I feel the need to write. I need to think things out, or at least “talk” but I don’t want to talk to anyone. I have been a little listless this weekend. I visited a friend. I went for a swim. So I didn’t only lay in bed. I feel a little depressed, maybe. I’ve been trying to get paperwork in order this morning. Things I need to get my kid into a long term residential facility. Maybe it’s obvious that that should be upsetting. I think I’ve really been smiling when talking about it. I am relieved beyond measure– it’s needed. I know I tend toward black and white– I have been in the white of this. But at the same time, when I went swimming I thought there would be a lot of people there. It was nearly empty. On a Saturday evening — the first really warm Saturday evening I guess most people didn’t go– oh! it’s warm– let me go swim in the basement. They go out with other people. Do things. There is nothing I want to do. I like being alone. I’m sure I’m black and whiting things here too…. I just have that I don’t get how to *be* feeling. Not sure what that feeling is. So- the paperwork: I am missing ID documents and it’s a lot of red tape and difficulty and there’s the frustration that I’m sure his Dad took them and he won’t even respond to me to say he lost them or he’s not going to give them to me, or whatever. That makes me feel haunted by my old life. I never feel good when problems from the old way pop up. And in hunting around to be certain I didn’t have the papers I ran into old therapy papers. It’s been a sort of hard week. My therapist brought up trauma stuff. I can sort of laugh at myself because I feel like he did something horrible to me, but he only was insisting that I wasn’t at fault. Really, though, I do feel assaulted by him. And then such horribly strong urges that I felt like I was just writhing in pain that could only be cleared by hurting myself– which I never did do. But these old therapy worksheets– things were different then. I loose track. I couldn’t relate to myself on the papers at the same time that I didn’t know I wasn’t that way now. Small failures of assertiveness feel to me like big threats– though now they are generally no big deal. My therapist has pointed that out. Has told me I am not the passive person I was. It’s all really confusing. I saw that on the worksheets. I guess I saw that the idea of me as a person with rights had totally yet to occur to me. And now I think of myself as the way I was, but that’s not accurate anymore. I’m probably about to live totally alone. I was just wondering when the last time that was– I only lived alone for a few months– maybe 6. I was 17. Still waiting to be old enough to get help. Life was real bad. I guess I’m a little scared of living alone, as much as I can’t wait. I’ve worked so hard to get here. But I still really feel unsure. I’m going to give it my best shot, but living is mind-numbingly complicated. The things I feel– I am bad are supposedly not true. I sort of feel like, when I’m not in super-strong mode, that just people don’t understand. They understand how really vile I am. And, of course, I want to punish myself. Nothing else makes sense. I feel lots of stress about missing work. I miss so much work for my son. Supposedly after some intense missing for court, and intakes next week maybe it will die down and I will get to be left alone and can just function simply. It’s all just so, so hard.