The Long Road Out

Ok. Official. I have a roommate problem. Again. Same one as a year ago. Same behaviors. Right now I feel like I'm living with a cross between a nun, a social worker, and Julia Child. I don't necessarily value any of those three personas. I don't blame myself. She came back with my aid to get herself set up in a new life in Washoe. Nevada. A year later she's permanently installed in my basement. Now she's diagnosing my mental health again. This is where we left off last July. This will resolve quickly now. Sadly, Ceci got killed in the meantime. On her watch. She's had several medical crises of her own…I've tried to show up as needed. Nothing more. If she weren't here I would begin to build a friendship with my new cat. Tico's found a place in this broken family constellation by connecting with the other cat. Wise. Anyway, near the 2nd and final breaking point. The sooner the better. Yuck. 🤮

I'm disappointed and surprised, though I accept that this is my journey now. But I also know the signs of anxiety and fear and behavioral disorders like distrust of others. The progress towards lightness and in-the-moment happiness of the last year is unwinding. The descent startles me. I'm self-talking in public again. The voice is my ugliest unkind self, and the words are harsh. I have never spoken this harshly to another being. You don't know. Self-arrest! Self-arrest! That's what my dear therapist used to say. I feel helpless. There's nothing to grab onto across this smooth steep surface that flies by so fast my ears ring. Everything aches. Why is that? Sleep. There's where I am safe.