Spacious.

I don't get to write, in a way I was unaware. Caught up in my internal, mental injunctions...this one is called ENDURE!

Enduring is a symptom. Signifying a lack of self compassion...then I recovered. Why endure when there are alternatives...

As long as there are lockable doors and my phone has charge, I could write. I feel that I'm not writing because to do so requires me to feel. And I don't want to do that. Inside of myself is the snapshot of my son in intensive care, the memories of the blue light, sirens blaring police ride to the hospital... My anger at the bullying psychiatrist I blame for this and the sense of continuous overwhelming when I remember.

My college work is a pain,  next assignment due too soon, and the third one to start within a fortnight. Walking home from college, thinking why don't I just stop. Give up. Go a different path. Won't let myself though. Fail is better than giving up.

Meanwhile how is it here? I see an increase in ex service user's capacity to contain his rage. Doesn't mean things are easier, doesn't mean I feel any better. But if I am objective for a minute, yes, an increase in his tolerance.

But I'm in bits, my nerves red raw.

Hopefully making myself write will help with that.