Deadline? Oh really?

Last night I watched an episode of a show called White Collar. Not really my thing but engaging enough to follow along while slathering myself in coconut oil (not weird), and having a casual evening conversation with slightly future me about tomorrow, which is now...

On PTSD.

Yesterday morning I had a moment. The simplest trigger: at a cafe, an old framed portrait on a white wall that reminded me of something from then. And I was off. Cycles of panic, terror, helplessness, pain, fear. And then I came back. Doing the things that help me be...
The Fluent Self