I’m in regional Victoria so we’ll be out of lockdown tomorrow. Unfortunately my body doesn’t know the difference between good changes and bad ones.Continue reading “Pandemic Poem #54 / The News Is Good”
Today, I feel fragile and have been using writing and art to calm me. This poem comes from how I described the panic attack to my mother.Continue reading “Pandemic Poem #52 / Free Fall”
Yesterday, my eldest child started school.
I’ve been counting down for five years until this moment. I thought I would skip off merrily after dropping him on the first day, and with a big sigh of relief have myself a mid-morning cocktail and a rest. I was sure I wouldn’t cry.
Recently, I talked to an 84 year old lady who has written over twenty plays. I was interviewing her for an article I’m writing for the Central Highlands Arts Atlas. I asked her what her highlight was – and I meant in her theatre-making career – but she told me that meeting her husband, at age 17, at a dance at the Heidelberg Town Hall was the highlight of her life.
We spent most of the time chatting about her late husband, whom she was married to for 62 years.
It made me wonder what I’d done wrong to only last 11 years in my most significant relationship, and only a measly 6 months in my most recent.
Or what, in fact, had I done right. Continue reading “Everything changes”
I’ve been good at gathering evidence of my worthlessness throughout my life. At my first appointment with my new psychologist, she took one look at my answers to the test and asked me why I felt like I was so shit. And I thought, “Isn’t it obvious?”.
These thought patterns have recently manifested in some major anxiety and several panic attacks. So I’m spending a lot of energy at the moment analyzing why my brain focuses on the negative experiences and figuring out how to retrain it to notice and celebrate my worth.