Area 151

Last night after my weekly therapy session I felt horrid. Really, truly awful. Sad, teary-eyed, brought low in every synonym I could possibly pluck from Roget’s.

It wasn’t long from session’s end to bedtime, so I was still in the depths of despond when it was time to climb into bed.  Matt tried to cuddle close in a giving-comfort sort of fashion. Instead, I asked him to back away–it felt claustrophobic.

Ten minutes later, I realized I still felt unbearably closed-in and claustrophobic.  I ended up sleeping the night alone in the guest bed.

I’m not sure why I had such a strong need to cut myself off last night. Isn’t the usual tendency to seek out comfort? Instead, there I was, determined to hold myself seperate from comfort and contact.

Don’t know what that was about, or whether that trend will continue. I am a rock, I am an iiiiiiiiisland….