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I read last year’s post before writing this. Writing is a strange phenomenon. Though I am reading my own writing, it feels like I am reading the writing of another person. Perhaps…
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I read last year’s post before writing this. Writing is a strange phenomenon. Though I am reading my own writing, it feels like I am reading the writing of another person. Perhaps…
I wrote this time last year that I felt like I was coping better than the year before. This year I don’t feel like I have made much progress, and perhaps I…
Last year, I wrote I wanted to learn how to cope. I don’t think I have learnt to cope well yet, but I do think I have made some progress compared to…
I read last year’s before writing this. Last year I wrote that I was profoundly sad – that sadness is a feeling stuck in the depths of my body. This year I think I…
I guess 40 is the age when I should not be offended when people call me, “auntie”. It seems like many people are uncomfortable with ageing, but in general I like to…
I write one of these every year, since the age of 30. This is my tenth year writing, and from reading posts from the previous nine years you could see the trajectory…
I write one of these every year. I read last year’s and was slightly amused how serious I sounded. But this is typical of me, I oscillate between thinking I take myself…
Writing this has been a yearly ritual for a while now. I re-read my entries for the past three years. I tend to cringe when I look back at the person who wrote those…