It's an oroborus that; that being treated for trauma with therapy is traumatic You have to re-live the upset and it makes you upset.The first 24 hours after a therapy session is when you're the most rubbery. For me the way I staved off thinking about it was to idly pick my face scar until I carved a furrow through it. I went at it for six hours before I put the cream on.
Articles from Harrangue Man
It was chocolate. Phew!
I think that's what they said as part of happy chatter to the new budgie. They told the bird they'd eat it last. That's nice, it must feel safer. I'm sure they meant it in a "if we have to" way and not "let's make dinner plans".The budgie must have liked it; it just trilled. It probably called dibbs on a cat.
In the movie Kiss Ass Nicholas Cage's character Big Daddy revealed how you never see the skin parts around the eye through a mask—you use make-up to match the mask colour to the point you have panda eyes so no matter where the mask moves in its limited run around the sockets there's no pink skin to show up and ruin the menacing atmos.Being human and susceptible to Big Hollywood and having a black shirt on with a hole in it the size of a marker pen's nose on the front I grabbed a black marker
That's what it told me Zarithpa was famous for. It's such an odd phrasing but pleasing. And also, old frogs. How do they know? How are they making sure someone isn't swapping out dead frogs for new to sucker in yet more into their brazen old frog trade?Warlords II. Just about the must fun game ever.
I had to remote in from a new PC and it was terrifying. Not heart thudding terror but heightened awareness of it all having happened before; a sense memory of near death.It went fine, the ill-ease ebbed and while it did not pass I did not trip into unreasoned panic.That’s life with a workplace mental health injury; ordinary things can give you the deep frights.
ResourcedIn a re-spawn I gained access to resources I’d never imagined. It’s like having a bat cave but without the batabs to back it up. The flabs yes; abs no.That makes me batecstatic. Bus sads I met someone who had no cash but was catching a bus that didn’t use MyWay. I gave them a ten without them asking and I waved off their offer of an e-transfer back.
It was lying on the path twixt the shed and the house and had my lumbering, shuffling over-fed self stood on the one to thirty-two scale black Volkswagen Beetle then my flat feet would have slipped, I'd have fallen backward and caved in my skull heel on the concrete path. NowMikey saw it and kicked the car under a table. If the multi-verse theory is correct and the universe is but multi-versions of me then a decent chunk of those mes are dead.That would have been some coroner's report though.
I'm still wading through Moby Dick, reading it in bursts on my iPhone. I recently got through a chapter about the narrator's experience at de-lumping spermaceti, the oil taken from the whale's head, squeezing globs until the oil is as smooth as it can be.
The trouble with re-opening wounds of mental trauma is falling into expressions of angry grief.I was reminded of my life of people with a duty of care for me thugging me over and I started yelling. Then I sat down with food, made whilst yelling, then yelled at my iPhone sitting next to me.