I Went Outside Today

I haven't been out of my apartment, other than to go to work and come back home, in about 3 months. It started out innocently enough. Every time Charles and I go anywhere together we end up spending all kinds of money. Then it got cold and rainy and I just didn't want to. I'm also happiest when I'm home with my babies. I am a nester to the extreme! However, I also previously, in what seems like another life, became extremely agoraphobic. Didn't leave my house for about 2 years. Not to work, not to anything. I have to be very careful about it. Of course, the house itself was part of the problem. I know that if I hadn't left it I would be either dead or catatonic. But that's a story for another time. Anyway, consequently I have gained so much weight it's not funny. I can't move the way I used to (and I'm a former ballet dancer), and I pretty much stay in pain. It stops here and it stops now. I won't put my weight here just yet, it's to painful for me, but I'm only 5 feet tall. I have to loose about (or at least) 60 pounds. I'm not going to obsess (I hope), or whine or cry. But I'll talk about it here from time to time. Part of the problem, I believe, is I've stopped living. I drive the beltway at least 3 hours a day. I'm at work 8-10 hours. I'm tired. Tired all the time. I found some B12 that really helps, but it's so expensive. I think I just have to do it for myself though. I have to remember that I count and I matter. I'm surrounded by really wonderful people, and yet I've lost myself again. I wonder if everyone goes through this. I have so many flashbacks of William. They come at the oddest times. I have this need to tell, to talk, about the things that have happened in my life. But the word tell keeps coming up in my head. As though all these things need to be kept secret. That we shouldn't tell. So much of it happened before computers were an everyday thing. The news stories, such as they were, haven't been stored, entered, archived, whatever it is that's done, on a computer yet. I can't find anything, or next to nothing about R. Severcool. Perhaps that's a reason I don't tell. I know what it's like to be that family. The one that had a "bad" person in it. I don't want to cause pain, more pain to any of the people involved. Also, I've never felt these things happened to me. I was there, sometimes a almost participant. But it wasn't me that it happened to. I lived. I've survived. There are scars aplenty, but none so bad as what happened to the others. Some of the people were unknown to me, but they have/had family. I don't know. Will telling stop the images?