Our new kitty, orange and white, a little cross-eyed, and tentatively named Gertrude, sniffed at my coffee this morning -- and began to drink it. I knew we'd picked a winner.
Sunshine and better sleep make a wonderful compound.
Granted, it was better through the wonders of modern chemistry, but I'll take it over staring at the ceiling and catastrophizing. The Valium seemed to function like some sort of renewable ballast. I woke a lot, but sunk right back to sleep.
Today I'm going to take a walk. Maybe sit. Write ?
I have to try to scramble back onto the world. What do I mean by that ?
I could say "get back to my life," but, of course, I have never left my life. This is my life, this broken-necked, overly-bathrobe clad, valium-eating, collar-wearing, peevish, time-dithering, not-going-to-work life.
The illusion that I have left my life is the true departure. That's the purgatory I've been flirting with, the neither-here-nor-thereness that's getting me down. I AM here. HERE. Now. Nowhere else.
Wake up, PT.
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