Does anyone even read my shitty writing anymore? I'll keep blogging no matter what, I think. It helps.
I hope I don't jinx myself by writing this post.
What's really amazing is...feeling hopeful. Today I felt hopeful, like really hopeful, for the first time in months. I felt like, "oh my gosh, even though I don't see the end in sight, I totally feel like I will be okay in time". It was pretty powerful and emotional. And today for the first time in...gosh, probably years, I had energy. I wasn't tired. It's crazy!!! I had a really amazing therapy session this morning. And let me just say, my therapist is fucking awesome, and I totally wish she could move in with me. I left therapy feeling hopeful and energized and lighter. I told her about how at the doctor's last week, I saw my weight for the first time in a few months. And that I felt content with the number I saw, which was a healthy number. She got so excited and lit a candle for me to celebrate that huge milestone. I was talking to her about my appearance pre-Remuda 2011 and how I didn't realize how sick I had gotten, and that looking back now I can see how frail and close to dying I was. She said, "I can't even imagine what you looked like. It makes my heart hurt just thinking about it. But look at you now...You are beautiful." I smile just typing that out.
After therapy, it was off to work until 6:30pm. Work flew by without any major stress. I ended up dyeing my hair dark brown/almost black. I really love it, even though people tell me they can't notice a difference (which is kind of an insult to me). I wanted to change my hair color because I feel like my heart and my soul is going through a change also these days. I tend to be very symbolic.
I got home a couple hours ago, and felt tired and anxious for my drive up to Charlottesville for the NEDA walk tomorrow morning. I opened up an email from my therapist, in which she had written a reply to an email I had written her earlier today about how glad I was that I came to my appointment today. She responded with, "I'm glad too. You did a great job. You are working so hard and I'm glad you can feel the progress."
I guess I started to get a little bit sad because, well I'm still not really sure why. But I guess I felt a little bit guilty for having such a good day, when I have been so entrenched in my trauma lately. And so then I just got really overwhelmed and alone and I felt like I could cry my brains out and probably should, but there is something going on subconsciously with me, that I won't let myself cry. It totally sucks. Luckily I had a friend talk me through it.
Anyway, I'm just...really proud of myself for working so hard. It's not that I HAVEN'T worked hard all of these years, but I've just been extra brave and extra hardworking with the help of my amazing therapist.