in the personification of my not-so-merry-go-round of mental illness, methinks i am still riding the pony i have dubbed, "the can't canter." this doomy, gloomy pony has an invalidation for most everything. its greatest joy is hanging its head between its feet and bemoaning the long list of things it can't do. this pony hangs its head so low that it wouldn't know an opportunity unless it popped out from underground.

this morning the can't list under review is live help and support for the trauma train that has been chugging through my life since the string of tragedies which cobbled together my second parenting career in august, 2019. the children started their cps mandated psychotherapy almost immediately after the death of both parents. renewed psychotherapy for my ptsd was under cps mandate and i had finally managed compliance in march, 2020. methinks we all remember how a higher power than cps put the can't brakes on that bit of progress. even live peer support was on the mandated can't list.

fast forward 3+ years and resuming my psychotherapy is still high on the can't list. my hearing issues won't let me partake of the newly normal virtual formats. what the duece are we calling that branch of medical/psychiatric science, anyway? so far it seems to have more names than a junior high locker room. the real time peer support groups seem to have fallen off the map. should i confess that i haven't been looking very hard? it's so much easier to just go up and down, round and round on the can't canter.

psychotherapy isn't the only place the can't canter is canting. i have a million kajillion projects right here on the farm i could be developing, but i seem to have a can't for every one of those projects. seems there's more which i can't do than what i can do.

dunno. . . just rambling. . . sorting. . .