September 26, 2021

I think I’m taking this whole stream of consciousness thing too seriously – my mind works faster than my fingers, so I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts today, but I was writing a lot. I read it back just to make sure it made sense, and I was so caught up in writing that I didn’t realize I would just stop in the middle of a sentence and move onto a new topic. Now, I guess that does work because it’s just journaling and I think journaling should free flow, but even that was a little too discombobulated for me to post.

So I guess I’ll just try and catch you up on the last week.

I got some really bad news. Like, two pieces of really bad news. One of which came in the form of a letter, and that’s the worst – to get bad news in a letter, because I’m still at that age where getting mail should be exciting, but maybe I’m starting to switch into that transitional phase where getting mail could be a 50/50 shot at something good or something bad.  

And I am getting a little tired – I’m getting a little tired with having to cope with everything and having to tell my friends I got bad news and then end it with “but it’s alright, it happens, I’ll figure out,” because should it really be happening this much? What if I can’t figure it out? And why can’t I let things just be bad for once? Why can’t I just say “yeah, this is bad and it sucks and I don’t know what I’m going to do now” and let that be enough? Sometimes I think I just say that more for my sake than anything, and I really do believe that in the end, I will be fine, (or whatever I believe “fine” really is for that year) but sometimes I just really want to say, “this really sucks” and be done with it. I try to keep the sadness out, but it always find it’s way back in.

I feel like I’m not the same person I used to be, and I feel like my parents feel like I’m slipping away a little bit. And maybe I am. It’s a little embarrassing to be 22 and to literally have no prospects. This wasn’t supposed to be my destiny. I was supposed to be the kid who got too big for their britches, who felt like they needed to conquer every major city and who was never going to be satisfied until they got everything they wanted and more. I wanted it all – life in the big city, designer handbags and overpriced perfume, weird connections to get into swanky bars, an apartment with views of the skyline, but cozy enough that it feels like you’re in a writer’s home. Turtleneck sweaters and an eclectic book collection and soft lighting and numerous amounts of blankets strewn around. I also really wanted a balcony, to hang twinkly lights and have cushioned seats and a side table that doesn’t rock back and forth when you put your drink down. And I have to hold onto hope that I’ll get there one day. That I’ll be able to live on my own, and panic when the sink doesn’t drain and figure out how to set up the tv and sing really loudly because it’s just me. So sometimes I do worry that I’ve disappointed them somehow, even though they find a way to tell me they’re proud of me almost all the time. And they know me – they know I wouldn’t have resigned to this life unless it was the only thing I could do. And I had to surrender to my illnesses. It was the only thing I could do. So sometimes I think maybe I’m self-projecting. I think I’m disappointed in me, or at least, the life I have. It’s hard when your personality was crafted around being strong and independent and successful, and to have it all taken away from you in a matter of months.

And so I do slip away sometimes. I always come back from it, but I do disappear from my friends and I withdraw from my family, and they’re wonderful because they let me, and they always welcome me back with open arms when I’m ready. And I’m trying to be better about it – I never purposely pull back. Sometimes the fatigue is just so overwhelming that I physically can’t hold the phone long enough to text someone back, and sometimes I’m just too physically weak to speak. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. And sometimes I cope better when I’m alone, so I have to make choices and pull back when it’s right for my health, but I’m trying to be better about explaining that to my friends and family when it happens. And I’m trying to learn that it’s okay to tell people the nitty-gritty of what’s happening to me, and that I don’t have to protect every around me from my own health, but that it actually helps them see where I’m coming from. I’ve done a lot of learning the past few months.