I might look nice but trust me, this woman before you was forged in the fires of “fuck you”.
The first time I started writing for myself in Recovery was to copy out the lyrics of a Chilli Peppers song. The guy sitting next to me was reading the yellow pages.
You’d think a detox in the middle of Kings Cross with bars on the windows and drug deliveries randomly flying over the fence throughout the day was an unusual start to recovery for this reformed alcoholic.
Truth is, it felt like coming home.
On that day in 2009, my life went from fitting inside a (coffin shaped) box that I’d somehow agreed to lie down in, to landing in some sort of deranged training school that was going to teach me to fly.
Over the last 10+ years, I’ve written about whatever takes my fancy. The result is one writer’s insistence that any paragraph created should not be confined to tight spaces and rules about niching. I’m not fond of tight spaces (or coffins).
So what is the purpose behind this collection of words? I’m not sure. All I know now is, the posts, essays, poems and nuanced ramblings of a busy mind are for you to sample or to savour. There are things I’ve written for me, for others, for money, for fun and for the simple requirement of most writers… because I have to.
The opportunity to speak out loud is for those of us who are tired of waiting to say what we want to say quietly. I decided to say it all here. Some things are loud. Some quiet.
Need to know: I’ve been known to make people cry, but in a good way. Click the button and we can chat about what you need. Email, content, a good old fashioned laugh.
Nice to know: Not much surprises me. There could (read will) be swearing.
I’m wary of promising too much with my blog. Sure you could love it or you could be gloomy Gail, telling me I’m going straight to hell.
Regardless, there’s a collection of things I’ve written over the last 5+ years for myself and others.
I spent most of my life being a goody-goody… too straight-laced to tell it like it is. This is until my own existential crisis forced me to own up to my own BS and embrace the devilishness of me.