The marijuana is beginning to obfuscate the anxiety, to make it a lesser concern by giving it less focus. The lorazepam is washing away the edgy feeling, and I can sit normally and truly relax a bit. In a vague way, I'm thinking about making an appointment to see my psycho-therapist. Is there any way that can work? Can I reveal all these things I'm embarrassed to even think about, let alone examine with a complete stranger?
My brother argued that I do things to make his life better. I felt like dancing. That felt like the way to a cure. Because I feel so totally useless. But I do take care of my father, help Linda in the morning and usually cook dinner, clean the house, do laundry and all that. It's not much, but it is something. Plus, my family is growing larger and Linda's daughters, beautiful as they are, may need some muscle to rough up some stalker or something. What a noble calling! Oh, the things I would have missed had I died that day.