I spent the first 2 days of my 3 day weekend in bed. I stared at the sunshine coming through the windows and it only made me burrow deeper into the couch/bed that I spent the 2 days alternating between. I can usually feel a bad time coming and this was the sign. I spent the whole day thinking about how much effort it would take to take a shower and leave the house. It consumed me and only made me feel worse, thinking how I can not even muster up the energy to take a shower. That’s pretty pathetic. 

Sunday was not as bad. I got motivated to clean the house and I was going through old cards that he’s given me, that I’ve given him, wondering how to get back to that place where things were less complicated and we just loved each other. I know it’s me, that I am the one panicking and crying. But I really don’t know how to stop. I know it’s making it worse, that he doesn’t know how to help me. How could he? When I don’t even know how to help myself?

I drove by streets and noticed things I never did before, like how the train tracks had a crossing light station above on the hill. I found myself looking for a way to climb up there and photograph it. Or the very modern looking bridge that is way out of place in such a poor city of crumbling building. I wondered how it would look if I hung over the railing and took pictures of the river. I was just seeing things differently. But again, I didn’t get out of the car. I blamed it on not having a proper camera, but my phone takes nice photos. It’s the  problem of not having the follow through, of being afraid to try because I so sure I will fail. 

After I leave a group or even one person I feel so alone. Like there is nothing after that and there was really nothing before. I wonder what the point was. We laughed and joked but the whole time I am wondering what this is all for. I am always in my head wondering why. I can’t relax, I can’t enjoy a moment because I am so worried about the next. 

I called my psychologist. He asked if I was safe. What is safe?