Awake at 0-dark-30, uncomfortable in bed. Aware that I am stumbling on my long journey of self-awareness and rebuilding, shirking responsibilities for things which only I can do.
Some of it seems hopeless. Hell's testicles, I know it's not, but that doesn't make it any more endurable.
Somehow I thought that it would be better after I moved back home. And some things are better: being close to friends, a decent job, being with the loving critters. But missing is the sense of home that I wanted without ever realizing what that was.
Last night, Sasha cooked dinner. She also attacked the kitchen cupboards and started reducing the number of plates/cups and pots & pans that I have accumulated. She's also managed to do quite a number on the living room, making it more living. And while I was out, she reprogrammed the TV channels after hooking up the new antenna.
The girl doesn't need rescuing. I do.
I want to be competent to stand alone. I want to feel like I'm strong enough to make it on my own (shades of Mary Tyler Moore), but at the same time, it sure is nice to be cared for a bit.
I need to go cuddle with my pooch for a while now.