I let myself have a meltdown yesterday. I am nearly ready to have confidence in allowing the meltdowns instead of wasting energy on fighting them. When I allow the meltdowns, I still have the energy reserves to ply therapy tools. When I fight them, I am too exhausted for awareness when the tsunami arrives. I simply sink into self-destruction unless an angel of mercy is there to rescue me and keep me safe from myself.
The meltdown inventory is currently underway. I backspaced over "post-" in front of the "meltdown inventory." The morning inventory is looking good, but however much a psychosis might feel like being run over by a fast moving train, in strictly personal fact, there isnae ever a clear beginning nor a clear ending. Sigh. . . May I please speak with the station manager?
I ate reasonably well yesterday. Nothing to impress a foodite, but I ate and stayed hydrated. Intrusive thoughts continue, but are responding to mindfulness exercises. I slept deeply with lots of dirt dreams. My dirt dreams arenae to be confused with porno dreams. They are the dreams which help me turn the human filth of my child sex trafficking foundation into rich, productive soil in which I can grow a life I am proud to live.
Processing. . .