:: :: maybe cookies? :: ::

I told my therapist today (Oh my god. I now start blog posts with “I told my therapist today…” WHO AM I???) that I feel like I’m no longer in crisis. My fight-or-flight response to my life has subsided and I feel like I can actually breathe again. It’s so tempting to say, “OK. I’m alright. I’m fine now. No big deal.” But that’s total crap. I think that the anxiety response is my mind/body’s way of saying, “HEY! YOU! PAY ATTENTION. YOU ARE NOT OK.” And just because I’ve finally taken the time to sit down with myself and say, “Yeah. you’re right. I’m not OK” it doesn’t mean I suddenly am.

Exhibit A: I spent the entire morning sleeping on the couch instead of doing anything. I ate a hotdog bun for breakfast and another one for lunch. And nothing else.

In my defense, they were those really yummy split-top (New England-style) hotdog buns, the kind you can flatten out with your fingers (under the table if you’re within eye-shot of my dad because he thinks bun-flattening is disgusting and, for that matter, poor table manners, unlike loud nose-blowing at the table which apparently is just fine even if it makes other people at the table gag) so that they get all dense and scrumptious. They’re kind of like those generic dinner rolls your grandma probably used to have at family dinners.

They’re so good. And I brought 28 of them home from Rochester because they’re hard to find around here.

But still. I suppose I should probably eat something with my hotdog buns, eh? Whaddaya think about cookies? Yes?