Yay, I finally made it to 400 posts. I think my writing is improving, but quite frankly, sometimes it still sucks. It’s the process that is therapeutic. All those years of therapy left me with a habit of working my problems out through talking or writing. But there’s no one I want to talk to about this stuff, and no one wants to talk about it anyway. It doesn’t fit the perky FB format, or the rules of polite society. It’s uncomfortable, emotional, and scary for people who don’t understand it.
I miss my home so much, my family, my dog, my daily walks on the beach that helped me manage the panic attacks. It’s still distressing that it’s all gone. I feel like I don’t have an anchor, and I’m never sure where to turn when the waters get rough.

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