So, I have been feeling a touch better, today.  I woke up less sick than usual.  I was about to write a blog before outpatient, when my yuppie sister called.  We haven’t talked for ages.  We’re so alike, and yet so different.  At certain ages, we looked so alike that people would mistake us for each other, and ask if we were twins.  The resemblance is still strong, physically, but I doubt you’d ever mistake us these days.  Going to contact the guy at the gallery about my photos today, and try to get cracking on all of that.  I just haven’t been productive, lately, but I can’t start letting opportunities slip through my fingers.  I’ve done too much of that, already.  But, I can’t let myself look back.  It serves no purpose, and the PTSD coughs up enough BS no matter what I do, so, when I can exact any control, I have to clear my head of these pointless thoughts. 
* * *
I am hanging with Jordan right now and he is trying to get me to go print something I need for my restaurant showing.  He is so right.  Need to do that…  in the worst way…
Right now, I have to wait around for someone, and that’s annoying.  I can only be so pissed at people who aren’t punctual, I guess.  I am pretty bad about that, myself.
* * *
Now, I just got back from doing something important.  I took my photos to the local Italian restaurant that is going to be putting them up on the walls.  It’s really pretty great.  I have a couple more things to take care of here, and then, I am back to my errands, and whatnot.  I guess, I probably won’t get everything I want to accomplish done, today, but I will have something to show for my time.  And, that’s a good feeling.
I just hope I can ride this feeling (that everything is basically okay) into the evening, and through the night.  I just need to keep taking care of things.  I always feel better when I do.  One foot in front of the other – little steps, and deep breaths…
I know I can do this.  I’ve been doing it.  For all my melodramatic whining and venting, I’ve been doing this thing.  I crawled out of a very dark, very ugly place, and I never want to go back.  I know people say that, and end up going back, anyway.  But, even when things are sh*tty, they aren’t nearly as bad as the hopeless, desperate state I was in when I first came to DT.  I was planning my death – had written all my goodbyes.  The only person I wound up talking to about was a DT friend who was 800 mi away (so, I didn’t feel he could foil my plans, should he fail to change my mind – but, obviously, I must have wanted someone to talk me down, or I would not have told him).  But, getting off heroin has made other things possible, and I have tried to grab onto some of those possibilities.
I need to.
Because, I don’t want to be who I was.
I had really begun to hate myself, like it was my job.
I think I am going to leave soon to try to finish my errands.  Then, we’ll see about some food, and perhaps, if I am still in getting-it-done mode, I will attack some of this house work.  We will see.