Whenever I know a significant change is happening and coming down to the final days before it occurs, I always create a countdown. I didn't realize yesterday was the last Thursday I would spend in this home. I'm beginning to feel myself detach from the pain. I am scrambling to feel it now, because lately what I've been feeling has me thinking, "Is this all you've got?" This thought is worrisome because it could mean that I'm not allowing myself to be present enough to deal with my feelings and ultimately lead to me paying for it later. I will not allow myself to become uncontrollably stressed out because I know how that manifests.

Last night was interesting, and not in a fun way. But, I got through it without calling more than one person, and when she didn't pick up, I told myself I could handle myself on my own. I get paranoid when I'm home alone on a regular night, but when I'm tired and, ok, yes, I smoked a bit, so I was a little high, that only set me up for some kind of a mess.

After getting out of the shower, I thought I heard someone in my apartment. I called out for my little sister but didn't hear anything. Finally, I crouched to the floor, literally dripping wet because I hadn't thought to grab a towel before fear took over my body and told me to act, and cracked it open only to see my cat, Wesley. But, I wasn't satisfied with that. Beginning to think through all of the possible scenarios and the plethora of true-crime docuseries I'd been watching recently, I thought that maybe someone had climbed through the bedroom window right off the back porch. I couldn't remember if the window was open or shut and could feel my head feel light. I remembered so many things within seconds. Awful memories that have been hidden on top of current events and life as I know it today.

I thought about the man who tried to take my sister when we were children from our bedroom window. I can't remember any distinct features about him, but I remember seeing the window open, hearing her scream, and seeing Mom rush in to save her.

I thought about Gayle's house and how her windows in the back of her home were hidden from the public because her backyard fence concealed them. She always had the blinds to those windows open and considering this was after my first sexual assault, and after my sister's near-kidnapping, I never felt like I wasn't being watched.

Thinking of Gayle and that watched feeling, I glanced at my bathroom mirror and honestly thought I saw her standing in my hallway. My legs nearly gave out as I stumbled back to the tub's ledge, wrapping a towel around me before I touched the cold surface. I didn’t need another trigger, and my bare ass on the tub after yesterday's entry could've sent me spinning. Instead, the warmth of the fabric on my skin began to ground me, though I still felt like she was in my home. I kept telling myself I was just high and needed to breathe and remember that time and space do not work in these ways. My mind was being mean to myself.

I felt myself rock back and forth as my cold, wet hair dripped down my shoulders and was absorbed into the towel. I have too many tools in my phone to use that don't include talking to someone. There's nothing wrong with talking to people, but I don't want to feel like I owe them anything in return. I will be better about letting folks be there for me, but I need to be there for myself first.

I made a mistake earlier this week when saying this apartment was the most consistent thing in my life. It hasn’t been the longest. The most consistent thing was living and breathing, and he hopped up on my lap with big purrs to comfort me last night. Chirping and rubbing his face into my hands that automatically began petting him, I could feel my heart begin to slow and that my lungs could take more air in them. The biggest, deepest breaths feel so good sometimes. I'm glad Wesley is coming with me. He tends to know when I need him most.

Oh, and not that you'll ever see this, but Happy Birthday, Mom.

Six more days.