spin and roll your way to peace

On the way to the bloody doctor tonight I realised the metaphors I use to describe this journey are about control. Washing machines and roller-skates. You’re wet and spinning, cyclical, or your up and skating and down on your arse, repeat. Either way, you’re out of control. Anxiety is like that. Grief is a lot…

zzz…write what you know…zzz

If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard or read the expression ‘write what you know’ I’d have enough money to buy a two-week supply of junk food and there’d be chocolate fingerprints all over my sheets and pillow. Last year, on track with that adage, I wrote a novel about Postnatal Depression and…