Weeks go by. I try to recognize my thoughts and feelings as they are happening. Days inch by slowly. I ride the slow waves of up and down. Hours go by and I live from moment to moment.
It’s hard to conceptualize time. It’s ever constant, always passing by. I don’t always like that it continues and time is not always my friend. I tend to see it as my enemy, as a pain in my back that nags with a dull sensation mixed between fear, anger, hate and dread. When I am laying in my bed doing nothing but spending monumentous amounts of energy just to stay there, I toss and I turn and check the time every hour or so. Time is not my friend. It’s against me. It mocks me. It wants me to run for joy but I run for fear. What is it that I am afraid of? I am afraid of living my life is what it boils down to. Because I’m still, still, still not used to a life without hurt and pain. It has been three years since I put that dreadful existence behind me, started new. But what does it all mean? Why am I here? What is my purpose in this life?
Since I wrote that last paragraph, I have been on a new medication called Wellbutrin. Within a week of starting this, I felt as if a cloud had been lifted from my being, and that there is some positivity to my life now. It is a drastic difference. And as much as I hate my living situation, I managed to go see a unit for rent. I applied. It’s a huge step forward. The place is not as nice as what I have lived in before, but it is suitable and it would work. I just want to live away from here and feel like I am independent.
I met a nice man. We are becoming friends, I think. I just hope he continues to be nice and doesn’t try to make any moves to move quickly before I am ready. I want to take this very slowly.
I can’t believe I am supporting myself, paying my own rent, going to work, possibly going back to school soon. I can’t believe it. It’s so much pressure so succeed and to keep going and at the same time it is amazing.