Hopeful Hurt

I’m all tied up inside. My body is holding my thoughts captive, just beneath my cousciousness. I feel strange, but I cannot unearth the root of my anxiety. Or I will not unearth the root of my anxiety. I keep telling myself I’ll be seeing Clay in just two more weeks. I can schedule a session with him anytime I need to (I think), but I don’t want to. I can wait. My anxiety will keep.

I have been experiencing stressful dreams, the subject matter of which I do not remember upon awakening. I have been waking up nervous, tired and feeling as though I wish I could stay in bed.

I suppose I should call my doctor and tell her I’m depressed. Maybe I can switfch from Zoloft to some other drug that’s geared more toward anxiety. I could add that drug and keep taking Zoloft. I’m just thinking in bytes.

I have been missing Chris very much lately. The changing seasons affect me significantly. These past few days of summer-like weather have brought me back to the days of walks to coffee shops, walks to the corner mailbox together to mail a letter, coffee on benches in the park, hugging his arm as we walked down the street. His voice. The warmth in his eyes before morphine snuffed the glimmer. I suppose that same morphine snuffed the glimmer in my own eyes, to an extent.

My heart hurts.

But it also hopes.