The possibility, let alone the reality of things getting better in general in my life scares me as much as it always has. Having so much to gain means having twice as much as ever before to lose too. At almost 32 years old I have my ducks in a row, a career plan, a path, my health, my husband who supports my every move and adores my every whim, new friends, old friends, new-old friends, a boyfriend who lives to work and works to play and has trouble saying the words, especially out loud but we both know. I have my family. I have my castle, safe and dry. I have this outlet of absolute freedom (for now). I write the blog, get paid to do shit I used to do for free, am appreciated. I have free time, a set schedule, a life I made from scratch. I am able to talk to my son's father and be civil and calm and set limits without being bullied (or bullying/ threatening him). I write my book. I even edit. I'll get around to the comic when I can. One thing at a time, one day at a time, one breath at a time. I am. That's enough today.
I am so thankful and so fucking weary and frightened.
I think I might quit therapy (at least on such a set schedule) and start going to LARP instead. That $30/ mo could go towards paying for the amazing spiked corset. That's better than therapy, right?
I've lost my fucking mind.