Tuesday, June 4
I woke up feeling sad. Sad because I’m craving sex to feel desirable and loved—and it’s not a good indicator of either. Ever since my marriage blew up, it’s been full on.
I got up and pulled weeds in the master gardener demo garden. It felt good to be outside, in the sunshine, volunteering. I taught yoga. I took Tom to his guitar lesson. While I waited for Tom, I bummed a smoke off of a guitar teacher because I’d just thrown away the pack of cigarettes I bought. I don’t want to start smoking again. But that cigarette was damn good.