about-me-image
I'm mum, messy, moody and manic. A worried writer, carefree cook. Retired flautist and teacher of beautiful young flute players. I buried myself in life and love, babies and busyness, until grief, exhaustion and broken dreams cracked me open like a newly hatched chick. So here I am, piecing my middle-aged butt back together while licking gunk off my fledgling wings and learning to fly again. Welcome to my world.
Simone Lisa: Telling Tales

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Tag: mental health

27Sep

Then & Now

Before I had a complete nervous breakdown, I was a completely different person, and I
24Sep

The Long Road Home

It's the unfun bit of travel - going home. And after three months, it's the bit to look forward to - going home.
18Sep

Travels in Portugal

I arrived in Lisbon a mental mess. The two hour flight from Pisa airport, on our most budget airline, turned me into a blithering ball of batshit crazy. It was time to see a doctor before my oldest and dearest friends traded me in for a better model.
16Sep

Travels in Tuscany

My fondest memories are sitting at our villa, eating dinners outside and toasting the magic view of Lucca in the distance. The evenings were warm, the food spectacular, the drinks convivial, and the company exquisite. These are the precious memories I cling to. As our week came to a close, we packed up and headed to Pisa for the flight to Lisbon. With my anxiety now peaking and bordering on full panic attack, the flight became an interesting affair.
01Sep

Keep Calm & Panic

Contrary to a vaguely popular (and really fucking irritating) belief, anxiety is not stress or worry - although stressing and worrying are part of anxiety. And it is most certainly not a choice. It's not a lifestyle. It's something you have - like chicken pox. Although thankfully chicken pox is a once (perhaps twice) in a lifetime affair. Anxiety on the other hand, can be a daily curse. Forever. And just like chicken pox, it needs to be managed.
14Aug

Travels in Berlin

Yep - I spent a week in Berlin, and by day three I was bored. By the time we arrived in the city that birthed Oktoberfest, the Brandenburg Gate, and Adolf Hitler, we'd been away from home for 46 days. So looking at old rocks, old churches, and old history, was wearing a little thin. As are funny-tasting tap water, pay-to-use toilets, European heatwave, and whatever-that-yellow-stuff-is-they-call-cheese.
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