I'm going to bed soon. I did a lot today and it's time. I was supposed to go on a date with my favorite person--but I thought staying in tonight was a better idea. The weather helped me decide. I'm usually cold when I'm in my house--going outside when it's colder than freezing is intolerable right now. We'll do something tomorrow.

I am okay.

I know--that's a silly thing to write, but it's true. There are many things causing me pain right now, but pain is part of life. I am often angry or sad or confused right now, but so are a lot of other people. I don't know how to feel much of the time. There are times when love or humor seems to be an appropriate emotion but I hit a brick wall and feel nothing. I tell myself it's a process and one day I'll move beyond it. I don't necessarily believe this in the moment, but it's something to cling to when I feel discouraged.

I suppose what I'm saying is that I'm no different from anyone else. My experiences are different and my perceptions are often inaccurate, but everyone experiences times of difficulty. It's silly for me to spend time wishing I could make the things that ache go away. I can't.

I realized today that a large part of why I spend time with people, part of why I bond so deeply with them is because they distract me from what hurts. They offer me relief for a moment. But I always have to go back to real life because at some point I have to face the things that cause me pain, and for whatever reason, I feel compelled to face it alone.

I think I hoped when I met with Jeff that we could join forces somehow; together we could work through the things that were done to us. That can't happen. His experience belongs to him just as mine belongs to me. The difference is that he's comfortable walking alone. I continue to look for a hand to hold or even just someone to walk beside me. Jeff has courage and grit. I don't.

Today I had a long talk with myself. I decided if I have to journey alone, I need to enjoy my own company. Sometimes I do. I think about interesting things and I have a large library of stored music in my head. I can always think of poetry, of books I've read, and sometimes I even venture into my imagination--something I rarely, if ever, share with anyone else.

I am okay.

I sort of hate "okay," but it's better than "not okay."

Someday I'll make it through all the stuff I've been working on. At that point I'll have rehashed everything so many times that no one will need to have live conversations with me--they'll know exactly what I have to say, how I feel, and what I'll do at any given time because I'm predictable. But when I'm finished, I believe I'll have new thoughts and feelings. I'll be too old to share them with anyone at that point, but it will be good to move on.

Today I waded through panic attacks, and sadness, and stress tremors. I spent some time weeping over nothing. I wished for things to change so I could have peace.

Then I told myself some jokes (they weren't funny--I'd heard them before), and read a lovely poem, and sang Italian art songs far too loudly (followed up by terrible renditions of pop songs). I practiced Bach, Debussy, Chopin, and Prokofiev. I drove my car through a heavy snowfall to the place I used to run and I thought about the time when I will run once again. I watched the snowflakes diminish, the clouds part, and noticed the sky in a million shades of blue.

I am okay.

I'm still lonely and I can't stop being sad...yet. But I'm also me. No matter what happens, I like the person I am and I'm okay spending the rest of my life with her.

Good night.