Written June 12
It cooled off thank goodness. Now it’s grey. Feeling fine last night and then waking in the morning feeling totally bleak. I remember this from the past. I feel like nothing’s changed, despite all my work.
Some of the things I worried about came out fine — like Medicare B — and others have involved long struggles — the email not working for four weeks, Mocha’s peeing, her allergy. Most of it is now trouble with Mocha.
I feel like I just touched “the truth of who I am,” and immediately lost it again. I remind myself of the “tray of cups theory,” and the idea that when you have a big step in healing, then a whole new layer of stuff appears, that you weren’t strong enough to look at before, and now you have to deal with it. That comforts me. There’s still work to do, and I’m willing to do it. I wish I could see better what it is I’m supposed to do. It’s not cognitive work. O yes, I still have my assignments: do grief dances, play with Mocha, communicate with younger selves through drawing.
The “Tray of Cups” theory was one I made up from the image of the trays of cups that sit in a large metal box in a cafeteria. When you take the last cup off the top tray, and remove the tray, a whole new tray of cups rises up.
This journal entry was written about a month ago. Today I am terrified, have been so for days, have not been able to do my “assignments,” have no idea what will help except that it’s probably caused by trying to reduce medication. I’ve gone back up, but it hasn’t helped yet, and I have no idea how long it will take.