waiting to exhaLe

 I'm in my fourth week of a mental health short term leave.  It's a weird feeling, getting up in the morning with no where to go and nothing to do.  My brain needs to rest, and I'm doing therapy, but the rest of my days are spent playing with the dogs or doing gardening or slowly going through vintage shops looking for deals.  

My leave started after I wrote that blog entry - and when I returned from Mexico to a husband having neurological symptoms for his MS.  These included fun things like delusions and paranoia, and m personal favourite - rage.  It's impossible to work when your spouse has no concept of if he's in reality or present day, or insists that the hell's angels are tracking him through his phone and via his transit pass.  One also cannot do things like sit in meetings and write reports when their spouse is hurling insults and name calling and threatening them - disease or no disease, it's just not possible.

I've been updating my shoe game.  I cleaned my white leather converse and ordered metallic silver laces, I bought blue suede platform sneakers, and i brushed out my neon pink suede loafers.  I'm not feeling sandals this summer at all, but no one looks to me for fashion advice.  I could do one of those cool IG plus size body positivity accounts, but know I don't have the consistency it takes.  Instead, I wake every morning and hope for the best, shrugging off a depression and attachment disorder diagnosis.

I'm on my third counsellor in two months.  The first one was a dude who uses "solution based therapy" which is a nice way of saying he thought his job was telling me what to do and he was annoying.  The second was a younger woman with ripped sweaters and bedhead, but who was incredibly nice if not strange, but we didn't quite connect.  I think, all bias fully acknowledged, that she was too young and/or inexperienced to understand the depth of my issues - from grieving to anger to depression and triggering anxiety brought on my childhood to be curious enough to get to the core.  This third one - a woman about my age with experience in loss and long term illness - seems to be the right level experienced and curious and I'm hoping I can work on some of my issues with her, as they are legion.  It's hard to love and hate and resent and caregive all at the same time while holding down a job and raising future dog guides.  My life is a hot mess.