Building strength. Buy coffee so infrequently that every tip must be at least five dollars. Considered a scone or a muffin or perhaps a croissant. No, I do not need it. The money goes into a jar.
Monday. My life has changed so infinitesimally from the lockdown that I forget that anything is different. What a contrast with March. Feel on the verge of some kind of release. Listening to music—the new Phoebe Bridgers, Big Thief.
Each song raises something that I have lost. How could I have missed for so long my own chatter? But every day I attempt communication, writing in my little book, speaking to another self.
Tuesday Ruth reports hearing what she describes as a shift in tone. A difference. Thursday after group it feels like something large has happened. But I am so tired. I go to sleep at 10:30, wake up at 8 in the morning, uncharacteristically late.
Lately I have been waking up even earlier than normal, at 5:30, at 6. Have in fact counted on it, though it is not intentional. I am glad to be free of this, to be forced to skip an early appointment, to consider where I am putting my time.
In the mornings Noor has been texting me from Egypt. When I wake up, we work over Zoom. It feels absurd that it has taken us so long to figure this out.
Everything seems to have taken longer this year.