I have my now weekly therapy appointment in an hour & a half and I don't really know what to tell her. I'm working on myself so much - but am I getting anywhere? I've started a journal of sorts, I've been moving my body, I've been doing the therapy, I've been keeping up with the housework, I have been creating, I've been listening to audiobooks meant to help me heal...
But am I rushing this process like I rush so many other things? I always want immediate results. I don't remember if I've ever had much patience. I don't understand how a person can feel so overwhelmed & so completely under stimulated at the same time. What am I even hoping for though? How/who do I want to be?
Last night, fall apart.
Two nights ago, fall apart.
Before that I think I was doing alright. I don't remember - blame meds/my mother's genes. I'm doing alright, right now in this moment, but what will the weather inside my mind be like in a few hours, in eight hours when Edward is still gone? Will I go back to all the dark & familiar paths?
"I don't know if I can do this,"
or "What if it all gets harder before it becomes easier?"
or "What if it never becomes easier?"
or "What happened to us?"
or "What will become of us?"
Having a husband in medical school is no joke. I'm lonely a lot. I think of the album, High as Hope, which I've played an insane amount of times since it came out. I hear Florence singing, "Well the loneliness never left me, I always took it with me..."
I dance to this song a lot. I sing a lot lately, too - in the house or the car. I'm losing weight, I think, from anxiety making my appetite basically nil and all of the dancing to try to help the anxiety. It's not intentional. I don't know for sure because I got rid of my scale a while back. Bad thoughts, obsessive tendencies when I'd start using it again, the re-emerging of an old teenage mindset of trying to shrink because I wanted to feel small/lovable. Don't ask me why the two seemed the same to me, it's beyond my grasp.