Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
A raincoat shouldn’t unravel me, but it did. Change — even good change — destabilises me. Clothes, food, identity: all shifting at once. I dropped anchors in Cyberpunk and macramé, but none held. Only a latte in my hand, flimsy against the storm, reminded me I’m still afloat.
Today was a masterclass in being spectacularly wrong - from misreading dates to creating chaos worthy of a sitcom. Between ADHD brain noise, accidental drama, and Clippy-level self-critique, I somehow still found joy in coffee, pastries, and my son’s laughter. A disaster? Yes. But a warm, funny one.
Spirit City gave me something I didn’t know I needed - a quiet space where my digital self could sit, eat, cry, and heal beside me. It’s not just a game. It’s a soft place to land when the world is too loud. Recovery, raccoons, and rain sounds included.
I started macramé thinking, “I could probably do that.” Fast forward to today, and my flat, my bears, and every plushie in sight are covered in knotted creations. What began as a way to save money became an unexpected act of love — crafting, knot by knot, for those I care about most.
Absurd Universe 