Journaling Day 5


Warning: spiders discussed

JusJoJan 1 & 2: spider and time and journaling

We keep spiders in the house – my mother, very superstitious, said it was bad luck to kill a spider – and any time I do by accident when I’m sweeping, I feel bad.

Spiders, if small enough can stay and eat the ants that swarm out of the walls  and through the cracks usually in Spring time, but we had an winter invasion this year. Spider webs take care of other creepy crawlies like silver fish and the millicentipedes that seem to drop from the ceiling.  We live trap everything but silver fish, millicentipedes and really pesky flies. Spiders that are too large or scary looking get the time out treatment – caught under a glass, then thick paper slipped under, and taken outside. If it’s really cold, it’s a death sentence., so we might take them next door. (Don’t tell the landlord we house sit for).

I like the jumpy spiders – the sort that jump across the wall or the floor. They stay small, most of the time, and are harmless. Rarely see Daddy-Longlegs these days. Miss them from my childhood. Just like praying mantis. But that’s a different insect family.

So, if you don’t like spiders, you probably shouldn’t visit – there’s bound to be one or two dwelling somewhere in the corners, or ceiling of our place. You might want to limit your time here if you did come.

So, I’ve spent some time on spiders (A friend suggested I just jot for myself in my journaling, so I picked the first two words. I might link later)

Another friend suggested that I play a game with my voices “Listen to your negative talk and for every negative thought say something positive.” Doesn’t matter if you believe it, just say it. Just keep going that way. “Soon your brain will think less negative” She warned it won’t be magic, but maybe it will help pull me out of the darkness I’m in. The voices howl and whisper, and seem so rational and logical. So true and believable, it will be hard to counter them with positives that I don’t buy into or believe. Guess it’s about resetting your responses, pressing replay and getting a different tune. I’ll try. But it seems so hard. Like everyday seems so hard.

Another wet, cold day. Errands done, but milkshake consumed. So nothing else to eat today. Calories, sugar, fat, spent. Peppermint candy cane shake – left over from Christmas. So depressed, like moving through molasses – everything a struggle. And not much achieved. Just tired. So very, very tired of it all. Pain starting to build, so break from typing. Maybe all for today’s entry.


Journaling Day 4: 2nd post

I posted this as part of the Just Jot It January (see LindaGHill @ Life in Progress ) and it fits well with my journaling. Close to tears a lot today. Frustrating, painful day. Want to write, I mean really write – go back to the long stuff or work on unfinished pieces, but can’t find the words – like the pain that eats my jaw is eating into my brain. I so wanted to feel that I was a writer, maybe someday get a novelette published, or a collection of my heroine tales published. But my writing doesn’t compare favorably to those whose work has been published or who have won short story contests, or have their work in anthologies. I read that I feel like just giving up. Why bother. Writing was a lifeline, yes, but I harboured a small hope (oh, I might say on my blog novelette, but I never let on how much this meant and was keeping me going) too. But that hope, like all my hopes, is gone. Crushed. Destroyed. Gut-kicked. So what is the point to writing? There is none. My life is so hollow and empty, I have nothing else to do. And now I don’t feel I even can do that. Can’t write as a life line so why write at all.

jusjojan: warning 03.01.17

warning – a very depressed person is blogging.

warning – a very depressed person is posting dreck.

warning – a very depressed person cries when she reads how well others write.

warning – a very depressed person is trying to figure out how to survive without writing.

warning – a very depressed person doesn’t feel like/can’t writing/write but is addicted to prompts and posting.

warning – a very depressed person might just jot january again.

jusjojan via LindaGHill @ Life in Progress daily prompt january 3, 2017 brought to us by Dan Antion

the days of “O”


image: Viki Kollerová

I remember when

my ribs showed through

like the light through the blinds

I remember when

my waist was malleable, supple

bend double futon-style

I remember when

my naked body

was clothed by your love

Do you remember when

our lives together meant

we were as one ripe fruit

Do you remember when

we were alive, and not

shrinken, shriveled, imprisoned

forever squeezed in that glass jar

composed for Mindlovemisery’s Photo Challenge 115

please imagine an empty line or two between “love” and “Do” if I can’t get it fixed.

Song Lyrics Sunday: Dire Straights–On Every Street


image: forest gothic:


crept beneath our skin

and when you laughed

you wept all my secrets you kept

knowing sooner I choose the wet

not the dry



There’s gotta be a record of you some place
You gotta be on somebody’s books
The lowdown – a picture of your face
Your injured looks
The sacred and profane
The pleasure and the pain
Somewhere your fingerprints remain concrete
And it’s your face I’m looking for on every street
A lady-killer – regulation tattoo
Silver spurs on his heels
Says – what can I tell you as I’m standing next to you
She threw herself under my wheels
Oh it’s a dangerous road
And a hazardous load
And the fireworks over liberty explode in the heat
And it’s your face I’m looking for on every street
A three-chord symphony crashes into space
The moon is hanging upside down
I don’t know why it is I’m still on the case
It’s a ravenous town
And you still refuse to be traced
Seems to me such a waste
And every victory has a taste that’s bittersweet
And it’s your face I’m looking for on every street

SoCS: salted water


SoCS badge 2015

Linda has once again set a ponder-producing prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday: start and may be end the post with two letter words. One “small cheat,” I scattered a couple extra 2fers when checking for typos – the unwavy redlined sort I make where it’s a word, but not the one I intended. Though it can actually be a better word, so my subconscious is elbowing me again. For example, I initially typed: “. . . deep, scary place write now . . .” and though hummmmm, leave the unintentional and add the intentional.


As May is about mental illness/mental health, my SoCS reflects my efforts to incorporate my own state of mind at the moment. Don’t think I’ve been shy in saying that I have demons to battle. I’m in a very deep, scary place write/right now, so I lapse away from nice if/should-dos. If I don’t reciprocate by reading your posts or leaving comments, or respond for a while to one you leave; these are things I find hard to do. Am trying to write. Helped me survive before, maybe it will again. Some people could find what I’ve written disturbing. It’s not an admission of intent[ion].


Me, I live in a world of snot and tears

the irregular shaped salt rimmed stains

on my key board make it seem I spent

a day at sea, but this saline is human not ocean


I know the taste of both tears and sea

the sweetly-sour liquid on my lips

drowning in salted water

like I almost did in that tidal river


As I watched my flaying feet

heels sliding gainst tumbling rocked bottom

diamonded river water danced

smooth horizon heaven-miles up


I broke the surface when

last of air seeping from my skin

one foot caught hold and pushed

taste of blood, death, salt on my lips


So, I can still drown in salted water

ground rockily beneath my feet

tears like waves can wash over

saline may yet come to claim me*


found drowned (George Frederick Watts, 1867)*

*this SoC is not an intention to submerge myself in salt water; more that I could drown in my own river of salted tears