Yesterday’s entry took more out of me than I really expected. And I’m on pins and needles because I made it public. When I’m having a bad day, I tend to internally ask myself how I’m doing, with the answer being: “shut up, if I was fine, I wouldn’t need to check in.” Which is…

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ Rawhide It’s Saturday night, I’m a little stoned and have a glass of wine beside me. Do not adjust your sets. The interference is temporary.

It’s 10 years ago. It’s 5 years ago. It’s today. I seriously doubt I’ll sleep much tonight.  

These 5 am wake ups have got to stop.

I still have these.

So I’ve entered a new phase. The panic has subsided and the anxiety lessened, both giving way to… … nothing. I feel numb. And that would really scare me, if I felt anything.

So it seems that I’ve made it through 2016. Sunovabitch. Honestly, there were times I doubted it; or at least seeing the New Year in outside of Ward H. (Language ahoy; if you’re easily put off by a potty mouth, I’ll understand if you don’t want to read.)

Alright, almost 19 hours into my 48 hour window to the soul. And where do I stand? On shaky ground. I’ve had a great support system today; my friend Laura came over during the day, and Scott and Steph in the evening. I gave Laura my extra stash of sleeping pills to hold onto. But…

5:30 am and still looking for sleep.

3 am