I am sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and I’m crying. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here but I know it has been too long. I need to move. I need to get dressed and wash the tears from my face. But it seems too hard, I’ve thought about it. I’ve walked through it mentally but I still haven’t moved. I am still here.
I am writing this down but I don’t know what I’m going to say, I’m hoping that these words will help me formulate a plan. A plan where I can leave the safety of the hole I am in and tackle the day.
I’ve just sat up. Already I feel like I might be able to move because I wouldn’t have started to write this if I couldn’t. I can get dressed. I know what I can wear. I can have a shower, wash the muck from my hair and the tears from my face, the heat will help, it will feel good and make me think about something else.
I will then need to eat. A sandwich will do, bread and cheese. We have that in.
After that I need to do something productive. I can tackle the back room, so much needs throwing away, I’ve saved and hoarded things that are no use to use and I need to make space.
I have a plan and will try to make it work. I want to sit and cry all day so that I don’t have to think about real life, so I can stay in denial about my situation, but I can’t.