I had an emotional impact hit me last night that was worse than anything I’ve weathered yet. It was like losing the three people I loved most in the world in an instant without warning.
And it didn’t kill me. I woke up sane. I am starting to have faith in my recuperative abilities, and in my sturdiness. This thing will take faith, certainly.
Then I had a set of dreams where I was trying to convince myself I played pingpong with a friend and two Playboy playmates while I was in high school. It was a vaguely happy dream, even if everyone was stoned, as was the case at most of the parties I went to in high school. My unconscious seems to be trying to construct happy memories. I applaud this effort.
My past is slowly presenting itself to me in full color. I wasn’t there, so to process it it needs to come to me.