I had thought recently about having something on the blog where I post how many consecutive days I did not think about burning myself.  I know, a little weird, since I would be setting up a situation where I would have to think about not thinking.  At any rate, I decided I am not ready for that because I don’t go very long these days, and it might be discouraging to post 1, 0, 0, 1, 0…

It’s been a hard series of months, since at least last fall.  On the outside I don’t appear depressed, and I’m pretty successful at work, in fact.  But it’s exhausting. I need so much sleep to keep up  appearances.  I don’t want to socialize.  I came home from work early today so I could nap a little.  This evening I had my book group, which is made up of a lovely group of friends who meet up monthly to eat together and discuss whatever the book we selected for that month.  But after about an hour of their company tonight, I just wanted to leave.  And since I (felt I) couldn’t leave, I felt more and more uncomfortable and the urge to hurt myself grew and grew.  It’s hard to even articulate what was driving it, beyond a sense of overwhelm.  It is so much work to act “normal.”  I psych myself up for it and take my step forward, but then I need to take two steps back.  More accurately, I need to crawl in a dark closet and hide.  Sometimes life is too bright and noisy for me.