Fog

I'm so torn. I feel like I don't even own my life. I'm just in a fog. Day in, day out. Same stupid brain. Tried for over a week to cut back on weed. Didn't buy any. Downloaded an app. Sucked the shit out of my vape. Struggled with insomnia and moodiness. Legit felt the void in my routine. Last night, after a hellish work experience, with the weekend beckoning, I walked to the dispensary. I bought: another vap, an eight of nug, and a 1 gram joint to share with the girls. My friend is making dinner and we're all getting together later, so figured I'd bring some herbal refreshment.

Did I mention I was intending to do "Sober October"? Of course not, I rarely blog. I started with the best of intentions. Tried to rally my friends. Told K. all about it. But then, as hinted in my previous post, shit hit the fan with us. Two incidents, days apart. And right now there is such tension. I "broke up" with  him and blocked him on everything the other day. He started emailing me. At first it was harsh then evolved into him begging me to talk to him and promising we could try couples therapy. I had my yearly physical and described the depression I've been feeling. They added a THIRD medication. I haven't filled it yet. I ended up unblocking him from the doctor's office just to tell him.

The next day he sent me flowers. Then we got on the phone and he said the wrong thing and I went nuclear and blocked him again. He apparently reached out to his sister basically in tears begging her to talk to me. She messaged and called me, asking me to talk to him. I unblocked him AGAIN just so he would stop involving her.

He's been unblocked ever since but we have not gotten back on the phone. I'm not going to bother going into details about our fight(s) because what I truly want to blog about is how I feel going forward. "Confused" is not a feeling but it's where I'm at. So I figured I would try to figure this out.

Why I want to make it work:

I love him

We can talk through anything

He's in individual therapy and willing to do couples therapy

Shared values

Common interests

He makes me laugh

He is fighting for our relationship

Why I want to end it:

He's an asshole 

His mental health has weaknesses

We fight too much

I feel like I've changed his lifestyle and have lingering guilt

I don't feel good enough for a loving relationship

I wonder if I deserve better

Long term commitment scares me

Having children someday scares me

Fears of being betrayed or lied to

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There is a chance I'll add to both lists, but just throwing these together real quick is eye opening. There are more "reasons" to end it, but they are fear-based reasons and insecurity.

FUCK.

I really hate myself sometimes. I constantly have dreams of us breaking up. My neck fucking hurts from being hunched over like this and it's 11:22AM on a Saturday. NOW WHAT?

I'm so fucking lost. I'm so torn. I'm so depressed and anxious and weak and fickle and pathetic. I'm a pothead. I hate my job. I don't know what other job to even get. This year has been SO HARD on me. I'm tired. My nose is runny. My apartment is a mess. I need serious help.

Paranoid

I put my entire life on hold this year, to help K. through his medical issues and surgery. And I don't even know if we're going to make it. I'm aging by the day, 38 and no kids. This is never where I wanted to be. We have been dating nearly 3 years. We are no closer to marriage then we were a year ago, that's how it feels currently. It's not that marriage is the end goal necessarily, but there are certain tax and economic  protections by being married. Why be in a long term committed relationship without them? We talk about living together, but that scares the hell out of me. I've lived alone a long time.

I don't trust him. And I know how ridiculous and awful that sounds, after being with him this long, going through what we've gone through, and naively assuming we would end up together anyway. It's weird because there is a certain base level of trust that I definitely feel. Like I'll get in the car with him, sleep next to him, give him a key to my place, ask him to watch my cat, etc. But actual trust that he won't do me wrong? Sadly I really struggle with this. I have extreme trust issues. They've been here forever.

My mental health is terrible lately. I'm so fucking depressed. 

After

It's officially been a week since my boyfriend's life saving surgery. He did great. He is healing slowly but surely. I couldn't be more relieved. I want to catalog certain details, so let me back up...

Last Monday, the day before the surgery, the hospital put us in a hotel nearby, as we live in a different city (about an hour away), and he had to be there at 6:00AM. I worked all day Monday, but it was SO hard to focus. I was feeling a million different things. In fact, the days leading up to last Monday were hellish. I had a lot of anxiety. He was hiding behind jokes. His family came to town.

I have been responsible for all the driving, as he cannot drive for at least a month. I drove us all to the hotel Monday night after work. It was a tense drive. It was late, and since we had to be up early, we planned to go right to bed. Obviously we knew sleeping would be difficult.

The hotel had a jacuzzi, which was surprisingly open late. I had brought my bathing suit (like I always do for any hotel stay) and convinced him to go for a late night dip. We thought the heat might help us relax for sleep.

I remember it all so clearly. Trying to keep the mood light. Trying to stay calm. Sitting next to him in this hotel jacuzzi, watching a little boy and his dad swimming in the pool. They had a sauna as well, so once we were done with the jacuzzi, we went in there. The hotel towels were so small and scratchy. The sauna was lovely. But before long it was time to go back to our room. It was nearly 10:00PM.

We got in bed and talked for awhile. I turned the light off and tried to fall asleep. I could NOT get comfortable. I usually bring my pillow for travel but for whatever reason this time I did not. I hate hotel pillows. I kept tossing and turning. And then my allergies ramped up. I sneezed and got up to blow my nose multiple times. This was gonna be a long night. Eventually, I passed out for about 3 hours.

I woke up to him tossing and turning. And basically stayed up the rest of the night. We had an alarm set for 4:30AM but turned the light on and started talking around 4AM. He was so nervous. I was scared but trying to stay calm, supportive, and loving. I reminded him how much better he would feel after the surgery. I told him I would be by his side the whole time. I told him how much I loved him.

And then it was time to go. I drove us to the hospital, in the dark. As we walked in, my panic began to build and I started to feel all the feelings. We took the elevator to the surgical floor and got in line to check in. It was interesting to see that there were about 20 people there at that early hour, waiting to check in for surgery, or with loved ones checking in. Tears quickly filled my eyes but didn't fall. This was all so fucking real. I took a few deep breaths.

All too quickly, they called him back for surgical prep. They had told me I'd be able to go to him once this was complete, before they took him to the operating room. I sat there in the waiting room, bogged down with books, my journal, a cooler, my purse, his water bottle... I got into a conversation with a woman seated nearby. Her son was having brain surgery. We had a nice rapport. It soothed me. Then he texted me, and I went back to him.

He was wearing a hospital gown, with a surgical bonnet around his head. He was hooked up to fluids. We were in a small room with a curtain. Just me, him, and his mom. The time was approximately 8AM. We sat there and talked for hours. Around 11:45AM, the surgical nurse came to ask him some questions and go over the surgery. This is when the panic set in FOR REAL. He looked at me, I looked at him, we both started crying. I bent over the bed, hugging him, telling him to be brave, telling him I loved him. It's a blur but I remember it so well. After just a moment or two, the nurse came back and said to say our goodbyes.

At this point, I'm visibly terrified and unable to stop the tears. I wasn't sobbing, but I was crying and our eyes were locked on each other. Even now, typing this, I feel the pain in my chest from those moments. God, it was so fucked up. For months now, my biggest fear was that he would die on the table. I was truly afraid of this happening. I've gone through so much horrible shit in my life, it seemed like almost a given that I'd lose him this way. But I held on to the smallest bit of courage I could find deep within. I said good bye and see you later and walked away.

Those first few minutes after we left him, I had a panic attack. I could feel it. I was breathing heavy, shaking, my brain was spinning a mile minute, I was in fight or flight mode. I told her I needed to go drop some of the stuff off in my car and off I went. I walked away from her and it was so surreal. People everywhere and my love away from me, about to be knocked out and cut open. I walked to the car and back in record time, then stopped in the bathroom. I was sweating like mad so I reapplied deodorant and took more deep breaths. I knew it was going to be a long day. It had already been a long day. 

I'm going to stop for now. More later.

On my way to you..

Well it's been awhile. Things have gotten better in some ways, worse in others. K. is less than a week out from major surgery. The stress has been extreme. We are both irritable and scared. I'm anxious. He's having nightmares. We had a major fight, but got through it. I just want him to be ok. His father passed away a month ago, very unexpectedly. It was awful timing, but when is it ever a good time to die? I did the best I could to be there for him and his family. Luckily, they're all nice people who make it easy to care. His mom is very sweet. She loves me.

Things with my family are alright. There was some drama surrounding my brother's passing and the funeral we finally had. My parents both caught covid and took forever to get better. We're all getting older. My dad actually surprised me with some money towards my student loans, which was a shock and a blessing. I think he is finally softening in his senior years. I am making efforts to stay connected. Truth is, I do need them right now.

I'm super scared about my man's health situation. I am definitely numbing myself with weed but luckily not alcohol. He is really experiencing a lot of bad symptoms. Our sex life has waned a bit. But we're hanging in there.

Work is going better. They are actually being somewhat understanding and flexible with me. They are allowing me to work less hours the next month or so while I care for him. Since we're not married, I don't qualify for FMLA, etc. But I appreciate that I can be allowed a special accommodation. It motivates me to stay longer, absolutely.

Done with work for the day. Just took a few hits off a nice joint. About to freshen up then drive over to my guy. Weekday date night, even though we won't be doing much. I want to see him. I feel really bad about the fight we had. I can be emotionally and verbally abusive to him. I hate it about myself. It's really hard to accept it about myself. Who am I kidding? I should not accept it. Right? I should REJECT it. 

The problem is that I'm so good at fighting. I can rip someone apart. I know this is two fold, one from my profession, and two learned from a past abusive relationship. I'm referring of course to (the first) D., in case anyone has been reading that long. D. was positively evil. We fought constantly. What's scary to me is how I catch myself saying and doing similar things that he did to me. For example, the name calling. Hanging up on the other. Turning phone off or blocking. Evil, evil stuff. And I'm guilty.

It sucks. I've been with my therapist many years and we still haven't managed to get me to be better with this. I go nuclear. There is no other way to put it. Truthfully, I don't deserve to be in a relationship. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Me and K. always talk it out and make up and he is forgiving towards my fighting style. It's hard for me to understand. He loves me. But love isn't enough to put up with this, is it? I know the answer to that question before I even finish typing it. Love is definitely enough to put up with verbal abuse and all sorts of other crazy shit. People in love tolerate crazy shit. 

But that doesn't make it ok. It's still a problem. He's definitely not perfect. He can be selfish and stubborn. He can fight too. Just not as good as me. 

Meaning, I always win. I tell myself that I don't want to win. It's not about winning. But the reality is that I won't stop until I've won.

Is anyone else like this?

Or am I just damaged beyond repair.

On that heavy note, hope anyone still out there reading is doing well and enjoying their July.  

Until next time.. 

~S

When everything goes wrong

Ending the week on a shit note. I'm depressed. I'm angry. I'm anxious. I'm so unhappy with my life. I hate my life and I hate myself. I hate the world and I hate my job. I hate my boyfriend and I hate my family. Shit is FUCKED right now.

Paid a bunch of money to fix my car, which is a beater. I've gotten ZERO feedback at work, in fact my "manager" is tip toeing around and avoiding me completely. I *was* feeling better about work but not currently - I'm questioning everything. I'm telling myself to keep this job, to hold onto it, FOR THE MONEY. It's alllll about the fucking money, all the fucking time. Everywhere you look. Everything you see. All of what you hear about. It all comes down to money. Money is truly the root of all evil and I'm trapped in hell.

It's Friday night and I skipped lunch. I have a glass worth of wine left in the bottle so I'm slamming that on an empty stomach. Then I'll switch to whiskey. Anything to punish myself. Anything to cope.

I haven't heard from my mom in 8 days and I haven't heard from my dad in 2 months. 

Fuck them. They're practically dead to me. And of course I feel horrible saying that. What kind of daughter am I? How ungrateful. How horrific of me to loathe the people who have spent my entire life ignoring me and downplaying who I really am such that these days I have no fucking clue who I am. I'm just angry.

My boyfriend tries, he really does. I don't know how hard he tries but I would never say he doesn't make an effort. The problem is that nothing he says or does will ever help fill the hole inside me. Nothing he can do to wake the dead. The dead hole that lives in my soul. My brain is the enemy, my heart is a child. My soul I feel detached from.

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A half hour later. I feel buzzed. The wine is gone. Still haven't ate. Thinking about making a whiskey drink. I feel slightly "better" in that my mood isn't as rageful. 

What the fuck am I going to do tonight? Probably nothing.

I'm such a loser.

Total Solar Eclipse

 Today is the once in a lifetime total solar eclipse and I'm in the path of totality. I'm excited! But - it's cloudy as fuck. Figures. Regardless, I took the afternoon off work and am spending the day with my man. Yes - I still have a job and a boyfriend. I recall my last post detailed some dire times. Things have gotten better and I'm doing alright. 

Spent Easter weekend at my sister's house in another state. She and her hubby are having issues. It was tense and they fought a lot. Hoping they pull through it. We made the best of it.

Went and visited my cousin with the new baby and had a marvelous time - he's adorable and she's doing well.

Hung with my good friend and had many laughs and lots of wine. Much needed girl time.

My man and I continue to hold on. His surgery is coming fast. I just want to be through it. Taking it day by day is tough. Not being able to plan is tough. We're finding ways to distract ourselves (homemade sushi, many movie nights, walks, talks).

My mental health is somewhat stable at the moment. I've had a week of solid moods. I've been more positive than negative lately. Trying to just be thankful for that.

And yeah. This once in a generation total solar eclipse is worth noting. I hope we get to see SOMETHING through all the cloud cover. Either way, we'll be together. Being with him is everything lately.

Love & Peace.

-Sar

Old phones & the memories they contain

Friday morning at the crack of dawn. My cat woke me up about 20 minutes before my alarm. My boyfriend has forgiven me. I don't know why he's so forgiving towards me. I don't know why I deserve his love. My job and attitude towards it have gone from poor to fair. Today is my review. I'm nervous.

I feel like I have definitely gained weight and it's freaking me out. Just another reason to quit weed. The munchies are so real. My aging adult body cannot just write it all off, the way it used to. I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. I've read that quitting weed zaps hunger for awhile. If only I could be strong enough to really give it a try. 

Weeks ago, I had the realization that I struggle to feel safe in my skin. Last night, I looked through two old cell phones, to see if there were any old text messages from my brother who passed. There was not. But there was a few "locked" messages from my ex. The abusive D. I don't know why I saved them. I guess to never forget. Did I really think that I would?

One of them, in the context of him defending his abuse to me, was him saying that I got hit with a pillow but deserved a cinderblock.

Another said that he wished we kept the baby.

Another said that I was the ONLY beautiful girl in the entire world. And that he loved me so much, "it was hell".

I wish I didn't read them again. I'm glad that 99% of our communications have been deleted. All social media conversations are gone. But those few messages, plus old journals, plus this blog obviously - exist. It's hard sometimes to remember him, and how he was. I don't NEED to remember him. I don't WANT to remember him.

But he was someone I dated for so long. I thought I loved him. We experienced my pregnancy and chose to go through the horrors of abortion together. I'm not going to say it brought us closer because hell no. But it was a MAJOR event in both of our lives. It affected us both and I would never say that it didn't.

I'm just glad I got out. Ugh. Why did I give him so much of me? 

More importantly, why, in the aftermath of his abuse, did I BECOME so abusive? Why did I learn from him? Why do I find myself SAYING similar things, and doing similar things? "The abused become abusive" is something true in my experience. And I completely admit that I have become abusive. It's not ok. I just don't know how to stop.

I gotta get ready for work. Had nightmares last night, as usual.

Hopefully today doesn't suck.

It's tomorrow but still tonight

I'm burning bridges left and right. Skipped my best friend's birthday get together. Ghosted my parents after my brother's death. Earlier tonight, said something unforgiveable to my boyfriend. Not sure how much longer I'll be able to call him that. 

Today was a day of self loathing. I have never hated myself more. My body radiates hate with every move I make. I ache with it.

I tried to go without weed today and failed. Work has gone to total shit. I am in a major depressive "episode' and my thoughts get so dark it scares me.

I can't even call myself thin. As I age, my body softens. You never think it will happen to you... I feel fat as hell and look like shit.

Put on what I thought was a cute outfit and was having a good hair day for the concert we went to tonight. My boyfriend said nothing. We had been tense and in disagreement mode all afternoon. Made the mistake of getting together for a concert we planned to go to. Fought there. Fought afterwards.

It sucks. I long to feel loved and desired. And he usually does. But the problem is that I don't love myself. I lie to myself and say that I do. But I'm admitting here: it's bullshit. I'm fake. I lie to others and put on a show as naturally as breathing. 

I wish I didn't rely so deeply on other's approval. I wish a lot of things. Maybe if I was a different person, life would be better. But the only person I know how to be is me, a gigantic fuck up.

It's late. Good night.

Dazed

My brother passed away. It's been five days. I've drank every night I believe. Puffing away at my smoke. Dissociating. Isolating. I haven't even seen my boyfriend. God knows he's tried. I've rebuked him at every turn. I can't let him see me like this. I can't think straight. I certainly can't act normal. I look like shit and so sad. I'm ashamed of how I'm coping. I even took the week off work.

Tonight: it's Wednesday. I'm drinking. Listening to music. I haven't had much of an appetite lately. My elderly cat sleeps next to me. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

Tomorrow: finally will see my man.

I can't think beyond that.

I can't think, period. 

My plan is to finish all the booze in my house (I bought two bottles the other day when I ventured out, numb, looking for further numbing agents). Finish all the pot. Start fresh and sober. I actually had my first weed-free day last week. 24 hours without it. I want to do that again.

I've been out of touch with myself. But I did indulge in some retail therapy, treating myself to a bracelet, a necklace, and a coat. Plus some valentine's day goodies for K.

I want to start some sort of exercise routine and kick my habits. I'm sick of needing to be so fucking "high". Please. I don't get high anymore but the crutch is everything. My brain not firing on all cylinders this week is scaring the hell out of me. I mean, I've grieved before and don't remember feeling this brain-dead. But never before was it a sibling. Who fucking knows.

One day at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day. I must be present. I MUST be present. Presence is everything. The moment is all we really have.

Oh, but my thoughts love to drift...everywhere but here. 

Clearly blogging isn't my focus.

Love & Peace,

Sar

Date night

Things are looking up. My guy got some good medical news. My brother is still hanging on. My job is fine. Tonight we're going to a fancy restaurant for dinner, and then to the movies to see Anyone But You. This is my pick, he is not a fan of "rom-coms", but I am, so we compromised. I'm lucky.

Obviously, I'm still in pain over what's happening with my family. And the fact that I'm drawing attention at work. But today, I'm trying to be ok. 

If only I could kick this weed addiction. In my head I compare my usage to an act of anaesthetizing my state of being. Like today for example. I woke up at K.'s. Last night we had an emotional discussion about terminal illness and death as relevant to my family situation. I slept ok but it took forever to fall asleep. Even though we both usually fall asleep instantly together. He had to work this morning so I left and went back to bed. A couple hours later I got up, and I'm feeling all the emotions. Such that thoughts are choking me up. But then I took a toke of pot. All of a sudden, I catch myself singing goofy songs to my cat and feeling just...better.

I'm walking on sunshine down the staircase when the thought popped into my mind: the weed is masking everything. I rely on it. Every fucking day. To put a bandaid on the pain.

I NEED to stop. I just don't know how.

But it won't be today, obviously. Thank god K. doesn't smoke. I know when we're together I won't be puffing, maybe just my pen once or twice.

I gotta be stronger. 2024 has been off to a tough start. I want to be happy and free. It just seems like it's going to take time to get to a better state of mental health. But maybe I'm not even trying, especially if I abuse a substance to get by. Not proud of it. It's been an issue for far too long. Decades. That's so guilt-inducing to admit.

It's time to get ready. Sending anyone reading some positive vibes. They're there, with a little help from my pipe. But they also exist within me. And you!! If you look for them.

XO Sar

In trouble

 Got in "trouble" at work. They noticed I've been a tad... detached lately. Someone asked me to assist with a project a couple weeks ago, and I declined. This was brought to HR. They questioned me in the conference room today. A Friday. It makes me wonder, had the conversation gone another way, were they planning to fire me? But for all intents and purposes, the conversation had a professional, interactive flow to it. I took ownership. I was honest. I communicated some of the things troubling me lately. I acknowledged the impact of same on work. 

It's over and I survived it. But it feels like shit. I know I've been slacking. I admitted it to my therapist, bf, probably here... It's hard to care about work when loved ones are suffering. Put another way, it's easy to not give a shit about work. I live for so much more than work.

And you should've seen those two ladies, sitting there with me. Taking this all very seriously. Isn't our work just so important. 

I'm drinking. We got pounded with snow and K. picked me up and drove me to and from work today so I could attend this meeting, since my car is currently snowed in. Aka buried in snow. He's a sweetheart to help.

But when he dropped me off after work, I came inside and made a stiff drink. The cup is half whiskey. I'm blazing weed. I'm fucked up. 

I needed to get fucked up because I was hurting. Still am. Had to slow down drinking since I had barely any food today. Plain yogurt with high protein granola. Breakfast snack bar. Apple. A few cashews. I was hungry until I had that meeting. 

But yeah. That happened today. And I'm still reeling, clearly. What a mindfuck. As if I don't have enough going on. I guess I have to handle it better. I need to step it up. Keep work and life separate, not let either affect each other. How the hell do you do that?

I gotta end this for now.

New year, fresh chapter

It's a new year. My cousin had a baby today. My cousin is gorgeous and quite well off. We're the same age and I've always compared myself to her. Growing up together, she was more outgoing, kinda spoiled, and popular/athletic during school. I was shy and kinda rebellious, a troubled girl falling through the cracks in a big family. I got into drugs, she did not. She's always done well, had good steady jobs and nice apartments. I switched jobs countless times and lived in tiny lofts. She married someone with a very wealthy profession and they live in a gigantic house out in the suburbs. I'm unmarried, in a relationship where the man I love has a serious illness. I'm not even afraid to admit that I'm totally jealous of her. 

Don't get me wrong, it doesn't feel good to admit that and I don't believe I've ever indicated same to her. The funny thing is, despite everything above, it's possible I have strengths that she doesn't. I'm definitely more independent. I've traveled solo, she's always traveled in groups. I'm a tad unconventional and not concerned with staging my life on social media. She posts everything. Perhaps these are just differences and not strengths but for a moment there it felt like my self confidence was trying to have a word.

I'm happy about the baby and look forward to meeting it. I'm just in a mood - woke up feeling ok but it changed quickly. Cat was driving me nuts. Apartment needed cleaning. Bf caught covid and I had to test yesterday but it was negative, twice. Not sure if I should test again today. I don't feel sick, at least. 

I was told some disturbing details about my family member who is in hospice. Found myself morbidly reading about end of life stuff. I'm so sick of living with this all. How can I detach? I told my coworker yesterday I was numb. She and I were having a nice chat and she had mentioned a few times about her mom and started crying as she described a recent occurrence. She then get all embarrassed and was like  "sorry for crying, it's literally nothing compared to everything that's going on with you". It was validating but all I said was "It's ok to cry, I'm honestly numb at this point". 

Sometimes I am numb. But obviously I'm self medicating. I cry of course. I cry every day sometimes. I scream and yell and hurt myself and other with my hateful words. Last week I cried and screamed so much the capillaries around my eyes started to burst. Stuff has been bleak lately.

I skimmed some posts from 2023 last night. There is no question, even without looking back at old posts, that was 2023 was a rough year for me. I felt sad though, seeing how many of my posts describe feeling mad or sad or stressed. I need to live a different way if this is my mood the majority of the time.

But how?? 

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It's Saturday and my bf is sick so I have the day to myself. It's noon and I gotta shower. I've already cleaned up a bit. The plan is to put my Christmas decorations away. And just veg, I guess. It's supposed to snow today. I need to grocery shop. My appetite has been so wonky lately. I actually lost weight from the stress and not eating as much.

I bought a nice new scale a couple months ago. Holding steady around 131. This is a good weight for me. I feel and look thin. Not that I am super obsessed about my weight these days. I just kinda leave it alone. I don't like binging so that's never a worry. I never ever purge or feel tempted. I mean, it pops into my mind once in awhile as a memory, but it's not an actual desire. I don't try to skip meals or starve myself EVER because I have found that when my blood sugar crashes I get soo mean. I eat as regularly as possible just not a ton and I watch what I eat. Not too much sugar. Not too much carbs. Strive for protein and fiber. I'm still a vegetarian and I'm sure that has a lot to do with it. Plus my anti depressants have an appetite suppressing side effect. 

It's time to end this, thanks for reading. Felt good to vent.

xoxo Sar

As 2023 winds down, I wind up

It's been awhile since I've blogged. Had to force it. Life has been somewhat tragic lately. 

Sitting in my home on a rainy Thursday night. Cozy but alone. Well, the cat's here. He's my little buddy. My boyfriend and I are going away for New Year's Eve weekend. Looking forward to getting away from it all. 

There's been a lot going on: multiple family members sick, one in hospice. My boyfriend needs a major surgery, we just found out. I've been depressed. Work has been difficult. I've been living in an extended state of anticipatory grief about my close family member being terminally ill, and finding out my beloved boyfriend's condition has been shocking and devastating. The implications are real. We have already decided to put off marriage and starting a family for at least another year. I feel the weight of expectations to be his care taker without the privilege of being his wife. This is causing resentment to build within. I have not told him this, however.

It's been a week since we found out and it's already affecting us. We've both been stressed and depressed. I'm trying not to be distant but I've been needing space due to the weight of it all. Worried sick about my family every day. Struggling through the holidays. It's hard to believe that less than three months ago I was in the mountains enjoying life.

I tried to cut back on weed - went ok for awhile. I was only using a pen or edible for about a month and a half. I bought nugs a week or two ago and have been partaking in joints. But my anxiety is through the roof. I don't think weed is helping me. I'm just addicted and weak.

I know I need to be strong right now. People are depending on me. But I feel like shit. I want to run away. I'm in constant pain. I don't know if I know how to help myself. My trust in myself is weak. My skepticism and pessimism grow deeper. If only I could reset my brain. 

Writing it all out hurts too.

More later, hopefully.

-S

9/9

The last thing I feel like doing is writing and reflecting. I'd much rather succumb to quick hits of dopamine via weed or reels. In fact, I'd rather be working. Alas, it must be done. I am flailing lately. Shit's been rough.

I have no excuse for my reservations. It's Saturday. I had breakfast, coffee, checked the mail, did the dishes, smoked half a joint. I've got music on. It's time.

My birthday was this week. That was the highlight of the week. Last weekend, I met up with family to have dinner for me and my dad's birthday. We were born days apart, but different years obviously lol. 

It was tough on my mental state leading up to. I haven't seen them since May. We had the whole father's day drama occur. I had some nerves regarding how it would be, how I would feel, and how my dad would look. He's been quite sick for over a month. They are still trying to figure out what's going on. 

It went fine, other than some initial awkwardness. Also the fact that my father is as thin as me. Very frail looking and weak. I'm worried about him. 

He didn't text or call me on my actual birthday and that threw me for a loop this week. It brought my mood and self-esteem down. My therapist says it's all part of the established pattern of disappointment and encourages me to lower my expectations. Is expecting your dad to wish you a happy birthday within the realm of high expectations? I think not. But, thinking that way isn't really getting me anywhere. Hoping my dad will communicate with me hurts me every time. 

Due to my spotty ability to control my mood, this week also had lots of fighting with K. Like to a point of nearly calling it quits on the relationship. I take stuff out on him. I am so triggered by seemingly everything. I'm trying pretty hard to retrain my animal brain and sometimes I do ok and more often than not I completely fail. It's painful. I want to see myself in a good light, but that is not possible when I get so mad at him. I have anger issues and we both know it. 

I don't necessarily think breaking up with him is the answer. I feel that we share a true connection and there is a lot of love and great experiences between us. But we fight too much. 

...but you know what? There has been too much fighting in every romantic relationship I've ever been involved in.

*mic drop*

No, seriously. I'm the problem.

It fucking sucks.

I need more help than I'm getting or I need to try something new. Like quitting weed, mama's little helper that I do daily without fail. Or working out regularly. Or volunteering my time to the less fortunate. Something.

But how to make myself make a change? I struggle to feel motivated. I put a lot of energy into my actual job that pays the bills, and spend a million nights getting high by myself.

Knowing I'm using as a crutch and actually forcing myself to stop are two different things. I have to understand why it's so daunting to quit. Or even stop for 1 day. I tell myself it's ok, it's medicinal. And yeah sure, it is. But it's also my Achilles heel. It's holding me back.

Help?

I suppose now is a good time to remind myself that I have managed to control my drinking. I rarely drink. And when I do, it's completely limited and in capable hands. I feel good about it. I should think that if I can do that I can do it with weed. Because I always loved drinking. The problem is that I've always loved weed so much more. 

Weed is a security blanket. It wraps me in a dull buzz. I feel detached from literally everything. I become more aware of my brain-body connection. I become quiet, drawn inwards. My body wants to rest. My brain wants sometimes to explore and other times to be in the moment observing. It's fun. It's also kinda boring when it's all I ever do after work at night. I really need to get a handle on it. Sometimes I can be productive on it, but that's usually only when I'm feeling productive prior to getting high. 

I gotta do it. Will I? Who fucking knows. 

Peace.

~S

Summer

Well it's been awhile! I left off describing family dysfunction but I'm back to basically just vent. I feel like I'm going to explode or combust or cry. Why? No real reason. But also, a million reasons. Backing up just a bit, I set some boundaries with my parents and I can honestly say it worked. At the time, when I was being ignored, but not giving in, it felt like hell. I ached. I cried. I obsessed. But I held my ground. Once the ice was broken (by my mom), I responded with zero grudge. She reciprocated warmly. It felt like a small win.

But as we began chatting more, I got filled in on some tough news. My older half brother has cancer that is spreading. He's been sick for a couple years. It is now untreatable and he has been referred to hospice. It's weird even typing that out. I feel detached and numb about it. We are not close, but I have a lifetime of memories. He's family. 

I'm just sitting here, trying to know what to say but what can you say? Cancer sucks. I am grateful that he is not in pain (allegedly). I hope for a miracle. I know he's looking for a clinical trial. But the truth, the goddamn bitch of a truth is that he could be gone before Christmas. It's a lot.

So I'm enjoying life when I can. It's all fun and games until you get robbed though. Yup, my phone got stolen at a music festival a few weeks ago. That was an expensive life lesson. I'm not getting into it though. I've talked about it enough. I bought another phone and added insurance to my plan. Fuck anyone who steals.

Work is kicking my ass. We've been dealing with the wildfire smoke. Things with K. are solid. My mental health is not.

I had a cavity filled. Now I need a night guard. I've spent so much money at the dentist and on therapy this year already. Feels like all I'm doing is spending.

Oh, and that raise I negotiated? Still not seeing it in my paystub. I've already followed up twice. What a fucking joke. Trying to stay patient and calm. Failing and feeling overcome with anxiety.

As I get this all out, I recognize that shit has been bleak. I want to feel happy. I recognize that, despite the madness, life is going pretty well for me. But I just don't know sometimes. Life is hard. Really fucking hard and you gotta be tough. I can be tough. I just get tired of being so tough and on guard. But it's the only way. Keep on keeping on.

Maybe next time I'll have a plethora of good to share. Be well, all.

Love, Sar xo