Chronic Health, Institutional Sexism, 80s Britain & Sacred Land

Personal Diary: Making Friends with Winter

I open my eyes slowly and scan my bedside clock. It glows 5.12 am. I glance out the window and spy the pre-dawn ink resentfully. I sigh. Almost everything is a resentment on a winter morning: My warm breath visible against the cold air, the creak of bones as I grumble out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom in the darkness, the icy tap water on my hesitan…