A bit better still.

I think the worst is over. I hope. I really do hope.

I slept last night. Even dreamed! Unfortunately it was of some of you telling me that I had rushed through this process and was kind of an awful person and friend for neglecting all your sweet email because I was “supposedly depressed.” Which I thought was rather mean of the dream blog readers. There was no “supposedly” about it. Honestly. And I have every intention of responding to email – I want to do that. I’m getting strong enough to offer more than “Please help me. Tell me what to do to make this better.” in response to some of your thoughts. So 6 hours of sleep in 3 different efforts is better than I’ve done lately. It helped.

When I blinked myself awake and saw that it was 6:30, I smiled. It’s the first day I haven’t waited for dawn this week. It was with an almost euphoric sense of relief that I realized I wasn’t sick - I didn't feel great, but I wasn't sick. Didn’t have to put myself on the bathroom floor again. So I shuffled past the guest bath and cuddled into the couch to rest. Watched it rain. Let time pass until it was essential that I get ready for work for a meeting I’d scheduled on Monday.

I put on pants that were unflatteringly loose. Stepped on the scale to find I’m 10 pounds lighter. It turns out that if I stop eating for about a week, the weight just falls off. That might actually have something to do with why I felt so sick all the time. I don’t look good, though the weight was free to go, honestly. I’m not sure why, but as I got ready, I found myself thinking I wasn’t quite right.

I’m different.

It’s likely a stage of the recovery and I am starting to see recognizable traits emerge. I just finished fluttering around my little nest – doing laundry, organizing clutter, quickly cleaning – because I invited Unnamed Friend out. She’s missing her laptop, dear thing, so I said we could order pizza, I would actually listen when she talked, and she could sleep in the office if she didn't feel like commuting home. Which meant I had to wash the bedding since the blue comforter that goes in there has been traveling with me at night lately. And, “Hold on, let me get you a blanket off the bathroom floor.” is hardly what guests like to hear before bed. So the bathroom is now just a bathroom again instead of my safe place to agonize. I may need it back again, but I feel stronger for now.

I couldn’t focus at work – found myself staring at walls more than anything. But I can listen in meetings. Took notes, asked questions. It exhausted me, but I did it. And when people ask me how I am – even in passing – I’m able to chirp “Good, thank you. And how are you?” rather than murmuring indistinctly, wanting to say “Hanging on by a thread. A thin thread.” I think I cried this morning, but not for very long. And not since.

The lingering problem is this shakiness. I physically tremble quite a bit. I was lighting my new candles – the scents soothe me – and noticed that I needed both hands to hold still enough to touch the wick. I’m shaking right now. Not quite stable, much as I’d like to believe otherwise. It’s a shame it took me this long to admit it, isn’t it?

The truth is that at the first sign of recovery – being more functional, feeling less sick, not hurting so much – I want to make it all disappear. Never happened! All better! Just don’t think about it anymore! Therapy still scares me - I don't want to do it. But I’m thinking about it. I might need it. I know. I’m getting there. There are reasons and lessons here that I’d just as soon ignore. But the darkness got overwhelming - with the black template and miserable writing, I'm not sure how some of you read it - and it would be good if I had some coping mechanisms in place when I face this again. I didn’t know it could get that bad, wasn’t aware of my limits. So I’m still shaken and pretending to feel normal – be normal – is incredibly appealing.

I have some thoughts – what’s going on with me and God, how I feel about home (up north) versus home (my house), Sprout (He’s doing well, basically. I talk, he purrs. I pet, he purrs. It’s coming along. I’m not there yet – I don’t love him – but I’m starting to think I’ll get there.) I just can’t hold thoughts together for very long today. Keep thinking “I’m not sick! How absolutely fantastic!” or “I’m hungry! I can think of things I’d like to eat!” or about how pretty the weather is right now as I walked in to work or how happy Chienne was when she saw the hamburger I picked up on my way home from work for her.

The trembling is disconcerting - once I wrote it down, it's very difficult to ignore. It’s better than sickness and pain, and I’m very grateful to not be there right now. As for what comes next, I’m not sure. I’m trying to figure it out. I’m very focused on being kind to myself and not asking for more than I can deliver at this point. It’s pretty selfish, actually. If something upsets me, I stop doing it. If something makes me happy or eases me, I gravitate toward it. It’s a very basic style of behavior, I think, but this shaking is getting in the way of being very complicated. As strength returns, the selfishness will recede. I think it's starting already and the relief I feel in those moments is extreme.

I’m doing better. Not all better, but I think I’m edging into “OK” from “better than I was when it was too much.” When a friend coming to visit elicits a reaction of "That's nice. It should be good." rather than "How am I supposed to pull energy together to deal with this?!" that's enough reason for contentment for now.