So obviously, I'll be fine.  Bridget means “strength”, after all, which I didn’t know until recently, but… you know, it works for me.  I’m glad my name means it, because nothing about me right now exudes strength.  I need something to give off that aura, ‘cause I’m sure as heck not.
The fact that I’ll be fine doesn’t mean I am.  It doesn’t even mean I believe I will be.  It just means I will be.  My survival instinct is too strong for me not to be okay.
I’m very good at lying to myself, especially when it comes to telling myself I’ll be okay.  Granted, I’ve lost some of that talent lately.  I’ve spent nights bemoaning my fate like a pathetic little girl.  Hours I could have spent studying have been wasted thinking about this.  But I’ll get the talent back.  I kind of have to.  I need to lie to myself, until the time comes that I no longer have to lie to myself to feel good.  I’d love to tell myself – and believe it –  that this is just another form of strength; just keeping a stiff upper lip – but I’m not that great a liar.  But I’m going to tell you that it’s strength.  I’m going to tell myself that it’s strength.  It’s strength.  Lying to myself is strength.  Telling myself that I will be fine is strength.  Telling myself that everything will be okay is… pushing it a little bit.  But everything else is strength.  Strength.  Strength.  Strength.