An explicit account of negative thought spirals. Please read with caution, my darlings.
I've talked a lot about being at peace with recovery from depression not being all an upward curve. But that doesn't mean that it's any the less horrible.
Experimenting with a different kind of free verse structure for this week's poem - the story of a white plastic bag, and its refusal to give up.
This year I'm forcing myself to do things I am terrified of - things that most people consider normal. This month, I go and get a haircut.
Phoenix - a poem about paving the way for those who are different, and how reaching for your dreams can make a path others can follow.
I've been practicing meditation for a couple of months, but with my recent relapse it's become incredibly unpleasant. Here's how, and why I'm still trying.
Straight lines aren't natural: remember that. A poem about recovery, the passage of life, and worrying that you've gone a little astray.
For years I have tempered my anxiety symptoms with a mantra: you're just making this up for the attention. Problem is, I don't believe that anymore.