For many years, I considered myself low maintenance. Well, I was repeatedly told I was low maintenance, which was cast in a positive light, and I began to see myself that way. Guys called me that. I didn't have the same requirements or expectations that they, well, expected.

When I was a teenager, I loved Jim Morrison. Like, loved. Obviously, I was into The Doors, but I also read Jim’s poetry (yes, we’re on a first name basis like that), and his biography. His was the starring poster on my adolescent wall, the band I had the most shirts of, the one I hypnotized my friends to channel.

I ran through all my usual logical steps; checking situations where I'd seen potential, and seeing if it held true. Debating it from different angles, I tried to find the flaw in the statement, and simply could not. As such, I now hold this theory as truth, and pass it on to others.

My high school friendships fell away soon after I dropped out of CEGEP; I was already engaged, had moved to a different part of town, but was trying to maintain my relationships. When I got pregnant though, the old friends fell away.

A lot of my philosophical leanings are mutable. Some thoughts have gone through phases, one belief system replaced by the next, and some change day by day. Reincarnation? Maybe; depends if we're talking faith or scientific odds, framing or facts.

I've been looking into coping methods lately. Whether it's the conflux of perimenopause and neurodivergence (it is), or the state of the whole ass world (yep, that too), or the bone chilling return to winters of yore (also that, for sure), I've been struggling.

The sign on the metro platform says “considering suicide? We’re here for you”, and I roll my eyes. Sure, it's an important message, a necessary lifeline, but as a high functioning person with mental illness, it feels like there's no support until you threaten to throw yourself onto the tracks.

I can't quite pinpoint when extremism became the norm. For every instance I consider as a starting point, I can hear the voices of one “team” screaming that it only happened because the “other team” did blah blah blah first, pushing the timeline back, and proving my point with their fierce defense of the extremism from “their side”.

Welcome, Dear Reader, to the shitty part of winter. The parties are over, the sparkly hits have been packed away, and now…well, now it's just cold and dark.

Words have power. In so many ways, we speak things into reality. For instance, the people who are always complaining, tend to lead themselves into reasons to complain, while attracting others who thrive on the same fuel.