I like my coffeehouse job, quite a bit. I'm relaunching the traveling massage therapy business. My mom, bless her, is helping me float expenses until I get financially stable again. I love the feel of the new apartment. I have amazingly, delightfully, incandescently fabulous friends. The cats are doing pretty well. I'm managing to get unpacked, slowly but surely. Given the money I currently possess, I can pay May's bills, and June's rent, barring unexpected expenses. I think I should be able to cover June's bills and July's rent with only the help of my mom's subsidy. It seems not unreasonable that I should be able to tell my mom to keep her money after July's rent is paid, and support myself on my own. (Gods willing and the creeks don't rise.)
Nonetheless, I still feel pretty miserable. I'm forging forward anyway. I've been giving myself bonus points for progress in the face of emotional resistance. But I hope against hope that my emotional reality will improve to mirror the practical improvements. Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon. Please. Soon.
I just sent off a resume to an orthopedic physical therapy clinic which is advertising for a massage therapist. Don't know if anything will come of it. But at the very least, I *did* something.