I feel like I can breathe. Today was the first session I had with my new therapist since, well, yeah. I think this move – the changing of hands, I mean – was a good one. That’s not a knock on my previous guy ’cause he helped me get where I am today, but recognizing that you need more is a self-care signpost and I’m glad I paid attention.

Spanish class started in earnest this week; this is the last half-term of the four-classes-in-a-row juggernaut of the second-language requirement of my degree and having focused exclusively on a foreign tongue for the last six months, I’m looking forward to having this done. I love the language, the people, the culture – and of course, the food – but I’ll be glad to switch it up and move on. I have some decisions to make there, too. Gotta figure it out, and quick.


I’ve got a lot of things to figure out, really, with nothing more detrimental than indecision. I have much to meditate on there.

The last few days haven’t been good, emotionally. I haven’t been in a good place. I’m feeling like I can pull myself out of that now, but I have to act. I have to move. I have to progress. I see that now.


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