Onlies & Justs
If only I can get through this rough month, then I’ll write a good blog post again. I just have to make it to next week and then I can start properly nourishing my body. I would work on my blog if only I wasn’t so exhausted from working and job interviews and job applications this week. If only I can get a better job, then I’ll be okay. If I can just get my room clean. If I can only finally see Ryan, if we can just get to Cleveland for our anniversary –
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
I haven’t written something here that I truly love in what, a few months? I’m embarrassed and part of me doesn’t want to ever bring attention to this blog again. But another part of me knows I need to learn that falling off a wagon doesn’t mean I can’t jump on another, similar but slightly different wagon. Maybe this new wagon is headed in a different direction, which could be scary, but let’s be real, if I’m going somewhere in a wagon, did I ever really know what my endgame was?
All (most) humor aside, anxiety and depression have been at an all-time high. I had one appointment with a new therapist, but it was a pretty poor fit and I’m a little demoralized at the thought of actively seeking a good fit, especially when I finally felt so comfortable with Jack. I’ve been applying for “big girl jobs,” and no matter how much I hate that phrase, that’s really what I’m looking for. So, you know, I can pay rent and stuff. I’ve been feverishly applying for better part- and full-time jobs, but it’s not the kind of economy where I can just wake up with 5 job offers in my lap. I’ve been trying to write poetry and blog posts and even fiction, but nothing good comes out, and writing horseshit (unfortunately) makes me want to stop writing altogether. I haven’t seen Ryan for a while, and I still have a week until I will again. I know plenty of you who see your partners far, far less often, but I’m not going to pretend it’s not frustrating that he can’t just be here with me all the time.
I’ve been spending a lot of time laying in bed listening to Frightened Rabbit.
But my point is this: no more mental onlies and justs, because if onlies and justs were candies and nuts, then every day would be Erntedankfest. At least, that’s what Dwight Schrute would say.
I’m going to try to write a bunch of the posts I’ve been mulling over, about comedy, and my troubling relationship with food, and my brother’s graduation, and about my grandfather, and waking up with a swollen eye from pre- and mid-sleep crying, and the relationship between femininity and sex and food. I’m going to try to challenge myself to actually do things, rather than promise to do them when I’m “in a better way.”
But there’s no way I’m giving up that whole in-bed Frightened Rabbit thing just yet.