Take a deep breath because you're going under, and there's no way to know when you'll come up again.

Hi, friend,

You know, even in the worst of my illness, I find it amazing how seen and at peace the right lyric or image can make me feel.

I have a friend who doesn't listen to music, and I ask her endless questions about this. From a very young age, music gave a soundtrack to my feelings and experiences and just helped me connect better to what was around me. The idea of not having that feels jarring... but to her, it's perfectly normal!

A bad day is soothed by a favorite album or singer. A new mood is discovered by finding and playing it on repeat...

She goes to kickboxing, I put on one of these albums...

I also love that so much of the past few decades of music I've listened to has stood the test of time lyrically. Examples that come to mind...

​Incubis' Morning View​

​Radiohead's In Rainbows​

​Dr. Dog's Fate​

They channel the perfect amount of pain for me and makes me feel more capable of navigating life. Or at least sitting back and feeling less storm-whipped.

The storms

I'm coming out of a significant CIRS flare, which for me, feels like slow asphyxiation in space. I'm floating and alone, with all the responsibilities and dreams I've secured for myself just out of reach.

It takes all of my energy to pull myself to each important thing—pack lunches, stay calm in the tantrum, vaccuum the exhaust fan, don't forget the little dust you saw behind the laundry room door, show up to the call, remember the deadline—only to be running on zero when I finally grasp it.

And then I drop it again and start the agonizing journey to the next thing, the next thing I disappoint.

I know I shouldn't say this or think this, but the good days are almost worse.

For absolutely no reason—maybe a change in the weather, quite literally a drop in barometric pressure—I suddenly get a glimpse of the person I wish to be. The obstacles clear out, the energy floods in, I feel so high it hurts. And haunted with the vigilance of another storm right around the corner...

Walking metaphors

One day in the middle of the haze, I summoned my will to live for a mental health walk through my neighborhood, for a whimsical surprise.

There's been a little fairy grove for a while now, but it's mainly on the ground and involves a hobbit window or two plugged into the tree. Some gnomes. But today I was studying the trees, pretending I live in the PNW (an odd habit I have), and I spied this fellow coming back from some adventure from the heights:

It was a rich morning.

Earlier on the walk, I stumbled upon the perfect visual metaphor. Feeling my future cut off and fairly aimless, I saw this line of trees that usually look really clean and tidy. But they had little growths climbing up and down their trunks. Prime for cutting. Someone's going to come through and clip or pull them off to make sure the tree grows in the "right" way:

Life prunes and clips us. It's a natural part of growing the tree or plant. Maybe it's for the best, and I'll be glad of this in a couple years. Perhaps a decision on "good or bad" now would be premature.

The pens

I haven't changed the pen collection much except to jump on an E95S cross hatch in EF, to complete my collection. I didn't know EF existed and that I was incomplete.... but now I do and I'm not.

The nib was too tight to write with at first, so I tried my hand at a good cleaning and a gentle brass shim. It's going well, and I'm going slow to make sure I don't destroy it. The underside of the nib has a beautiful little starburst to it I'd never seen before.

Recent projects

This may feel weird to hear since I have the word "art" all over this whole thing, but I've been feeling more like an artist lately because I've started drawing some feelings instead of just observations. Observations make me feel safe, but when I start to explore an inner world, it feels a lot more like creation. Here are a couple examples:

I think that's part of my deep connection to the pens the past few years. No matter how bad I'm feeling, I can usually manage a scratch or two. Even if I just swatch something or draw circles over and over. I can't stay at my desk as long as I want because I'm called to bedtime too soon, but I can do a little. That keeps me going and makes me feel like at least all my sick time isn't completely wasted.

(Don't miss the most recent tiny sketch walk-through. Part two will come soon, I am almost done with it.)

Also, a new book of color is coming!

I completed the book of blue last year, about 20+ different blue inks showcased in tiny doodles.

I'd been waiting til it felt right to do another book and chose another color (These books are smaller than my main book, so they go more quickly and it's more of a practical exploration of a color so I can choose more easily when re-inking pens).

I have decided... and it will be green! If you have a favorite green and want to send me a few ml of it, please do. I've got these covered and will be borrowing the rest:

• Pelikan olivine
• Teranishi emotional olive
• Sailor rikyucha
• Sailor miruai
• Sailor waka-ugisi
• Sailor emerald sea glass

What's in my bag?

​I also released my first What's in my bag video over the weekend.

This is not as stationery-heavy unless you count the A5 and A6 I make sure purses can carry. But it was my little contribution to the dozens of WIMB video's I've been watching over the past few weeks.

I love seeing what other creatures carry in their little bags... One thing you will NOT find is extra perfume, which apparently many people travel with (??).​ I am a super smell-er, and anything chemically generated is going to make me leave the room when you walk in. Sorry!

It was fun to film because it made me realize how much of my "fashion" and accessories are about utility and function. I also choose fairly fun bags and interesting colors because I'm usually wearing jeans and a navy or black shirt.

I also love bags because my body has never really accommodated "normal" clothing like clothes or shoes—from a very early age I was always too tall, too large, too everything. And we didn't have the Internet (or the know-how) to find alternatives. Appearance wasn't a priority.

From the very start, bags were an accessory that could just be perfect by themselves, I didn't have to be a certain size or coloring or whatever. There was a lot of freedom in bags I could sense from a very young age.

I don't have a "collection," though I probably would if I was in a higher tax bracket. I just have a couple great $100-200 outlet pieces that make me really happy.

Much love for whatever you may be dealing with yourself,

Sarah G.

P.S. if you have a weird friend you think might like these letters, please consider sharing. it's a totally free way to let me know you think im doing a pretty good job. it's also really hard to find niche weird things these days, since everything's so algorithmically driven. so you'd be helping you, me, your friend... it's a big win.