I find my life measured in bitter installments of late. I am sensible as well of the failing of my will and of my ingenuity. Still, I find revivification repeatedly. I do not know its source. I'm pleased that it is so, but I lack proper comprehension of of both the source and the process. I will have to think on it awhile.
My session with my therapist was longer than usual today. Circumstances dictated my early arrival for my appointment and his availablity at that time. I feel as though I was more open with George than my usual. I don't really hold back in any significant way in my sessions, but I seldom find much of importance to say. Recent sessions have been vaguely validations of my thought processes and a pleasant break from the inanities of my daily contacts. I hope to move to a more productive stage in my therapy. I want to re-learn my ability to succeed at things and to put plans into action.
My memory cheated me of hours of my time today. I visited my medical doctor at ten o'clock and discovered that my appointment was for one-twenty. I called my sister to pick me up but was forced to leave a message. Needless to say, she did not check the messages and did not come to pick me up until I reached her subsequently. The same comedy was repeated in the afternoon following my correct attendance upon my physician and my later session with my therapist. Hours were wasted, but I have little else to occupy my time. I should not be irked, but feel so.
I am concerned about the caprices of my memory. I am uncertain, of course, of the degree of my lapses. I plan to find a way to gauge the state of my memory but have no real idea how to go about it.
I'm tired this afternoon. I'll write more later if assaulted by my muse.
I updated my writing journal, louderprose.