I’m still alive. Really.
I’ve spent the last two days trying to gather my thoughts enough to write them down. It’s been a tough week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.
If the way my family converged on my on Friday is any indication, they sure did.
I’m dressed for church, trying to talk myself into going to Sacrament Meeting. I know I should be going to all of my meetings, but just the thought of it made me feel the beginnings of a panic attack.
I know the agoraphobia isn’t going to go away by sitting alone in my room–but it feels like the only thing I can do.
Part of the reason this week has been so hard is that I had an anniversary that I hoped wouldn’t come. This week marks one year of being unemployed. Plus last week spent dealing with all the stress of the nephews, Max’s adventure, and feeling guilty that I wasn’t doing enough to help with the trailer…it’s taken longer to recover than usual.