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writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/53.html

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                 <p>I had to stop, yesterday. I had to stop writing.</p>
 <p>I don&rsquo;t know why that memory left me in tears, paws shaking too much to write. I don&rsquo;t even know why I decided to commit that memory to this journal. I started this project with the goal of trying to suss out my thoughts and feelings surrounding Kay, and yet I keep writing about this. I keep writing about God or the Church or leaving Saint John&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p>I walked around the neighborhood afterward, trying to calm down, breathe deeply, be present. I did all the things I tell my patients to do when they panic, and I suppose some of it worked. I was at least able to look at the ground, look at the sky, look at the grass and trees and buildings and not feel this unnamed emotion.</p>
+<p>If I had any doubt that Jeremy was right in suggesting journaling, I think it has been well and truly dashed by now.</p>
+<p>This feeling, then. It is somewhere between shame and guilt. It has that bitter-savory flavor to it. It makes my fur feel clumped and matted.</p>
+<p>If I cannot decide </p>
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                 <p>Page generated on 2021-06-02</p>