I saw my psychologist today. It’s odd how after I see her, I feel ok…like I can hold on for a while. Then I go home, the door closes and it’s just me and my parents.

I am finding myself doing things out of MY ordinary like not eating despite physical hunger. Like right now. Given my tendency to punish myself—whether with words or food—I am only a little surprised. Usually it’s just the opposite, over eating or making the choice to eat the things furthest from healthy as possible. In spite of the trembling hands and the stomach discomfort, I keep putting off grabbing something to eat. It’s probably some morbid way I have decided to remind myself I am still alive, regardless of dark thoughts and lack of vivaciousness that already remind me of my current state.
I purchased an app that monitors your sleep—which I know mine is f***ed up. I looked at it the first night—after 4 hours of sleep—and it was not a steady graph. It was like a lie detector test I suppose (up down up down….). First of all, the four hours of sleep AND no nap is eccentric as hell for me. I’m not one who is susceptible toward periods of insomnia when life gets even worse. If anything else, my sleep would increase.
At least I’ll have something to discuss with my psychologist Friday…May 1st.
It’s been 10 months since Harley passed away without any warning. I had just come upstairs for the morning soon after my dad left for work. I saw him in a chair in the breakfast nook and I knew what was happening…memories of my cat Leo came back because both he and Harley had experienced nearly identical signs. I was in shock as I think back to it. The fact I was able to sit beside him, the fact I remember thinking his sister Lexie—who came up to him—knew what was happening and the fact I was able to call one of my parents before the emotions began to pour out is very strange to me. I have never been known to hold in emotions that intense after something like that. I suppose the emotions came in waves that day…I tried so hard to remember the days before it happened: was he his normal self or was he sleeping more than his norm? For God’s sake he was 3 years, 2 months and 3 days old (yes I was there when he was born)!! I feel like God was oblivious to what Harley, his siblings and his mama represented for me. Seeing Paint give birth to 2 of her 3 babies was one of the seldom periods of time when I was feeling genuine joy, everything negative in my life lost importance and damn it, I was happy to be there to see it!! Now, just a little more than 4 years after that day, half of the quartet that brought so much joy is either passed or elsewhere (Casper got adopted). To say it has been hard would be too obvious.
I never knew emotional agony could manifest itself is so many different forms!!!!


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