This blog started as a mental health vent.
It’s now mutated quite rapidly into one of my strongest coping mechanisms. I write and vent when I’m down or overwhelmed, still. But now, I post book reviews, blather on about reading challenges, recipes, all about my various crafts, and the occasional bit of poetry.
But, if you will allow me to be mildly reflective for a moment.
I’m young-ish, still as I first write this: just on the sunny side of thirty-three now as I started this newest adventure into my own health and growth. Now? In the year 2022, I’m in my late thirties. By no means am I some sort of a saintly person with no faults. There are some out there that could no doubt run out of lung capacity, extolling my misdeeds at great length.
But I am human. Just your average carbon-based, asthmatic, and creaky-kneed nerdling; I’m a bit of a bed hog love cold, rainy days, and am long-winded to the nth degree. I love changing my hair color.
I’ve got a list of allergies and afflictions that can make my leaving the house, even if only to go to work, an adventure in anaphylactic bingo sometimes. While I did completely drop out of high school, I got my GED back in ’08 and am nearly done with my Associate’s Degree. Unfortunately, the financial situation hasn’t allowed me to finish just yet, but it is a goal of mine I continue to pursue.
Our little household consists of myself, my housemate Bianco, and my rescue cat, Spock. He’s a seventeen pound Bombay and is pretty much my kid that I didn’t gestate. He turned twelve in 2022.
I crochet avidly, craft a multitude of other ways when the brain gremlins allow. I write voraciously and read just as much as I can’t sleep. Which, sadly, is a near-nightly occasion.
I’m still finding my way, even at thirty-someodd.
Postmark Wonderland 