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Thursday, July 26, 2018

I have a new job. It's good.

I'm finally well enough to use running as an effective tool to manage PTSD again. What that means is, when I run, I don't end up exhausted and comatose. And there are endorphins. And I have energy.

I've also realized that I'm in that stupid place where I don't know who I am anymore. This is only in relationship to other people. Inside, I know who I am. I have a very strong sense of self. But when it comes to other people, I have no idea at all.

Touch is problematic again. Because I want it, but I also keep being attacked by the belief that other people are repelled by my touch, and perhaps by me, too. It's a weird phenomenon. I want to touch you, but I REALLY do not want you to recoil or rebuff me. Therefore, I'll just smile instead.

I don't believe this is new. I think caring about it is. Ten years ago, I didn't care. If I wanted to hug you, I did. If you didn't like it, too bad. If I wanted to touch your arm, your hand, even bestow a very brief kiss, I did. And I laughed if I thought someone didn't like it because it didn't matter to me.

It matters now. Maybe I've become more real.

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