It’s still pretty early, but I’m doing alright. Dora is doing well too.
I recovered ok once my brother arrived, which was surprising. I usually have my depressed/anxious/meltdown episodes by myself. I mean, I spent the bulk of the day carrying around my giant stuffed frog, for crying out loud.
When I’m in a really bad state, it helps to have something to hold on to and to feel pressure against my torso. I usually hug pillows, because they’re more ubiquitous, but I was at home, so I had more options. I may have started this as a child, wanting to be held in my distress, but knowing that no one was going to hold me. Regardless, when something works and calms me out of a panic, I don’t care if it looks weird or childish. I need that chance to regain control, and I do what it takes to get it.
Man, I really am broken, aren’t I? One phone call did this to me. One phone call was enough to start a major panic.
But, to be fair, I’m not scared of the phone. Well, I am, but in this case, I’m scared of the door to having a service dog being slammed in my face. I’m scared that someone else will tell me that the way I feel is my fault and my responsibility, so I just need to choose to be normal.
If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done it?! Do you actually think I want to feel like this all the time?! What sort of sicko are you?
So I’m scared that the door will slam shut and all of my progress will be for nothing, since if Dora can’t be trained for public access, I’m just going to be even more homebound than I have been for the last year. You guys go have dinner; I’m going to stay with my dog.
I hope it works out. There’s nothing I can do either way, but I hope it works out.