No worries, I'm not allowed to quit therapy because I took myself out of charge. I went today and I'll be going until things are better and then I'll be going some more.
I agreed with that, because it makes sense. I just wish sometimes it was less difficult, less invasive, less exhausting but Jacob keeps gently telling me it's very hard work.
Oh, and that I'm doing great.
He says that over and over again as we sit in a hot bubblebath, his chin on my head, his arms around me, his thoughts on nothing but the future and promises I am trying to keep to him that he knows I'll keep even when I have my doubts.
When life is said and done would someone saint him, please?
If our roles were reversed I would have stuck a firecracker down his throat and blown him a kiss into outer space by now and what he gives me is a wall. A human wall of strength, upholstered in flannel that I can bounce off of and push against and sometimes stand with my back up against it so I can see the monsters coming and sometimes I can climb right up it and be completely safe.
