I am back to a place of finding my alignment once again.
I heard it said recently that a significant breakup takes about 2 years to get over. It’s been about that for breakup #2.
My intentions for this year, around April, were for me to spend the summer just working and being in therapy. I was feeling myself again for the first time in a long time and began the journey of getting off SSRIs to regain access to my emotional palette and creativity, two fundamental and necessary tools in my healing capacities.
I hoped to begin digging deeper into the ways the last breakup fucked my mind up, and I was prepared. My semester was tough but going well. I was financially okay. Alignment was there.
Moving my roommate out very quickly readjusted my entire life. I made a series of decisions that felt necessary but did not protect myself and my life in the process. I am $4000 and counting in debt for it, and I will likely be paying that off by myself.
My car having been stolen was the final straw for me. Living in survival mode after finally getting myself back to a place of thriving has been utterly devastating in every way.
My semester has started and this statistics class will be the death of me. Our study session tonight involved our tutor crying and lamenting about how the professors knowingly give us false information sometimes, at their irresponsibility to correct the material for us before we study.
I have dropped down part-time at my job because it is so physically exhausting, I cannot keep my eyes open enough to be mentally present anywhere but work. I am the top employee, which means my reward has been to take on other people’s work, often without my consent.
I’ve also discovered that I hate being buff. It’s dysphoric to me. I am genderfluid, not a full-time man.
I have had a series of mental breakdowns recently as the SSRIs are beginning to wear off, and I am recovering from my birth control having been swapped out for a pill that gave me dry heaving panic attacks like I’ve never had before. It will be about 3 more weeks until I get back to normal on my usual pill.
The breakdowns, I am not afraid of. I know how to work my way through them. But I am tired of having them.
I can feel the coursing crumbling of capitalism in my fucking bones everytime I have them.
Nothing is working, nothing is sustainable, the world is on fire, and virtually nothing can be relied upon right now. Things are not like they were. They have gotten worse and I anticipate will get worse for the next 5-6 years.
I am trying to find myself in the midst of it all.
I am not skilled at cooking, nor cooking adequately sustainable food for myself. I am discovering, upon taking vitamins, that I may have an iron deficiency or some energy deficiency. I cannot eat enough of the right foods - I am constantly hungry and constantly unable to feed myself, though I have access to food. I am getting better, but it’s embarrassing.
I am living in the city and I am finally beginning to understand what that entails. I am cautious everywhere I go and I trust no one. Being a visibly single woman living alone provides me no safety to fall back into. It simply does not exist. My body is on alert everywhere now, and I guess you just get used to it out here. I fucking hate it.
I am trying to come to terms with how little I really know being on my own for real for the first time ever. I’m embracing that. I love learning. The growing pains are worth it. But they’re embarrassing as shit and I wish I knew how to better take care of myself sometimes.
My emotions are attempting to let me in again and remind me of who I am. This badass that lives inside of me is realigning and this time, we have to make decisions that will actually benefit us. It is time to feel selfish, though I am not.
It’s time to feel like a bitch.
I’m moving back home. It is the greatest safety net for me at this time, and that $4000 won’t fix itself.
In a year and a half, I will be eligible for getting into the psychology field with my degree. I’m fucking terrified. I am not mentally stable enough to be helping other people right now, and I don’t suspect I will be any better by then either. I have internships to think about along the way.
Nothing feels stable anymore. Nothing.
I am my own stability. I am the only part of life I can control. And I will do just that while the world burns around me, until I am ready to re-enter it.
It is time to hibernate, practice healthy isolation, and gain some clarity of mind with my intentions to align life to what makes the greatest sense to me and no one else.
I need the practice of silence back into my life.
I am becoming ready again.
