story of my fucking life
Me: I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me
Me: *lays down to sleep at night*
Me: It bothers me, actually it really fucking bothers me, so let's lay here and think and stress about it instead of sleeping.
I’ll forget about Tumblr for months. Then return. It never fails
Update on my life:
-still clean! almost six months!
-work two jobs- Express full time, and McDonalds one day a week
-taking two classes- psychology and anthropology. Currently have B’s in both of them
-decided to be a psych major and working towards my P.H.D.
-found love, had love, lost love. In a matter of a month
-now I again think my ex is perfect for me
-got a car. VW Jetta
What’s on my mind today:
-self-expression is an important aspect of overcoming depression. I find the writing the simplest things are a relief to my sadness/loneliness. Tonight I wrote a rap verse that has nothing to do with gloom, but for some reason, I feel better. Using writing, drawing, or whatever as an outlet helps, no matter what you write or draw or whatever about. I could write about unicorns, and I’d feel better.
-I hate when people say you have to “cope” with depression (or other problems). Bullshit. Depression needs to be overcome, not coped with. Same when people say that you’re still an addict years after active addiction. I know I’m still in early recovery, but I prefer to call myself an ex-addict. It just sounds a lot better, and much more positive.
-I’m overwhelmed. Fifty hours of work (all together) this week. School. And a messy car has my flesh bubbling with anxiety.
Anonymous: have you taken it in the butt? or only give it
I usually give it…but I’ve taken it before
but not in a manic way. My energy levels are normal, for once in my life. Not too high, not too low. The phase of my life where I slept all day seems to be over. Me and the ex seem to be on good terms right now. We had a great night last night- I took him on a date (for once) to an elegant Chinese food place. Then we went back to my house and drank for a bit.
I just hate the strength of the grasp he has on my life. I can’t be happy unless he’s happy. Codependency. The signs of an addict.
Speaking of which, Sunday marks seven weeks clean! My appearance reflects this. I haven’t looked so healthy in a very long time. My laughter and tears are legitimate. I love this feeling. See ya never, Heroin. Our relationship was not long lasting, thank God. We had a very abusive partnership. I’m so glad not to be tangled up in that junk anymore. Not smoking weed feels awesome too. It feels nice to keep a clear mind.
One step at a time. One moment at a time. One day at a time.
to validate my existence. It feels weird being completely single after a year and a half of being on-and-off with somebody I was hopelessly in love with. However, this is a new beginning for me. I need to find myself before I find someone else. Like, who the fuck am I? Between that relationship, and my past drug use, I lost my place in life’s book…and they don’t make book marks for that kind of novel. This is a new chapter in my life, and I’m surprisingly excited to see what’s in store.
There’s been periods of time when I’ve been consistently gloomy; other times consistently anxious, but the last week or so, this constant feeling of anger and destruction have possessed me. I don’t know what’s wrong my me. My temper, usually bitterly short, is microscopic—if existent—at this point. Patience? I forgot what that was this past week.
Adding fuel to the fire, the ex and I hate each other (yet again). And he’s pulling the typical “I’m going to comment on all your good friends’ pictures and statuses on Facebook” which is in his character when we fight. Each time he does this, it’s for one of two reasons:
A) He misses me, so talking to my friends give him some kind of relief.
B) He wants me to see him on my friends’ Facebook, to remind me of him.
I love him so much. I wish the things between us could flow. We have the potential, he just pushes me away, far away, until I breakdown and spite him. Then I feel bad, miss him, and apologize usually in the time frame of two weeks later. It’s a cycle that won’t seem to terminate. Oh well, like I said. I love him, all this calamity is worth it.