From FML to a breath of air

Fuck my life. Oooh. Aaaah. There’s such relief after saying that. I don’t usually swear, and it feels good to just get it out! I really wanted to get drunk tonight but the thing is, I try to not have alcohol around for that very reason. Plus, it’s not good for my stomach and it really messes with my antidepressants. Psychotropic medication is powerful stuff when taken correctly and as prescribed.

I haven’t been going to the support group for a couple months now. I don’t know how I feel about it. I do enjoy having the extra time on Monday nights to go grocery shopping, get gas, troll around on my computer watching YouTube videos and finding ways to entertain myself until bed time without listening to other people’s problems and having to feign compassion when I can barely find enough compassion for myself.

I used to be a model. It was a great hobby of mine. I was actually good at it, and good-looking back in my 20’s. A photographer that I’m still in touch with sent me a photo of myself from ten years ago. It showed my bare stomach. It was flat instead of chubby. I had an immediate bad reaction. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I sent it to people so I wouldn’t have to sit alone with the image unto only me. And then I got really depressed that night. I looked up videos on self harm and anorexia. I used to deal with restricting my food and diets, even though I was forced on those diets by the person I left four years ago. He needed me to look like a 12-year-old. He even dressed me in children’s clothing, and I was small enough. It’s really disgusting. It’s a disgusting memory. All of it is disgusting, because the modeling was taken advantage of as well, and he disbursed images of me to strangers at free will and without my permission. The horror of my past.

So I wanted to start cutting. Instead I looked at graphic images of other people who had cut themselves. I think it’s healthier to watch a video rather than to do it. It’s not like it’s giving me ideas. I know how to do it. That’s why I got rid of all the sharp knives I used to have. Even without knives I still have scissors and a razor. If you want to do it you’re going to find a way.

Enough of that. On to something more positive. I was texting with an old friend of mine from twelve years ago when I was in college. We should have had a romance but didn’t. Now we live far away from each other and we enjoy each other’s company every week via text message conversations. I spent an hour chatting with him today. I tried to gross him out but it didn’t work. I asked him if he would pop a pimple on my back and he flatly said “no”. Stupid shit like that brought a smile to my face.

I’ll be interviewing potential roommates this week and next. I’m hoping I’ll find someone soon. Money is tight and a constant worry. I just don’t want to downsize and have to get rid of anything. I like having my books and my bookshelves and my huge L-shaped couch, my pots and pans which I never use, the keyboard and large speakers which I never use, my massage table which seldom gets taken out of its bag. Having these things around comforts me. I like my things. It runs in the family. My mom doesn’t like getting rid of stuff either, but to a far greater extent. Her home is cluttered with memories, whereas mine are for the most part neatly tucked away under the bed and in boxes.

It’s so incredibly strange and uprooting to not feel depressed. I just don’t feel depressed right now. I had an entertaining conversation with a friend earlier. I made sweet potatoes in the oven and ate them. I drank tea. Because I’m feeling good on this rare occasion I am going to give myself credit for my GRAPES:

Gentle with Self – no expectations tonight; Relaxation – Hot tea; Accomplishment – load of laundry; Pleasure – writing my blog; Exercise – none, ha; Social – texting.

There. Now I have credit for almost everything on the list. Using my DBT skills! I also wrote a four page paper for my counseling class. It was very personal. It was about my personal “social location” and what defines me based on my socioeconomic status, age, race, gender, culture, heritage, which all define my perspectives, my goals, the way I view the world and how those factors influence others around me. We are all connected in some way.

I wonder what life would have been like without the trauma. Would I have become a teacher? Would I be more interested in yoga? Would I have ever gone to see a psychotherapist who has now changed my life forever? Would I smile more? Would I be closer with my mom? Would I be a mother already? Would I have attended graduate school? Would I have more friends? Would I still be into photography, painting, knitting, drawing? I don’t know what it would have been like had certain things turned out differently, but I do know that my life can be what I want it to be going forward because now I have control. I decide what I do from day to day. I have to go to work in order to pay rent, that’s true. But outside of work, the world is open to explore. Only, right now, most of that time is spent in bed. Through this writing I am taking my first steps of exploration.


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