The last day of our Anna Stewart Memorial Project we were asked to create something to present to everyone that talked about our personal experience over the last 2 weeks. One of the suggestions was to write a poem. I decided to join that group, but as I was sitting there around the table with the others in my group I felt this enormous pressure to write and nothing was coming out. Everyone at the table of course remembered from earlier that I mentioned one of the things that I do in my spare time is um, write.
Yesterday on the bus I had to write. I had all these thoughts and feelings swirling around... I felt compelled and I didn't have a notebook but instead wrote on the back of something I had been carrying around in my bag.
Today? Nothing.
I had a very interesting session with R. this week. I felt like she did all of the talking. There was so much I wanted to say, but more importantly I did not want to hear her.
Although this week I have noticed that I have lost weight (don't know how much), she pointed out that emotionally it seems I am trying to sabotage myself.
Now why would I want to do that?
Because I am broken.
... to be continued.
Yesterday on the bus I had to write. I had all these thoughts and feelings swirling around... I felt compelled and I didn't have a notebook but instead wrote on the back of something I had been carrying around in my bag.
Today? Nothing.
I had a very interesting session with R. this week. I felt like she did all of the talking. There was so much I wanted to say, but more importantly I did not want to hear her.
Although this week I have noticed that I have lost weight (don't know how much), she pointed out that emotionally it seems I am trying to sabotage myself.
Now why would I want to do that?
Because I am broken.
... to be continued.
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