Welcome To My Story

One reason not to give in to ideation is that I have not yet achieved the level of hyper specific pettiness of my abusive mom who got revenge on me cutting her out by specifically mailing me a check that she folded so her daughter who hates driving and works nights and has executive dysfunction will have to make a special trip to go cash it but will seem insane if she says anything.

5:31pm. I wanted to update you. At this point I should be using an identifier. I’ll go by -m.

The last time I was here was two weeks ago. That’s when I had my last drink. I’ve been trying to stay away from everything. It’s been hard. The move took three whole days. Thankfully some people close to me came to help. It made it easier to focus on them than the stress cravings.

I’m settling in the new place and working regularly again. It’s good to have something to keep my mind off of everything. I’ve spent a lot of the last two weeks trying to keep busy. It’s hard, especially at night when I’m left alone with my thoughts. I’m looking for AA groups near me too.

The life insurance money has finally pulled through and after paying the funeral home, my siblings and I got a good chunk of what was left over. Not much but will help with some upcoming bills. We have some money set aside for my dads headstone when the ground thaws. I try not to think about that part too much because it’s unsettling to know he’s in an unmarked grave at the moment.

I lost my health insurance so now my therapy and psych sessions are on hold until I can get some coverage. Thankfully I already had my meds refilled before I lost coverage so I have a decent stock up. I’ve been taking them regularly for the last week and I can feel myself getting slightly manic again while my body gets used to them after not taking them for a while. It’s not a bad manic. I’m getting more productive, I feel restless but like I can get things done. It’s better than the depression I was in.

Everything still kinda sucks and at every Inconvenience I’m missing the feeling of being inebriated. I lost myself and couldn’t find who I was at the bottom of a bottle. It’s scary trying to figure out who I might actually be. It’s nerve wracking doing this while everything else was going on. If I don’t do it now I’m scared I never will. I need to keep going and keep holding myself accountable. I keep telling myself two weeks is a good start.

Thank you for your kind words from before. Thank you for being a place to vent and feel heard. I’ll come back soon to let you know how things are going. -m

2:55 pm

I don't need to shop and I don't love to day drink and so I'm just driving around and parking for a bit and fucking around on my phone and then driving home. I have things I should work on. I don't know why I'm like this. Maybe I'll leave food for the birds when I get home.

9:18

I have been bullied by other cis women so much in my life that I was afraid that I was transphobic when I met a polycule of trans women who wanted to be my friends because I wasn't afraid of them.

Isn't that stupid?

1 pm

I want to know if there is a word for the type of love that is romantic, but you aren't in love with each other. The type of love you can even have with someone who doesn't have a compatible orientation with you. The two of you just sort of enjoy enacting the rituals of romance on each other. Like... courtly love almost. I have had a few friends like that... people who just enjoyed flirting and coordinating outfits and cutesy nicknames and all that but were asexual and non monogamous and generally enacted like camp- like "omg of COURSE I ordered for you in front of the waitress my anxious friend who hates talking to strangers I know it makes you feel all submissive and like I'm taking care of you!" Etc. I kind of miss that type of romance most of all.

7:23 AM

I miss you because you also sometimes do things wrong on purpose because it makes you smile.

I miss the sound of your voice when it has laughter in it.

I miss the way you made me feel like I was allowed to want things for myself nobody else thought I deserved.

I miss the way you made me spotify playlists like you must have stayed up all night in your 20s when I was a teenager, before we met, making mistapes for some girl why I was recording myself reading stories out loud and taping songs off the radio.

I miss daydreaming about you walking home in the rain.

I know the story is over unless we want to keep doing the same thing over and over for the rest of our lives.

I don't.

But I still miss you, my little heartworm. I hope I'll see you somehow in my next life.

8:56

Did my mother feel this washed up at my age?

She would have been washing my mouth out with soap to please her new husband.

Did her mother feel this tired, staring at women longingly from behind the sunglasses she used to hide the bruises from her last man?

Did her mother already have so much gray in her hair that she laughed when people repeated the story about her being asked to model for soap ads?

I have not buried a lover. I have not carried a child. I have not published a poem or lived through a world war.

I am already a ruin.