Yesterday I was fending off self-doubt gremlins from my back door, and today I’m welcoming Goblin Gaillardias to my front door.
It’s a crazy, crazy life in Chloe’s world. Welcome aboard.
After a morning spent at the nursery picking out flowers for my tiny front yard, I have returned to blog at you. With Release Day for The Torch Forsaken now sitting firmly in the rearview mirror, I can take a deep, though heavily medicated, breath and relax… at least that’s the plan… the gremlins might have other ideas.
It’s amazing what memories latch onto.
For Dimas, the taste of candied oranges brings with it a lone Christmas from long, long ago.
For me, the taste of a cold cream soda takes me back to those precious summer evenings in the Rocky Mountains.
Ok. Truth time. How many of you out there thought that my memory would be a bad one? An incident stinking of mental illness, panic and bone-chilling fear?
Yep. Thought so.
Surprisingly, it’s very rare that a scent or a taste or a sound carries with it the memory of a panic attack for me. Although I can clearly remember each and every one of my attacks over the last twenty years, they rarely come rushing back to me, catching me off-guard.
Those memories are with me always, every day, sometimes every minute. As the years have passed, the majority of the attacks have slipped into the shadows of my daily world. In fact, maybe they have become my shadows? The dark, cold proof that I am finally able to live outside in the sun?
Hmm… I’ll have to think about that. Maybe consult with a gremlin or two out back, or one of the newbie goblins out front.
It’s a crazy, crazy life.