I had my therapy appointment this morning. My therapist told me that he got a new job at another clinic. He explained that he can take only a limited number of clients and that he is prioritizing his most serious cases. That makes sense to me, and I understand why he has to make those decisions. Still, June 4th will be my last therapy session with him.

I do have the option of being put on a waiting list at my current clinic so I can eventually be matched with a new therapist, and I’m planning to do that. Part of me feels like I’ve been doing pretty well lately, but another part of me wonders if I’m only doing well because I’m not actively talking about my past or my trauma. Sometimes I question whether feeling okay means I’m healing, or if it just means I’m avoiding things that are difficult to think about.

Most of the session was focused on my upcoming trip, and we also reviewed the service plan. At some point, the conversation shifted to God and religion. I’m not really sure how we got onto the topic because I wasn’t the one who brought it up. I tried to listen and understand what he was saying, even though I felt a little confused. I think he was talking about God taking people to another world or something happening around the year 2050, but I’m honestly not sure I understood correctly.

I’m not exactly sure how I feel about that conversation. I’m open-minded when it comes to religion and different beliefs, but it’s not something I talk about very often. I mostly found myself listening and trying to make sense of it rather than reacting strongly one way or the other.

I’ve been studying for a while, trying to convince my brain to keep accepting new information instead of flashing a little “storage full” warning. Kel is picking up Chris from school at 4, so they’ll probably be home soon. Alex took Alexis to the store to grab stuff for dinner. I think we’re having soup and sandwiches tonight. Tommy has band practice tonight, so he’ll be eating out. He gets to live the glamorous life while the rest of us are over here with our soup-and-sandwich situation.

Oh, and I managed to injure myself last night while exercising because apparently I like adding unnecessary excitement to my life. It was leg day, the day when you willingly sign up to make walking feel optional afterward. We were doing this exercise where you put one leg behind you on a bench and bend down with the other leg. Sounds simple enough. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, I put my leg up on the bench and somehow accidentally kicked the bench hard enough that it lifted up and fell down. Then I tripped over the bench itself. So instead of completing the exercise, I apparently invented a brand-new move called The Falling Flamingo. Very advanced technique. Not recommended.

I went down, hurt my leg, and now I have one giant bruise on my thigh that looks like I lost a fight with gym equipment. It hurts when I sit down and when I walk, which is rude because those are two activities I participate in regularly.

I’m alright, though. It just hurts. My dignity may have taken more damage than anything else.

The kids are home now with sandwich supplies. They didn’t buy soup, which actually works out fine because we still have soup at home that needs to be eaten. I still have about an hour left to study before I make dinner. I’m already feeling hungry, but I can hold out for another hour.

I originally planned to spend that hour studying, but then Kel got home, and we ended up going out together to pick up Tommy’s medication. We just got back, so my plans shifted a little. I’m going to make dinner soon, relax for a bit with some YouTube, and then do some reading afterward. I also need to make Tommy’s lunch for tomorrow. Maybe I’ll take care of that after I eat.