Skip to main content

I guess I should be doing stuff shouldn't I. Sigh.... :)

I "couldn't" get to sleep until 3 and regained consciousness about half an hour ago. Goddamnit, haha. I'd love to beat off but my roommate's asleep just over yonder. I think it'd feel kinda weird. Oh well, if I ever date someone with a cum fetish, they'll be happy if this keeps up.... XD

MEANWHILE I've been really good. My biggest dilemma is what to do if I get that office job (my therapist and sponsor both made really good arguments for it...between the hours and the pay I'm starting to agree with them more and more...).

"o exploitablez!  i can haz 2 jobs--but which should I take??"

As ever, that's all assuming I even get the job.

But really...as I shared at my sort-of home group last night, it's kinda hard to believe, you know? Only a few months ago, when I was still pretty new in the program, I came to the brink of wanting to hurt myself. I'd spent so many years avoiding so many responsibilities and any accountability, and I got good at it. But when I came into the program, I had to face them. And being new and stubborn and stupid, I was trying to work my own program instead of asking for help--I was trying to face all that stuff I'd gotten so good at avoiding on my own, only to find I had no idea how, I'd never learned.

I got to my breaking point when I became fixated on everything I'd done wrong, and all the futile attempts to change that inevitably failed, how long it had gone on like this, further feelings of futility and inevitability as I dwelled on the probably broken syllogism "Unless something changes I can't go on living like this/This shit never changes no matter what I do//I can't go on living". I got to a point of wanting to hurt myself. Closer than I'd been since...well, a really long time ago. It was scary--that I could find that kind of despair and have no idea how to deal with it.

Of course I 'went back out' in april (tho i set my date to may, long story XD); but in the 4 months since I've found a lot of humility and a lot of happiness. I've learned to do what I can and trust the rest to God or a higher power or whatever--it really doesn't matter what as long as I trust it. I've learned to take (healthy) risks to challenge myself and grow. I've learned to appreciate life and those around me, resist passing judgment, accept shit I can't change, and so on.

And some of it was as easy as writing that post a few weeks ago about coming to terms with needing to change, and suddenly things that used to terrify me weren't so overwhelming. I finished my resume, which I'd been sitting on for like 3+ years; I sent it out to, like, 9 craigslist listings. I applied to, like, 12 jobs at a local mall. I've had 4 interviews in the last week, gotten one job with the possibility of getting another. I have an awesome roommate who supports and amazes me. I'm looking around at apartments--mostly for research's sake at this point, but what I've seen has sometimes really amazed me. And I'm happy, mostly. I'm not perfect, I'm only human; boys still turn me down, poetry still frustrates me, stress still gets to me. But I actually enjoy life instead of just living it, perfunctorily.

A couple people told me they were impressed/proud/amazed by the changes I've demonstrated these last few weeks/months, but it wasn't until I was sharing about it last night that it really struck me how much it amazed me. Not even 8 months ago or so I wanted to hurt myself because of the hopelessness and shame I was so overwhelmed by; in the 4 months of working an earnest program as best as I could, I've been able to find the strength to tackle several of the things that used to paralyze me with anxiety, and I've learned to be happy.

Frankly, I think it's pretty badass.

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Gardenzia carnivorus.

I recently got back into horticulture after a bad moment of burnout, and wouldn't ya know it, I'm back at it with carnivorous plants! Despite tweeting about it endlessly, I haven't actually explained how or why this started.

Back in middle school, I helped my science teacher set up a carnivorous plant display. Nothing elaborate, mind you; a terrarium with a bunch of sphagnum moss and some pitcher plants, a sundew or two, maybe a Venus flytrap? Didn't leave much of an impression, except maybe that they died and that sucked. shrug.
A couple years later, I was in a bog near my grandmother's lake house, when things changed forever. I was in the back end of the canoe, and as my dad pulled the front end out of the water, I glanced to my right and spied, on a stump with some moss, sundews (Drosera rotundifolia, to be precise).
Of course I recognized therm instantly—they're hard to mistake, with those the sparkling tentacles and all. I gathered 3 or so of them (I know