It’s been two months. Well, over. Two months and a week or so. There are days where I still struggle with waking up every now and then.
There are still points in the day where I’ll get into a panic mode, and I need to rationally tell myself what’s actually happening, and talk myself out of feeling immeasurable crippling guilt. But not every day.
Today was the first day I allowed myself to listen to my favorite band, well, without breaking down in tears. There was an incident where, ‘If I had a Million Dollars,” came on the radio, and I had to pull over on the highway because I couldn’t stop crying. I’ve been filling my musical time with other comforting things, girl pop mostly. Mostly I’ve listened to Dan Harmon’s HarmontownPodcast, and I mean the entirety, I’ve gone through 86 episodes, ranging from ninety minutes to two hours over the last two months. Harmon’s blatant forwardness and insecurities are fascinating, maddening and inspiring all at once. And there are moments of sincere honesty and fear, in a way, it’s given me a reason to be ok about things, feelings, my own personal insecurities and my own social anxiety problems. It’s also an invaluable resource of writing inspiration. The downside is that I’ve listened to so much, that I’ve unintentionally picked up mannerisms and patterns of speech that, well.. I’ve been told are mildly irritating.
There are still incidents. I’ve already started tearing up, just writing these sentences. Writing in general is hard, because, I have to bring myself to that emotional place, and when I go to that place.. well, there’s a lot of emotions. And it’s difficult to pull myself out of it. It’s brought about better writing, I’m particularly fond of my last real entry here, and I don’t think that level of writing was possible before. At least in terms of that subject.
In terms of coping, I haven’t been the best, I’ve pushed almost everyone away, aside from my best friend and a couple others, but then feel as if everyone abandoned me. I don’t actually believe it to be true, but it certainly felt that way, and it was easy enough to convince myself of this. I’ve made attempts to reconnect with all of the right people, and for the most part, I’d call it successful. There’s one absentee friend, and, that stings a little, but I’ll get over it, I guess.
I’ve also.. well, there’s another thing, but, I feel that it will be addressed in another one of these, as bringing it up here feels inappropriate and a disservice to this entry and this situation. It’s a good thing, a little bit..different, but still good. It makes me happy, so..
There are other things. I mean, I’ve yet to address the actual issue, but is assume anyone close to me already knows what I’m referring to. So I’m not quite at that level of comfortability but it’s close, I think. Things are still hard, it was an exceptionally tough transition when members of my family left, but everyone still here helps. My birthday was entirely necessary. I’m still talking to a therapist, and despite my hesitation, I am taking a small anti-depressant, and have an appointment to re-evaluate this week. The last sentence was possibly the hardest for me to write out of the entire post.
So anyway. Here we are. I’m still at an impasse in terms of what to do next in life, but I feel better about most things.