I felt this a lot last year. An acquaintance gave me some advice and it seemed a tad trite at the time but it actually helped. It doesn’t fix the world, but it helps make your own little world better. Regardless, always here to chat if you need to ghostie 🫶
- 45 minutes a day of making that isn’t for sale- words, a walk, bread, letters, bad drawings. Set a timer. Non-negotiable.
- One errand-by-foot each week (post office, grocer). The point is the people, not efficiency.
- Learn three names (barista, mail clerk, neighbor). Ask one earnest question a week. Mutual aid starts as eye contact.
- Build a skills stack. One repair, one recipe, one route without maps every month. Competence reduces the machine’s rent.
I'm impressed by your ability to give such an honest and very raw expression of your feelings such beautifully devastating flow.
And I am immensely sad to read that you're feeling like this. I feel a lot of it a lot of the time, too, so I can only tell you I'm right there with you, fighting in the trenches. Sometimes it's good to know we're not alone in this. I hope sharing your experience helps with that. Sending you some virtual hugs 🫂🖤
I felt this a lot last year. An acquaintance gave me some advice and it seemed a tad trite at the time but it actually helped. It doesn’t fix the world, but it helps make your own little world better. Regardless, always here to chat if you need to ghostie 🫶
- 45 minutes a day of making that isn’t for sale- words, a walk, bread, letters, bad drawings. Set a timer. Non-negotiable.
- One errand-by-foot each week (post office, grocer). The point is the people, not efficiency.
- Learn three names (barista, mail clerk, neighbor). Ask one earnest question a week. Mutual aid starts as eye contact.
- Build a skills stack. One repair, one recipe, one route without maps every month. Competence reduces the machine’s rent.
Your candor and suggestions (not taken as trite) are appreciated. Hope these helped you. And made friends with a lot of baristas. Coffee is life.
🖤🫂🖤
🖤🖤🖤
I read. My heart started to race a bit. I feel you. I send you love.
Blue light waves. Enveloping you. A scent of lemon. To zest you.
You have my respect. For your art. Your honesty. Your devotion to truth. For the depth.
My care is real. So is yours. Can I give to you? Are you able to receive?
Even though our perception can be unreal. My attention is real. And sacred and it embraces you as you embrace me as you read me.
Thank you. It may not be enough for that anxiety that is bursting through you at the moment, but I offer you a massage.
A psychic one if you cant make it to Canada…
I just moved to a place that I have to move again from. Not easy with a child. Anxiety indeed too here. But I will be ok.
❤️received and sent back equally
🙏🏽dear you. Your words, so precious to me. ❤️
Wow
Appropriately succinct
I'm impressed by your ability to give such an honest and very raw expression of your feelings such beautifully devastating flow.
And I am immensely sad to read that you're feeling like this. I feel a lot of it a lot of the time, too, so I can only tell you I'm right there with you, fighting in the trenches. Sometimes it's good to know we're not alone in this. I hope sharing your experience helps with that. Sending you some virtual hugs 🫂🖤