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Later that evening, depression over our imminent departure starts to set in. I have been somewhat successful at refusing to think about leaving this lovely island or the fantastic man I met here, but all too quickly our stay is coming to an end. The time has flown by, and now suddenly it’s time to start packing. I feel like hurling myself onto the floor like a two-year-old and kicking my feet because I don’t want to leave.
The fact that I was able to enjoy today and not spend the entire day thinking about having to leave is a huge improvement over my norm. I have always been this way. I would ruin Sunday by dreading school on Monday. I am always looking forward at what is coming around the bend rather than enjoying the here and now. I’m actually rather proud of myself for not letting
