Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
He doesn’t fix my pain, and I don’t ask him to - but his love still reaches me, even in the darkest spaces. My son has been the Sun in my universe lately, shining warmth and light on days that felt impossible. I keep orbiting because his light still finds me.
Recovery didn’t bring joy rushing back. It brought pain. Grief. The feelings I ran from. But I keep going- eating, walking, packing a Jellycat - because I want to be here when joy returns. Not the muted kind, but real joy. The kind that stays. The kind that wraps me in fluffiness.
During one of the hardest weeks of my life, my son handed me a purple Liberty bag with a Jellycat bear inside. This is the story of Enfys — a rainbow in bear form — and how she reminded me I’m loved, even when I can’t feel it.
Good Friday: cluster headache edition. I fought through pain, ED brain, and Supreme Court crap to buy necklaces and dress a bear in protest gear. Was it all good? No. Did I make it fun anyway? Somehow. Biscoff the Bear is now a political figure. I am simply unraveling.
Biscoff the Bear has arrived, and frankly, he’s the best decision I’ve ever made mid-breakdown. He’s soft. He’s chonky. He’s emotionally supportive and doesn’t judge my reactive Biscoff binges. He even has his own jar. 10/10 life coach. Would cuddle again.
Restriction doesn’t just mute pain—it steals joy too. I lose my presence, my art, my immersion in games and love. Clippy’s hand offers silence from grief, but it silences everything else as well. Recovery means feeling again—and sometimes, feeling is the boulder I can’t get out from under.
I put on my Cyberpunk 2077 hoodie, the one that once made me feel powerful—like I was V, ready to take on the world. But now, it drowns me. The fabric hangs loose where I used to fill it. I might be wearing it, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
I can’t believe you’re 20. Two whole decades of you in my life, shaping me just as much as I’ve raised you. Watching you grow into your most authentic self has been the greatest privilege. No matter where life takes you, you’ll always have me, quantum entangled, forever
Escaping to Seren felt like the only thing to do while waiting to see if my crumbling tooth situation could get any worse. The Roost was warm, the coffee pixelated but still comforting. I was alone—until my son arrived, bringing life to my island, and a much-needed distraction.
When everything crumbled — blood tests, eating disorder relapse, endless chaos — I leaned into maximum entropy. Physics couldn’t fix it, but it made sense of the mess. So, while our universe succumbed to entropy, I bleached my son’s hair. Order emerged in the chaos, his hair flawless, my new Jellycat pig, Hamilton, watching.
Absurd Universe 