Spending more than a day feeling as though your soul has been re-gutted is not pleasant. It is highly unpleasant actually.

I am...recovering?

I am still not sleeping well, when I do sleep, it's restless. I am able to gloss over my turmoil with my usual happy-go-lucky exterior. Years and years of practice. "Smile and nod [frozen-vodka], no matter what..."

Is it getting better? I don't know. I think I'm just getting used to it? Another phrase I heard on a nigh daily basis..."fake it till it's real".

If I pretend I'm okay, pretend I'm not freaking out, pretend I'm not still terrified out of my fucking gourd because I have ventured out of everything safe and "normal" for me...it should eventually stop feeling like pretending. That's the logic at least.

Because if I don't...I don't know how to handle the fact that I am in absolutely unfamiliar territory. I get scared? I run. That's the pattern. But I desperately DO NOT want to run...

So I'll pretend for now, until I figure out a better way to not give into the panic that, unfortunately, happiness leads to.