So Dad is ok.  Sans two lobes of lung, but margins are clear and he dodged a fucking bullet.  Hard to believe that this time last week I was googling how to write your dad’s eulogy.

The cat has gone back to the RSPCA because I am a failure in all things cat related.  The firemen were lovely, but I cannot manage my own anxiety without having to deal with that.

I am med free for 365 days today.

Food / eating all that crap is still an issue – but med free.

Fuck that’s an achievement.

And in reality, I would probably be “better” on meds.  The ideation would be lower and the self harm et al would also decrease.  But I’m clearer.  I am more myself.  I am less convinced that I’m insane and the noise is less-er at the moment.

I remember telling Helen that I don’t know who I am – that I had no sense of “self” – the primary trigger for my diagnosis…. I still don’t really, I still exist as defined by the roles I inhabit for others, but I’m more at peace with that.

My lovely boy at work is gone.  And I’m kicking myself for not trying harder.  L isn’t coming back (which I knew). Resolved to keep working on E – have to find some kind of company in the adult sphere…. we filled more of T’s calendar with pictures of him (and ourselves)…. I delight in the prank.  Gotta find the fun in such a toxic place.



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