Thursday I see the shrink for the first time since Bryan died. She is going to flip the fuck out that I haven't been there sooner. But, I'm well-medicated and I've had people taking care of me for the past four weeks; I haven't needed her. Doesn't that mean she's done her job well?
I'm starting to get my focus back at work, and I'm able to finish my shifts now. I'm paying my own bills and taking care of legal and financial shit on my own, which I never thought I would be capable of doing. I'm still not writing, because for the most part I'm not ready to be alone yet. But I've been out with friends and spending a lot of time catching up with people I never had time for in the past few years. I guess that's what's called having a life and not just surviving.
I'm a little manic today. That's to be expected after a solid year of unwavering stress and depression. Dr.Linton will prescribe downers; I won't take them. That's how that will go down.
Now I'm going to buy beer, and possibly cry that I'm not allowed to see Ella because Patrick doesn't love me. At least all my friends are standing by me, and the rest of my family. That's all I need.
No one else was at home with me for the past year, no one else knows what went on in that place. That makes it no one else's fucking business what I do with my life now. I never have needed approval. I'm glad of that fact now.
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