Can I learn to love limitations?

That’s the thing about being so close – we remember what the other tells us and bring it up when they are trying to wriggle out of being specific. 

I’d gotten to thinking that my blog is about Mental Health and Anxiety and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome  and Surviving Childhood Trauma and Creativity and Writing and Dyspraxia and Working in an Autism Base and Life with my Brilliant Partner ML and Sefi our Brilliant Cat, and Living Through a Pandemic and Everything Else That’s Going On in Society Right Now…and and and and and…

In my head and in my journal, I’m constantly documenting the minutiae of it all and every day that none of it ends up on my site feels like a failed opportunity.

But it’s an insanely unrealistic expectation. The failure is in my accepting this fact.

And it’s driving me crazy; and affecting my ability to  concentrate on the Really Important Project that me and my sister are also doing together – which is  – adapting our screenplay Liberation into an audio drama series for podcast – a beautiful opportunity that I want to throw myself into with abandon, but can’t because I’m in a state of constant fret about that other thing I should be doing.

My sister gets strict. She gives me a list of limitations to work within and reminds me that with each activity I must trust my instincts and get straight to the point.


But guess what!?

Monday, even though my brain has kept me awake the whole of the night before goddamnit, I rewrite a monologue for our script. 

Tuesday, even though I’m anxious as me and ML have to take Sefi to the Cat Clinic and getting her into (a) her carrier and (b) the car left all three of us crying last time, I draft this post.

Wise woman my sister.

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