Nothing much going on. I am resting. Chubbier than I'd like, in worn out T-shirts, lying around reading this book or that and participating on internet forums. Not thinking of the future, not planning anything save for a small anxiety attack last ngith before I fell asleep, vowing not to smoke and breaking the vow, as I invariably do, today.
I texted P, who I think didn't get my emails on time. Part of me was a bit mad with him for not having written and then writing at the last minute. And part of me is scared of his "is this love?" obssession. I read an interview with a famous psychiatrist who said that if that question needs to be asked, then it isn't. Then another part of me is higher. Looks evenly at this time to evaluate myself and not to be carried away into all the ususal superficialities of getting and maintaining the perfect bod, tan etc. At least now, I need a break from this. I need time to read, even if I jump from The Drama of the Gifted Child to The Dice Man, and spend too much time on the terrifying babality of the weekend papers and on web forums (where I am building quite a reputation for myself as a kind of HIv-guru and relationship commentator, though I try very hard not to let vanity get to me. Of course, it's much easier to tell people whether they need to be tested or not than to comment about their heartaches).
Will I be able to go back to work? My supervisor was really urging me to take a real break, so I fight with the mounting panic. My productivity was falling rapidly over the past months. I did all that socializing and counceling and whatnot from work as well as home, spending hours on the net, hours at the gy, and of course, hours with P.
I am afraid, yes, but right now kind of drowsy and peaceful and willing and hoping to beleive that it will be OK, lost friends can be re-contacted, work can be caught up with, flab can be lost and muscle regained. If I could just quit that damn smoking, I wouldn't be fretting about anything, and then (my fear) is it would hit me out of nowhere.
In short, I have too much free time, and am currently in the limbo of waiting for my period, in a prolonged state of delayed PMS.
More later... just add that Boon has finally emerged from his month long depression, and doing something with his life (started a small handcrafted business), and feels much better, which proves yet again that when you get some kind of momentum rolling, and pull yourself out of the rut (as I know all too well and my favorite self-help book Do One Things Different also claims), the energy you spend ends up expanding and reenergizing you. But... there is also a time to rest. And right now, I am taking it. P always take it (that's why he couldn't bother writing me, and we lost communication for almost a week, but since I texted him I feel off the guilt hook), and that's why his body is so soft. Mine is getting softer (admittedly, P isn't a woman in a judegmental world nor putting vicious chemicals into himself on a daily basis). We are becoming alike... that's inevitable I guess. I just hope God helps me not to lose myself, without becoming obssessed, with anything.
Shhhh now... rest