I'm starting to feel better. My thoughts are clearer, I feel, overall, safer. I am spending as much time as possible out of the hospital, walking the streets, playing "normal"- what started as an act, is becoming a reality. I have started reading again. Spending less time on the internet and more time relaxing. I curl up on my bed, book in one hand, head rested on the other, and lose myself amongst the words in my novels. It's an escape, similar to that which I get from anorexia. A break from reality- transported to a land of make believe. It's refreshing. Calming.
Things remain uncertain about future plans. I'd be lying if I said I am okay with this. I like to know what's happening, like to plan, like to make elaborate lists and charts and know the exact who/what/when/where/whys of any given scenario. Right now, all I can do is wait. And wait. I can't speed up the process- simply have to accept that it IS a process, it DOES take time and I need to practice acceptance and patience with that which I have no control over at this point.
One day at a time.