Where do I start?
I know I SAID I would post more on my feelings and thoughts, but things got hectic fast and I honestly would just come back from work and go to sleep for the first week. And then after that I've honestly done everything in my power to distract myself from this, from self-reflection and thinking about things.
Why? Not because it's hard, but because I don't feel like I deserve it. I still feel like there's so much more I could, and should, be doing, so much more I should be that it's overwhelming. And I can't seperate thinking about myself and my life from thinking about where, who, and what I should be. And it's not like I'm completely sitting on my ass twiddling my thumbs. I'm doing a lot to be and do these things, but it's not enough. I'm incredibly harsh on myself and I can't excuse me doing something because it's "fun" as a worthwhile use of my time.
I should be learning more languages and working on more projects and branching out and working on my gfx design skills and keeping up with life and just ugh. I think one of the things that really bothers me is that there's a lot of friends I wish I could keep in touch with more, but honestly a lot of the times I just get too busy and when I go text them or talk to them I feel like I'd be bothering so I don't. That's how I feel about Ashley, Emma, Scott, and Will who I'd like to talk to more but I'd only ever really do so either super early in the morning or super late at night and I'd feel like a bother. I do make efforts and do keep in touch, but I feel like it's not enough.
Nothing I do is ever enough, protip.
Anyways. As I get ready to break in the new year it's harder fo rme to distract myself from thoughts of where I am right now. I've largely made it. I've made it to a point where I can say "I made it to the ground." - Did I find the perfect place to settle down or the fountain of youth or India? Not particularly. Have I successfully made it across a hellish ocean and landed alive? Yeah. I have.
I just paid my first bills and I'm officially good for next month and there was a sense of accomplishment in there. I did what at different points in my life I thought, and was told, I could never do. It was quickly drowned out by all the other things I was told I could never do and still haven't but should, but for a brief moment I felt accomplished.
I need to keep remembering that contrary to what I believe, my story is far from over.
One of these days I will make a post that's a direct follow up to all the early posts in the blog. To my battles with alcoholism and depression, the latter of which continue to this day and the former which I am proud to say I am still sober. 15 months later.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Saturday, December 13, 2014
[12/13] Entry 51
So. After a grueling six weeks, and who knows what else with who else. I'm done with being a student and am now sleeping for the first time in my apartment.
That's a scary thought tbh. My apartment. I'm completely and officially, 150% on my own now. I mean I have been for a while but this is different, in name if not in practice. It's strange to walk around and be able to say "This is my apartment." and it's honestly just a little bit terrifying.
It's also a bit tear-jerky for me. I remembered today how I started this journey, four and a half years ago. The day before we were supposed to come up to UT as incoming freshmen for orientation I was stuck in miami with absolutely no way to get to tampa. No method of transportation that I could afford existed. Everything I owned at the time fit in a small box and one suitcase. I could carry it all myself with no issue, It was part of who I was: broke and had nothing. Literally nothing.
I wish I could have remembered that moment in the apst four and a half years when I felt pain over something or the other, when I felt sorrow and grieved over who knows what. Because remembering now, the pain I felt at that point is rivaled by only a couple or so others in my life. Most of which I think I've documented here in this blog. But no. Having worked my ass off to get to college, having found one I could legitimately go to, but then being stuck in deadshit nowhere because I had to pay rent fo rmy parents one last time. It was devastating. It's because of that I've worked so hard where I can and when I can and saved up money. It's why I currently freak out and have miniature panic attacks if my bank account goes below a certain number. There's something terrifying about having everything ripped away from you with nothing you can do.
Eventually, like two hours before I was supposed to depart to Tampa, I got a call from an old family friend who bailed me out and helped me. To Father Mateo I am probably deeply indebted to. I honestly, in a very literal and physical sense, would not be here today if it wasn't for him.
I'm exhausted and have a huge cycle of emotions circling around in my head that I want to talk about but I can't see straight anymore and I'm afraid if I keep on typing I'll start crying and I really just want to sleep. So I'll be talking more about the whirlwind of experiences over the next few days. Hopefully.
-Over and Out.
That's a scary thought tbh. My apartment. I'm completely and officially, 150% on my own now. I mean I have been for a while but this is different, in name if not in practice. It's strange to walk around and be able to say "This is my apartment." and it's honestly just a little bit terrifying.
It's also a bit tear-jerky for me. I remembered today how I started this journey, four and a half years ago. The day before we were supposed to come up to UT as incoming freshmen for orientation I was stuck in miami with absolutely no way to get to tampa. No method of transportation that I could afford existed. Everything I owned at the time fit in a small box and one suitcase. I could carry it all myself with no issue, It was part of who I was: broke and had nothing. Literally nothing.
I wish I could have remembered that moment in the apst four and a half years when I felt pain over something or the other, when I felt sorrow and grieved over who knows what. Because remembering now, the pain I felt at that point is rivaled by only a couple or so others in my life. Most of which I think I've documented here in this blog. But no. Having worked my ass off to get to college, having found one I could legitimately go to, but then being stuck in deadshit nowhere because I had to pay rent fo rmy parents one last time. It was devastating. It's because of that I've worked so hard where I can and when I can and saved up money. It's why I currently freak out and have miniature panic attacks if my bank account goes below a certain number. There's something terrifying about having everything ripped away from you with nothing you can do.
Eventually, like two hours before I was supposed to depart to Tampa, I got a call from an old family friend who bailed me out and helped me. To Father Mateo I am probably deeply indebted to. I honestly, in a very literal and physical sense, would not be here today if it wasn't for him.
I'm exhausted and have a huge cycle of emotions circling around in my head that I want to talk about but I can't see straight anymore and I'm afraid if I keep on typing I'll start crying and I really just want to sleep. So I'll be talking more about the whirlwind of experiences over the next few days. Hopefully.
-Over and Out.
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