To start with, I want to give credit where credit is due: the fabulous phrase I’ve used to title this post was created by my very own K, my first person, my only wife, my hita. Just saying.
This week, I have really, really felt those words. The hectic up an down that got me to the last post had me cocooned in my giant Jaxx bean bag at any moment I could convince myself that it was a good idea to sit down.
My amazing trip to the woods increased my feelings of sadness for my beloved friend, gone now nearly one year. It was hard to be there without him – he’s been there every time I was up until now. It was hard to talk about him and I only managed to do so a couple of times, even though I knew I’d feel better if I could do it.
Searching for a therapist to help out while I’m thrashing about hasn’t helped much either (although I think I found someone now, I’ll let you know next time) because weirdly, no one fucking called me back. Seriously? I mean, if that is the experience people have when they call for help, it’s no wonder people are distressed! I’m not even kidding, I must have called 20 psychologists in the city, and only 4 even responded. Three of whom to say they didn’t have any spaces. I mean, I was glad to hear that. For the others, well, believe me, I won’t be referring to any of y’all in the future.
The other day after a listless walk on the treadmill, I convinced myself it would be acceptable to collapse into the Jaxx to see the end of the Stargate Atlantis episode I was watching. Generally I only watch while walking or running, which usually curbs any kind of binge watching. The characters had gotten themselves into trouble, the kind that only shooting madly would resolve. Guess what happened next? I fell asleep. Yup. That’s serious apathargy, people.