Letters to My Disorder

"Dear John" style letters from a woman to the various parts of her psychological disorders. PSTD, PPD. Generalized Anxiety Disorder, panic attacks, ADHD, and life long battle with Major Depression.

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Although, I love my writing style for this blog, I couldn't manage to handle my emotions and write out full sentences. Maybe, one day I will return. Apologizes.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear ...,

I'm crying because I'm acknowledging that I've lost myself. I'm spilling out all over the floor and I don't know how to stop any of it My life is completely dysfunctional. I'm drowning in my own illness. I didn't take control and I made excuses. I feel empty inside still and I am lacking self control. I'm all opposites all the time and it's ruined my security. I am outwardly embracing blame and desires to grow but in reality I've stayed in one place. I have no focus, ambition, follow through, or commitment. Except to this life. This ever worsening, helpless life. I have changed anything. I live in convenient moments and short bursts of love and drive. I'm content to stay in the place that I say has caused me pain. I'm blind too all the elements of my failure. By taking responsibility I don't have to face the real realities. Responsibility stands alone and no one will challenge me. I am still that teenager who made it by on bull shit and need. Fooling those around me into thinking I'm okay. The desire this hide thing and keep them inside fuels me. I hold it against those close to me for just not knowing. If I keep these things inside of me they'll never be able to complete wound me. I can shout "you don't know me!" without a lie. Only I've lied to get there. I've omitted everything to stay there. I'm just a lonely little girl. Fighting with the monster inside who tells me I'm lazy, unfit, and mostly unworthy. I'm intelligent enough to know I've been stupid. I'm available enough to know I've become a recluse. I'm aware enough to know that my life is a joke. On paper, I'm a loser. In person I'm a natural- charming, bubbly, and confident. Inside I'm dying. Inside I really just want love on my own terms and for all of it to just be better. I'm forever waiting. Thinking the next phase of life will fill the whole, make me happier, that this life will hurt less than the last one. It's all a lie. I trick myself into believing in the next morning. At night the truth sets in and the "I can't"s take over. I feel powerless and hostage to the life I set up for myself. For all the plans I've laid and all the demands I've made. My unhappiness is almost solely based on the things that didn't bend to my wimp not doing just so. I am outrageously anxious and controlling. My nerves are a wild, deafening nightmare to my entire life I can't just hide behind the decisions I've made based on these sickness I'm a slave to, but I can find ways to adjust to it and I haven't. In many, many ways I've completely given up on myself. I've started a battle of "it's too hard" in my head and each night I decide it's going to happen and in the morning I talk myself out of any and everything. As if the difficulty of anything in life isn't worth fighting for. Or that a better life is just too impossible to get up for. Living outside my own box is really just too much. Painted safely into this place is safe and predictable. It's easy to know what's gonna happen when how exactly I'm going to handle. Daily. Why change it. Why trade for a different kind of misery or a new, fresh hell. I'm good at very little and successful at literally nothing, but my biggest down fall is myself. All my failures are starting to creep up and overwhelm every area of everything. It's started to effect others and the excuses are mounting. I would love to bury my head in the sand and disappear from the world, but in many ways I've just already done that. I've fallen into a deep, dark hole. Again. And I want company. I want someone to hold me, lift me up. Inspire and amuse me. Only I'm barely holding on. And no one should freely involve themselves with someone so cheerfully toxic and emotionally dangerous. The idealistic relationship that I've in visioned is completely ridiculous. I cannot control to assume I have anything to offer another human being ever. Let alone in a relationship. I say I need space, time, healing, and to be able to give forgiveness, but I'm not completely convinced. What I need is rehab. From myself. From this pit of a life that I've dragged everything down into. I need to be cleansed of myself and born anew with amnesia. The last year of my life is exactly the definition of letting yourself go. In every way I have physically allowed myself to live in a stupper. A continuous feeling of indifferent and half hearted anger at myself. Am I gonna change from this day forth? I doubt it. Is it going to be different in the morning? I'm pretty sure it won't be. It just too hard to be an active member of society when you don't believe in yourself. They say "you make your bed..." I would love to lie in mine indefinitely.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Forgiveness,

My anger prevents you from having a spot on my heart.  My hurt prevents you from knowing you in a truly real way.  My sorrow does not allow recovery.  My heart want to make you pay.  My faith demands for our unity.  I've always considered you a part of me. I prided myself in being so warm and in sync with you. I truly believe and unconditionally believed NOTHING can't be worked through. ANYTHING can be forgiven.  In love, marriage, intimate relationships, and closeness everything requires work. As well as a familiarity with you. Trust, commitment, and you.  Only now... Now the shoe is on the other foot. Now I have crossed the road you have forced me to journey and I do not know if I know how to travel back to you. Frankly, I can't decide if I want to.  The hardest part of you for me is the education, the logical vs the heart and emotion. No part of me thinks I can rely on one more than the other. Unanimously my heart and head agree. Right now, you aren't part of my relationship with my husband.  In past, I have handed you my heart. You have treated me well. You have been there. You have reassured me this was a great decision and we have moved on. We have had great times together. And then this.  I allowed things to bottle up inside of me. I allowed their negativity to pierce my skin. They're still living there. I feel like I can't help it and I don't know if I want to go back.  I don't know at all. 

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Mental Illness,

I'm writing you as a whole.  I'm writing you because I'm coming from a desperate place. A mother's place. A gentle place.  I've gone through all the emotions regarding you. Even pride and happiness in managing you. Making my peace with you existence with in me. My acceptance in the hole in me cannot be filled with things.  Right now, I am back to a scary, dark, horrible place. I am not at peace. I am barely grounded in myself. I am charged with two precious lives. Two tiny people who are looking to me for peace and to filter the ugly outside world. It's painful.  I worried from the time I got pregnant about you and my children.  I'd give my life with the promise that you'd never, ever touch them. To keep them safe. Far, far away from you.  Then I think of what someone who means the world to me, to my children, that is family said to me. This person couldn't imagine me having to tell my tiny babies that she was no longer a part of their lives. My heart broke for this person.  For many reasons, but mostly because I know where this person sits. I've been seen those cloudy thoughts. I know the shame, embarrassment, hopelessness, and raw anger that goes with even considering taking one's own life.  The place one has to be to fight those feelings and push away the idea of ending the pain by ending their life. Thinking about their loved ones. The people they'd leave behind. Those who would find me, mourn ou, carry sorrow within their souls at my passing. Them trying to make sense of why I did what I did and what I could have been possibly been thinking to do such a horrible thing.  Unless they know you. Unless they e also battled you, long term, they don't know that the eventual intoxicating dance suicide does within one's mind is terribly crippling. You taking pieces of one's being away. The very pieces holding them together and breaking them slowly in their face like a revengeful high school bully. Beaten and bloody, struggling time after time try to pick myself back up and glue those pieces back in place with my tears.  At some point I don't have the tears. I lack the overwhelming amount of energy it takes to fake it. It's just too hard to leave my room. Take care of myself. Socialize and smile. Fuck! Stop calling me! I'm fine. Except I'm not fine. Have I ever been fine? I'm not sure anymore.  All of that. Every moment. I've been there. I found comfort in your depths. I climbed back into the world and when the stress took over, I nestled right back into you. You. Always you.  So tonight it hit me. Right between the eyes. The open, emotional, matter-of-act truth. With all my thoughts of suicide. My inability to cope with this life, to push through and away from you is better. My indefinite struggle to balance you and being a human being is better.  Better than what you ask?  Better than giving in and stopping the pain. You and Capt Suicide are close intimate friends. Soldiers in arms. The war you fight is unfair and unbalanced, but you know what? I will go head to head with you. I will fight off you and your friend because tonight I realized that by embracing you both, I invite you into my family.  I give you a nice soft spot in my living room. I supply residence in my children's souls. Forget about my parents or my husband. They are adults. They are who I had always thought of. No. Forget it. Fuck them. My every ounce of worry is my children and you. If I have one mission in life is to honor them. To keep YOU and your gang of thugs away from these perfect beings. My children.  I don't want anyone to explain how you crept up on their mother and one thing led to another... No! That is not their truth. This is not what they need on their conscious or part of their lives. If I do one thing in my life , for the rest of my life, it needs to be this. This never ending, soul crushing every single minute of single day fight with you. 

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Sexuality,

More and more lately I've been think about you. What you mean to me. How I feel about you. Different things keep going through my head.  Societal expectation  Feeling incomplete & lost Social circle  My husband  My parents My church  My passion & lust Physical desire  Identity  In regards to the question: Am I gay? Society, my social circle, my parents, and my church would all be on the same page. Incredibly and overwhelmingly supportive. Wonderful to me and open. They'd be shocked and surprised (I assume) about you within me, but not angry nor ugly.  My husband on the other hand. He hates you. Everything you're about. A conversation that involves you and does include him. His blood boils and the discussion ends. There are no warm fuzzy feelings, just negativity and shut down. He stands by me, my family, and my friends in love and support others, but you? You within me? Gay? No! There was literally a time while we were dating when he was uncharacteristicly quiet, closed off, and reserved. When I nagged at him he looked like a scoulded child as he admitted aloud that he was a affraid I'd end up like my mother. This blew me out of the water. You had never  been questioned by anyone in such a way. And never questioned at all by someone I'd been to bed with.  In hide sight I was probably defensive. Fast to anger and maybe even hurt. I had never while heartedly thought I was anything other than bisexual. I had say comfortably in you my whole life. Never a feeling of guilt or shame. Never even considering my bisexuality a bad thing.  It wasn't until I was knee deep and head over heels in love with my husband that the way he had talked and the comments he had made made he feel any kind of way about you. You've always made him uncomfortable. He wanted to deny you. In time and in my darkest hours I wished you were different.  I analyzed how much easier it would be of you weren't so complex and two dimensional. I was embarrassed for letting him get under my skin to ever had even looked at you in a negative light.  As I've said many times I said to him that night "I love cock too much to be gay." I remember his tone softening and the topic was never talked about again.  My huaband was the first person to have ever had something negative to say about you. The boyfriend before him wasn't thrilled but he was nothing like my husband. The more I learned about you, embraced you, loved you in a whole new affirming light the more my husbands dislike became bothersome.  As I tried to softly tried to introduce the two of you he shook your hand loosely and pretend for a little while you enjoy your company. I thought we had sets towards progress when in fact he was full of shit and on the other side of you being fake friends was more hurt than I could have ever imagined.  In my marriage there is no passion and absolutely no lust. No physical connection and your needs haven't been met in years. This is another reason why I question you now. Am I unfulfilled, unhappy, and feeling lost because he is a man or because he's not the correct gender to really take care of you properly.  I obviously think that he can, that I don't need a woman to be able to meet you, but lately the same thoughts and feelings have been circling my head, omminiously.  I do not and have not ever identified or considered being gay. It sounds completely off the wall. Me? Gay? You must be joking. I feel my past experience and media, porn and curiosity got the best of you?  I think I'm having some kind of crisis of faith regarding you. You need to get my a therapist! 

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Self-Care

Well neglact isn't even a good word for what I've done. Due to the fact that this is an easier way to express things I am going to bullet them  Regular showers  Truth be told who knows when I was good at this. Although I never kept track of anyone's showering habits, since I got pregnant to first time showers have not been where my head is. I have not made this portion of your needs a prority. I would like to try.  Eating  With this one, when I'm on I'm ON! Eating healthy, clean foods at home. I am drinking all my water and am barely indulging. I have found a nice balance. Yet when I come out of that time, I have completely walked away from you. Old habits die hard, but eat isn't something I've ever been good at and it shows.  Sleeping  Let's just be honest with ourselves. I will never be good at this. I should be sleeping right now! Dressing  I am still terribly uncomfortable in my skin. I do not have any self love nor confidence when it comes to the way I look. I am also uncomfortable in clothing now. I've stopped caring about how I look. I've ignored your voice in my head to do things and take steps to better dress myself! Being an Example As of right now, I am a horrible example to my children. I am never "well put together". If my children knew what the rest of society knew what was "the norm" they wouldn't leave the house with me. And I wouldn't blame them.  Hair I could almost say this set of locks need more TLC than the lady set. I need my hair done and I need to do a better job about caring about my overall appearance. This is yet another example of leaving you in the dust and not setting a good example for my children. It breaks my heart to admit I've pretty much given up on myself.  I'm not one of "those moms". I felt I understood those moms in a way. I could understand letting yourself go a hair. I understand not doing you hair like you did when you were dating or not having manicured nails every week.  Children take every once of free time you may think about having and shit or spit up all over it. I've devoted all my energies to my children and everything else in my life is paying for it. The saddest part, I'm not a phenominal mother. I am doing my best. I do work hard. But if I'm not taking care of myself, barely taking care of the house, not taking care of my husband nor myself, what the hell am are doing right?

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Crippling Self-Doubt,

Well, hello there. You are a now friend now aren't you. Can't say it's nice to see you, but you do add a new element to each and every family interaction. You were a concept to me for a long long time. Like a young person who's gotten into their 20's never having truly experienced death or major loss of any kind. A blessing. And somehow a disservice to the human experience. So here I am, at the end of my 20's. Never having to experience low self esteem, questionable choices, and certainly not having to make my bed with you in it. Most young women know you in there teens. Crying to you, with you nightly. In dressing rooms and in mirrors. You encourage illustrations of what our minds our capable of and twist them into negative self talk and destructive narration. But you know that, I really just wanted you to know I knew. I'm aware of you. I've never been so insecure in my life. That feeling is such a huge part of how you've made you way into my life and taken up residence. The other part of all this is guilty. He'll get his own letter. What stirs in the pit of my being is who I was vs who I am. It's hard to be proud or thankful and in the same moments constantly think "am I doing enough?", "am I good enough?", "did I make this seemingly innocent decision and ruin lives?" These are just examples of the most common gems that never seem to quiet down. The negative air that you bring fills my lungs and I can't see straight, let alone exhale. You shout at my anxiety and my sense of hopelessness. I've heard you. Your words stick to me and race through me as gospel. I wish you could just take a break. Go on vacation. Enjoy a beach somewhere or just retire into an a quiet corner. I can't do this. Among all your companions, you and only you keep me from letting go of things that clearly need to truly be released. I'm not saying leave forever, but please, stop visiting as often as you do. I say this kndly sir, I do not want to know you.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Faith,

Preface: Let me clarify that within this post ( August 18, 2014, 4:06am) I refer to "faith" as my religious beliefs, feelings, practices, and aspiration. I am a Christian.* I believe you are one of the most beautiful, comforting, strengthening things on Earth. I am proud to have you holding my hand in any form or fashion. You are a gift. You are glorious and desired. With much of this is my everyday feelings and all of it is my general feelings about you. The highest accord. I have little to no positive feelings that comfort me everyday. Thank you for being there for me. Sadly, this week you handed down your first real "ask" of me. By way of my Pastor, I was given countless examples of how you have worked in my life. All logical, beautiful, wholesome examples of how you have worked within my life and the lives of those closest to me. Asked one thing. "Be kind". I asked, as I cringed at every single example of how I should extend myself, if I was to "fake it til I make it"? Pastor offered that faking it, may be the solution for now. Still cringing, I agreed to try. In the name of God's intention for all of his children. Myself included. Came away from that conversation feel nauseous and disgusted. Shameful and still stuck in my ways. Wanting to crawl out of my skin and feeling like I needed up be held and supported. This religious involvement and my belief in you is the only reason I am following this advice. Let me clear in saying nothing about this feels normal, or natural or enjoyable to me. My selfishness, hateful feelings, and resentment keep me far away from you at times regarding this issue and this issue alone. I've never struggled so much with "doing what's right" and living a more Christ centered life than I have in the last few days. I am not questioning you. I'm not even questioning the deed put before me. I'm questioning my ability to give up something that has been so normal and natural to me since it's inception. I don't know how to operate differently and full of flaws I don't actually want to. I will be attempting to fake it. Pretending doesn't feel worth it. It hurts and bothers me morally to not be my authentic self for any reason after lying about who I am for most of my life. Not to mention I don't feel this situation deserves it. My self talk counters you. It's the first time for me. It is deeply upsetting to me. My self talk doesn't feel negative or fatal. It doesn't feel wrong or harmful, but at this point I am wrong. I am being self involved and ignoring you. I should not pick and choose what part of my life I want you to be part of. That isn't fair nor a way to live a peaceful and Christian life. I shutter to think what it means in the long term. I know short term being as war with myself is trying. I will not ignore you, but I don't know how to ignore myself anymore.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Anger,

You are now at an uncontrollable level. I cannot help myself. I've never seen so involved with you in my adult life. I was told as a child, I had issues with you. I was often and hurt by the suggestion. I didn't know how to cope with such a negative label. I felt judged. Inaccurate, unfair. I was small. I didn't understand that you didn't always show yourself in the obvious ways. You weren't always about outbursts and inappropriate yelling. I had no idea that you weren't always showboating as physical violence and ugly words. An elementary school student isn't always taught how to identify you as tears, fear, blame, an "attitude problem" and a sassy mouth. I could clearly identify you in mean, scolding teachers, my mothers disatifaction with after a parent-teacher conference, or our cranky neighbor barking at his teenage son. I got it. I understood you. Hindsight is 20/20 right? Today, I see. The smallest version of me, the elementary school student already in the counselors office being oddly evaluated, knew you. You had rolled up to me like an unassuming bully on a playground. I had no idea who you were or why you were there. Even as the counselor asked me prying questions I hid. You hid. We bonded in shame and naive insecurity. What went on in my home I didn't know was toxic, I did know it was not something I wanted to go around discussing. With anyone. Ever. Sitting in rooms, lying was second nature. I don't know if I fooled anyone into believed we did not know each other. As a few years went by, it was suggested to me by a teacher up journal. She handed me a "locking" book with a little girl on the cover in my favorite color, purple. I thought it was neat. I realized she cared. I felt special. That book changed my changed my life. I never stopped journalling. Not in some way shape or form. In those early journal I poured my heart and soul. I shared things I'd previously been too ashamed or scared to admit by my mouth. Also, by those journals, I read now. I peer it's the life of that child. I was so small. And so, so, so unaware of you. By the time I acknowledged you I was down a deep ugly crippling hole. I was hospitalized. I was commited. I was living in a residential home. I sat in therapy and was forced to meet you. Shake your hand. To work with you. Not against you. To get to know where you lived within me to control you. What an excise. What a powerful suggestion for a teenager. I couldn't tell you if I acheives that or not. I don't know that this long ride we've rode together was ever paused. Just like anxiety you've never been in my dust. Fast forward to right now! Now that I'm an adult. Now that those sessions were a life time ago. Those sessions with literally only a stop on the railroad that is my relationships with mental health professional. As I sit in a troubled, crumbling marriage in a situation I fight myself and my demons daily, for the first time in forever I acknowledge you. No one had to sit me down this time. No one was asking unpleasant questions and I wasn't hiding my shame. You and I exchanged galances in the hall as you took your seat deep inside of me. I know you now. I am not afraid of you. I used to fear being labeled, associated with you. As an adult, I was "okay" with you as a situational circumstance. I am no longer under that assumption. You live within me. Indefinitely.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear PTSD,

You delivered yourself into my life quick, fast and in a hurry. I had no idea it was even possible for you and I to meet at all.  I was introduced to generally via men who had served our country. Returning home from their tour damaged, delicate, frightened, and insecure. "Shell shock" was reserved for those who had seen battle. Until 2012, I had a a friend who told me she was in therapy and actively working to recover from PTSD.  Now, you and I are more than aquaintaned. After being rear ended for the fourth time you climbed into the passenger seat, waited with me until the ambulance came. How very nice of you. You piece of shit.  You crawled into my stomach and lived there for months. One of my very favorite thing to do in the world, you replaced with sweaty palms, shakey hands, nausesia, tears, my own heart beat too loud in my ears. Thanks... Eventually, after months of exposure 'therapy' and finally getting a grip being a passenger. Took medication to make riding with my insensitive husband and screaming children am activity that didn't make me cry. Imagine that?  Getting my life back, as it were, was when I took the wheel again was freeing. I knew I was still in bed with you, but in order to slip the sheets, I had to try. 

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Suicidal Thoughts,

You fuckin' piece of shit mother fucker!

That's right, I'm talking to you.

I don't need you in my life!

I don't need you anywhere near my family! 

I'm yelling at you. I'm yelling at your and at myself. I was foolish to think that we were done. That all the emotional, amazing, as I might add, work that I've done for YEARS would matter. That it wasn't just situational or temporary. Nope. You with your fuckin' ugly fuckin' face are a black, disgusting cloud in my head again.

I feel like I've paid the toll are you poorly built bridge.

We've sat together in that empty, dark room and we've gone rounds for my soul. I've shared it with you and wrestled it back from you more times than I can count. I played this life or death game with you for nearly all my time on Earth and now. Now you've got your eyes on more than just me and that's unacceptable.

If anything, and to your credit, we were more comfortable together than we should have ever been. I accepted you as part of my life and you invited me to stay within your arms. Hugging me tightly and whispering the most enchanting words into my ears. We had a love affair of sorts. No one wanted to see us together!

After that last deep, deep dip into the place you thought we could live happily forever, I quit you. I quit you in a real way. And you got the message. You respected my strength, ambition, and love for this monster we both call life. I'm sure you watched as I allowed the sun to shine upon my face, how I had many emotional victories over almost all that ails me.

Maybe you were waiting patiently. You've always been best at knowing your place, sneaking up with a huge bear hug to tell me everything's alright if...

IF NOTHING!

I don't want you here. Here lives two more beings. Two more beings more important than you or I. Here breaths two humans who love life, who see the light shinning it everyone's eyes. Who should never ever meet you.

So I kindly tell you sir, FUCK OFF. Let me rest. Keep me in my hopelessness if you must, but do not come near me with your promises of peace, and your arms to cradle me. I may not always be strong enough to fight you, but that now lives in my heart will defeat you each time with it's last bit of gusto.

I have no faith in you. You have no power over me.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Coping,

For the last month, or two, or three you have not been functioning properly. I have not been able to exist you and it's wearing me down. I am not angry or upset with you, if anything I miss you and long for your companionship. Maybe, I took you for granted, or didn't recognized all the things you've done for me since I knew what you were.

I must say sorry. I shout to the sky, I NEED YOU.

The amount of emptiness in my heart is at times, daily, unbearable. Simple tasks I used to be able to handle effortlessly make spark all the insecurities and inabilities of an inexperienced child.

I don't even know how to get you back. How to find a way for you to embrace me in your kindness and fulfillment. In many ways I am praying writing this down will lure you back to me. I need you as the only solace on my hard days and the very joy in my good days.

Although I don't feel I have "good days" much anymore, I am looking thru blinding glasses again where hopelessness and negative win out of what was once a well rounded and mildly optimistic rose colored lens.

I must also be clear. I am not selfishly asking you to rejoin our union. I need you because my children need you. I need you to hold my hand when there so no one else in these moments. I count on you when I am weak and they are tortured by their emotions. Emotions too big for them to manage and for me to talk them through. I now have two toddlers, two very small people who count on me. And I, I count on you.

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Anxiety,

Dear Anxiety,

We've been on this forever road together. We've known each other since I knew how to label you. You've shown me many things in life. Right now, I need you to sit down and adhere to the medication. I need to "Let It Go" in order to be a productive human today. Please, leave me.

I need this. 

[disorderletters-blog]

Dear Anger,

Dear Anger,

I'm having trouble managing you today. Along with my patience level diminishing, I feel you build up under my skin. I know that you are mostly directed at my husband and keeping that in check has become nearly impossible. Little household things are still bogging me down and I cannot hid my disdain, disappointment, and disgust with the level of functioning in this house this week.

I want to cry out HELP! I don't think that anything will come of it. I don't' think there's any point in picking another fight or educating him on yet another thing. I'm so tired. I'm exhausted. I feel like I have to pick and choose my lectures along with my battles. And at this point ALL my energy will go to my daughter. My husband just isn't as important as my 2 1/2-year-old girl. She needs me. He doesn't want to listen to me, or work on this marriage, but she needs me. Wants and loves me. She gets the tenderness, adoration, and patience. He's an adult and can fend for himself. 

My anger is in the most basic things. How compromised he is when he's tired. His inability to do basic things. His anger at our infant's son's bodily functions. His emotional driving. Him losing his head over our toddler just being a toddler. Sickens me.

My anger just mounts. Soon I'll have to say something. I'll have to make it understood AGAIN that I'm underwhelmed and angry. It'll be a fight. He will be defensive. I will have to be calm. I'll be the adult. He'll be coy. Then defensive again. Then the "I don't knows" will be begin. I might get a "I'm sorry" and I might not. And will it matter? No. Will I feel heard? Yes. I might even feel hopeful when everything is said and done. It'll be in vain. Within a week or two things will go back to the way they were, I will gain another sense of calm for a couple of days. It'll be interesting.

It always is.