Some peace of mind

In a few days it will already be September. How do I feel about that? Good, I guess. I mean, I’ve made it this far. What’s to stop me from going further on with my life? I am no longer suicidal and although depression still gets me down, I am able to function during the week. The last time I felt really suicidal was two months ago, and two months of not feeling like wanting to kill myself is a huge deal for me. That was also triggered by my talk to the DDA. The Victims Compensation Program for the state denied my application because too much time has passed since the last time I was abused, but the victim advocate at the courthouse is helping me to petition. It would be nice to get some help.

I’m going on my first date from Match.com this week. He wanted to go for “drinks” but I insisted on meeting at a coffee shop and he conceded, which was a personal victory for me. I don’t want to drink alcohol with someone I don’t know. That just spells danger. Going to dinner is of course more of a commitment than drinks or a coffee, and that is for later if it goes that far. A glass of wine with dinner is different than just going to a bar. I really want to stay away from alcohol and any other bad influences. The nice thing though, is that this man I’m going to see is exactly the same age as me. I want to be with more people around my age. I’m so used to being with older people, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve always gravitated to a generation beyond my own. Even as a child, my brother and I mostly spent time with adults rather than other children. It’s just how things were. There were other children in our lives too, but moving around to different countries made it difficult to really relate.

I should definitely be a psychologist if I can go from the beginning of a paragraph talking about a contemporary issue and within that same paragraph tie it back to my childhood. It’s more of a personal joke. The truth is, I do so desperately want to work in the field of psychology, but I just cannot get myself to study for this entrance exam. I don’t have the attention span of more than 20 minutes, and then I wander off in my mind elsewhere or distract with social media for hours, just to not look at my study books.

This weekend, in lieu of studying, I went to bed at 7:00 in the evening on Friday and finally hauled myself out of bed a whopping 25 hours later at 8:00 Saturday night. I stayed up until midnight distracting myself with social media, and then went to bed again. I was, however, able to find the courage to face my day today and wake up, make myself coffee, take my morning medication and supplement. I started taking SAM-e and I have no idea if it’s helping but it’s ‘au naturale’ and I figure I’ll just keep taking it because it’s supposed to help.

I love my four-day periods. This month mine came a week earlier than expected. I only know because I track it on an app called P-Tracker, which tells me how many days are left until my next one. I find my period to be just an inconvenience and now that I am able to use tampons again, it just makes it so much more convenient and less messy.

I’m finally going to see a general health practitioner after four years of not seeing one. I’ve been to specialist doctors but haven’t gotten my annual health checkup. Who massages their own breasts every week checking for lumps or cancerous growths? I certainly don’t. Overall my body is rather healthy. I’m at a healthy weight. I eat my fruits but not vegetables. I take supplements and a multivitamin. My mum wanted me to see a doctor because of this cough that I perpetually have which sounds hoarse. I didn’t think of it as a big deal.

My theatre friend took me out for coffee today in between rehearsals. I actually spent half an hour in the sun, and it felt lovely. It’s highly unusual for me to spend time in the sun, ever, these days. I still have a t-shirt sleeve tan from the one hour afternoon walk I took with my mum last month. My life really isn’t that bad any more. Nothing dramatic is going on. No more suicide threats, self harm episodes, and crying spells are at an all time low this week compared to the last few weeks. As my therapist said, emotions don’t always feel good. Emotions are also there to inform us, and they come and go. So if it’s uncomfortable, I can count on that feeling dissipating after a while. Life doesn’t have to be so dramatic.

My life is so undramatic, that I still haven’t found energy to participate in hobbies. I don’t go out, almost never. I like to stay home at sit on my couch and do nothing. Evenings and weekends. It’s nice to be out but it’s nice to be home. How do I explain to a prospective dating candidate that I just don’t do anything? I don’t. I don’t go hiking, I don’t go for runs or for a swim or play volleyball. I just go out for coffee and sit and talk and people watch. Now, that isn’t such a bad hobby, is it?

I almost forgot to mention! I entered this poetry contest online! I found out about it while I was surfing the Internet and the deadline was August 30, so I put together a document of 95 pages of poetry (the maximum allowed was 98 pages) and submitted it along with paying a reading fee. It was for a publishing company that only publishes works written by women. I have over 100 unpublished poems that I wrote over a period of three years, and then spent six months to a year typing them up to my Google Docs. There they wait, hoping to one day be published when I have the time and energy to do it. It’s a part of my healing journey. I even performed one of my poems at an open mic night earlier this year and it was tantalizingly fun. I took myself out of my comfort zone and just did it with a friend one night. I was surprised I was able to memorize the thing in less than a week – I didn’t think I had that in me. That capability. I’m not a part of that underground, tightly-knit community of budding poet-artists in town, but I could be. I could be if I wanted to be. There are just other places I would rather focus my energy right now, such as this blog. This blog has become very important to me. I don’t know how to get more people to read my writing, but I wish more did. I want my story and my journey to be known. And I want it to help those who can relate.

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