I'm sitting here trying to remember back to my absolutely harrowing mood of a week or two ago and I can hardly do so.
My brain confounds me. My body confounds me. When I am in a bad state the two are one and the same -- my stomach tightens up, my bowels loosen; I feel cold flow through my veins; my adrenaline ramps up and at the same time I cannot move. I cry, I shriek, I say nothing and the crushing horses' hooves keep advancing.
What turns the tide back to normal, I don't know. Was it the news? That good cry? The 12-hour sleep? The cognitive exercise? All and none of these? The passage of time? I don't know, but if I did that would be my sacrament.
Maybe it's a good thing that I remember my bad spells only vaguely. Maybe it preserves my self-esteem not remembering how helpless I felt, how utterly agonized.
Today, then, is a good day.
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