OK so getting more shit out of my brain.
I think I need to start therapy again. I don't know. I AM about to start training for a triathlon. Wonder if that will take the place of therapy? Probably. Swim bike run swim bike run strength lather rinse repeat.
Gotta help with the sleep issues anyway.
Life just is what it is. Whatever pieces of it I have chosen and whatever pieces have been thrust upon me...well, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day it all has to be dealt with, and it's all taking up room in my head.
I worry about Meghan, I worry about Molly. I worry I am wrong, that I'm a bad parent, that I slack too much in some areas and hover too much in others.
I wish I had some mind altering substances to shut down the crazy part and let the creative part out for awhile. My understanding, and my fear, of the prescription meds is that they will shut down both. I guess living with the crazy is the price I pay for having access to the creative part.
I wish I didn't like the Justin Bieber song Boyfriend so fucking much. I even downloaded it. I am so ashamed.
Are y'all sick of hearing about me yet? I don't blame you.
I told Jeff I was going to start on the memoir of our friendship. The thing I started, the story of Andy and I, is so bleghhhhh I just want to puke. It's a story that doesn't need to be told, not now. Not by me. It's too raw. I am too bitter. I'm too fragile, too newly removed from him.
Brain dump. Off to write...something...for seven minutes. Or more.