30 October 2019: When this much fog clouds my vision, I have to go into the wild. I have to find a way to go. Because it will lift the fog. It will lift it just enough to remind me my soul still exists.

I can feel the loss of presence. I am outside my body and I’m aware just enough to question what is happening but snapping out of it takes energy I can’t find.

24 February 2020: I leave my therapist’s office at 10:03am. As soon as I close my car door; the loud kind of crying escapes me. I wasn’t expecting it. It rushed in and exploded out. I get myself together, but the rush comes back and I cannot contain it. I drive and cry and get myself together multiple times in 14 minutes only to park in front of my neighbors house, where I need to retrieve my children, to complete the cycle again. I gather myself. That is it. This is done. I’m fine. Fuck, what’s wrong with you?

I walk up, but the usually unlocked door that I generally just push open, is locked. I wait at the door alone with just enough time for tears to strike again. I suck it back up and–“Hey! Sorry, I was in the bathroom!”

“Oh that’s ok!” Keep it together. Keep it together. Get your kids and leave.

“How was–are you ok?”

“I’m good.” I’m terrible.

Are you su–”

SO MANY TEARS come suddenly. “Can I just use the restroom? I’m sorry.” I say, as tears uncontrollably stream down my face.

When I return she asks again if I am ok and if I want to talk about it. I say no, thanks. What would I say? None of anything in my brain makes sense. What is presented doesn’t match how I’m feeling. And it’s all very dark and unpleasant and uncomfortable and profoundly sad.


I want to run miles and miles and miles but my energy is gone. I want to be seen, really, but I don’t have enough time. I want to escape all of this/myself, but I don’t want to leave my family.

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