They say to journal daily - it's the only way. Your only chance at being ok. Other than exercising daily as well. It doesn't have to follow a program. You don't have to measure growth. You just need to expend all the restlessness.
I was feeling fine all week, other than a mild head cold and the kind of headache that is made worse by pillows. And then I cried last night, thinking about who would inherit Tilly and my meager savings if I died. How I would have to make the effort of dying away from home so it's not a loved one that finds me. I was so uncomfortable, my sweatpants were too thick - made my headache worse. I kicked them off, thought my sad thoughts under my blanket and fell asleep. I don't know how normal it is to feel relieved about sudden crying - like it's the one thing that's on brand, the one thing that still makes sense. If I didn't cry, what if I was never depressed? What if I never had PMDD? What is nothing was ever wrong with me and I'm just a lazy, self-pitying piece of shit, like some have said in fewer words.
I enjoy feeling the weight and warmth of my dog as I toss and turn in bed. She moves a lot in bed too. I like knowing that we do prefer leaning on each other. To make up for the companionship and physical touch I lacked in previous relationships.
I worry I won't find meaning for my life other than taking care of others. I've been feeling so grateful for the people who offered to care for me and Tilly while I was sick. I also worry I wasn't sick enough, or otherwise underserving. When did I feel that way about myself? Was it always? Or was it more towards the end of the relationship? I think he actually made me feel more deserving for a while. The only one that could see how much I put out into the world vs. how my family painted me as the least capable, least responsible, most drama, etc. How nobody believed I did most of the cooking. He feels hurt when I say I do most of the cooking. He says it makes him feel like he doesn't do anything at all. I feel hurt when I say I do most of the cooking, and people are surprised and in disbelief.
I worry that typing won't be as cathartic as physically writing. But there's something about posting this to the public that is freeing. Like I'm actually brave enough to put my truth out there to be scrutinized. I worry that I will ruin my flow because it's easy to fix spelling and grammatical mistakes. It is quicker. Much quicker.
I am intimidated by having the option to add a title.
I think I still need a physical planner. So I can see the phases of my cycle. Every cycle. It feels.... weirdly robotic? Even though cycles are natural. Moon cycles. Life cycles. Exactly every 4 weeks though? Seems crazy. Too exact. Well. I hope it stays exact. Easier to keep track of. Maybe things would have made sense sooner if I was regular in my youth. I would never choose to be born as a person who will menstruate. 🩸
I should work. I read somewhere that it's hard for people with mental health issues to plan for a future because they don't expect to survive. But also all their energy goes into surviving. And even now, I feel less scared that nobody will take in my dog if I'm gone. She's gotten so much better. Through much time and money. At least for a bit, I survived for my dog. Because no one else would give her what she needs. No one else would tolerate her. But she's become much more tolerable. In theory... I might almost be free.
Is anyone happy? I feel like everyone's motivation is simply to not be miserable. Financially. Because having financial troubles on top of existential dread is miserable.
I wonder how many people actually like the people in their lives. I wonder how many people actually like me. Or if I just happen to be part of the family. By birth. Perhaps I would feel better about chosen family if we had more traditions.
If I were to leave, I would ask everyone not to be sad for all that could have been. I wasn't planning on becoming anything anyway. You've all said so all along.
I can imagine some of them asking why I don't want to prove them wrong. Why should I? Why should they get to say whatever hurtful thing they want to me? And them their sins be absolved because I powered through their impact? How mighty convenient for them.
I hope I stick to a skincare routine. A workout. A movement practice.
But again. It's hard to stick to anything if the future doesn't matter.