12:15 p.m. - 03/09/03
no point. no point at all.
I thought today's appointment was at one (leave at noon) and therefore pulled myself out of bed accordingly. (This after having gone back to bed- because nine hours of sleep are necessary to have a highly-functioning chordling.) Turns out it's at two, and now all the energy that I gathered up in a stream of, "I'm going to be late! Gotta go!" is draining from me, leaving me wondering whether the time with the couch today would be better spent in session or in napping.
This is the first session in weeks that I've managed to forget I have. The first session that I haven't survived day by day through the awareness of, not to imply it's the first session I could live without. I'm very glad it's here, this session. I'm just surprised. Maybe, off and on, I've been doing better the past few days.
I want to know why I'm on sleeping meds when I didn't sleep my normal nine hours. And I don't want the answer to be because we need to go up again. I've defended him at every end as not being a pill-pusher. I so don't want to be on six different pills.
You know this already. Sometimes it seems like you know everything. But you don't. I'd tell you something you don't know, but that would defeat the purpose.
Right now I just want to sleep, which I'll replace with drawing. I have new colored pencils, which is almost as good as working neurotransmitters. I can pretend...
chord
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