Another Beginning

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 Starting again. Another year has passed and I've stopped writing like I should. I've been reading and as you know, when I read, it makes me fancy myself a writer. 

I've been having a lot of anxiety about getting my house clean. My friends are going to come help me but they'll end up throwing away things I want to keep. I know that will happen. Things I don't even remember that I have. So do those things really matter? Of course not. 

A friend is in the extra room clearing out some of the screen printing stuff. I'm so grateful for that. 

ChatGPT is something that's really changing things. I asked for writing prompts and it gave me lots of good ones. I tried reading some with my guy last night and it surprisingly started a fight. Which turned into a therapy session. Which turned into my asking him to start spending more time at home. We need a little space from one another. 

Here's a prompt I like: 

Imagine you are sitting across from your "shadow self." What's the first thing they'd accuse you of? How would you defend yourself?

Shadow Self: You're lazy and selfish and you only think about yourself. Every thought starts with "I"; every conversation you begin with someone is about you. How often do you even ask others about themselves? When you do, are you just doing it so you can have the opportunity to unload on them about your own silly struggles? 

Real Lucy: I'm not lazy, I'm sick. I don't do all that I can but that's because I've trained myself to be afraid of exertion. I know that if I work, if I exert myself, I'm gonna pay for it. There will be pain. I've also learned that even if I don't exert myself, there's still pain. It plays by its own rules, this disease. I hurt when I work and I hurt when I rest. 

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