Category Archives: strength

Being a Delicate Organism A Peek into the daily life of an HSP

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Highly Sensitive People are, as the moniker suggests, acutely aware of stimuli. Which is one reason I prefer the designation of Highly Aware Person. HAP. I’m a Hap. A Happy. Sounds much better to me than being called “Highly Sensitive” which carries with it a rather pejorative tint. But HSP is the most commonly used acronym in reference to us, and so I feel a bit obligated to use it. HSPs are often aware of sensory input that others miss. We are about 20% of the population, and this Sensory Processing Sensitivity is found in around 100 other species, as … Continue reading →

Nietzsche, Relationships & the Creative Abyss

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One of the more useful lessons I’ve learned in my life is that we often have habits about how we deal with things, based on a set of information that may not be applicable anymore. This is why I have to do revisions. I have to re-vision something—look at it again—in order to discover whether or not the method I’m using still applies. Life is about change, and sometimes things change just enough, so that what you have always done is no longer a solution to the new situations and conditions that you are now experiencing. I might be squishing … Continue reading →

To Be or Not to Be

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Damaged people live among us. They deny, they lament, they scream, and think no one hears them. So they self-medicate, create grand illusions of fictive comfort, and when those fictions fail them, then finally, they descend into the abyss of helpless despair. When we hear our elders speak of “the good ol’ days”–we mustn’t dismiss the significance of those simpler times. They matter, because all those hordes of damaged people would have been fine in 1952, but now, they have to deal with chaos and war and complications and the economy and drugs and challenge and an ever-increasing onslaught of … Continue reading →

Vamoosing

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Suspended my Netflix account. Still packing, desperately needing boxes. Downstairs, I pulled up everything in that storage room, which was the contents brought so far from storage when I actually thought I was going to be living here permanently, and her mother had finally moved, so I could do that. But only after we had ripped up the carpet down there and cleaned the unbelievable nastiness her mother lived in. bleach fumes, up and down stairs, aching body. I realized I would have to leave some things behind because it wouldn’t fit in my car or in storage, and I … Continue reading →