So Ma and I have been subjects of this thirty year long study into health. This year’s survey focused on mental health, addiction and trauma.
Nightmares revisited.
The interview was on Friday and I’m still shaking and sweating.
So Nancy does this thing where one night she’ll see a gecko on a particular spot on a particular wall and then decides that this is THE spot to hunt lizards. It doesn’t matter if she never sees another gecko there ever again, she just continues to stare at that spot on the wall for hours at a time, night after night, waiting and waiting and waiting, tail flicking, body tense. The lizards rarely, if ever, show up.
I’m beginning to think that maybe this is what I’m doing when I go fishing.
Spew. Vom. Repeat.
Melbourne.
I’ll just go and have another anxiety vom before I leave, shall I?
Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad
Fuck this shit.
I need to play this.
(Source: achancetofly, via disenfranchisedsequin)
My plan is to get rid of as much stuff as I can, pack a suitcase, put what’s left in storage, load the cats into carriers, sling my fishing rod over my shoulder and live without the burden of having so many possessions for a while.