Bring Out the Vorpal Sword!

Drew this while waiting for the doctor to arrive. I wasn't really planning on drawing anything specific, I was just doodling. As it turns out, the picture's a bit of a foreshadowing. And so, since I'm so used to being analyzed anyway: People of the Interwebs, have at it! ;)

"...but has anyone helped you address what actually happened?"

My new doctor asked this after I gave my usual history—and I knew I had a winner. He wasn't just diagnosing me (like Doctor #1). He wasn't just focused on my meds (because Doctor #2 had already given me the medicines and dosages that worked). He was actually focused on the root cause of all these...things.

I am knee-knocking scared because, well, I haven't really talked about what happened. Who knows what else lies inside that Pit of Forced-Forgottens? There has been so much attention on what happened afterwards (because that was a more pressing concern) and what was to happen to me in the future. I suppose it's time to go back to...that. I'm so afraid, I could barf.

But at the same time, hell, yeah! Let's deal with this Jabberwocky once and for all. Bring out the vorpal sword!

(((Oh, how I'm terrified though! But this is a good thing. This is a good thing. This is a good thing.)))

With all that said, I'm glad I'm stable enough to begin this new phase. Sometimes, I delude myself into thinking that I'm healed or that I'm all right now because I've had (infinitely) more good days than bad. Ah, but of course, I know that isn't so.

And so begins phase two. Frabjous Day—callooh, callay!—I can almost see you.