First of all, my little furry boy is doing better. Thank all of you for your
sweet words and best wishes. He threw up a couple of times, probably finally
getting rid of whatever wasn't sitting right with him. Then he drank more water
than I've ever seen him drink. Then he slept. When he woke up this morning
he was almost himself again and he's been improving all day.
Now on to the other stuff:
Some of you have commented on how happy I sound since my man
is back, and you aren't wrong. I have been sounding happy, and on the top layer
of my soul I have been happy. But that doesn't mean that my clinical depression,
general anxiety and misanthropy are gone. It doesn't mean that I don't cry
almost every day, or that I don't still have a gaping screaming hole inside.
To some of you this might sound teen angsty but there are conditions
that just never go away, that can't be fixed by a cookie and a smile,
or ignored by "bucking up". I live with emotional pain every second
of every day, at times it's smaller - and sometimes it's unmanageable.
The reason for me writing this is that I don't want this blog to take a wrong turn.
I don't want to feel like I, from now on, have to put on a brave face
and censor myself. It is very important to me to be true to myself
and I created this blog as a place for me to be able to do just that.
I need to be able to share all my sides - not just the shiny ones.
So, thank you all for being happy with me and for celebrating my triumphs.
But also for being there when I am weak, for continuing to lending me
your ear when I am stuck in the dark pit. You are some great friends.