It’s been a very long time since I last blogged. Almost a year now. (And I’ll probably write this one in fits and starts … my blogging muscles are weak and undefined in this new not-Dorothy Black space) I used to enjoy amusing myself with the Dorothy Black posts, but for the bulk of that time I was mostly alone with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine working stupidly late into the night. Things have changed quite substantially since then… (I’ll pick this up later. As a case in point, my ever-loving husband just came to call me for dinner. It’s 18:59. It’s Friday. And I am not drunk or sad. Miracles do happen. We have a lot to catch up on.)
***
I woke up this morning thinking about this thing with blogging and what itch it tickles in me and this first post in particular and realised that it sounds like I was living a sad, lonely life until I met my husband. This is not the case. I was living a sad, lonesome (not lonely, I’ve been surrounded and loved by very dear friends for a long time) life before I met Jean Dixon. My therapist. She was my Morla for a few years and my work with her literally changed the course of my life. It seems relevant to mention her and our work together as I start this new chapter of being tanya in the world as opposed to being dorothy-the-sex-and-relationships-chick in the world. Also, I see she’s started posting videos to Facebook now explaining some of the basic outlines of the work she does and I think it’s well worth giving it a looksee if you’re into not (re)living trauma on a daily basis. Check her stuff out here.
(It is now July 2021 and I never did get back to finishing this post. Lord above, them whatsits writing muscles have atrophied.)
TANYA MEESON 