Another clue something is not right
I am late all the time. Not much late, but late.
Not that I need clues, really: I know what’s wrong, at least part of it, and I know what of it is under my control and what isn’t, and I have plans, which I may or may not be able to carry out, but still: plans. They should help, and in a way they do. I will manage to work things out: and survive or not, as I desire. (This isn’t a plan, just the knowledge that I could make a plan if I so chose: this comforts me: I am making choices.)
But I am still sleeping badly, having trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, waking in disturbing dreams.