Writing is a wonderful way of processing my memories. Sorting them out like strands of spaghetti. And the more wonderfully wicked experiences I enjoy, the longer my writing list seems to become. Hey-ho, it's a hard life.
Progress is a funny thing. Tomorrow is my birthday. Turning 35 was the end of an incredibly painful year and I was so very, very low. I can barely believe the change in me since then or the progress I have made in the last year, but finding this picture left me reflecting again. This was taken... Continue Reading →
The seeds of self-worth had been planted. Sir was the cloche around them, and P was my frost. As I continued on my journey with sir my confidence and self-esteem began to grow. I became more assertive at home, and began to stand my ground when the mocking was going on. I would ask P... Continue Reading →
A week before my birthday I had an interesting email from Sir. He intimated that it was his birthday and asked me to write a scene for his celebration. He would be free mid-week, and I had 24 hours to come up with something great for him. How could I come up with something to... Continue Reading →