Last Friday I was walking down a long, straight paved path with a thick, heavy carry-all bag containing some clothes and small pieces. I am still moving my stuff from Cheltenham to Bath. This is following a job change and a break-up (don’t worry, it was civil). I was facing a journey home of 90 minutes on the train, the sun was already going down, and I was fighting the urge to just stop walking. Of course, I kept going, since I’m still alive to relate this, but I haven’t felt quite so acutely miserable in about two years. I do worry about my coping skills.
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