Monthly Archives: November 2013



Something I’ve noticed lately, is that I have always left a little bit out.

I leave a little space.  I hold a little back.  I leave a window cracked; keep a bit of money aside.  I keep a light burning.  I leave a place set for Elijah.  A small part of my secret heart is mine and mine alone.

I have no idea what this is about.  It’s just – in case.  In case something happens.  In case of need, my own need, or the need of someone else.  I’m not sure who, or what that need might be.  So, I’m not sure what to keep back, and what to use up;  to live for today, or set aside for tomorrow.

There’s a core of something that I need to protect, but it’s buried so far that I can’t even identify it. 

All I know is, that when I get a feeling about something, I need to pay attention to it.  I know, typical Cancer-child, hoodoo, claptrap, existential Lynne nonsense.  But that little voice has been right more often than not, and I ignore it at my own peril.

And yet, I feel light, and hopeful.  Whatever it is, it has not come yet, and isn’t on the horizon any time soon.  Life is steady, slow and sweet.  Stresses are controlled, demons are locked in the cupboard.  I can hear them scratch and scrabble at times, but mostly, they’re quiet.  I’ve stopped feeding them.

But I am ready.  I am always ready, and always have been.




The Truth is Out There, Scully


I feel like I need a kinder, gentler life right now. Sometimes the world at large is far, far too much for me. I need to be bubble-wrapped, coddled, cooed over. Lately, I can’t seem to tolerate the least bit of negativity outside of work, as I get so much of it in the course of my job.

So, I haven’t been out and about much in the last while, except for essential obligations. I’m at home, painting. All that matters when I paint is colours, shapes and shadow. My brain goes into some kind of stasis, where I can’t think about anything, which is vastly relieving. What I’m going to do with all these paintings, I have no idea. I’ve sold several, actually, but that was not the point to the exercise at all (although I’m not complaining, goodness knows, it is a wonderful thing to make a little money doing something I love). I paint what I paint. If someone likes it, I’ll happily sell it to them, but at this point, I need to just let it flow.

Going to the doc tomorrow. Maybe I need to go back on antidepressants. I hate the thought of it. I thought I had conquered this “thing” through diet and exercise, but it seems to be back, and with a vengeance. I spend every Sunday night just absolutely vibrating, generally right on the verge of tears, often spilling over. No one can say anything to me without me taking it in the most negative way possible. I feel like I’ve lost my sense of humour entirely (which for me, is a very, very bad sign).

I want to try one of those SAD lights, but I’m not entirely convinced that that is actually the problem.

It’s the frontline service that’s getting to me. The constant stream of stress and misery is eating me up. I’ve tried counselling, self-care, courses, “toolkits” – well, just about everything I can think of, really. I know it’s been worse before, I know, and I’m grateful for having wonderful colleagues and a supportive work environment, it makes a huge difference, and is probably part of why I’ve been able to hold out this long.

No, it’s the people I deal with, every blessed day.

I WANT TO BELIEVE. I want to believe that what I’m doing is for the good of society. I want to believe in the deserving poor. I want to recognize the dignity and humanity in people. I want to believe in karma, and in gratitude. I need to find that place again where I can reconcile my abstract beliefs with my day-to-day reality.

But, I’m not in that place right now, and I’m having trouble even remembering where it is.