter, if your actions don’t align with your promises, if you lie to me, if you neglect me, I do not fucking want you.


III. This meme, because yes.

I am still holding out for a kilt & boot-wearing pagan or pagan friendly man who has done or is in the process of doing his own work. I am holding out for someone who makes me feel like I did when first we fell in love and the sight of you made me weak in my knees. I am holding out for someone whose masculine makes me feel feminine instead of maternal. I’m holding out for someone who knows how to thrown down. I am holding out for the same kind of corrective experiences – the experience of someone who was willing to be my rock, who took my side, who fostered trust, who made time. I am holding out for someone who makes it clear that I really fucking matter. I am holding out for someone whose words align with their actions. I am holding out for someone who understands that I need a secure attachment to someone who loves me as much as I need a therapist, and who gets that what I need from them is as important as what I need from my therapist. I am holding out for someone who will not give up when things get complicated or difficult because I am worth fighting for.

He will not need to save me, but he will know how to love me, and I know he’s on his way, because magicks. 

IV. May all be straight within me.

V. Day Five of my eleven day working, because #artwitch

VI. Election + COVID stress has me sipping vodka soda at noon, and I’m okay with that.

VII. My eyes are very, very tired from building graphics, so this will be all the screen time I do for the rest of the day. I’m spent, but satisfied with what I’ve done so far.

VIII. GIVEAWAY. Click to enter. 

IX. I suspect the number ’42’ will haunt me all my life, but I am getting used to it. My girlfriends and I are starting to find it funny. John Oliver said “Title 42” about fifty times the other night. My junk folder sat at ’42’ for hours one afternoon. I logged off of a live and the viewer count was ’42’. I look at my phone at 4:20 every fucking day.

I’m like, wtf Universe? And the universe is like – look, the best way to work through a trigger is exposure, and besides, it’s still the answer.

X. Que sera serin. What will be has been.