I have been completely unable to be a full-time functioning adult and continue to write. Needless to say, this is driving me a little crazy. Just because I’m back at work does not mean that I have nothing to say about what’s going on in my life. In fact, I have more, because I’m balancing continuing to “recover” with working and having a social life.
Over July 4, I was with some family and some friends, and a few of them pointed out how valuable my writing has been for them so, get on with it. Say what? I do this for me, not for you! But seriously, apparently there is appetite out there for hearing my voice as I transition from my life as a patient to my life back on the streets as a “survivor” (or, as I like to put it, a “thrivor,” as in, “one who thrives.” Yes, I know it’s not an actual word. But it should be.).
Now that I know that I’m not the only one missing my writing, I’m back at it. (Clearly this is a conversation I need to have with my therapist.) But, to balance everything else (see above), I’m going short-form. Yes, every now and again, you’ll get one of my 2000-word expositions on how weird it is to have breasts but no under-arm hair (it’s weird, I tell you), but for the moment, I’m going to keep these to the length I can pop out on the bus on the way to work.