Work In Progress

I recently saw my psychiatrist.    For the first time, I told her      I          was                  feeling                         better. It was true.   I couldn't tell her why or how or what happened.  It just seemed like I had a good day. And then another. Then another.  I told her like it was a secret.  I didn't want to jinx it. She was the first person I had told.    I can still catch glimpses of the darkness if I turn fast enough.    But it has no hold on me.  It moves over and through me.   I guess a few weeks ago, I had a good day.  I think it started with my crown.  I had heard horror stories about...

Exhaling, zipper up,  material straining across hips, thighs compressed, the truth of my lack of motivation to do anything about my weight stared at me in the mirror in the form of a muffin top. Joy, confidence and self-worth sat discarded like the cotton, blue and while flowered sundress I'd abandoned in favor of something warmer as the sky shifted from light blue to pinks and purples.  They whispering amongst themselves, and refused to look my way when I tried to catch their eye.   These were my too-big-size-six-Old Navy-on-sale-I-know-I-am-a-perfect-size-four-at-Old-Navy-but-they-were-on-sale--capris .  As purple spread across the sky I slipped a loose sweatshirt over my head that covered the offense, reminding myself to look up a recent post I had done on being defeated by a red dress.... how long ago was that?  Time is a slippery thing.  WeekENDs do not distinguish them...

Most mornings, when I step outside with my coffee, I deposit my laptop on the table and from the far corner of the deck, survey what I can see of the gardens.   We have lived here for five years and this is the first year I did not buy any plants to add to the garden.   It is full and lush and green. The morning glories I started from the seeds of the single morning glory plant I received for Mother Day last year are climbing everywhere.   I am in the bubble of my small world.   I love it. Yesterday morning, the bird feeder had been empty of sunflower seeds, so I filled it up and sat down to write. The birds are used to me now, so come quiet close.   Harried sparrows fling seeds onto Sadie as she sleeps on the deck below, oblivious.   I opened my laptop and turned it on and sat back to wait for it to boot up. I frowned, noting a conspicuous gap in my garden.     I went to investigate. My small world perfect bubble of creative s...