Things are steadily returning to a slightly more normal state. Every day my heart inches back into its slot in my chest a bit more, my thoughts begin to find their way out of this tangle. My mantra of late is it's fine, I'm fine. And for once it's kind of true. Less shaky hands (oh thank goodness for this), less nerves, less fear.
But now, for the first time in a long long time (such a long time, in fact, that I had pretty much forgotten how this feels), my anger is back. You know the petty, cranky, infinitely normal frustration you feel over trains being late and people being arses? It's back and, I tell you, it is glorious. I revel in it. I adore it because it's yet another sign that I will be fine.
(It's too long that I've been vacant and numb, waiting for trains without realizing their lateness, or maybe noticing but not caring at all. I don't enjoy the frustration over little things but the luxury of having a bad day simply because it's cold and I'm cranky is truly something quite exquisite.)