I smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists

I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it or she wouldn't groan like that, and she would go straight home and start another baby, because the drug would make her forget how bad the pain had been, when all the time, in some secret part of her, that long, blind, doorless and windowless corridor or pain was waiting to open up and shut her in again.

My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.

The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.

Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am a victim of it then, not a master.

Read widely of others' experiences, even if it'd be more comfortable to snuggle back in the comforting cotton-wool of blissful ignorance.

You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one ready-made for you.