Is it just me or has the elasticity of our days gone slack? Every Monday my therapist asks me to recount the past week and my mind goes blank.
Hours blur. I feel like it’s always six PM and I’m having to figure out what to make for dinner, again and again and again. I ask friends on the phone: Did I just talk to you yesterday or was that two weeks ago?
Gurl, we talked this morning, they reply. I wander the house, the dog follows me like a shadow– what am I looking for? Where am I going?
My husband asks: What’s wrong, babe? I have no words, the best I can muster is to say: I feel unmoored. I feel unmoored.He admits that before he met me he’d never heard anyone use that term.