How I Read Oracle Cards – one card pull instructional

Good morning. Executive decision to not go to dance class this morning, and concentrate on writing stuff. If I want this publication, writing life AS my life, creativity, digging deeper, spilling my mind into the world thing, then I have to make space for it. A growing urge since art therapy last week – lots of frustration came up over this old, old pattern of distraction.

Card: What you want is wanting you.

I asked for guidance for this morning’s writing session, with that decision in mind. I used the Sacred Rebels oracle: artwork by Autumn Skye Morrison, words by Alana Fairchild. (I get peeved with Alana’s decks, when the artist isn’t mentioned on the box. Just sayin’, Alana.)

  1. Looking at the card: a young person, hair streaming/floating, is looking up at the shape of spiral shell formed from their hair. They are white with brown eyes, dark hair. The background is blue sky with clouds. Colours are browns, whites, and blues, a hint of orange as shadow.
  2. Without looking at the book’s interpretation: this feels like a big yes to my decision to….I won’t say run, because that’s not my speed these days, but perhaps float or sail into the possibilities being offered by the various writers’ newsletters I receive, the opportunities offered through Writers Victoria, and my own research into various journals. I can only presume that my resurrected desire to be in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction means that they too desire to have me in there. Perhaps the world is waiting for my prose and poetry and creative non-fiction just as much as I want it out in the world. After years and years of thinking ‘no one cares’, this is complete turn-around of thought and energy, and brings to mind the lessons from E-SQUARED by Pam Grout. The universe wants to give me what I want. Okay then.
  3. The book meaning: “If you have been shamed, judged, made to feel guilt for, or denied your natural desires or pleasures in any way you may have developed and very tricky and complicated relationship with the yearnings of your heart. We often learn to distrust our desires and come to believe that they are something to be overcome or avoided. We may even try to want second best, disbelieving that we are worthy of our first choice….First, trust in what you truly want, what would bring a sense of passionate, playful purpose and fulfillment to your life….If you genuinely don’t know what your heart wants, you will very much enjoy the process of exploring your desires by making gentle and persistent enquiries of yourself….what is it that truly moves you….Play with what it would be like to be fulfilled right now.” All good thoughts from Alana Fairchild. Dream big, dream often.

The spiral in the card is a representation of the Goddess for me. The beautiful circular, sacred spiralling nature of the divine feminine. Look to the Goddess for inspiration, resolve, and bigger dreams.

The element of Air is strong in this card, with the floating hair, and the sky as background. Thought, inspiration, The Sword, The Mind.

I’ve mourned my pre-25 years old life, when I had a burgeoning writing career. I was publishing professionally regularly, wrote regularly, kept sending stuff out. I was confident that my work was good enough. Publications include: Starlog, Meanjin, Mattoid, Australian Short Stories, Far Out, Aurealis, Orb, Pandora, Westerly, Southerfly, LINQ, The Age, The Weekend Australian. I was an emerging writer.

Break to get married and have children – post-natal depression (undiagnosed).

A few more publications in Aurealis, and some overseas non-paying lit mags.

Five year gig as a columnist for NOVA, with appearances in Spellcraft, Circle, and some other USA pagan publications including Green Egg.

Slow fracturing of spirit and mind.

Current state: 42 sessions into TMS treatment (see my posts about Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy), art therapy, lockdown slow life, and suddenly, I feel like writing, and publication are possible.

This card says YES in a big way.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy – update 30/7/21

So here I am at the end of my second week(I think) of once-per-week treatment. Maybe my scalp loses its tolerance for the woodpeckering, but I came out with a headache, along with the usual neck ache. Honestly, TMS Australia, buy Glen Waverley the same neck bolster that Narre Warren have. I’m having to get weekly head, neck, and shoulders massage with my massage therapist to deal with the tension.

I have sent TMS Australia a request for the brilliant neck bolster, but so far, no action. The last purchase they made for Glen Waverley was a plain white waist-high cabinet to store the pillow covers in. By the way the doors don’t come together that well, I daresay it wasn’t an Ikea buy, but the Reject Shop.

Aaaaannyway, me. I am still holding steady with the depression, or the non-depression, or whatever this state is. I’ve said previously that I thought it would be ‘more’. I’m mostly in a non-sad state, just cruising along. No big swings either way. It’s still hard for me to identify emotions, and I think it always has been. It’s hard for me to recall how I felt about events in the moment. Autism? Inherited mild depression? Just born that way? Can I blame my astrological chart, with lots of Capricorn?

Whatever the case, I’m in neutral most of the time, so writing emotional poetry is hard for me. I….know how I felt about someone, how angry I’ve been. But happiness, joy? Slippery at best. Perhaps this leisurely life I lead, full of writing, reading, walks, fitness attempts, currently painting bits of the house, watching nature – maybe that’s contentedness.

A large gang of cockatoos are flying past my house. I thought post-TMS acute treatments would be me being as loud and as excitable as a cockatoo. Or as chatty and cheerful as a rainbow lorikeet. Mostly, it’s me, quiet, pottering, and not having suicidal ideation. It’s me not thinking everything too hard, and that the only way out is death. That death would be a nice rest.

The anxiety – well, sigh, it’s there. Yesterday was a busy day, and I ended up fried at the end of it. Brain and body are slow today, and the only reason there’s not generalised anxiety chatter going on, a whole row boat of ‘shoulds’, is that I’m simply too bloody tired, and have given myself permission to do not a lot today.

TMS works for me, and I’m holding steady at one treatment per week. I think the eventual plan is to go to one treatment every two weeks, but I have once a week booked in until mid-September. In half an hour, I’ll be taking a phone call from one of the in-house psychiatrists for a review.

Next week, I start art therapy, and I’m looking forward to that. There’s a whole lot of stuff inside that all the talk therapies in the world aren’t shifting, and I’m fed up with lugging all this junk around. Let’s see if art therapy can get at the places talking can’t.

Until next week, TMS-curious folx.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy – ongoing story

It’s been 8 days since my last treatment. I was supposed to have my once-a-week session yesterday, but the clinician phoned in sick, so I’m now having treatment on Friday(today’s Wednesday). Honestly, today, I’m tired. I’ve been awake since 3.30am. Combination of having to get up to wee, feeling that biorhythmic body low at that time of the morning and thus, internally chilly, and 2 of my 4 cats thinking it was time to yell for breakfast. I kept putting on the audio book of the moment (THE SCENT KEEPER by Erika Bauermeister is 5/5 for me), hoping I’d drift back to sleep, but no, I was super-interested in the story.

And what with Angel sitting on my pillow, yelling that it was time for breakfast, and Chloe walking on me, purring, bunting, and hopping over to chew on the prayer plant beside my bed, I finally gave up on sleep and just listened to the audio book and tried to feel warm.

I tense up when I feel cold. Thus, I have aches all over. A hot bath has only gone partway to alleviating matters.

Was it an anxious awake? No. No fretting. Just….awake.

To be honest, by the time I had breakfast and a cup of tea, I felt wrung out, cold, and tired. A little sad, perhaps. I think lockdown is getting to me, as is the super cold and wet weather. I write that just as the sun peeks out for half a second. Oh Helios, you messing with me?

Chloe is now curled up on one of the dog beds beside my little writing table, purring away. A tabby fur doughnut totally content with her world. Sure, purr it up, kid. You’re not the one dragging through the day.

The depression stays gone, but with this little sad here…well, time will tell if it’s a sad, or tiredness, or just season-related. I suspect the latter two. I don’t especially have that dragged down feeling of the abyss that accompanies depression.

I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m blogging, as per my weekly date with myself to update about TMS.

I’m craving going out for breakfast or lunch with my husband. I’d really like to do that, but not for another couple of weeks at least. Lockdown Number 5.

Even if it is cold and wet outside, I must get out for a walk today. It improves everything.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation update – the last of 2 treatments per week

The other day, I noted that I hadn’t received a new calendar of dates, so yesterday, after brain zapping, I said: “I’ve only got one appointment booked in after this one.” Clinician and I busied ourselves making more appointments, two per week.

Then….hey, maybe I’m supposed to have only one. So, she looked at the in-house psychiatrist’s notes, and lo, one appointment per week as of next week. To be honest, with my anxiety ramped up again(still not at the level it used to be, I’d put it at maybe 5-6/10), I’m a little nervous to be dropping back to one treatment per week.

The depression I’m not worried about. I had a sharp rise to my current level of ‘good’ early on, back in April-May, and really haven’t looked back.

But that anxiety…..hmmmm.

Last weekend, I had two big things scheduled for the Saturday – catch up with a friend I haven’t seen in 46 years, and the first Key Word Sign workshop in the afternoon. Too much, too many people, far too rushed in terms of driving. I had severe jitters and shakes for a couple of days.

The thing is, Fear of Missing Out, and endless curiosity about the world means that I WANT to do so much more than I currently do. I have a big case of the ‘I used to be to’s. I used to be able to do all sorts of thing in a single day. Possibly that’s why I have anxiety now. Possibly, I ran rough-shod over my own nature and intuition for too many years, and that’s why I’m where I am now.

It’s an ingrained habit – say yes to All The Things. This dates back to….oh, possibly my early childhood, when I became aware for the first time that I wasn’t having the ‘normal family experience of siblings. My two brothers were/are twenty years older than me, so by the time I was three years old, both were married and gone from the family home. I grew up an only. And because Dad worked and devoted his spare time to the baseball club, and Mum was at the sewing machine day and night, trying to keep the family afloat as a dressmaker, I spent most of my time alone. When I started school, I realised I was missing ‘family life’.

I think I got it into my head, or someone must have told me, that I was boring. Which, to my mind, was the worst thing in the world. Can I blame my Venus in Aquarius for loving the eccentric, the weird, the unusual, the unique? Anyway, it started with odd reading habits, following my nose through Moorabbin library.

Then, I remember in my late teens and early twenties, choosing to ‘do stuff’ because it would, and I quote “feed my writing”. Thanks, writing books, for informing me that, in the scheme of things, I lead a pretty enclosed life.

It wasn’t until my 40’s that I faced the fact that most of the stuff I went and did….well, it wasn’t to feed my writing, because I rarely wrote about the stuff I did – hot air ballooning, zip lining etc. I did these things just for the experience, and the constant worry that I’d be in a nursing home, crying for all the things I never dared.

Hence the habit of yes to this, yes to that, yes to something else. Which leads to stuffing 5 things into a day, which leads to discombobulated and rushed Satya, which leads to anxiety. Which is now an ingrained brain habit that’s proving fucking hard to kick.

My anxiety is the most over-protected, Victorian, vapour-riddled maiden aunt ever.

“Oh my, get the smelling salts. I’m all of a dither!” At the slightest request. The slightest request!!

I had one blissful month in May where my anxiety shut up, and my brain was quiet. No suicidal ideation, no depression, and NO ANXIETY. Just quiet. I also wasn’t asking anything of myself besides: get up, shower, get dressed, go to TMS, come home.

As soon as I asked anything of myself, bam, thin edge of the wedge.

Yes, I’m fucking cross. I expected better than this.

So, back to curating my calendar. I went to the gym yesterday. Thus, nothing else beyond a couple of house chores, and a poem on my blog could be asked.

Today, free day, and I’m tempted to say: “I’m gonna do the things. Have an Experience, because I’m essentially boring, and it’s a wide world out there, and I must have dinner table conversation.”


Why can’t I just lie on the couch all day, reading rubbish?

I am a work in progress.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation – week 3(?) of maintenance

I’m well settled into the schedule of two treatments a week now. Tuesdays and usually Wednesdays for an hour each, still bi-lateral.

Alas, I have my anxiety back. Not as bad as it was, but it’s getting to the stage of me being too fraught to front appointments. I cancelled a myotherapy session yesterday, because I was late getting to lunch, and couldn’t face the rush of eating, then driving admittedly only 1km to the appointment. Dammit, this is not on! Not on at all.

A reminder that I have well and truly slipped with my visualisation, and breathing techniques. Time to use my hour in the chair to get that going again. If I don’t own my own doing in this situation, I’m a fool. I have chosen, over the past few weeks, to skitter away from writing and art time, and use it to go out in the world. Mainly to drag around shopping centres and do nothing with my days, then call myself busy. What am I distracting myself from?

Certainly the uncomfortable fact that my writing is going nowhere much, and I have not fulfilled my hopes and dreams for myself. Getting published professionally in a newspaper at the age of 17 was heady, and head-inflating. I’m surprised my ego fitted through doors. However, I have not carved out the shining, award-laden career I thought I would. And now anxiety has seen to it that it’s difficult for me to settle to writing sessions. And when I do, I tell the story in the first draft, and my mind says ‘done with that story now, on with the next one’. Rewriting, and crafting, and submitting until publication – not part of the deal. And I’m not just being babyish about it. I have real weird blocks here. Possibly a pouty toddler or teenager moping that ‘the story’s done and if it’s not perfect first time out, well, leave it behind’.

Anyway, this is all to say that anxiety is starting to creep back, and it’s impacting, and has greatly impacted, on my ability to write, rewrite, edit, submit, and publish.

Fuck you, anxiety. Settle down.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation – in the midst of maintenance

I don’t know what maintenance session I’m up to. Certainly, I’m in the first month of it, going from 4 acute sessions a week to 2-in-a-row sessions. It frees up my week, and so far, my brain is holding on to the changes wrought.

Depression has not been an issue since about week 5 of acute phase. I simply don’t go there any more. There’s certainly stuff to be sad about. Just as I booked a 5 day trip up to Queensland to see my grandkids, Queensland went into lockdown, and so, my plane tickets are back in the system, on hold. I have a year to rebook and use them.

I’m still muffled as to emotions. I’m still on 20mg of Citalopram, which has been my maintenance dosage for many years. I just don’t feel emotions right on the dot of having them. I have a delayed reaction, and if I remember rightly, I always have. I thought it was a big old repression thing. You know, just not taught how to have the big emotions bc white middle class repressed family. Then I thought it was birthing trauma – premature baby left in hospital for 6 weeks at a time when big city hospitals would have fed, and changed babies, but not had the time to give them much attention, and my querelous, repressed mum not being told she could come in a visit me. So, me getting the message of ‘what’s the point in screaming?’

Now, I realise it’s probably an autism thing.

Whichever way, my emotions are muffled, so while I’m resigned to not visiting my grandkids just yet, I was kinda half expecting I wouldn’t go, and the missing them hasn’t quite hit me. It’s always a background thing anyway, but when my plans are stymied like this, I tend to feel it more.

My anxiety requires some managing, but still isn’t debilitating. I went into the city with two girlfriends last week. I didn’t try to cancel my plans. I didn’t get so exhausted as to cry afterwards. I didn’t sugar-load as a way to cope.

I can now look forward to more outings like this, where I’m not freaked out by the idea of being out, in company, all day. So much so that I’m having to rein myself in somewhat. I may not have as much anxiety and be able to do more things, but I still have thyroid issues and/or residual fibromyalgia issues that limit my energy levels.

I’m much better than I was, but I still want more, more, more.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy – maintenance session 2

I completed my 30 acute treatments of TMS last Tuesday, and went on to maintenance sessions immediately on Wednesday and Thursday. Then had a break Fri-Tuesday(today).

Now, in the meantime, I saw the psychiatrist at the clinic where TMS Glen Waverley is housed. My first in-person consult, as we were all in lockdown the previous week, so my first consult with him was on zoom. He was very quick, after a 45 minute chat, to hand out an ‘obsessional’ label, which, to be honest, I didn’t agree with. So, I called that into question last week.

“Look, I’m on the spectrum, and my husband didn’t give me any clues on how to say this in a polite way, so I’m just going to say it. I don’t agree with your diagnosis of obsession, and am troubled by you swapping me to a medication that addresses depression and obsession. What I want to do is have TMS keep me in a place where I can look at maybe coming off, or at least lowering my meds.”

So, with that clear and discussed, I tried halving my Oxazepam sleeping pill dosage to 7.5mg. It wasn’t good. I knew I’d be in for some sleep issues until my brain adjusted. I really did try to be good as regards exercise, no screen time after 8pm, no sugar at night, doing my meditation. Nevertheless, I wasn’t getting off to sleep much before 12.30am, and was awake, after a light, disturbed, restless sleep, at 6am.

I also forgot how sleeping pills can act as an all-over nerve calmer, and thus, help with inflammation by releasing muscles. They’re not NSAIDs, but oxazepam helps my muscles let go. That, and plenty of magnesium, and a nightly craving for chamomile or rose tea. So, onwards with increased pain.

It got bad last night. I was in a fair amount of shoulder and arm pain following yoga, and thrashing around in bed. Add in light sleep that never drops me into delta, so no healing or true rest occurs, and there’s the perfect fibromyalgia storm. At 12.30am, I took the other half of the sleeping pill, and I guess I passed out around 1am, awake at 7am. But at least I’d been unconscious for 6 hours.

I had also managed to leave my audio book on, without the timer, so I woke at 7am, after some close-to-waking dreams about searching for someone called Alice. I can only presume there’s someone in later chapters of THE TRAUMA CLEANER called Alice. (Not sure this is an ideal bed time book btw)

So, reluctantly back to 15mg of oxazepam until such time as I give it another go, with hopefully more sleep hygiene, and calming techniques under my belt. I’m still searching for the right psychiatrist fit, the right therapist fit, etc. I hate therapist shopping almost as much as I hate bra shopping. If only psychiatrists and psychologists gave appointment times like She Science, the expert bra fitters, give. 2 hours, and here, try this one, and this one, and sure, no lace, and two for sports. Got it.

Two more TMS sessions this week, before I drop back to twice a week starting next week. I consulted with the TMS Australia in-house psych today, via phone, and we’re both on the same ‘twice a week’ page. About 6 weeks down the track, I think, I’ll be on once a week, and will see how that goes.

The Problem is the Problem: the stories we tell ourselves

Last year, and earlier this year, I was seeing, online, Narrative Therapist Nicole Hind, of Unveiled Stories. Once I started Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy acute treatments, there simply wasn’t enough time in the week for TMS, therapy, and life in general, so Nicole and I put our relationship on hold.

However, I did sign up to her ‘From Bashful To Bold’ online course, which is do-at-your-own-pace. This usually translates to ‘never do’. I do have a large cork board that all the courses I’ve signed up for and not completed are written upon, and I decided today to take another look at From Bashful To Bold.

I’ve just listened to the 3rd class, on the labels we slap on, or have slapped on us, and how to reframe those stories.

The example Nicole gives is rather than saying: “I’m bad at maths”, which puts the onus on her as being the malfunctioning thing, saying: “Maths is a problem”, well, in that case, the problem can have a solution that doesn’t weigh her down or blame her.

I have never ever said: “I am depressed” or “I am anxious”, or “I am mentally ill.” Even without this Narrative Reframing, I felt that I would be taking those labels deep into me and making them who I am. I’ve always seen depression and anxiety as things that have come to roost on me, like fucking annoying roosters or vultures. “I have depression” implies the possibility that I won’t one day. Saying “depression is a problem” makes it not about me at all. Yes, depression that huge black dog, that hungry vulture, that black crow, that Cthulhu from the abyss is a problem, and it’s currently visiting me, but problems can be solved.

Now that feels like I have room to move. That shift in what I’m saying feels more spacious, less blaming, less victim-y. Depression is a problem, the same way that mosquitoes are a problem. I wouldn’t say I suffer from mosquitoes, and I certainly wouldn’t say I am mosquitoed.

Language can change thought. Think about it.

PS: This whole conversation makes me think about a guy I met via Plenty of Fish, back in the infancy of internet dating. His handle was ‘Unloved’. I asked him why ‘Unloved’, was it a ploy to get sympathy from women? He said he had to call himself ‘Unloved’ because: “I am love.”

Yeah. Wut? Get out of here. Wanker.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy – the start of maintenance sessions

Yesterday was my 30/30 treatment of TMS for depression and anxiety, coming right in the middle of a cold winter. Today is my first maintenance session. Absolutely the same routine. Go in, get measured up with tape measure to locate the right spots, get marked up with a white board marker. The magnetic coil is positioned over the right side of my head, and away it goes with its steady tick-tick-tick for 19 minutes. Then, the coil is wrestled over to the left side of my head, positioned, and off we go with the woodpecker session for 25 minutes. I put my ear buds in and listen to an audio book. I’m a little ways into ENTERING HEKATE’S GARDEN, which is all about the healing and poison paths of witchery. I sometimes use the session to do meditation and visualisation of the TMS working on my brain. Calming down the right side, gee-ing up the left side.

All up, I’m in a much better place than I was eight weeks ago. My mind makes attempts at the old suicidal ideation, but quickly bounces away again instead of staying there and me getting further down. The last time my mind had a go at thinking ‘what’s the point, we should die’, the rational part of my mind said: “Oh what a waste of money and time, after all these sessions.” If anything’s going to leave me stricken, it’s someone or something pointing out that I’m wasting money. Hey, if my mum and my first husband are going to leave marks on me, it may as well serve some purpose, right? So thanks for the money guilt, it’s finally come in useful, if it keeps me here, while I find my energy and enthusiasm for things again.

The anxiety….well, it’s less. Not gone, but less. I noticed it ramping up…last week? The week before that? A couple of days of jitters about…nothing in particular but spilling over into most aspects of life. So I’m doing some active meditation and visualisation to help manage that.

I’ve also noticed that my old habits of ‘move from one activity to another, like I’m back in high school, and I have six subjects to fit into a single day’ no longer serve me. With my autism diagnosis, and growing irritation if I’m asked to interrupt certain activities, I can now see that piecemealing my day isn’t how I like to operate. All those years of swapping between 3-4 jobs, plus study and whatnot, no day like any other, most likely lead to a great deal of this generalised anxiety.

As much as possible, I’m at least trying to have themed days. So if it’s a tarot day, it’s a tarot day. If I’m writing, I’m writing. I’m not also trying to shove art, or whatever else in there. And if it’s an art day, it’s an art day.

I do have plenty of time each week to find time for each of those things. Everything doesn’t need to be loud all at once. With today kicking off with a blog entry, it could be that today is writing day. With side streets to get my shoulders worked on by my myotherapist, and TMS in the afternoon.

So, into maintenance. 3 sessions this week, and then 2 next week. I managed to miss yesterday’s phone call from the TMS psych, so I’ll get another call next week to plan out how things go from here on in. I know I can go Thursday-Mondays without a zap, so a 4 day gap is a start. It’s all a matter of me continuing to do the work, and see if the treatments hold in my brain. Time for more brain magic.

Oh, and I wanted to ask you interested readers, are you keen to know what visualisations I use to help the TMS take? If so, drop me a comment, and I can easily do some posts about those.

Trans Cranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy – before treatment 29

I’m sad to say that the anxiety has returned. Not as bad as it was, and if I exercise, move, eat well, and tick a couple of things off my list, then I’m in a better space than if I did what I did yesterday – lie around all day, eat chocolate, and crazy-re-read HOW TO MAKE AN AMERICAN QUILT(which is not one I’ll likely re-read again, as it’s less palatable for me than the movie, and that’s saying something). I didn’t sleep well, and the old bothers bothered me.

The depression…isn’t. I feel sad, but it’s not like sliding down a slope any more. It’s nearly mid-winter, days are short, nights long and cold, not enough sunlight, but I’m hanging in there, and doing stuff to keep myself interested, alive, awake.

Today is treatment 29 out of 30 acute treatments. I finish my acute treatments next Tuesday, and yesterday, the Tall Clinician and I had a chat about where to next? I want to continue with maintenance, and see how long I can stretch treatments out and still feel okay. It’s a worry that the anxiety is back, and it’s no longer quiet in my head. No, no, no!

I did do some visualisation yesterday whilst in the chair. I’d also forgotten to do my basic meditation practices from the Feri tradition of witchcraft, so I combined it all in the chair. I guess I do have a strong mind, because even with the magnetic coil doing its bang bang bang thing on my head, I could conjure up the abiding images that have emerged from this treatment.

The right side of my brain is the steady tick-tick-tick Chinese water torture side. Depression and anxiety are treated here. I have come to visualise the magnetic pulse as thick, soft water flowing over mussels that are clumped onto a rock surface. All are ‘standing up’, sharp, slightly open. That’s how I see my anxiety, always standing at attention. I saw the water flow in and over the mussels, allowing them to lie down, be nourished, rest.

The left side of my body is the woodpecker bambambambambambambam pause bambambambambambam side. Depression is treated here. I see my depression either as a black hole that needs light shining into all corners of it, or as wilted dandelions that need sunlight and rain.

Either way, a lot of water (element of water is associated with emotion, feelings, intuition) is involved. I came out of the meditation feeling much better.

Didn’t sleep well last night, but that’s what I get for not exercising or even walking yesterday, and not doing much of anything else.

I’m about to have lunch, then go for a walk. I’ve already done the walk up exercises from Swift Fitness, my active movement studio. I know them off by heart.

I am fretting about things writerly, which you can see if you go to my previous post WHAT IF I AM CICADA? However, I can’t let those thoughts become obsessional, the way my playing and replaying of SORRY NOT SORRY from the musical SIX. Every darned day for weeks. Well, at least I now know the song. What did I want with it? I don’t know. I’m a bit scared to listen to it again, in case the obsessional thing kicks off again.

Well, I guess I’ll update again after treatment 30, and see where I’m at then.