I’m trying to remedy a lot of my anxiety and bouts of depression in ways I enjoy. I liked my antidepressant that I had taken over the course of last year but find that I’m slowly wanting to ween off pills. In time, I’d also like to solve my Midol need.
Mostly, the journey will be about depression. I’ll try my best to record how I’m doing and what I’m doing. I know I’ve been missing every so often. I’d really love to get back to writing and painting again. Continue reading
Not my betta but similar to mine.
Say the word in as many languages as you can, it’s all going to be the same. Life will always be what it is may it be difficult or easy is dependent on the person in question.
I’m not entirely sure if I’ve introduced my betta yet but I now own a betta fish/ siamese fighting fish named Pudge Juan or PJ for short. I also owned six stalks of bacopas. It’s in past tense because most have died and two are striving to live. I just have a black thumb. I mean, look at what happened to my zivas. They bloomed, yes, but ultimately my laziness got the better of them. I still have four remaining bulbs out of six but forcing them to grow indoors really took a toll on them, I think. Whereas the bacopas just totally fell apart on me and it wasn’t out of laziness. I couldn’t meet all the conditions for the plant and by the time that I was able to, they were already far gone. I’m hoping the last two will fight on with me but I doubt it. Laziness amongst other things have come between me and PJ’s environment clean up/uptake… maintenance.
PJ is thankfully reaching his three months with me. I suspect he’s already near or past 1yr of age. He’s kind of blind and his tail seemed to have been decaying the first hour he was brought to me. He’s gotten way less lethargic than when I first met him so that makes me happy. Continue reading
…certain traditions, rituals or ‘the usual’ change.
In life, that’s to be expected but I’ve never been one for obvious change. I’m not very good at adapting. Some people may say, ‘no, you can do it when you put your mind to it’ but there have been many changes in my life, though I live with those changes, I am unable to accept.
i don’t like changes.
I have a hill of stories I’d like to get to writing but I’ve been having some difficulties putting my thoughts into words even though my thoughts are a string of words (along with images). I have no problem when writing journal entries, not including this blog. I’m having a tough time as we speak. It must be because I haven’t done this in a while.
I have tried reading to get those creative juices warmed up. I haven’t read a novel in forever. I have yet to finish the ones I’ve started including the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The last I read was The Night Circus. It’s been a while… *two years* since I’ve finished a book.
I’ve mostly been watching television—Netflix. Lots of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, Leverage (repeatedly), Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and Midsommer Murders. There was also Criminal Minds and NCIS. Yeah, they all have to do with solving crimes. I love these types of shows the most. Movie wise, not so much. With movies I like fantasy. I watched the animated film, Home. I also saw Fallen and Miss Perigrine’s Home for Peculiar Children which were both based on books of the same name.
Rather than help me with my words, they’ve only piled up to ideas and inspirations, therefore stuffing my brain like a turkey.
Music is usually my go to. They enable my brain to process my thoughts by distracting it. Singing along amplifies it even more. Dancing does nothing but I do it anyway. Continue reading
I’m having strange feelings arising as I near turning a year older. I have this strange feeling of an unfulfilled childhood. It’s like I missed out on throwing tantrums and rebelling. I missed on running, falling, and laughing from the fall. I missed out on asking for things I don’t need.
I’ve been so used to nodding and saying, “it’s fine” when something doesn’t go the way I want it to. As a kid, I didn’t point out for this and that and now, I’ve officially gone beyond turning point.
I admit, I’m afraid.
I’m more unsure about my life and how I want it to be than I was a year ago.
It reminds me of a childhood I can’t remember. I must have been an average child. I didn’t set off any alarms for the parents. I wasn’t perfect or extremely troubling. I was in all accounts the typical daughter. I could blame the story my mom liked to tell me. I could talk about the times when divorce was mentioned in conversations or when they laughed, oh poor June, she cried because we joked about divorce. Poor me, the girl that wasn’t a boy. Poor girl, her father wasn’t there for her birth. Poor third child, third daughter, she has so much to live up to. Poor me. Continue reading