A Healthy Sunday.

Day Two of feeling well. What on earth am I going to write about now? I’m wearing a very nice lip gloss. I’m wearing a lovely necklace from an ex boyfriend, while daydreaming of a young man who could fill the spot quite nicely. I’m in Toronto, which never ceases to amaze me. I’m drinking a small coffee, with cream. I am not contemplating suicide. I am not contemplating ways to hurt myself. It’s been a while. Well, there were a few days of peace over spring break, and though that wasn’t so long ago, it feels like another life time. Peace always feels like lifetimes ago when the storm sets in. I hope I can become as addicted to living life as I am to destroying it. ADL, Activities of Daily Living, a phrase introduced to me at Day Hospital. It’s the showering and getting dressed and leaving the house and eating and sleeping and paying bills, the little building blocks that really aren’t little at all. I took out the garbage yesterday morning. I got out of bed without too much hesitation. Very little guilt or self-hatred through out the day. Very little fear. I feel like part of the world again. Sitting in class, in the studio, the glass wall wasn’t there, the distance between other humans and myself evaporated. Sitting here at a cafe, I don’t feel like an alien, like a demented species unable to sit and speak like everyone else. I’m getting drawn further and further into the light of living day. Maybe I’ll throw my razor blades away. I bought some more on Thursday. I’ll probably hold onto them, for the next set of dark days. She’s a part of me. My illness is a part of me. And I can’t destroy her, but I can manage her. I still want to let her have her way sometimes. She’s a thrill ride. She’s an old friend. She knows me better than anyone. I should like that to change, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it. For now, I have a journal to write, some research to do, groceries to pick up, and that’s okay. It’s good. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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