Empty

I never really thought I would say that I am empty. It seems that I can hit the bottom of the bottom and still from somewhere I manage to draw strength to carry on. Well this time I think I've run out.

And the funny thing is...I'm not at the bottom of the bottom. Just the bottom. Still feel fucking stuck. Spinning wheels with no forward motion. Back and forth - round and round. Still seeking change.

Today I lose my therapist to maternity leave. And now I feel like I will truly have no one to talk to. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this. I guess I should at least make my last session a bang. Lord knows I have enough to talk about. But truly what good will it do? I'll just have to fucking start over. Again. For the millionth time in my life. And I'm sick of it.

My current "in the works" solution is to get a tattoo. Guess it is a sort of masochism. Not sure I can go today to shop for an artist, but I will go tomorrow and make some inquiries. I have always been seeking a permanent reminder. Sure I have scars. But they fade. Ink seems to be the most durable. It can be touched up.

So maybe with a permanent reminder on my body I won't feel so empty. I won't feel so stuck. I won't feel so lost. I will be able to look in the mirror and see something that says, "Hey asshole this is who you are and you're still here. So keep going."

For now though I will try to plug the drain so I don't overly deplete.