Since I’d been awake from about 4:30am on Thursday morning, by the time Friday night rolled around my brain and my body said, “enough.” I went to bed around 10:30 and managed to stay there until 2:30am. That was when whatever is gnawing on my heart woke me up again.
The wee hours of the morning are usually when I do my most self-destructive thinking. But not last night. Last night, I floated back to sleep feeling like I would wake up today and everything was going to be alright.
Today was gorgeous. For the first time in a while, I didn’t do much of anything. I just sat outside with the dog, listening to music and working on my Vitamin D deficiency. Two weeks ago I had to go for a biopsy (benign, thank baby Jeebus) and my doctor was like “hey, hows it going with the vitamins? Feeling any better?” I had to sheepishly admit that I’d only gotten as far as thinking about buying them. Insert doctor frowny face here.
Why can’t I just do the right thing here? I know I will feel better if I do this thing and I simply don’t do it. I’ll never get on the right path if I can’t manage to complete the most basic life maintenance tasks. Have I become one of those assholes who fall in love with their own misery?
Exorcist! Table of one, please.