Nuts

I'm actually finding it difficult to know what to write, although I know I need to. I have too much going through my head and it's all very messy.

I'm starting to feel like I'm obsessing. Like there's something under my skin, bugging me all the time. It's like the song you can't get out of your head, except this is no song. I suppose it's like drug withdrawal- you want it, but you know it's not good for you, that you shouldn't go there again, that just one more indulgence could kill you. 

Tomorrow I will get in touch with my psychotherapist to schedule a continuation of my therapy. I really think I need it right now, because being stuck where I am is not going to be very healthy if I don't do something about it. I've not been able to go because I've been recovering from my op, but I'm going to have to grit my teeth for the bus journey. 

It's either that or I'm going to go completely nuts.

Nothing Changes

I would have thought that after all this time I might have managed to reconcile a few things and maybe straightened my head out a bit. Sadly, that hasn't happened. 

It's been a while since I blogged last, so to catch people up on what has happened in between times...

I binned the Bear for various reasons, none of which I want to go into right now.
I've still not managed to get the divorce completed.
My dad has been diagnosed with something nasty, but he's getting treatment.
My bloke from when I was 16 is my bloke again, and is quietly asleep in the next room. 
I had a total abdominal hysterectomy three and a half weeks ago, so still suffering the pain and boredom that comes with inability to move much without wanting to say "owch". 
I've started seeing a psychotherapist at the recommendation of my psychiatrist.

The last one mixed with the second last on the list might be the reasons I am currently having a lot of problems.

At the time I'm writing this, it is ten to five in the morning, and once again, I am having difficulty sleeping. It's not just the pain and discomfort of having had my insides scooped out, trimmed, stitched, poked at, shoved back in and stitched over that's causing it. I also am now feeling very reluctant to sleep.

My last few sleeps (I would say "nights" but the number of times I sleep during the day too because of disturbed sleep means it's not just the hours of darkness I snooze in) have been punctuated by dreams of Paul. In all of them he has been the nice version, never the nasty one. I cried into my pillow earlier because I had the sudden image of him with his long hair, in his beige leather jacket, smiling at me. I wanted to sleep, but I don't want those images in my dreams.

I wish I could hate him. I wish my dreams would stop turning to him.

If wishes were horses, I would be up to my neck in horse shit by now.

So nothing has changed in my head. 

Every day is exactly the same.