Better

Things are better than they were a week ago, even if my therapist made me cry this week (and then try to consume an entire box of cookies [and fail]). I'm hoping things stay better, but I'm also weary. My temp just fell, which means this TTC cycle was a bust and I'll be starting soon, which means we will be trying again, and I know how stressful that will make the next few weeks.

But my therapist told me to choose, to either just give up completely or go for this last cycle all out, and I am one of the most stubborn people I know, so here we go, one last time. Except this cycle will be different from the previous one, because I choose to acknowledge that there is a chance. This can happen. It is possible.

Certainly not "will." I have learned the danger of "will." But in trying to avoid the pain of hope, I went with "won't" which is far more insidious.

So yes. Things are better. September is cooling down, I have broken out my autumn BPAL scents, and apple picking is on the horizon. I have been writing, working on a weird pre-apocalyptic YA story that may or may not work. I have been working on my French, is sporadically. I even picked up my ukulele for the first time in too many months, tuned it, and learned a song.

I still worry that I will never be the person I was, so effortlessly joyful at the very world, but I'm making progress.