Run a bath with lavender oil and find yourself a good book. Read out loud and learn how to use your breath as you struggle with the heat and the words; it will become easier as you ease into the porcelain and stretch your legs over the edge as nobody is watching. Sink a little … Continue reading How to love
There is glitter in my bath water. A nebula of healing, medicine and feeling. It greets me like a childhood home, invites me to breathe along with the swirls and the ripples I make because my heart is still beating and I can wiggle my fingers and toes. It settles into the lines in my … Continue reading Painted gold
I would like to forgive my body if only I knew how. Perhaps I should write a list of everything I dislike and light it with a match; watch it smoulder with eager eyes and a glass of wine. Or I should write a list of my favourite parts and scrawl them across every mirror. … Continue reading Forgiveness
Naming beach huts is an art form; forget the colour you want to paint it, name it with a legacy in mind. A morning walk isn’t a morning walk until at least five people walking their dogs say, Good morning. If the thought You should wear a hat crosses your mind before you leave the … Continue reading Ten Things
I wrote an SOS into my flesh. I announced there was someone in my head, in my home, in my heart; she was bitter and unkind. I pleaded with the muddy water and with my tears. I denounced my reflection and then pulled the same woman into my arms and told her not to worry, … Continue reading In My Home
I’ve been ill recently and part of the recovery has been learning how to be kinder to myself. I have decided to document the times I’ve felt pretty; this is my way of reminding myself there have been moments I have looked in the mirror and didn’t feel worthless. Being ill and being unkind has … Continue reading Selfies are for keeps
My favourite place to write is in the bath. I have a cut of wood which rests on the sides, allowing me to scrawl like nobody’s business until the pages are damp. Damp pages remind me of how squishy my feelings are - squeezing my heart and soul for coherent thought, art - and how … Continue reading Me and I
The birds are loud tonight, they drown out the refrigerator hum but battle the arcade of synapses firing in my mind, which is doing a skydive into oblivion. I've decided I need to get better at existing, at being alone, because right now I conquer my fear of being alone outside, with the songbirds, by … Continue reading Birds and Bungee Cord
Dying isn't cowardly and talking takes bravery, convincing our tongues carrying their stories, they are the lifeguards swimming for our hearts. It takes a second to keep on wishing for our pulse to stop and restart, the joy you feel when you open your curtains and the sun is shining, when you witness a mother … Continue reading Our hearts
‘She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she … Continue reading Baked in a beautiful pie (3)
