So. I don't even know. It's just crazy.
A new schedule has been established. Every single minute of each week day is planned. And it's pretty much a sprint from the time the alarm goes off (3:40 am) until I lay back down in bed in the evening (hypothetically 8:00, but that hasn't happened yet).
(And, let's face it, the weekend is just when the house has to be cleaned and the laundry has to be done and the errands have to be run because there isn't a spare second for it during the week.)
I hate the schedule. I don't want the schedule. My body is having a very, very difficult time adjusting to the schedule.
The schedule is a necessary evil.
I don't think I would mind nearly so much if there was something in the middle that made me feel full.
But there kind of isn't.
Yesterday at one of my favorite cafes, the owner said to me "we'll open up our own bakery cafe together." I so wanted her to not be joking.
I miss feeling good. I miss being happy. You know, like, consistently. Like, for longer than it takes to eat a brownie.
In the mean time....
I'm drinking tea. I'm trying to not self-medicate with sugar. I might have cried myself to sleep once or twice.
I'm breathing in. I'm breathing out.
And the dust will settle.