I feel unusual today. I didn't sleep well, which may have something to do with it, but I'm bored and antsy, and simultaneously don't want to do anything at all. I want to go to bed and pull the covers up and just lie there, but I also feel like I can't sit still. I don't much like it. Maybe it's because I don't really have anything to do. I finished my applications, and I finished a letter for an independent contractor job, and my job at Xander's music school doesn't really require any outside work, so I have nothing that I'm supposed to be doing. I could cuddle in bed with all my blankets and pillows and watch Netflix, or I could crochet, or read, or write a story or essay, or do anything at all, really, but it all seems so unappealing. I want excitement, and vivacity, and free, untempered life, but all I have is a headache. I should drink some water.
It's like, I just want time to pass. I feel like I'm just wasting away, trying to while away the hours until something more interesting comes up. But nothing has, so far, or at least it hasn't for the past few days. I feel like Rapunzel in the tower, except the tower... is actually society.... damn......
Foucault would have loved me.
I took my car (I say my car, but it's really shared between me and my mom) to the garage today, because Mom thought it was making a funny noise in reverse gear. But the mechanics took one look at it and told me that there was nothing wrong with it, and I went slinking home in shame. I'm relieved, but also a little embarrassed. I always am, somehow, when I go to the garage. I know only enough about cars to make myself look like a dumbass, and boy, I always do. But at least I'm polite about it. I want to learn more, though! Maybe I should ask Xander to teach me some stuff. He did a huge major repair on his car that apparently is difficult and might make the engine explode if it's not done right, and I'm very impressed. I want to be a grease monkey, too! I think it's really cool. I do like this sort of stuff, even though I'm not a huge fan of the car grease getting everywhere. Also, I want to be one of those Hardware Store Lesbians who can build houses and fix plumbing and do all that sort of useful stuff. I think it's my destiny. Maybe then E will keep me around-- isn't it always nice to have a handyman on the premises?
Speaking of E, it's only about a month until she gets here! She's coming for a whole week, and I couldn't be more excited. We're going to spend the first four days together, just us, and then we're going to Vegas with Talia, Anselm, and Natalie (maybe Xander, too, but he'll probably be working). I was going to invite some more friends, because I honestly don't mind cramming all into one room together, or I could even split the cost to get another room (I ain't footin the whole thing, though), but E is a little introverted, and I don't think she would like it if I invited random people whom she doesn't know. Everyone wants to meet her, though. I'm trying to think of a way to make that happen while still making sure she has a good time. Maybe on Friday-- we're coming back to my mom's place so we can go and watch Anselm's high school graduation (!!) and we could go out for coffee with friends or something. I'm really excited to show her my hometown, actually. It's not very impressive, but it's mine, and it feels like she's really becoming integrated into my life this way. I mean, she's going to watch Anselm's graduation! That feels major. And she's going to meet my whole immediate family, oh goodness. Oh goodness. I guess that means she's going to meet Dad. Um, let's just say yikes together on three? He's going to say something really embarrassing, I know he will. But I have warned her, so hopefully she won't break up with me when he says some offensive statement about Brexit or something. And it's okay, because she'll also get to meet Mom and Xander and Talia and Anselm, and they'll sort of balance things out. It seems like so long to wait, but I know it will go by before I know it.
Now, what should we do in LA, though, that's the question. We'll be there for about three days (two-and-a-half days, really), and there's so much to do, so I don't know how we'll manage to pack it all in. I guess I'll just have a list of options ready, and she can pick whatever she wants to do. I have a google doc, actually, full of links and ideas and information, and I'm thinking it can be like our little pocket resource. Also, I've already shared it with her, so she can contribute, too. I sort of want to take her to UCLA so she can see where I went to school, but I don't know if she would be down for that. We could visit Kitty, even (although she'll be working, so maybe not). I don't know what we'll end up doing, but whatever it is, I'm sure we'll have fun. Or at least, I'll have fun. I hope she does. Whatever happens, though, it'll be an Experience to remember.
I got this super bad urge to drink this morning. Insomnia always triggers a sort of feral response in me, where I go absolutely batshit insane and drink massive quantities of alcohol that should really not be consumed at such high volumes. And I actually have a bottle of nice bourbon, because I treated myself the other day (I stopped at one glass, though, don't worry), so it would have been really easy for me to go for it. But I didn't. I journaled about it instead. And I think that's some really good progress. I mean, damn, it was a really strong urge. I had to bundle myself up in the blankets and physically turn my face away so I wouldn't see the drawer where I keep it. Sunny, you say. Shouldn't you just pour it down the drain? And yes. That would be the sensible thing to do.  But I don't want to waste it. I paid money for it, man. And besides, if I can keep on resisting temptation like this, it'll really increase my mental fortitude, and it'll help my recovery. So it's actually a good thing that I have this alcohol. It's like when people keep portraits of their mortal enemies in their houses so they can be reminded to have strength. It's definitely not AA-sanctioned, but I don't particularly care what the AAssholes have to say. It's my life, not theirs. Besides, my tenth step (in my own twelve steps that I wrote) says that we must determine the relationship we can have with alcohol on our own. I can't just take someone else's story and try to make my life match it; it doesn't work that way. I have to explore and figure things out on my own, because recovery is very personal, and really does work on a case-by-case basis. Some things work for most people, some don't, but I need to be able to make these decisions for myself.
Why do I even want to drink, though? I mean, besides the fact that it's fun and whiskey is delicious? I don't think it's that simple. For me, drinking isn't just some fun game that I can take or leave; it's something I have to watch with care. I might be in recovery, but I still have an addict's brain. And right now, that brain is telling me that recovery isn't worth it, and that everything will be better if I just take that one drink (which will of course turn into a whole bottle, which will turn into hundreds of dollars worth of puke and strained relationships). But the thing is, my addict brain is a little silly, and doesn't have all the facts. He can only think about feeding his addiction, and not about the consequences. He doesn't realize that my life would be much better if alcohol wasn't a huge factor in it, and that there are other things to worry about than getting my next drink. But I realize it. And I'm not going to let him run my life anymore.
(I don't know why my addict brain is a man, but I feel that he is. This is nsfw, but my vagina is a man, too.)
I do wonder why this is creeping up, though. Maybe it's because I stopped smoking weed. I like weed, but I was starting to like it a little too much, so I decided to take a break. And now I'm all out of sorts, and I can't sleep well, and I haven't made any good insights, which is all good proof that I was starting to get addicted and needed to stop. But anyway, I think I had started to replace alcohol with marijuana, and now that I don't have either, it's like a scramble trying to think of other ways to ruin my life. Is it going to be the eating disorder? (yes-- I'm eating only twice a day now, and in small portions) The self-harm? (not yet, but it may be coming) Honestly, my dude, why do I have to be self-destructive, though? What's wrong with just living life in a healthy way? I think I'm scared. My entire adult life-- and really, most of my adolescence, too-- was spent in total misery. It's all I know. So I guess the thought of being healthy and happy and in recovery is just too bizarre for me to comprehend, and my damn addict brain is trying to sabotage me because he can't face a future without the comfortable darkness. Like, fuck off, man. I'm trying to get myself together.
I have to keep asking myself what my goals are, and how what I'm doing is fitting into them. And I guess it's a little hard, because at this point, I'm not sure what my goals even are. Yes, I want to move to England and get a job and complete the Masters program at whatever school I decide to go to, and then I want to get my doctorate at USC, UCLA, or Stanford, but it feels so nebulous. What if I do decide to get a psychology MA, and then I decide that I want to go into counseling or something? I would be good at it, I mean several people have told me so, and I think I would enjoy it and be able to help a lot of people, but is it what I truly want? I don't know. I don't even know if I truly want to be a professor anymore, either. I do, but I also feel that it may not be my true calling. However, since I have no clue what my true calling even is, I guess it's okay to work for that for now.
You know, though, I'm starting to see that there's more to adult life than work. I can be happy even if I don't choose that perfect career. Even if I don't do something in linguistics, I can still research and study on the side, and integrate that into my life.
Okay, I'm back. I went for a walk, and stopped at that cute little cafe on the way back and got a cheeseburger and fries, which is of course, not very healthy, but it sure was delicious. I haven't been eating properly for a few days, so it was really nice to just get some good nutrition. It's fine, I'll make something healthy for dinner, but I also don't think it's bad to just eat something big once in awhile. It doesn't have to be hummus and carrot sticks all the time (though that's also delicious). What's the point of getting healthy if you can't have cheat days?
I watched this episode of Queer Eye (which is my new favorite show, by the way) where Antoni, the cooking master, told the guy they were all making over that anything tastes good if you put enough butter in it, and that it's easy to take the lazy way out, but if you can cook something healthy and yummy, that's even better. And man, I dunno, it really inspired me, like yes, I do use a lot of butter, I cook like a Southern dude, and yes, my gumbo is really good because I use bacon fat to make the roux, but I could just as easily use margarine (ew though). Okay, there has to be a balance, though, because objectively speaking, most margarine tastes bad. Maybe I could use olive or avocado oil instead. Anyway, I got a little off-track. I really like Queer Eye, because it's such a hopeful show. The guys meet their subjects where they are, and don't do anything that would be antithetical to their lifestyle. They just help everyone find the best versions of themselves, and I think it's really lovely. I wish they would come make me over. I think I would disappoint all of them except maybe the fashion master (and I would probably disappoint him, too, because I still wear the clothes I wore in college, and now that I'm a Real Adult, I should probably get a new wardrobe). But it would be worth it, because then I could live a better life (and maybe get verified on Instagram). You know what, though? I can be my own Fab Five. I can be a cooking master, I can be a fashion master, I can actually take care of my skin and hair. I might have trouble with the "design" bit, and I don't know what Karamo, the culture master, would do with me, but I can figure that out, too. I'm queer, I have eyes-- let's do this.
You know what? I'm still hungry. What the hell. I'm going to go drink water.
Okay I'm back. You know what's always been really an issue for me? How much food I eat. I'm a small guy (like, objectively speaking), but I used to eat like a power-lifter. But I realized, probably about a week ago, that growing up (and up until college, probably), I was always hungry. We were guaranteed dinner, and that's literally it. So it makes sense that I always ate as much as I could when it was available, because I really didn't know when my next meal or snack was going to be. Actually, I've never been into snacks, and part of that is the ED and part of that is because I just never had access to any. But some people just eat whenever they're hungry! Isn't that weird? It's probably not a surprise that I have issues with food now. I mean, I love food, and I love cooking and reading recipes and making Pinterest boards, and all that, but it's always had a sense of the forbidden. So it makes perfect sense that I grew up with a case of restrictive (and occasionally purging) anorexia. Oh man. If I have a kid, I have to make sure they grow up healthy and happy, with three meals a day and snacks if they want them, and I have to be able to cook good, nutritious food so that they, and my wife and I, will be able to stay healthy and strong.
Actually, there's a lot of things I need to do for my future child. It's a little alarming, because I was rather abused growing up (I have only now started to accept this), and I don't want to make the same mistakes that my parents did. But I guess I don't have to. The first step is recognizing that I faced these problems, and then the second step is determining not to put anyone else through that, and then I guess the third step is actually doing my best to give my child the happiest, most healthy life that I can. Which means I'm going to put their health first. I always thought I would be a tiger mom, but I'm starting to think that's not me. Instead, I'm going to foster an environment of care, where my kid can talk freely about their mental health, and can take days off if needed (I'm going to say one per quarter, maybe), and talk to me and their (other) mom about anything. And I'm going to tell them I love them, and I'm going to hug them, and I'm going to dress them in nice clothes that are appropriate and actually fit, and I'm not going to make them sleep in the same bed as me, and I'm especially not going to make them take off their clothes to sleep, like seriously, what the fuck is that? And I'm going to do everything I can to give them the life that I never had.
I'm not sure if I can actually have a kid, though. E doesn't want any, and I would never want to force her into something that she doesn't want, especially when it involves an innocent human life. I have no doubt that she would be an amazing mother, but I want that to be her choice, not mine. And if she decides that she never wants kids, that's okay. I'll take care of my siblings' kids. I do sort of hope she changes her mind, though, because I'm kind of growing attached to the idea of being a mom. It's really weird, because I thought I would never want to, and in fact, I never even wanted to get married,  but now everything is changing. I definitely want to get married, and I'm starting to think about baby names in my spare time, and like? What happened? I really am a completely different person now than I was at eighteen. Which is a good thing, but it's also bizarre. I never knew I could change so much. It's a positive thought. I hope that I'm completely different at thirty than I am now.

Now that I've heard back from one university, I'm getting greedy and impatient, and I want to hear back from more. I somehow get the feeling that I won't be getting an offer letter from Nottingham, the one to which I sent the wrong personal statement that mentioned classes that don't exist, or from Manchester, to which I sent the wrong application type, or from Essex, to which I sent a really horribly bad personal statement (hey man, it's been awhile since I applied to school; I'm out of practice), but the others are fair game. I'm trying to be more optimistic and less self-deprecating, did you see that? I'm giving myself a fair chance. I just hope the schools do, too.
I'm definitely in a transition period in my life. I'm a bit adrift, a bit overwhelmed, and that's totally okay. I just need to put my feet on the ground and get going, though, because I can't just sit around and work on my mental health all day. I'm taking steps, though; I offered to help one of Mom's coworkers out with some paperwork and such, and of course, I'm getting ready to go back to school, and I'm going to therapy regularly, and I'm even exercising and stuff. Damn. I need to do more, though, and this isn't me being hard on myself, it's me being realistic and realizing that grad school and a part-time job is going to be pretty hard if I'm not used to getting off my ass and doing the things that I need to do. So, I have to just kick myself and get going. I mean, how can I make a life for myself if I don't work for it? I used to be very hardworking. I mean, it was during high school, and I was an AP student, so everyone was hardworking, but still. I can go back to that. Literally, my guy, how did I become so lazy? Maybe I let myself go. Yes, I did, in a lot of ways, really, so that makes sense. Are my flaws... my own fault????? Oh my gosh, is this going to be some kind of Hobbsian man-is-born-to-trouble-as-the-sparks-fly-upward moment? Because I would really rather it not be that. Actually, you know, this way of thinking, while probably deleterious to the mental health, does give me some agency. If my flaws are my own fault because I didn't work to banish them from my natural state, then presumably, I am able to banish them, and can do so with hard work. And that's how the proletariat is born, baby.
Today is the 22nd, which means that in a month and twelve days, it will be June 4th. And you know what happens on June 4th? Oh that's right, E is coming! (probably in multiple ways if we can get some alone time) I'm so unbelievably and uncharacteristically excited about this. Like, let's be real, ladies, gents, and esteemed ones, no matter how extroverted we are, don't we all value us some alone time? Don't we feel a little twitch of irritation at the thought of having to share our space with others? It makes perfect sense that I, and others like me (all of you) would be averse to the idea of having someone come and stay by my side for an entire week. Except, I don't feel any aversion to the idea at all. Instead, I'm over the moon. A whole week in person with her! It'll be like when I visited her, except longer, and with a mini vacation with friends thrown in at the end. Honestly, it seems like too much happiness. Does that mean something may go wrong? No, actually, my friends, foes, and buffoons, and most importantly, me-- in fact, that's not logical or rational thinking at all, and can be discarded! Correlation ain't causation, and that's that on that.
Okay! Now I'm going to talk about my feelings, because I learned that I'm not, in fact, an INTP as I'd thought for six years, but actually an ENFP, with feelings a-plenty. It turns out that suppressing them doesn't make them go away, who would have thought?
I felt a little sad earlier. I wasn't sure why, so I asked myself why, and then myself got all silly and pretended it hadn't happened, so now I'm going to ask myself again: why were you sad? It's such a tough question, because I'm not Supposed to be sad right now. I'm supposed to be getting better and feeling hopeful and happy and not a phone call away from being hospitalized, and all that. And I guess I am, I mean, it sort of feels like flowers are very slowly starting to bloom. Or no, not flowers. A tree. That's slower, but also, it doesn't die after a couple weeks. Like a tree, the growth in me will be able to withstand cold winters and hot summers, but also the sweetness of spring and the fresh vitality of fall. It might look different in different seasons, but it's the same me. (Nice analogy there, man, you got this real good) I feel like the growth is happening so slowly, though, and it's frustrating. I want to be there already. I've never been patient by nature, even though I force myself to act as if I am, and I hate this slow pace. But I know it's probably good for me. I have to get used to living again. If it all happened at once, it would probably be overwhelming, and I would regress. So it's good that I'm taking it slow! I know it is. But man, I want to be who I want to be already.
Who is that, though? I talked about it a little bit before, but let's really explore what I want my life to look like, and what I want myself to look like, too. Of course, I want to be that polka-dot-wearing, flower-loving, friend-smooching kitty mama, but I also want to be more concrete in my goals. After all, I can't write "I'm kind <3" on my resume. So, I have two paths in the short term here. One is linguistics. The other is psychology. And never the twain shall meet. No, just kidding-- the ultimate goal, you see, is psycholinguistics! So really, what I do for my Masters doesn't really matter, because the end goal is a PhD in linguistics, specializing in psycholinguistics, specializing in language processing, specializing in morphology. Boom. If I go the linguistics route, it'll be more comfortable. If I go the psychology route, it'll be more exciting. So either is good! It just depends on what school I go to. Once I'm there, I want to work part-time (because a tier 4 visa doesn't allow full-time work except on vacations), and of course go to school full time. And I will be able to balance it all, because I will also allow myself time to have fun.
I'm just wondering, honestly, who gave me the right to be so happy. I'm seeing the love of my life in 43 days, and we'll have an amazing week together, and then we'll go party for a weekend with my two other favorite people, and then it's just a few months before I start school. I have these wonderful things to look forward to, and in the meantime, I'm waking up happy each morning, and that's a miracle in of itself. I truly never thought I could have any of this. And you know, nobody made it happen for me (though of course they helped). I made it happen. I'm kind of getting emotional over myself, right now, oh man. I taught myself my entire elementary and middle school education, and when I realized it wasn't enough, I pushed my parents to let me go to high school (subsequently paving the way for my siblings to go). I got into OSU, and I applied to UCLA all by myself, got in all by myself, and graduated all by myself. And I asked E out because I decided to be brave, and then I applied to grad schools for the same reason. And then I took the steps to recover by myself, and of course of course people helped me, I'm not denying that, but I also don't want to deny the amount of hard work I put in to be where I am now. Talia recognized it before I did, but I think her observation has finally hit me, and I've finally realized that every good thing in my life came either because I'm privileged and it was handed to me, or because I worked to make it happen, and of the two of them, I feel so much better about the second one. It's bizarre to think that there's something in my life that I can be proud of, but actually, there's a lot. I've done a lot. So maybe I'm not the absolute lowest scum of the earth. Like, I'm not great, but I'm okay. I'm okay. I think I'm going to tear up. It's really possible, because I know that I'm average at best, and I can be my best, and I can be average. Like, normal. All I've ever, ever wanted is to be normal (there's a lot to unpack in that statement, but let's ignore that). And I can be! I can be myself, but
holy shit y'all wait for this hot take that just hit me like a fucking brick
Abuse isn't normal
It's not! Literally, the way I was raised is the definition of neglect/abuse, and I hated it and was ashamed of it for so many years without knowing why. (author's note: this is blowing my FUCKENING mind) It makes sense now. I knew on some level that it was wrong, so I was ashamed of it. And when I think about the parts I was ashamed of, the parts that I wanted to change, it was the parts that were symptomatic of the abuse. I was proud of reading classic literature as a kid; I wasn't proud of the fact that my dad insisted we all sleep in the same bed until I was ten years old. Also, what happened to my eleventh year? I suddenly can't remember it.
All right, hold on, this is getting distressing. I'm thinking about this now. I hadn't let myself think about it. Do I remember anything before eighth grade? Big events, yeah. I think I remember a lot surrounding the move to California. It's blurry instead of blank, and I have chunks of memory. And I have isolated memories throughout, like raisins in pudding. It slowly begins to get clearer as I get older. High school is where my life began, as far as I'm concerned, or at least it feels that way. Oh my gosh, and I was developmentally delayed, too, oh man. Mom always repined that I stopped playing with dolls (at twelve years old) because I went to music camp for a week. That was the first time I'd been away from home for any amount of time, and even that little window into normalcy was enough to shock me into growing up a little. Holy damn shit, man. How the fuck did I play catch-up so fast? Like, how did I overcome all of that? Although, I guess I didn't. Look at me. I'm a wreck. Like, yes, I've accomplished a lot, but I've done it while being a raging alcoholic with an eating disorder and a self-harm problem, as well as mental illnesses up the wahoo. If I was also abused in the way that I'm suspecting, too, then that would fit in like a pea in a hole. I think it was, too. Xander and Talia have apparently both had Those Dreams about Dad. I'm not saying he did anything, but he's so creepy, so the company he kept must have been creepy, too. So maybe that happened, and now I'm like this. I'm trying to get better. I really am. I think I am. And I think I can give myself a little grace for having such a hard journey.
It's okay. I'm okay. Or at least, I will be.

I got into Coventry University, in Coventry, England!
England, you say skeptically. Why on earth would you want to go there? I hear you! It's a big change, and perhaps might not be a very good idea at this point in time. But let me tell you, there are many good assets to think about that makes moving to the UK quite an attractive option. For one thing, there's the fact that European programs are shorter than American ones. I would only have to do a year for my MA. And then, there's the fact that it's a bit cheaper. That's always nice. There's also a research focus, and lots of psycholinguistics, and best of all, I wouldn't have to lie around the house all day anymore. I would be doing something! Am I sad that I have to defer the idea of getting my PhD straight out of undergrad? Of course. But it's just that, a deferment. I can get my Masters, and then when I apply for doctoral programs, I'll have more credentials, and hopefully, can get into Stanford, USC, or UCLA (my top three).
I applied for other schools in England, too, so we'll see where I actually end up going. Some are for psychology or cognitive neuroscience (like Coventry), and others are for linguistics. One was actually for psycholinguistics, but I don't think I'm going to get in there, because it was the first one I applied to, and my personal statement was really bad. But either way, I'll have a BA in linguistics, an MA in either linguistics or psychology, and (cross your fingers for the future) a PhD in linguistics, specializing in psycholinguistics. I think that fits together nicely! Besides, I miss cognitive science. I want to take more classes in it, and really explore the arena, because I feel like I didn't get to do that as much at UCLA. I was only minoring in cogsci, so I didn't get the full scope. If I do end up going to Coventry, or Birmingham, or Sussex, I think I would really enjoy myself.
I hope this doesn't mean that I decide not to do linguistics. But maybe it will. Maybe I'll decide to become a clinical psychologist, or a researcher, depending on what type of psychology I choose to focus on. Wow, there's literally so much I could do in this world, and I don't even know where to start. Why can't I just learn everything? I guess it's a good thing, though. It means that I'll never be bored. I'm just a little stressed, though, because I don't know what my future is going to be. Of course, we never really know, but it feels more nebulous than it ever was before. For awhile, I didn't know if I was even going to get to go back to school at all, and now I do, but it's so unfamiliar. I'm not good with change. It's really hard for me. I like to be assured that what I'm doing will work out, and it's stressful not to know if it will. But I guess that's faith, isn't it? I need more of that.
Something else I'm excited about: E is coming to visit! She's coming in early June, so it's only a bit more than a month away. I'm really excited! We're going to spend half the week in LA, and half in Vegas, although we could be anywhere, and I would be happy, because we would be together. I feel like when I visited her, I didn't shoot my shot, but this time, I'm going to at least be able to hold her hand when we go out places. Like wow man, I know I have issues with physical touch, but I didn't think it was going to be that bad! (To be clear-- I like being touched. I just feel creepy when I touch other people, because the only touch I experienced growing up was creepy) I'm already trying to plan outfits, and decide which of my numerous pairs of false eyelashes to bring, and I need to buy some new shoes, because I don't have any plain black pumps, and I probably ought to up my workout regimen, because my belly fat isn't going down as quickly as I'd like it to. And then, I have to think about whether or not I actually want those blonde highlights, because damn it would look good, but it's a little expensive, and I have to consider-- would it be better to save the money and see a show in Vegas? As you can see, there's a lot to consider here. And I really need a job. I teach violin on the weekends, but that only brings in about 100 bucks per week (maybe 130, if all my students show up), and I need something more stable. Not that $100 is bad, but I would like to have more.
So, my therapist told me that I need to be able to access my emotions without using marijuana. He told me that I should journal about how I'm feeling, and hopefully, the emotions will come out. So, here we go:
I feel frustrated and defeated. I'm hopeful and optimistic, yes, and that's what I'm going to show to the world. But I haven't gotten over what happened in Georgia, and I still feel, like... fragile. I'm scared that the same thing is going to happen, that I really haven't recovered, that I'm just going to get worse again, and I'll be in a foreign country with not as many resources (although my visa will grant me access to the NHS, so that's a good thing). I'm trying to appear confident, because I don't want to worry anyone, and I don't want them to think that I'm not ready for this. I want to talk about my apprehensions without being told that I'm still too sick, and I shouldn't go. I guess it makes sense that I haven't exactly garnered trust; my track record has been piss-poor these past few years. It's honestly amazing that everyone is being as supportive as they are. I don't want to take that for granted, and I don't want to sound like an ungrateful brat, because they care about me, and that's amazing. They're just worried out of love. But I do feel like people don't think of me as an adult. They think of me as a very overgrown sick child. It's frustrating, because I want to be taken seriously, and I want agency and independence and autonomy, but it's hard to feel like a whole person when no one else seems to agree.
But even as I say that, I know it's not true. Lots of people are incredibly supportive. Not everyone thinks of me as a child, and not everyone thinks they know better than I do how to run my life. It's not fair of me to make sweeping generalizations-- "everyone thinks I'm a baby! I'll never get what I want!"-- because that's not true. I have a tendency towards black-and-white thinking (along with many other unhelpful cognitive distortions), and I have to remember to focus on the shades of gray in between the two extremes.
I'm going to go pick up Talia from school in an hour, and I don't know what to do with my time until then. I feel restless and energetic, but also sort of unwilling to do anything, if that makes sense. I guess I'll push through it and do a mini workout (I have an app on my phone). Or should I wait? I just had lunch (yay me), so maybe it would make my stomach hurt if I worked out. Or maybe not. I think I'm going to try it, and what will be will be.

Happy April; I’m the fool. (I know it’s already the 3rd, but being a fool never goes out of style)
I have applied for my first of seven schools in England! It’s the University of Essex. I don’t know how strict UK universities are, and I don’t know how hard it is to get in, but I really hope I do, because it’s a psycholinguistics MA, like specifically psycholinguistics. You did notice, though, I said MA. See, I’ve decided that in order to make myself as palatable a candidate as possible, I must swallow my pride and apply as a Masters student. It’s hard for me to do, because despite trying not to be, I’m a complete snob when it comes to academia, but I think it’s my only move at this point. I really do feel like I’m playing a losing chess game with my life. It’s how I’ve always felt, really, now that I think about it. I play the right moves, or what I think are the right moves, but my opponent is always better, and no matter what I do, I keep losing. I believe that I’m fundamentally bad at the game, but I keep playing anyway, because I’m stubborn like that. And maybe that’s a good thing. We all remember that iconic scene in Captain Marvel, meant to exemplify Carol’s humanity, in which she keeps getting up after being knocked down. That’s me, or at least it’s how I’d like to be, resilient until it’s easy. Or maybe it never will be easy, but I can get to the point where things don’t make me cry so much, and I know how to take criticism without self-combusting.
I’m just now realizing that it was six years ago that I was living life at my happiest. Six whole years ago. Eighteen-year-old me was like a completely different person. No, well really, she was a completely different person. We never step twice into the same stream and all that. But it’s weird to think about— even then, I never believed I would live this long. But now I’m all grown up. I think it’s been hard for me to accept that I’m not in college anymore. No one wants to admit that they’re getting older. I feel like one of my beloved Romantic poets would have something to say about the matter, but because I’m nowhere near as well-read as I used to be, I can’t bring it to mind. Consider it said, though.
That’s such a sad paragraph. That legitimately made me sad. But things don’t have to be over for me. They really don’t. I can still be who I want to be. And who’s that?
I want to be kind and warm and gentle and good. I want to make people feel loved and safe and happy, and I want to help the world around me in all the different ways I can. I want to water the sunflowers in life and make lemonade. I want to talk to animals, hold cooking parties, kiss my friends, dance in the elevator, and read pretentious literature. I want curiosity and enthusiasm and passion and love and contentment, and I want to buy flowers for my friends, and I want to bake bread for people, and I want to look at the stars.
And then there’s all the other things I want, like a good job, and pretty lingerie, and designer clothes, and nice ingredients for cooking, and fresh flowers, and lots of makeup, and shoes and books and home decor, but that’s only secondary. I think I could work at a not-so-good job and still feel fulfilled if I was happy with who I was. Although, I don’t know, on second thought. Working in the warehouse made me want to die. That’s not a really good precedent.
Wait a second. Am I disabled? Like, does mental illness count as a disability? If so, that could explain why working 12-hour days makes my symptoms flare up badly enough to threaten my life. Because that’s what it is, really. Work makes me suicidal; I do dumb stuff (even drinking while on my medications is pretty dangerous). Wow, I just realized this. If I’m disabled, it makes sense that I can only handle at most a 10-hour day. And there’s no shame in it! If other people can be disabled, I can, too, and I’m just as valid as they are.
I think I’m afraid of people leaving me. I sort of expect it to happen, and I’m resigned to it, but I also hate the thought of it. So I’m afraid of E leaving me, even though I know it would be better for her if she did.
Okay, hold that thought, I have to go be a responsible adult and do something around the house.
I'm back!
As I was saying, it's so terrifying to know that no matter what I do, I may end up alone. It very well could happen, you know. I'm not so amazing as all that. But then again, though, it could be that some people think I am. I told Talia that I feel like one of those gimmicky restaurants, because I'm quirky and fun for awhile, and then I get annoying. But she reminded me that even those restaurants have their regulars. Isn't she awesome? But anyway, I think that could be true. Maybe I will find a "regular" who will love me despite my weird soul and kooky ways. Maybe, in fact, I already have. I want that to be the case. I love her so much. I mentioned her in therapy today, and I literally only just said her name, but my therapist remarked on how "there's something there" and how my demeanor changed. I take that to be a good thing. I don't think I mentioned it, but she's coming to visit in two months! I'm so excited that I can hardly sit still. It'll be a whole week full of happiness, and we're going to Vegas at the end, and Talia and some of our friends are coming, too. It's going to be so amazing, unless we break up. What if it happens? I realized that our relationship might have to form in person as well as online, so we'll essentially have to fall in love twice. Can that happen? Is it possible? I really want it to happen. But this is going to be the test of whether or not things can continue-- if things go really badly, then I'll know. But if they go really well, then I'll know that, too. I really hope they go well. That's what I want more than anything. Well, okay, I guess I want my career a little more than that. But this is right up there. I mean, damn, what if I could actually get married and start a family? I never thought I could have that. I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, because what if things don't go well and I end up disappointed, but I still catch myself dreaming every so often.
I'm suddenly tired. I want to take a nap. But it's already nearly 7PM, and that would be weird. But maybe I'm not actually tired. Maybe I'm just bored.
Why do I hate being sober so much? Well, I guess I don't, really, unless I'm around the house. And then it's terrible. But seriously, though, what's so bad about existing as me? Maybe I need to take up those self-love exercises I was doing once again. In fact, I probably really should. Post to come...