December begins

December has arrived, and I'm okay. It's not left me completely, but it's not interfering, either. I made the decision to go to the gp, to discuss my history, my past couple of weeks, my options going forward. Of course, getting in to see the gp at my surgery is an epic quest, and I'd honestly be shocked if I made any progress before Christmas break.
     So I'm distracting myself doing elf on the shelf light (they're here to visit and countdown, not spy and judge) and putting together boxes for the Southend homeless shoe box appeal. Tomorrow I'll go help out at the soup kitchen, delivering hot meals to people sleeping rough down the town and near the seafront. Anything that keeps my focus outward can only help.
     The kids seem fine, completely unaware of what's going on with me. So much the better. Mazzy was off school last week, and she actually came on Skype and chatted with us. It was wonderful. Even Chloe got excited. I miss her terribly. She seems well, which is amazing and probably more gratifying for me than ME feeling well, at this point. I do wonder how much of her troubles are the fault of the shit brain chemistry I might have passed on to her.
     I sound all doom and gloom, I think, but I'm not. I'm tired, but hopeful. December, the end of the year, and all the symbolic death and rebirth jazz that goes along with it always put me into a mood of retrospection and introspection, which is probably a bit compounded by my situation at the moment. Doing my best not to hide away in my hole and hibernate.
     I skipped Thanksgiving, as I've done every year since I moved here, but I have been thinking about the things I'm thankful for. I'm thankful, most of all, for Jim. He's been amazing (as usual), but especially about all this. He's definitely my anchor. I'm thankful for our beautiful family. They keep me grounded, and (holy shit!) WE MADE THIS. I'm thankful for all that we have. Fuck, man, people with the life I've had, loads of them live on the streets and have nothing. I'm thankful for his family, who take care of me like I'm their own. I'm thankful that there was an ocean between my mom and I this time around. That she didn't have to be the one to pick me up and carry me home and watch and wait for the tide to recede. I'm thankful that she doesn't have to know this time.