One

On this blog, I wanted to share what I make. Instead, something else seems to be happening.

I need to tell my story.

For the same reason I make things. To process and calm down.

I got some bad news on the day I took my first dose of antidepressants. My job coach told me my volunteer work fell through; they couldn’t meet my needs after all. In other words: I lost my spot. After nine months of trying, falling, getting back up, falling again, my job coach and I got the message we had to start over – before I got the chance to get back up again.

My journey to find a suitable place to work feels like endlessly playing the Game of the Goose. Filled with hope I start throwing the dice, but sooner or later I always end up on space 58: death, back to start.