Category Archives: regular

the regular stuff…

Thoughts on a difficult time

Had a very nice pay check today (from my art video tuition efforts), celebrated with a little prosecco with Pete Cooper, and will be measuring up some rooms in the house we’re moving into in a matter of weeks. Overall, a pretty positive day.
However, the world is in a terrible state, and I honestly can only handle so much, but I’m trying to focus on these little things that make my life feel like it means something or is moving towards something good. It’s so easy to feel overstretched, overstressed, and helpless when the world is screaming for help, but we can’t forget a little self-nurturing.

Stay strong to help yourself, then you can help others. If your gas tank is empty, you can’t go, you can’t give. I am terrible for running on fumes and never seem to learn before making myself ill. It can be hard to say no when people ask you for a yes. And the queue of people/causes asking for a yes is endless.

The world is unjust and pleading for help, but try to make sure you’re strong enough to carry yourself, before you offer to carry another.

I am not in a good place in my mental health lately, but I have done a few things recently to strengthen me – my core – so that I can keep getting up in the morning. Sometimes facing the day is enough. Tomorrow is new. Get up. Do you. You are not selfish for trying to get strong before helping another. It’s damn hard to self-care, but necessary. NECESSARY. And damn anyone who calls you selfish for it.

Be good to yourselves. Drink the prosecco. Take the nap. Say no to the thing you can’t do/afford/face. Say yes and thank you if offered help.

I have a tattoo on my arm that I see every day, no matter if I’m feeling good, bad, or even in a low place where I self-harm, “To thine own self be true.” And you must. In all definitions of those Shakespearian words, you must be true to yourself. My scars (and fresh wounds) below it are part my struggle, but honest. I’m honest, not proud. Weak but strengthening after tough times. My other arm has the latin words for “scars and stories,” so there’s that…

This is me advising myself as much as I’m telling it to you, because I need to hear it too. I need to write it all out. Give it structure. Voice.
Heal you, then you can heal others. We can do this.
Namaste. x

Feeling mighty

Hi, I’m jEN and I have crippling anxiety, ADHD, and high-functioning depression with associated bipolar tendencies. Hell yeah. I am a bundle of FUN. In reality, I tend to be upbeat and optimistic as my public face, so you may actually think I am fun, which, if ya do, thank you. 🙂

Today I cleared a MAJOR millstone. I’m at inbox zero in my email. Oh, well this may not be a big deal for most people, but with my string of brain goblins listed above, it’s huge for me. I even opened an email that had given me daily anxiety issues since it arrived on the 7th of July. Yeah, that sticky fucker is gone too. Opened it, read it and beat it. * smug smile *

I feel mighty. It’s nice.

Books are so dang heavy

Today has been one of those rare days where both Pete and I have a day without the demands of clients, friends, or other business. We both slept in, had a late breakfast, and have taken to the house like some sort of organisational weirdos. Steps towards living better, and also progress in preparing to move house have been made. And strangely, we’ve not fought or argued at all. I don’t even know us, man.

We’ve both done some tasks in the kitchen, and he has mercilessly attacked our food stores and cupboards. If I weren’t so excited to be moving, I’d almost want to keep living here, it’s that good. But, onward and upward we go, and the steps taken today will transfer nicely within a different set of walls.

I’ve started packing infrequently referenced books, and it’s only when moving house that I regret my love of big, heavy, quality-bound art books. They are so dang heavy. I mean, that’s half their appeal, of course; the tactile pleasantness, the smooth paper, the quirky hardback covers, but fuck me they are a chore when moving house. Now, who was it that said they’d help me move? Anyone? Do I hear crickets?