I’ve been trying to sit down and write a little something here every single day since the first week of February, when I went on medical leave. It’s taken me half a year to finally, finally squeeze something out about how I'm doing, personally.
It's been a year since I started ballet at age 30 with little more than a handful of bad habits embedded into muscle memory. Here's what a year of ballet has taught me.
I am happy to announce that I still managed to write 14 solid drafts, 1 silly couplet, and 2 very messy prose-adjacent … things… which is really not bad, all things considered!
No one explained to me how endometriosis works, its possible causes, its challenges, the treatment options (not in detail, anyway!), nor how the condition evolves over the long term. And reparations? HA!
This March, I share with my patrons an attempt at a short piece of autofiction (fictionalized autobiography). My goals are to experiment with polyphony and scene transitions between overlapping memories.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that any person who suffers from chronic health problems with mental health components, must be in want of someone to cheerfully suggest: "Have you tried meditation and yoga?"
