I used to record “notes to self” on my phone as I was on my way to early morning, in-person, 12-step meetings in town (12 miles from my 126 person town in Valley Ford, CA). I rarely ever listened to them back…until today.
As I start to write short essays for my book, I have been diligently excavating old letters from dusty storage boxes in the basement, cracking open journals and sketchbooks from years gone by, and, apparently, re-listening to an older version of myself that might help shine a light on what’s going on with my spiritual condition today, in this moment.
My mother used this call this state of mind and body a funk.
But really, it’s depression. It’s okay. I just need to move through it and call it what it is. I’ve been out of certain meds for over a a week. Kaiser doesn’t have any for me right now. Nationwide shortage.
My hormones are all out of whack, too. Menopause is fun(k)?
Finding a voice message to myself helped today.
More is always being revealed.
I think I’ll rearrange some furniture in the hopes it makes everything feel a little better.
xo, Tammi
p.s. - I don’t use A.I. to write my substacks. And, I’m choosing to just write from the heart and not obsess over spellcheck anymore or getting it “just right.” I am working on just letting it flow. If you see a typo, then at least you’ll know it’s me writing this, right?
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