I’m not going to go out of my way to get her in faster. But I will sit here patiently. I will watch as she approaches.

And when she is close enough to hear me I will invite her to sit.

She is welcome.

Although I do much prefer when she comes through the front door - I can see that coming. She scares the bejesus out of me when she comes in the back door.

But she is welcome.

We can sit for a while.

You don’t want to talk - and I respect that. I just want to say I can see you. I see you trying. I know you’re looking out for me. Come sit beside me and keep watch.

Scrolling.

One hour gone.

A hit of tiredness. A sense of overwhelm. A sense of tears. A busy brain. I want to explode. Have a tantrum almost.

Bed - no other option. Just go to bed. Turn off the alarm.

It’s been a pretty good few days.

Which is somewhat unexpected. It’s day 14 today.

Day 14 of what?

She’s not ready; she not convinced. I tell her I will wait for her, ready to keep reassuring her I’m ok. However long it takes. My love for her is strong.

Scared. So scared.

Like a deep visceral fear.

Of being healed.

So much of my identity is around being hurt, harmed, broken.

Was it the lack of sleep?

Was it because I had a few drinks last night?

Was it because this was how they new how to wake me up so that I didn’t miss the sunrise this morning?

I laughed.

Out loud.

Then I felt sad. They didn’t come.

They’re always there to tell me that I’m broken. And this is why I’ll never be able to achieve my dreams. My goals.

And she can tell. She sees right through it.

The voices in my head are busy today, they are saying “you really think people will want to read about the same topics over and over and over? Because you know you’re going to be back to this same issue many times right?” and “you’re not writing well today.

Cue what should be a simple moving on with life. It was what it was and moving on.

But NO, they all decided to have a party.

I give the women the what the fuck look - no need to be so rude - I acknowledged I was in the wrong and no one one was hurt.

They walk off.

I give them the fingers.

Cue what still at this point could have been a simple moving on with life. It was what it was.

In this moment I choose to see that she just wants what’s best for me. She wants it to work out. She wants me to be joyful, full of pleasure, laughing. She wants me to be free of the pain. Free of the sense of aloneness.

Is this healing? Is this just a part of me that is in denial? A part that is faking it? Pretending to be.

In some ways it is like what they say healing is.

I guess the only way to know is to pressure test it: have something happen and see how I react. In that I should have an appropriate reaction.

Did you know there are people who, like, just live their live for them?

Like not in a selfish only about them way. But like, they are the centre of their world kinda way.

When they want something, they go get it. They go after it. They make it happen.

No, I’m not talking about the things that are the same as confidence. Many of the people I see who are living life for them say they don’t have the confidence to do things.