Barely-breathing in the wastelands of suburban Toronto where ecru is always the colour of the day, we spend the weekend shopping at big box stores, it’s either summer or winter but never in between and where it is never ever never pretty. Have been trying to write The Great American Novel for as long as I can remember. Thought for years that the problem was a massive bout of writer’s block…..turns out the problem is I’m a Canadian!!
Thank the gods and godessess I found you when I did, you may have come just in time to save me from my worst enemy…myself. I am a social worker who had gladly given up the task of unburdening myself creatively in exchange for the equally difficult task of a compassionate and loving career in a setting not conducive to these qualitites…..take care of others all day, come home unhinged but far too emotionally exhausted to take care of myself. I’ll bet some of you are familiar with this concept???
But 10 years ago I became broken beyond repair and among the many things I lost my career was one of them. Now I have been forced to adapt to a drastically different type of life, one I don’t like or want, but one that I seem meant to live. Lately I’ve been trying to gaze into mirrors again, come to some sort of terms with myself over this new life, trouble is I don’t even recognize who it is who is looking back.
So perhaps it’s best if I just stay in a RedBubble for the next little while….this looks like a safe place, a quiet place, a soft place….and there is no ecru in sight…….