Guzzled sangria on an empty stomach. I feel amazing and fucking awful. Eating my emergency walnuts to stop the stomach pain. But how nice to fear a little less.

Things to ask my therapist:

Why do I keep doing things that tweak my back?

Why can't I clear the table, shower, or go outside? What's stopping me?

Why do I not communicate, and then feel bad no one wants to reach out to me? Why won't I ask for help?

Why do people describe sex as "fun"? It's delightful and involved, but necessary. It's a need, not a desire. "Fun" is a roller coaster or a game of tag or an inky pen flowing smoothly, or a comedian, or Uno. Sex is filling. It turns into a body-leaving experience. It is not "fun." It's where my body feels the bliss that is usually reserved for my mind. And the mind drifts away.