While I get annoyed with my husband when he reminds me to take one day at a time, I do realize the appeal of that idea.
I think, though, that I manage my life in segments. Examples:
I have to make do until I leave for Easter
I have to get through until our trip to Orlando
I have to make it to when my family visits
I have to make it through my family’s visit
I have to survive a few more weeks, when I can escape home for a few days.
I’d like to say that I was productive every day, that I made the most of it from beginning to end, but I don’t. I’ve been trying to just close a day without crying, or wanting to; Without feeling the need to yell, scream or throw something. Not that I would actually throw something.
I used to think of myself as emotional, passionate and intense. Now I feel like a small child, unable to censor myself before the emotions wreak havoc. I’m not sure if this is just an extreme version of me, or a turn around a corner I’m afraid to face.
I make promises for tomorrow, that when it gets here, I’ll be better, more patient; I’ll accomplish more. Let’s hope so.