This week has been hard going. Do you ever have those dreams where you’re trying to run/walk/cycle/move forward in some way, but your legs won’t move? That’s what it’s been like. I’m aware that I’ve been slipping. There are flags flying everywhere at this point. But the motivation needed to do something about it is getting more elusive. I’m upstairs at the moment. Downstairs I can hear music and the sort of happy chaos that goes with kids of a Sunday morning. I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do today, but summoning up the will to do any of them? Challenging. I’m really tired. I want to talk to Therapist all the time, which freaks me out so much that I’m convinced the best thing for me would be not to see her again and learn to stand on my own two feet (yes, I know, I’ve said this before, more than once. It’s a thing, I know it is. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier). I really resent needing her support so much, and I think on a subconscious level I’m trying to punish myself for that by taking away the one thing that I need most. Logical, right??
So I push on. I would absolutely love to hide in bed all day. Nothing would be easier. But I know that will only deepen the hole, so I have to get up. I’m just going to close my eyes for 5 minutes first……….