Three things I’m grateful for:
- My roommate, who helps me stay centered.
- My family, who give me a reason to stay alive, even on my darkest days.
- Cafeteria privileges, so I can have an omelet for breakfast every morning while I’m here.
Three things I did well today:
- I listened to other people.
- I expressed gratitude to others.
- I owned Riki Tiki Bear.
My insurance has decreed that tomorrow will be my last full day here.
I’m overwhelmed by this news.
I don’t think there’s any way I can describe just how thoroughly my world has been rocked.
For the first time I feel a glimmer of hope that I might be able to find my way back. There is—to fall back on the old cliche—light (albeit faint) at the end of the tunnel, and they are taking that away from me. Someone who has never met me—never even talked to me—is taking that away from me.
I feel hopeless.
I watch the sun set over the Salt Lake Valley. I listen to the constant murmur of the voices of the other patients. I sip the chamomile tea intended to soothe my shattered composure.
I feel so utterly hopeless.