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.