Dear reader, this here is my Jar of Unhelpful Thoughts. It has a permanent place on my desk, next to my pen mug. I shall now tell its story. I used to be a writer who loved having written but for whom the process of writing itself could be absolute agony. The reason it was […]
Readers, it turns out our new house is too big. By which I mean that it’s too big of a unit for my sensitivity to handle. There is always, always a room or two, or a corner or a dozen in complete disarray (because life and pets) and it’s like constant mental noise for me […]
My high sensitivity made me a fantastically boring teenager. I had my first alcoholic drink when it was legal for me to do so. I never tried smoking. I was home by curfew. I have zero interesting teenage escapades to tell. In fairness, I’m also a fairly dull adult and still have few good stories […]
My sensitivity to others’ needs used to trump my sensitivity to my own needs when I was a young ‘un. I didn’t want to be the difficult-to-accommodate-diva, so I would agree to see films that would give me nightmares, or spend time in bars that were too loud and crowded, or stay up when I […]
I’m facing a year of home renovations. Moving things from one room to another, tearing things down; disarray, not being able to locate a damn thing in the house; dust, noise, general mayhem, decisions, and stress; moving things back into the room, and starting over with the next room. Apparently, in order to brace myself, […]