chronicallyjune

[chronicallyjune]

IT IS DONE

pattern is based on Andrea Cull’s DNA Pullover, and the double helix cable pattern was charted by @ub-sessed, which can be found here

[chronicallyjune]

It's easy to think "nobody in the whole wide world cares about me" on an empty stomach but try doing it while eating Vegetables and Rice. Seems less convincing now doesn't it? That's simply the power of Vegetables and Rice..

[chronicallyjune]

cats and libraries ۫ ꣑ৎ

[chronicallyjune]

[chronicallyjune]

[chronicallyjune]

[chronicallyjune]

[chronicallyjune]

Passionate about little baby potatoes baked with garlic, butter, rosemary, and sea salt

[chronicallyjune]

i love you visible brushstrokes. i love you glue warped scrapbook pages. i love you awkward poems. i love you junk journal with faded receipts. i love you poorly composed journal layout. I love you unintentionally blurry photographs. i love you asymmetrical beading. i love you curling freeform crochet. i love you fingerprints on pottery. i love you reused materials. i love you improvised instruments. i love you mistakes. i love you bravery to make it anyway. i love you creativity that hasn't been wiped clean of every drop of humanity and sanitized and commodified.

[chronicallyjune]

<3 is sentence concluding punctuation

[chronicallyjune]

I want to sit with the hand mirror and carefully peel off every inch of skin on my lips off, with tweezers. I spent a whole hour yesterday doing so and they still feel wrong and in need but are too raw to continue. My hair feels like a knot the shower can't untangle, my skin a texture that soap or a wipe couldn't wash away. My skin flakes like snow. The piles flow and ebb like breath, forgotten until the slide-click-creak allows me to remember what it is I try so hard to forget. The avoidance is tactile, the guilt crawls up my spine and skinks its digits in. I can no longer comprehend ‘self’. I feel raw in a way that needs/desires/has-to-be picked at, torn open. Disassembled. Bump and scratches search for some switch or factory reset of sorts. But reset is already a present feeling- in two ways. One supposedly good, and the other perceived as bad. I search even now, through the haze of unreal light and sift through dark strands on my pillow. To be un-real is to be-unknown. I know I'm not.

It's time to get up.

[chronicallyjune]

By @eniidraws

[chronicallyjune]

ppl are so annoying “you can’t paint ur bedroom pink you’re an adult” i did not spend my entire life waiting to grow up and control my life to paint my bedroom beige

[chronicallyjune]

Window appreciation post

[chronicallyjune]

there are places you haven't been where you already belong

[chronicallyjune]

It's okay if it takes a little longer than you thought.

[chronicallyjune]

The lull of September doesn't last long

The market sale ended up going well!! I ended up using some of the money to get some clothes that are more in line with my current vintage style, very nice. Lots of people said they liked my style and bought from me, I can't wait to sell again. It was a good way to turn something I'm known for and possibly seen weird for into a little bit of power. I was very grateful to my friend for helping me watch and manage my table, he seemed to like some of what I had too. (I would never convert someone to the vintage brain rot shhh)

Onto a different subject: grief

I don't want talking about this heavy topic turn into personal venting but I think it's important to talk about the experience of grief and mourning when you are disabled/chronically ill/neurodivergent/traumatized etc. I think a lot of able bodied and neurotypical people have expectations when it comes to grief and the loss of loved ones, especially the expectation that everyone will express these feelings in a similar way. As someone with a chronic illness on top of neurodivergence, I experience grief in a way that could be seen as atypical. I've already spent so long morning myself and my physical state in some small way every day, and I know what waits for me at the end of the path. I also have a hard time holding onto flimsy hopes and chances, I'm not big on believing in miracles. What seems to effect me the most emotionally (besides the stress which I'll get there in a minute) is the feeling of grief in others. The weight of grief in a room and in the air and over the phone becomes choking for me as a highly empathetic person, I tend to absorb other's feelings on the matter. Taking on all this usually leads to a lot of stress that effects me a lot physically and sometimes staying out of things is better for me personally because of my physical health. Even if it upsets others, my health and boundaries are important this time around. Last time I went through this I was sick for months, and I can't let myself get like that if I can help it. Its hard watching my body take on this stress outside of my control but I am prioritizing myself as much as I can. The company and support of friends has been good.

Now for something else~

I have some plots for small oil paintings soon perhaps, I want to paint more for myself and personal inspiration more. I think it's something I deserve as an artist. I can't decide if i want to buy some cheap canvas or gesso pages in my sketch book (much harder to let it dry). But I've taken reference images I want to use for a small personal project. Once I get caught up and get past this work section here maybe I'll do that. (I need ADHD meds that work badly)