I'm a woman, you're a machine

"Oh, and you're almost home,
I've been waiting for you to come in.
Dancing around in your old suits,
going crazy in your room again.
I think I'll go out and embarrass myself
by getting drunk and falling down in the street.
You say I choose sadness, that it
never once has chosen me.
You may be right."

-- Rilo Kiley

Christmas last year. I was talking to Fin which turned into telling Fin everything that had been going on--crying spells, too much SI, purging. Turned into a talk about recovery, and my decision (my decision) that I may take a jaunt down to counseling services once school was back in session. Maybe he could walk down with me, if it wasn't too much trouble. I ended up throwing out the two razorblades I'd had hidden on the upper ledge in the cupboard under my bathroom sink. They'd been there for years, and Fin watched me throw them out. I went looking for them tonight and then remembered.

We're back at zero, folks. I think all of the really thorny things in my head are going to be on paper or something separate, because there are some things you really don't need to hear.

At work today, I had to carry a large amount of boxes down to our storeroom. There's an intimidating set of stairs which leads down to said storeroom--intimidating, at least, when you've got a dolly cart full of items. A stranger saw my apprehension, took the majority of the boxes down stairs for me, and it reminded me that chivalry isn't dead. At least among strangers.