Saturdays

Why are Saturdays always so damn hard? Every single one, unless DH and I go somewhere or I have coffee with some friends, my anxiety level hits the roof and I have no idea why. I don't anticipate the panic. I don't do the self-fulfilling prophecy thing like, "Oh Saturday's coming, I bet it's gonna be awful." I never do that. It always kinda catches me by surprise in a way because I'm not anticipating it. It was so bad tonight that I had to do something really cognitive, forcing myself to do something that required concentration, in order to make it through.

I have no awful memories of Saturdays. I just have the feelings. And they're so bad that sometimes all I can do is pace the hallway...

I suppose someone inside knows what it's all about. But as of today, my therapist and I have been unable to find her. Or him.

I trust God's timing. Maybe it's just not time to know yet...