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I kept waking up and falling back asleep this morning. When I finally roused myself enough to contemplate getting out of bed, it was with a certainty that more than anything, I wished I could just stay there. I made a deal with myself eventually to get up, walk my dog, and then climb back in. It was little before noon when I walked out the door.

It is now after 1 AM. I have spent my day, aside from walking my dog, going back and forth between my couch and my bed. I am grateful for the time to not think, to not do anything, and yet I also feel guilty and ashamed of my need for it. And, I am dreadfully aware that I will not have the same luxury tomorrow.

I am overwhelmed. I am scared. I am anxious in the face of all the details I will have to organize over the next few weeks, not knowing yet how they will pan out. I want to duck my head some more and not deal with it, but the time for that will have passed when I wake up in the morning. I feel sick to my stomach knowing this. I can’t hide forever.

The decision to move was mine. Nobody forced me into it, and it is still what I want. I just don’t want to deal with the work involved in making it happen. I don’t want all of the responsibility. Tomorrow it will come knocking at my door, and I won’t be able to ignore it anymore. I wish desperately that I could.

I am a weak person. I have been terrified of being a weak person for most of my life and have valued strength, daring, and courage. Tonight, I think it is okay that I am weak. It is simply part of being human. I also know that I won’t give up. I will push myself to do all of it anyway. It’s true that I am weak, but I am strong as well.

I hope that over the next few weeks I will be able to ask for help where and when I need it, and that I will allow myself help when it is offered to me. This, I know, will be part of my courage lies.