Last night I had a horrific panic attack that really put a damper on my sleep; I wasn't out cold until midnight.  The wedding had to do with it in part but it doesn't explain it all this time.
Frankly, I'm worried about my new reading pattern.  So far it's been okay.  But I still have this very real fear in my heart that I'm going to find a way to make it just another hiding mechanism.
If you've seen the last two photos I posted, you probably have an idea of how it is with me: I've just loaded up on stuff -- oodles of stuff -- in a delusional belief that I'd feel better with more stuff (I don't think that's true).  I'm not even sure I can tell you guys what a hobby even is...all I've known are obsessions and...worse obsessions, the abuse with stuff has just been so bad.  I don't know how else I can put it; just thinking about it is making me crabby and irritable, and yet it feels like I really need answers that don't seem to be forthcoming.