Lyrics to a song I don’t know how to write

Lost in a sea of syllables

Searching for the right rhyme


All the men I’ve loved before

It’s funny. All the relationships you forget about after they end. They become part of your past. Lessons learned, but mostly irrelevant.


I’ve been single awhile now. Partly by choice, partly forced. My selection of suitors not what it once was. Maturing means being more selective. It also means looking back at all those past relationships. Why did they end? Is there a pattern? Is it me? And yes there was a pattern. And yes it was me.

They were not bad men. Ok, well some of them were. They were definitely the same type of men. A type I have worked hard to stay away from these past years.

There has been a lot of work on self. Figuring out who I am. What I want. Who I want. It’s not easy work. It’s been down right uncomfortable. But the work has worked. I can finally say I like this human I am becoming. She still has many of the qualities she had as young woman, but she’s a lot wiser and mostly certainly more discerning.


In all this time alone working on me I’ve somehow lost the skills to interact with others. More specifically men. Not that I have alot of opportunities, but when I do I find myself completely lost.

What do I say? Should I flirt? Am I being too forward? Am I not saying enough?

My wish is to meet and develop a relationship organically. Something lasting. I’m not sure that happens anymore though. When you don’t go out often, when most of your social interactions happen online does organic even exist?

And why does anyone remotely promising have to live in another country?!

If I am honest with myself I will admit that part of me fears I will fall back into old patterns. It keeps me from putting myself out there more than I do. That fear of failure becomes my excuse. I become closed off. Unreadable. Unapproachable.

Today I don’t have a partner to blame for a failed relationship. Today the problem is me. And I’m struggling to find what it is about me that still needs work.

Now you see me

The back of a hand after speaking up

The weight of a body after saying no

Life breath taken as fingers close around a throat

The prick of a pin

A love of heroine

A mad mind

Close to suicide

A decade of life

She lives

You should see her now

More words

I’m talking

But there is no one to hear me

I empty my soul into an empty room

The walls keep my secrets

Silently screaming


These thoughts are deafening

Surely someone


Please listen to me

Sometimes I write poetry

The markings of his clan he wears like armour

His eyes betray nothing

His strength and bravery fill the air around him

He is fearless

He is steadfast

He is a warrior

Men cower in his presence

Not her

She is marked too

Her skin speaks of battles with unseen forces

She is a protector

A defender

She is unafraid

Body and soul bared

Revealing her weaknesses

She rises to meet his challenge

She is a warrior too

It’s all hair

I have a tell.

I want to shave my head.

That’s my tell.

That is my sign to the people I talk to.

When my mental health is suffering shaving my head is one of the first things I think about. And that’s a big deal.

I have a lot of hair. Even with half of my head shaved already I still have a lot of hair. Not gonna lie. It’s good hair.

My hair is part of my identity. It shouldn’t be, but it is. It’s not unusual to be described by my hair.

To be honest I really do love my hair. So it’s interesting and confusing to me why it’s the first thing I think about when my brain is not playing nice.

How would shaving my head help me?

Seriously. I’m asking this question because I don’t know the answer.

This past week I thought about it again. Normally the thought is fleeting, but this time I called my stylist and told her to cancel my colour appointment.

She’s been with me through my depression so she’s never shocked when I have these moments. She’s a fellow mental health sufferer too so she understands.

So now I’m one step closer to hacking it all off. I get anxious when I think about it. Then I remember the quote, “If it scares you it might be a good thing to do”.

Will I be healed? Unlikely. BUT maybe it’s time to get rid of something that is no longer of use to me. I mean really, why am I hanging on to hair? Maybe a drastic change is what I need in my life?

If you want change you must change correct?

Talk soon


She’s crafty

It’s Saturday evening. I’m finally sitting/laying down after a day that started at 3am.

As I write this I have my first ever bone broth simmering. My tiny basement suite smells like healing. Reminds me of my mom and our country home.

I’ve been doing a lot of ‘homemaking’ things lately. I’m not sure why. I tell myself that I’m preparing for my future alone in my cabin in the woods.

That or the apocalypse that I’m pretty sure we are headed for.

Either way I’m going to be prepared to survive.

I’ve also been thinking about writing more. Definitely more here, but also sharing what I’m learning about my newest love.


I’ve been called to study and work with plants for a few years now, but I always ignored the pull. Until now.

Now I’m reading, researching, foraging and using plants for many things. I’ve even started making my own skin care.

Lavender honey lip balm

I may also be addicted to acquiring herbs. My apothecary grows a little each week.

Did you know you can use rose petals to make tea? They are delicious!

Today I used some of the mushrooms I foraged for the broth I’m making. And tomorrow I’m straining the fire cider I made a month ago.

These are the things that make me smile lately.

My life may be pretty mundane lately, but I’m finding and making magic when and where I can.

Beautiful simplicity.

Talk soon,