Sandwiches

So this post has nothing to do with sandwiches. I just thought, "What should I name this post?" and sandwiches popped in my head. So voila...thus appeared the name of this post.

A few things have occurred since my last post. I went to the counselor, and although it was weird at first, by the end I was glad I had gone. And I'm looking forward to next week's session. The doctor didn't tell me I am dying, so that makes me happy. Turns out HPV is very common and can go away on its own. I also started BC, so things can be easy peasy in September.

Today I spent the greater part of the day with Anthony apartment hunting. We found a couple of places we are interested in, and we are actually going to look at one tomorrow morning.

Life is...going. Sam said he was going to transfer my taxes money to me soon and asked for my account number and whatnot. I am thinking about the best way to handle it. I do not want to blow it on anything, but I do have some debt I would like to get rid of.

But I am going to save a few hundred bucks for my birthday. I am not planning on doing anything crazy, but I do want to have a little bit of spending monies.

Overall, I just have to remember that I am going to be okay and that things will work out as long as I make the right choices for me and not get too far off track from where I want my life to be.

A new chapter

I realized today, that as I writer, I was suffering by not having an outlet to let my thoughts flow.

I deleted my previous blog due to various reasons, but mostly to the fact that its contents were no longer relevant. The posts were all about my life with Sam. And I do not have that anymore. So why would I torture myself by keeping the proof of a life that no longer existed?

It seriously felt like someone died. And in fact several people died. The kids that Sam and I would have had, died. Their kids died. And their kids. And so on. I was mourning their loss as well as the loss of a life that I dedicated myself to but no longer could continue as it was.

I cannot say I don't miss Sam. Because I do. But at the same time, I do not miss him so much that I want to go back. I miss his comfort and security. But do I really miss HIM? I am not so sure how to answer that question.  I suppose if I had to answer quickly, I would say, "no." I feel slightly dead inside writing that. But at least I am being honest.

I miss writing. It hurts me that Sam took that away from me. I will find the joy again in typing/hand writing away whatever comes to mind.

Today I am feeling especially...depressed.

I am going to go see a counselor. And then a doctor that is going to tell me that there is shit wrong with me.

I...want to hide away.  Retreat and ignore and lick my wounds, alone in a small dark corner.

But instead, I am going to get up and force myself to do what I need to do. I cannot hide like I want to. It is not an option.

I'll just smile and pretend to myself that I am truly okay and that things will be better one day.