Heather Donald
Bio
I believe in love & kindness, that we should embrace joy, sing, dance & be silly! I am a survivor, damaged but not broken. I have a lot of love to give, free of judgment and given freely because I believe love can heal the world. š
Stories (12/0)
I Canāt Sleep
I canāt sleep. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, I guess itās actually today. I have orders to fill, Iāll be baking all day. I should be sleeping. But instead Iām laying here thinking about artistic talent competition shows. I love them! There are competition shows for fashion designers, tattoo artists, makeup artists, singers, dancers, cooks, drag Queens, models - thereās even sword makers and glass blowers for crying out loud! Not all shows do it for me, for instance I like Idol - but not AGT or The Voice. But for the shows I do watch, I get heavily invested in the contestants journeys and have very emotional reactions. I mean obviously itās sad if someone youāre rooting for gets sent off, especially Junior competitions. And god forbid thereās anything to do with a contestantās family member or loved one, a parentās tears of pride will dissolve me into a ridiculous puddle of goo. That said, I get far more emotional seeing an artistās successes along the incredible journey theyāre being afforded. Iām talking about young people with legitimate talent and a hunger to share their light and make their mark on the world. Remember being young and having dreams? The stars are easy to spot, theyāre the ones that dig deep and you can hear it, see it, feel the rawness, the pain thatās in their soul, driving them. You can feel their desire, their need to be recognized. Eager to learn, humble enough to know there is so much to learn and having the intellect to understand if they absorb this once in a lifetime education from well established stars in their fields, with that guidance, theyāre destined for greatness. I just imagine how they must feel, the buoyancy of success after the crushing weight of anticipation and pressure that precedes a performance or challenge, after the torture of your art being picked apart in judgement. It just has to be so joyously overwhelming to get a positive response and I share their tears of joy celebrating their special moments. I am always incredibly honoured to have witnessed the ember that will eventually explode into a star. I am a dreamer, a romantic and an empath. I have a soft heart, I appreciate the joy of others and weep at their misfortune.
By Heather Donald2 years ago in Humans
I Canāt Sleep
I canāt sleep. Iām not feeling great lately, and Iām tossing and turning even more than normal. Itās nice to once again meet your acquaintance, dear reader, if you even exist. We shall just have to see, wonāt we? You probably donāt though, Iām pretty sure.
By Heather Donald2 years ago in Humans
I Canāt Sleep
I canāt sleep. Itās fucking freezing in here. The kind of cold air that hurts to breathe into my lungs and makes me cold to my bones. The man living here has the A/C set to Polar Vortex. This July has been offensively hot and humid, weāve had a heat wave so intense that I am uncomfortable and irritated immediately upon going outdoors. I would adjust the temperature of the A/C, however, I know the man living in the house would be apoplectic, his brain would fall out of his skull, immediately freeze and shatter into a million shards on the icy floor. I donāt understand why the air inside needs to be as cold as the Arctic Circle. In the winter, when it is this cold outside we turn up the heat to keep from freezing to death. Iāve adapted, Iām wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and a balaclava to bed.
By Heather Donald3 years ago in Humans
Writing something - is it a book? Probably not. If it were Iād call it āI Canāt Sleepā... but itās probably nothing.
I canāt sleep. I desperately want to sleep. Instead I lay here wondering why the fuck I canāt sleep and wishing I could. Itās a vicious cycle, Iāve tried sleeping pills, warm milk, edibles, really good indica... nothing works. I even tried listening to sleep hypnosis, the problem was that when the woman gently says in her soft ASMR whisper voice, 'just be...' I automatically hear Priyanka yelling 'JUST BE GAY!!!' I giggle, it's hilarious, but I'm certainly not hypnotized or sleeping.
By Heather Donald3 years ago in Motivation
Writing something - is it a book? Probably not. If it were Iād call it āI Canāt Sleepā... but itās probably nothing.
I canāt sleep. I know if I were to leave my body right this minute, float up to the ceiling and look back down at my body, Iād see my potato shaped lump under the blanket, my slack, half-moon face, and bed-head messy pink hair. But if I could see how I feel inside my head, like a shattered plate missing pieces so that itās impossible to be put back whole, I would not look comfortable or at peace like a potato. If I could see my body representing that, Iām sure I would see my limbs impossibly askew, like a soft-bodied rag doll. Or like the fully āposeableā Barbie, in the pose she found herself in after the terrible accident she had in her convertible Malibu Corvette. Iāll never forget it, she drank too much and Ken was being a total dick that night. So she jumped in her sexy pink car, tearing off down the slick road, losing control, tires screaming, the car flipping over, and slamming into the metal barrier. She flew right over the windshield and landed in the road, her limbs all akimbo, her pretty pink pump with the silky pink polka-dot bow laying a few feet away, and her Italian silk kerchief snatched away by the covetous wind. Tragic.
By Heather Donald3 years ago in Humans
The Gift
The first time Sadie met her Auntie Mae she was 6 years old and painfully shy. Her mother had died tragically in a car accident, leaving her alone in the world. She was placed in foster care while they tried to locate her family, her foster Mom was a kind woman who always looked at Sadie with pity. After a few weeks they found an aunt of her Mothers who did not hesitate to agree to take in Sadie, despite not knowing she existed until then. Her foster mother took extra care in dressing Sadie to meet her family. Her soft, baby-blonde hair was carefully brushed into perfect golden ringlets. The lacy pink ribbons pinned in her hair perfectly matched the frilly pink dress, pink patent shoes and pale pink tights. She looked just like a pretty little doll,Ā with sad eyes.
By Heather Donald3 years ago in Families
