Well, last night was my therapy session, after a month off (one skipped every-other-week session, for her vacation.) A lot has happened in that month, including a Labor Day trip, my move right after that, getting poison ivy (I still itch; it's like low-grade torture). Because of how well the move went, and how well I was able to do the planning and execution when all the steps were under my control, she suggested that I try to maintain that momentum somehow. We talked about ways, and I suggested that I take up walking every day, for exercise. Couldn't hurt, right? So, I set my alarm for 6, this morning, and planned to get up and walk.
Only, I woke up feeling quite angry at what a failure the move feels like, to me. After all, I went to all that trouble, and I'm still in an empty apartment alone, just a different one. It did nothing to change my job, my commute, or anything. Not that it was really supposed to, but I guess I had got my hopes up that more things would change than was reasonable. So, now, I'm disappointed, without a very good reason to be.
I guess I'll try walking again, tomorrow morning.