DSCN9107 I did my nails at last. Nothing much thrilling to talk about. I go to the sales and eat out from time to time. Haven’t been able to reach my ill friend for a while, I try to tell myself that’s she’s just on holiday.

I have bad dreams, some more pleasant, I have bad moods, then better ones, I’m just alive, that’s it.



So I’m getting used to live without emotional excitment and turmoil.

My parents and bro are on holiday, so we go out together for summer shopping, eat out, and bathe in a small dismantable pool in our garden we bought a couple days ago.

I haven’t be able to reach my ill friend because she’s been busy which seems to be a good sign (she must feel good enough to do so much stuff). I sent her some snail mail.

I also found an older book from a well-known French feminist punk writer at the library and the reading is pleasant.

I cling to the little things. And it’s going ok.

PS: I’m slowly coming back to drawing and watercolour painting



My feelings have always brought me much joy and much misery. Even in my early 30s I am still not really capable of protecting myself against the damages of unilateral love and co-dependency. So that’s why I had a panick attack right after I left Mr Handsome’s practise to not see him ever again (well that’s supposed to be the case).

And then I felt this urge to call my former (female) physiotherapist who I care a lot about but who felt overwhelmed by my co-dependency. I had sent her this sms with hints of huff stating “that I understood she doesn’t want me in her life”, “I don’t want her to be a source of suffering to me”, “and so farewell” (I assured her that I wasn’t going to top myself off however. “Farewell” can be misinterpretated when coming from a suicidal person (aka me)). So I had sent this message a few months ago. Then I tried to recontact her saying I was breaking my “farewell” statement because a friend of mine had cancer and I needed advice (she also works with energies, that stuff). She did not answer. And then, so, today, I called the practise and she talked to me on the phone. I apologized for my behaviour (aka the nasty sms) and she accepted my apologies. But at that moment I wanted to see her face to face. So I walked miles to find her practise (she used to visit at home when I was disabled) and I was scared she would send me packing but here she appears, smiling and radient, and allows me to hug her! She says she hasn’t got much time though, so I ramble quickly about my place in the universe, the starseeds and so, she gets it, we speak the same language. It’s heartbreaking to leave her, but at least we made up.


Yesterday was my penultimate session with Mr. Handsome.

We were quite wise. I mean no hitting on each other (or almost) as a game. Well it’s a game for him, but my feelings are genuine.

He gave me a looong warm hug at the end of the session. His heart was beating fast (It was the 3rd time it has happened) so I guess he does have feelings for me too but I respect the fact that he’s a faithful husband and nothing else will happen between us.

I’ve begun to accept the fact I may not see him again after the last session. Unless I wait for him some Tuesday afternoon downstair in front of the medical building like I already did.

It is so funny to think I chose a male physiotherapist thinking I was 100% lesbo and it was safe. Turned out I’m bi. Twice as much choice eh? Unless I fall for unavalaible people.

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