Quiet

In the last few hours of my work day, I found good feelings again. The fog seemed to lift just after Leah asked me to sweep the carpets at the end of the day. Though she ended up arranging to borrow a vacuum cleaner from her sister that worked better than any of the ones we'd had in the store before. They keep getting lost or sold or broken or something.

I told Helen about my worries about not having a place to live. She seemed kind of shocked, and insisted that we'd find something and I wouldn't have to go back to the Center of Hope, but I think she was saying it because she didn't want to believe in the reality of that happening to someone she knew.

I walked home feeling feeble and regressed. In my mind, I am lucid - I can think fine, and can describe how it is I'm feeling... in text, anyway, speaking comes difficult... But I feel like a lost toddler, trying to be brave, but confused and scared. My sense of self seems to float, disconnected from things. I have an impulse to reach out to people, but also an impulse to hide and retreat from them, especially if they might not have time for me. I am keenly self-conscious, and afraid of doing something wrong.

For the moment, I feel okay, but very delicate; I am held together, but not very strongly, and I feel I could fall apart very easily; I am balanced for now, but I could very easily fall.

I wonder how long this will last, and what will happen next.

And I prepare myself to move back into the Center of Hope. I have so nearly accepted it as inevitable that I am almost determined for it to be the next part of my story.