I feel guilty. The last few days I’ve been OK. A couple of wobbles but generally on an even keel. Any crying has been minimal and several times I can discount because the weeping was in response to an obvious stimulus: a sad film or a news item.
But the guilt comes because all I think about is when this will end, when the next plummet will come.
And I am taking advantage to make plans and book things and organise the next few weeks in a way that makes it hard to back out, whatever my mood. But I should make more of this. I should cling to the optimism that being “normal” for a couple of days should bring.
Instead I dread. Instead I ready myself for the fall.