All of my anxiety behaviours are returning like ducks flying home for the spring. This morning I woke up at 5:20 and lay rigid in the dark, unable to sleep for worrying about the Grade 9 curriculum. It wasn't until I snuggled in with the sleeping Boy that I was able to relax. I have trouble eating my lunch (small wonder, as every lunch-time brings a new and awful development) and usually leave half of it to grow cold. I crave sleep and have stopped knitting and writing.

Yeah, I actually stopped knitting.

What concerns me the most is that this doesn't appear to be blowing over, and that this may never blow over. I was told today that despite the support of authorities and eye-witnesses, I am still under suspicion, and that I will not leave this cloud until I make false confession.

"Sorry?! For what? For clearing the table? For having a sense of humour?" - bart vs. thanksgiving

I'm torn between the need to be truthful and the need to have this over and done with. Is it better to be a live dog than a dead lion? I just don't know anymore.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 10/05/2005 12:13:00 p.m.