Processing

Processing

Oof.

Feelings, man!  It’s weird–ok, maybe not really–that I let out a bunch of feelings, and now I feel… better maybe?  Like it was cathartic or something.

Shit, Sid’s good.  He knows what to say to get me to open up and process shit.
It’s like he went to school for this shit or something.

I’m kind of at a loss for words.  It was intense, and clearly very, VERY necessary.

I’m pretty emotionally exhausted.  It kind of feels like I ran an emotional ultra marathon without any training.

I’m wondering if it’s going to be like that scene in Fight Club where he sleeps like a baby** after crying on bitch tits.  We’re going to find out!

**I have come to hate the phrase “sleep like a baby,” because whoever coined it couldn’t have possibly meant it that way.  Oh, really?  You slept for 2 hours, then cried for 3 because you had to poop?  Is that how you slept?!?!

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