I’ve started discussing some surgery/hospital experiences in therapy lately. I didn’t expect that it would not be the first thing I talked about when I resumed therapy. That time was taken up by Nomi. Now, I’m being conscious of how much space I let Nomi take up in my head and in therapy. It’s for the best.

When I discussed something yesterday, I tore up. Quickly reached for the tissue box and kept it near me. That placated my mind somehow and the crying never really came. The emotion I felt was heavy, for sure.

I’m scared of forgetting this experience. I haven’t talked about it enough. I wanted to talk about it with my “best” friend. But we haven’t and now I don’t want to. Indeed, we haven’t really spoken much recently. I don’t think that’s going to change all that much in the coming months. Or years. It’s just life.

I’m angry today. I think I’m giving up on people. I just want to be by myself. Do my own things. I don’t want to rely on anyone else. Maybe I’ll go back to being a sod who cannot see the good in people anymore, cannot be hopeful about her future and the future of the world anymore, and no longer depends or opens up to people. Maybe life is better that way, for me, moving forward.