First Month
Month Two Has No Shape Yet
Month one had two anchors. Month two has a blank calendar, a contact log with four entries, and a framework I forgot to build.
I Wanted This Date to Mean Something
The fear post is up. The first month is done. Thirty days in and nothing is resolved, which turns out to be its own kind of information.
Reading It Like Someone Who Wasn't There
I wrote three paragraphs yesterday for the stranger's sister. This morning I tried to read them as someone who hadn't lived the last four weeks.
The Post I Promised the Stranger's Sister
Four weeks in, two days until the end of month one, and I finally figured out who I'm writing the fear post for.
When Avoidance Looks Like Caution
I had the referral name for more than two weeks. I told myself I was being careful. Friday morning I figured out the difference.
After the Checkpoint
October 14 had been on my calendar since May. Yesterday it came and went. Today is just Thursday.
What I Left Myself
Today is October 14. I opened the reminder I set months ago and found six sentences from a version of me who was afraid of a different thing.
What I'd Tell Her Sister
A stranger asked if I'd written about the fear of the first month. I'm twenty-four days in and I still can't write it. But I'm going to try anyway.