Love Life

I am doing better. I am doing better than I was. I am better, more strong, more determined to live, more sure of myself than last month. And the month before that. I am doing so much better. With each passing month I gain more control and sense of certainty over my life. I know what I want. I know what I don’t want. Everything is under my control. I can choose to spend time with some people, and no time with others. What I want is within my grasp.

I cut myself on the plastic hummus container. It’s one of those hairline cuts that’s a millimeter deep and long but with the cold on my fingers and the dry air on my skin I can feel it and I keep wanting to nurse it by bringing it to my lips and instinctively slobbering all over the wound to keep it clean and protected.

I went to Trader Joe’s for dinner tonight. The bananas I bought at Costco are still too green, so I bought some reliably yellow ones at the health food store, along with a frozen pasta dinner. Frozen pasta is the best, because the sauce is already on it, it’s in it’s own disposable container so you don’t have to get a plate dirty, and there’s no mess in cooking it. Five minutes in the microwave oven and it was done. Brie and asparagus over shells of pasta. Ingenious, yet someone came up with the wicked idea which prompted me to open a bottle of a generic red blend, whatever I had on hand. Thank you very much.

Work was tolerable today. It’s always tolerable. Somehow I make it to lunch, then half the day is over, then two hours are left, and then, it’s time to go home. I don’t know how I do it every day. Luckily it’s a busy season, and there’s too much going on for me to finish all that I need to do in one day. I’m self-directed meaning that no one hovers over me. My work is driven by client demand on the phone, and by inquiries and tasks that I assign myself, as well as constant mailings that I have to manage. Right now, rather than a mass mailing, it’s individualized, one-by-one and tedious. Already, I’ve had a whole paragraph to talk about work which is more than most days.

I’m on my second glass and I’ve done plenty in one night. Right after work I had my therapy session. My glorious, thankful, rejuvenating therapy sessions which help me gain different and perhaps broader perspectives on my life, and what’s currently happening in it. Often, the content of my sessions are repetitive, because it takes more than thrice of repetition to really sink in a point. The fact that I’m okay right now, I’m going to repeat that to myself. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.

I talked to my professor friend who called me while I was parked in the grocery shopping parking lot. I spent a full hour text messaging back and forth various supportive people, sharing my thoughts and a selfie. I look boastfully gorgeous in the photo that I took and I suppose it’s one of my few good moments whence I actually appreciate myself. After dinner I read a chapter of the seductively scary paperback that I picked up at work from the library of hand-me-down novels, right before I turned on my computer to type up this diary.

I am okay. I am doing better than I was last month, six months ago, a year ago. I am gaining more control of my life every day. I choose to go to work and I choose to sleep in on the weekends, and until I’m done with that, I’m going to continue to do that. But I know that going for walks, taking myself to the bookstore or a movie theatre, or to a restaurant, a coffee shop, even a museum, it’s all out there. It’s all waiting for me. Just waiting to be experienced. Maybe this weekend I will bring a towel to the beach (yes, I live by the beach and don’t go there enough) and my book and lazily dip my bare feet in the sand whilst I read outdoors. There are so many things I could do rather than sleep in on the weekends.

I still want to stay in bed every morning, call in sick, say I can’t make it, close to quitting my job. But I can’t do that. It’s under my control whether I keep my job or not. It’s under my control how I feed myself, how I conduct my day, who I spend time with. how I choose to live. I need to keep living. With all of my might, no matter how difficult a day might FEEL or SEEM, it might not actually be that bad. I have to keep perspective in mind. I have to keep fighting to live, because for too long, for far too long of a period in my life, I didn’t want to live. I didn’t want to make it to the next day. And I was desperate to die. And now? I said out loud to myself in my car, “I love myself.” I think that says it all.


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