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Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Still I Wait for You – Personal Poetry Collection

I don’t want to explain this one. Seems obvious.

 

December 12th, 2019

Still I Wait for You

Why did you let me go?

Why did you hold me

if you did not love me so?

 

Still I wait for you.

It’s up to you,

but you don’t love me.

I don’t blame you.

 

I fell for you with a word,

a touch,

a look,

and one afternoon

after countless nights

spent in mutual kindred

yearning for something more.

 

You were already lost

when I found you.

I was already high

when you first picked me up.

 

From the ground you took me,

brushed me off,

shook me down,

and spun me around.

 

You are going to ruin my life

as much as you’ve given me.

 

We are magnets

from the same pole.

I tell myself it would never work

but, even so, my heart continues to lurk.

 

My poor, tired, heart of stone

carved by your hand

and smashed by your words.

 

Soon, you’ll be gone

and I will still believe

for you she is good.

As I fight to reject

that I could have been too.

 

Why did you hold me?

and why did you let go?

if you did not love me so?

 

Still I’ll wait for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note:

Inspiration for the photo: 3AM by Finding Hope (lyrics by Aminium Music)

Posted in My Life Now, Texas- Living with Parents

Week of January 6th 2020- First Official Week of Triathlon Training and Some Non-Official Translation Gigs

It is Thursday night as I begin writing this. I hadn’t planned on returning to this blog. I mean, I’m glad that I have, but it happened naturally, not as part of a New Year’s resolution or personal goal or anything of the sort. It’s probably better that way. I’m back because I want to be, not because I’m forcing myself to be.

I was going to start weekly blogging two nights ago, on Tuesday, but as I started writing I realized there were countless battles I waged with myself over the last six months in my mind, that I had to at least attempt to explain those occurrences on the surface. Here’s that attempt at a sort of update. The following night (Wednesday) I figured I may as well start fresh with the start of the New Year and make a weekly blog post of my first week of the year.

Yep… so now it’s Thursday… Let’s see what I can remember…

 

Monday, Jan. 6th- Probably Made a 10 Week Triathlon Training Plan

I technically stayed up Sunday night until early Monday morning (3am-ish) to make a training schedule, so that counts, right? Well, I already had a plan, but upon a bit more research I found it probably would not have been ideal. It was much more intense than a beginning training schedule should be. I haven’t exercised in about a month (minus the day before and the day of that indoor triathlon I’d done on Sunday). Starting from 0 to 12 hours of exercise a week probably would not have been a good way to start the season.

So, much to my dismay, this week’s plan is about 4 hours. I mean, from 0 to 4 hours that’s still a big jump, but I am antsy. I like to progress fast and am prone to getting impatient if I don’t see results in whatever it is I do. I like positive change and more than that, I like the validation or proof of it happening. But, fine… Slow and steady, that’s what they say wins the race, right? *sigh… Lessons in patience, I guess. Today was my first day I didn’t have other engagements since getting back from my trip to West Texas with my college buddies, so apart from making a family meal plan for the week and going on an hour indoor bike ride, I just relaxed and watched T.V. with my mom.

Below will be this week’s training plan, but basically it consists of 2 one hour stationary bike rides, 2 thirty minute treadmill runs/walks, and 2 thirty to forty minute indoor pool swims.

 

Tuesday, Jan. 7th- Probably Finally Paid for Dietetic State Licensure and Translated for Brother’s Doctors Appointments

Yes, I finally took a moment to read through some important emails about my new dietetic license and the accompanying fees and continuing education requirements I need to complete. I should be getting an official card with my state license to practice dietetics in Texas in the next two or three weeks. Yay!

Other than that, I got up at 6:13am. Know how I remember that? Because my dad and brother usually leave the house by 6:10am and I was so tired I’d fallen asleep after waking up for the first time at 5:45-ish am. I kid you not, we were in the car and on our way by 6:15am. I don’t even know how I got out of bed and dressed that fast…

But, it was important to me to go. Yes, it’s my brother’s appointment, but my dad does a lot to help my brother with his health and this was his 1 year check up appointment with several different doctors and disciplines after his kidney transplant. So… yes, important. And important for me to go to ease the language barrier. I know hospitals have translators, but if I’m available, why not help out?

Case in point: while doing a sonogram we found out my brother had his gallbladder removed. Neither my dad nor my brother knew (my brother was too young to remember at the time we suspect it was removed). I’m sure my dad signed the papers necessary to allow the surgery, but there was a lot going on at the time and I highly suspect when situations get critical there’s less time to get a translator and talk through every little (or not so little) procedure. I’m glad to be back so things like this aren’t as likely to happen.

 

Wednesday, Jan. 8th- Translating for Mom’s Doctor’s Appointment and Why I Care About Language so Much

Continue reading “Week of January 6th 2020- First Official Week of Triathlon Training and Some Non-Official Translation Gigs”

Posted in My Life Now, Texas- Living with Parents

My First Weekly Blog of 2020- Visiting College Buddies, New Year, New Job?, First Triathlon! (Yes, all in 7 days)

Things have been half crappy, half okay. …All in all, I like those odds.

 

Monday, December 30, 2019- Lazing around in West Texas

So, if you read the update I posted a few days ago, you’ll know that I planned a little vacation following my dietetic certification exam as motivation/kind of punishment depending on how that turned out. Fortunately, I passed and am now a registered dietitian. I’d spent the weekend crashing on my former university roomie’s couch in West Texas. However, Sherri had a flight to catch in order to visit family this Monday morning, so I found myself waking up in Mariah and Richard’s bed. 😬 (<- my favorite emoji, by the way)

Continue reading “My First Weekly Blog of 2020- Visiting College Buddies, New Year, New Job?, First Triathlon! (Yes, all in 7 days)”

Posted in Texas- Living with Parents

Fall 2019- Being Sad then Doing Something About It (Overall Summary of the First Six Months since Moving Back in with my Parents After 5 Years Away at University and Such)

A lot has happened since summer when I wrote my last “weekly” blog, haha…… so before posting that this weekend, this is the shortest version I could bring myself to write about the highlights (and lowlights) of the last six months since I’ve moved back in with my parents.

 

Lots of Sadness with One Glimmer of Happiness for someone else, not me (of course!)

Continue reading “Fall 2019- Being Sad then Doing Something About It (Overall Summary of the First Six Months since Moving Back in with my Parents After 5 Years Away at University and Such)”

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Guide me Away from Here – Personal Poetry Collection

I’m going a bit insane here. My licensure exam is in four days from the time I write this and though life has gotten much better since I moved back home about six months ago, I feel as though if I fail this exam… I feel that if I pass it, I can say this half a year of moping and, frankly, recovering from the time away were worth something. If I fail… that just confirms my fears that I’m a waste of space and ultimately a burden on my family.

It’s unbelievable how much support I’ve gained in those five years. My life and myself changed drastically and (mostly) for the better.  I have some amazing people behind me, but recently, I’ve been thinking about the first friend who believed in me. I call him AJ on this blog. He was my first and best mentor, in the truest sense of the word. I meant to pay tribute to him in my previous post, but got a bit off topic. He told me to never stop sharing my poetry, so here you go… for AJ.

 

Guide me Away from Here

December 22, 2019

2:48 AM

Papers, pens, and practice.

I’d rather toss some dice,

but a friend told me twice

(at least), “We aren’t mice.

Work past your vice

and cut yourself off a slice

of success. Being nice

is for the lice.

 

You are wise.

Youth only a guise.

So, pick a bigger fight!

Someone your size,

now that would be a sight.”

 

 

He is right.

Yet, on this height

lays my kite

string binding me tight.

Posted in Thoughts and the Past

Life is but a Story

Recently I’ve found myself wondering why I tend to say yes to crazy or ill thought out ideas. I was a boring teenager. Extremely so. I hardly ever left my house if it wasn’t for school or volunteer events. ….Or, I’ll admit, math team competitions. I remember joining the six or seven clubs I was in simply to fill my non-existent resume. Then I remember participating in activities or volunteer opportunities just to have an answer to “what did you do this weekend”.

 

My Ex Told me that Life is a Story

Without knowing it, I did things out of my norm to have a story to tell. It’s not anything new. However, when my ex-boyfriend put it into words for me by quoting his favorite show, Dr. Who, it was like I was learning this for the first time. He said, “‘We are all stories in the end….'” Of all the ways he impacted my life, this is one of the most memorable. He wasn’t the first to tell me something along these lines, but he was the first to tell me at a time I could finally understand it.

Continue reading “Life is but a Story”

Posted in Texas- Living with Parents

Yearly Medical Check Up: the Catalyst for an Explosion of Career and Health Fears

When I was 8 or so, I went to the doctor and was told I was likely pre-diabetic. You’d think I would have been back the next year to keep an eye on that. Nah. I didn’t go back to the doctor until I was 21.  This week was my fourth year in a row I’ve gotten a physical. I had until December to get that yearly check up out of the way, but did it now because I really wanted to change doctors.

 

My Odd Journey with Personal Medical Care

The only reason I made an appointment four years ago was because we’d gone over labs in my nutrition classes and I wanted to interpret my results. Really. That’s the only reason. Once there, I got up to date on everything. And I mean everything. Yes, I’m talking about female care and prevention along with some shots that got lost in the college years. Plus that oh so attractive bloodwork, haha. Surprisingly, everything was fine. All labs were normal and everything was on the record.

The next year that clinic shut down. :/ So, I went to a new doctor. It was a very busy clinic where I felt rushed and unheard, but because I moved out of state for my internship, I went back to that same clinic the following year. Any concern of mine seemed brushed off and ignored. In addition to some “you should know better” looks/comments upon revealing I’m a dietetic student. I got that all year of my internship and every day in my own mind. I do not eat a very healthful diet nor do I regularly, without fail exercise every week.

 

Rant About my Fear of Becoming a Dietitian and my Own Weight Issues (Feel Free to Skip)

I am fully aware of my missteps and I know damn well what to do about it. Knowledge isn’t the only factor. That’s why, despite how uncomfortable it makes me feel and how much like a hypocrite it makes me seem, I let it slide while I was in university. I told myself I had too much going on to focus on my eating habits or exercise regime. My priorities were to be a good student and employee. My health came at the end of the list after friends, family, and even my mental health.

My idea was that once all that craziness was over, once I graduated and finished my internship, I would be able to breathe and focus on myself. Then instead of being a student and employee and friend and whatever else, I was going to be a health and exercise nut. It’s been four months since I moved back home after my internship and I’m about ten pounds heavier. I am ashamed of my body. I’m ashamed of my lack of studying to pass my licensure exam. Heck! I haven’t even registered for it. That’s how scared I am.

I’m scared of failing. I’m scared of passing and still not knowing enough. Of being an incompetent dietitian. Of being a very knowledgeable dietitian who no one listens to because she is obese. Or because she doesn’t have the best people skills. I’m afraid of gaining more weight and accumulating preventable diseases like diabetes (which I’m right on track for) or high blood pressure or anything else.

Worse than that, I’m afraid of losing weight and what would happen socially, physically to my body, and personally in the way I feel about myself. I’m afraid of going too far and hurting my body by not eating enough of what it needs in the name of losing weight. I’m scared of being judged for being skinny. I’ve never experienced that and would not know how to deal with it. Not that I think I’ll ever get to being skinny. Not with all these fears.

 

Back to What’s Physically, Potentially, Wrong with my Body

I am 24. I’m not old, but that’s where I’m headed as long as I take care of myself. I know the sooner I take care of myself, the better. I’ve heard it in all of my nutrition classes. Either you take the time to take care of yourself now and prevent diseases or you will have to find time to manage your diseases later in life. I know. But today I experienced it a little bit beyond that nice mantra. My new doctor took the time to listen to my concerns. I had questions bottled up for about 10 years. My two previous doctors weren’t the listening types.

…And she told me she is going to do some tests to make sure I don’t have arthritis. She thought out loud that it couldn’t be osteoporosis, because I’m too young for that. I thought I was scared of my blood sugar results coming back high indicating diabetes or pre-diabetes. I still am scared of that, but this… this was unexpected and shocking. I’m 24 years old. I didn’t expect arthritis.

I want to do things, but last week I couldn’t even safely keep up with a group of senior ladies doing water aerobics due to my messed up elbow. A few weeks before that I wasn’t able to get one bike session completed before my leg seemed to pop out of my hip causing awful pain if I so much as moved my leg an inch from a safe pedaling angle. That day I sucked it up at the expense of worsening my hip and biked the whole hour (12 or 15 miles). The next time the happened the following week I stopped at 30 minutes.

I’m not even supposed to run at my weight. I know that can damage my joints more than any benefit it could have. If I can’t extend my elbow to swim, safely peddle a bike, and shouldn’t even be running, how am I supposed to complete a triathlon?! Is this another pipe dream? :/ Probably.

 

Taking Time to Focus on Myself and My Health? More like Helping Everyone but Myself.

Putting all my time and energy on my health and fitness and studying isn’t working. It’s been four months of movies and TV series. And unemployment (because again, the stupid idea of only focusing on health and studying). It’s not working for me. I am tired of living in limbo. I’m tired of being ashamed of answering that wretched question “so, what do you do?” I’m not a student or just focusing on myself. Nah. I’m getting distracted trying to help out my family in little ways or at least things that feel little and thus putting off my health, happiness, and success.

I am proud that my parents, brother, and I eat out once a week instead of the three or more that I returned to when I moved back in with them four months ago. I’m proud that my brother has stopped gaining weight and is beginning to lose it because of that. I’m proud that he finally signed up for community college after years of just talking about it.

I am proud of my mom for taking English classes after years of not doing so and I’m proud of how fast she is learning to swim. On our third session she took it upon herself to swim out to the deep end. My mom is a straight five foot tall woman and viscerally afraid of drowning, yet she swam out to the 9 foot deep side of the lap pool this week. I’m proud that my mother, brother, and I have gone swimming three times a week for the past two weeks. My brother used to go to the gym to exercise less than three times a month! Maybe even per year, if we are being completely honest.

You know what would have been much, much, much, much, much easier than all of that? Sitting down to study for one hour every day these past four months. Or doing a dance workout video or an ab workout in my room for 20 to 30 minutes everyday for the past four months. But nope. I’ve been trying to help my family because I feel guilty for having left them for college and the internship for a total of five years and because I feel a sense of responsibility for them. The best thing I’ve done for myself in this time is take a trip with Mariah to visit Sherri and Richard in West Texas back in July.

 

From Here on Out…

I need to be more selfish. And for that, I need to get out of limbo. One way to do this is to get a job for financial means and in order to have structure in my day. From there I can work on building a study and exercise schedule around it. I’m done trying to have all the free time in the world and expecting to be happy because of that. It’s not working for me, so I’d rather get to work myself.

 

…or I can mope around for another two months, fail my licensure exam (effectively not becoming a dietitian) and then get a job out of necessity. I suppose time will tell. *shrug

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P.S. Time will Tell by Oh My! is a great song. Check it out. 🙂

Posted in Uncategorized

I Am Miserable- three months after moving back home with my parents

It’s extremely depressing to realize you currently have nothing to live for. My mood is a fucking roller coaster. It is exhausting and always refreshingly strong in its mania and depression.

 

Be Careful What You Wish For…

So, I realized why I’m so miserable since I came home from my year-long internship in Puerto Rico. (Believe me, I was miserable there too, but in a different way.) I have nothing to live for. I don’t have anything going for me in my life. I thought this is what I wanted. I thought I could use several months to reset and improve my life. To focus on myself and in a sense set myself up for success when I ultimately begin my career. Nope. That did not work.

I’ve been back at my parent’s home since July. It’s been three months. Feels like so much longer. I hate the emptiness. I thought I wanted to be free of school and work stress. I dread getting a job, because people stress me out. I can’t live without anything at stake though. I’ve gone from one extreme to the next and every day I feel like I’m worse off. I had the opportunity to move to West Texas with a friend and I decided against that because my father in a heartfelt moment told me “you’ve suffered so much already”. He pretty much told me to take a long deserved break. That got to me.

 

Another Flashback to my Less than Perfect Childhood. Boo Hoo. Feel Free to Skip; You’ve Read This All Before.

Thinking back, my life has been as easy as an unfortunate life can be. By age ten I was used to the idea that I had to look after myself. Moreover, I felt responsibility for my family (my mother, brother, and father). By 14 and for the entirety of my high school years, I felt little to nothing. I was practically a kid. My mind was older, sage and self sacrificing and my body was grossly overweight like a middle aged woman, but my age was young. Too young for how I went about life and how it treated me.

I felt almost nothing those years. I remember admitting aloud that I did not feel love from my parents nor did I have feelings of love for them, but from my behavior you would not have been able to tell. They were my obligation. Fact, not feeling. I helped in anyway I could. Ways that shouldn’t have been asked of me and, to be fair, ways that were not asked of me.

 

Why I’m Obsessed with Achievements and Why I am a Masochist

But that is who I was. Who I still am, if these last three months mean anything. I tried to keep them happy. As happy as they could be, given the circumstances. I felt like their protector. I felt strong and learned to enjoy that spark of a high. If nothing else made me feel anything, being responsible for my family made me feel accomplished. Well, not that I could really feel that then. That may be why it did something for me. I didn’t have to feel it. It was evident. On paper and not in my heart, it was clear my playing the part of comedian, translator, perfect daughter, etc. was an accomplishment.

That’s how I learned the intoxicating power of selflessness. Of putting myself last. Of suffering for the health of others. And liking it. So, yes, to all of my friends who have come to know me personally and have asked me why I put so much on my plate or why I’m such a masochist. I finally have an answer for you. Selflessness meant something to me when nothing else did. So, in a sense, it wasn’t true selflessness, though I wasn’t aware of it at the time.

It gave me a purpose. School also gave me a purpose. My parents were preoccupied with other much more important things than me. I understood that and accepted it. I still do as much as it still hurts. I wasn’t about to stress them out more by being a mediocre student. So, I had a goal of high grades and going off to university to escape my home.  As paradoxical as it sounds (and get used to that, because it’s the essence of my being), I strived for new academic heights as a way to please my parents, (well, not even that, just to not stress them) and I also did this for my own personal gain- escape.

 

But It Was Not Enough To Make Me Happy

I, understandably, was miserable. I grew up being told I was melodramatic. I believed it. I thought I should have been happy. My parents weren’t divorced, I had an older brother, had good grades, and a couple of friends plus those everyday things sometimes taken for granted like clothes, clean water, electricity, etc. and I was capable in many areas as my never ending new hobbies proved. I felt I should have been happy, but I knew I wasn’t. So I left.

Without more than enough money awarded to me by my high school to pay for the dorm fee and without the support of my father (to move several hours away) I left for university where my purpose was free from my need to please them. I learned my own values and began therapy. I learned to feel. I was finally happy. I was free. I was me. Then I, confused and without anyone knowledgeable to ask, I picked my major. Then changed it the next semester. (As always here is the link to that story.)

 

And I Set Myself Up For a Life of Self-Loathing

I feel as if I tried to fail out of that major throughout most of my time completing it. I almost did, in fact. An internship is mandatory in my career. I almost did not get matched….but I did. If you’ve read my blog during the last year, you’ll know how that went. (Hint: I say this in the truest sense of the word- I am traumatized.) Now I have to take an exam. That’s it. I’ve tried so hard to sabotage myself and this could be it.

I went through the education to become a pharmacy technician and simply did not take that exam. That sent my life in a completely different direction. I ended up doing hospitality/customer service work (more trauma there) instead of a much higher paying job in the field I originally sought to pursue. (Link to that story here.) This lead to my first choice of major (hospitality) and ultimately my degree (nutrition and dietetics).

 

I Believe I Could Be Happy if I Chose to Be… But Will I?

I think I could be happy in this career, but I spent so long fighting it, I don’t know with certainty anymore. I should feel blessed. I am grateful. I understand a bachelor’s degree is an accomplishment. But it doesn’t feel like anything to me. I feel like a failure. I am very disappointed in myself and my life choices. Half the time, I fully hate myself. After five years of working for this wretched career, I’m at a critical point of make or break. I have no doubt in my ability to pass the exam. I have the capacity to learn. I just have to convince myself it’s something I want to do.

That’s terrifying. I still don’t have an exam date. I haven’t registered. (I don’t have the money for it, plus I’m just putting it off.) I also don’t doubt the possibility that I simply will not take it. That I will have suffered though that despicable internship for nothing. I’m in limbo. If that’s the only thing I have to work towards, if that’s the only guiding light in my life right now, it’s no wonder I feel dead inside. I don’t have anything to life for. Worse yet, the only thing looming in front of me is a career that so far has brought me more pain than joy (and not the good type of pain!).

 

WOO HOO! Summary Time Finally!

That was to be my first point in this rambling: the biggest thing I have to work towards at the moment is something I’m almost convinced I dislike. Obviously, I’m resistant. Obviously, this makes me unhappy. My second point is that, being back in this household, I’ve lost the sense of myself I’d gained during the last five years on my own. I’m not the perfect daughter or sister, but I still have strong urges to help my family before myself.

With how depressed I’ve been, that has proven difficult, but when it comes down to it they are a higher priority to me than myself. That isn’t healthy. My third point, and one for a separate post because that’s a much longer complaint, is that triathlon training is slow. My faulty coping mechanism of emotional eating was never resolved during my years away from home, but it was improved, for sure. Nope. Now I hear my parent’s voices sometimes and instinctively reach for chocolate.

So yeah, TLDR: I’m miserable. I’m all kinds of messed up and I recently realized I currently have no pleasurable purpose in life.

SO… life sucks. Try to have a decent day, but if you can’t, I don’t blame you.

Posted in Uncategorized

The Happiest I’ve Ever Been

I have four unfinished drafts. I haven’t written in four weeks… or more. I get four new ideas every sleepless night. There’s too much and not enough going on in my life. And I can’t take it anymore. I’m writing at 3 am and decided to publish whatever word vomit I create. A friend of mine once suggested (likely out of pity) that my readers must like the honesty that these sad writing sessions are born from. He said this after I expressed confusion that one such word vomit post did infinitely better, views-wise, than a post I spent upwards of eight hours on.

 

Audio of this post:

 

The Best Four Months of My Life

 

Living on my own, therapy, love, and more…

I want to write. I do. I used to fight for myself. I did very well- surprisingly well- the first semester I moved into an apartment on campus by myself. Sure I had apartment-mates, but I saw them each no more than three times that whole school year (they were worse recluses than me!). It took until finals time to falter. That semester in group therapy I gave more advice than sought it. My life was great and I ran with that. Literally. That was when I started running. I wanted to do a 5K. About two months in I was pushing myself and that was the only area in my life I would not be satisfied with. I wanted to continuously improve and did.

I loved my life that year. It was the best semester of my life. Best three or four months of my life. I did things because I wanted to and that was that. I tried the whole vegetarian thing. I was looking into studying abroad. It was glorious. And, of course, I was in love. My first boyfriend. That’s pure. Completely the wrong person for me and that became blatantly apparent in the next few months, but for that brief beginning… it was glorious. I didn’t know I could be so happy.

 

Friendship, Healthier Coping, and Constant Support

That was the semester I began a friendship with one of the most caring people I’ve ever met- Mariah. I’d never had such a close friendship with someone before. It’s incredible she’s still my friend. That was also the semester we both turned 21. Every other weekend we’d get together, just the two of us (well with her boyfriend playing video games on a nearby couch), at her apartment to hang out and try different types of alcohol. Not the wildest college drinking stories. Not even close. But the best I could have asked for.

I’ve had issues with emotional overeating since I was about 10 years old. That semester? Not until finals time. It was like I imagine nicotine cravings are. Awful. Constant. And gnawing. Obviously, it wasn’t without a couple slip ups, but until I gave up during finals week… it was amazing. I sang so much that semester. Constant music. That’s what they always say. Therapists and other positive role models I’ve had: replace negative behaviors with positive ones. It’s so difficult. Sounds simple, but a song isn’t as effective as a donut for me. Not at first. That’s the semester I learned to be okay with crying. I’d been told crying isn’t shameful since I’d started therapy two years prior to that semester, but on my then boyfriend’s shoulder I accepted it.

It was my first semester as manager at a little food shop on campus. I met my coworkers I’d be friends with for the remainder of my university career. I was so nervous about my first leadership role. The boyfriend was constant support through anything and everything that semester. I’d never had that. With him, my therapists, my friends, and a pinch of belief in myself I learned I could be happy. I didn’t have to keep punishing myself for something I felt I deserved.

 

Beginning to Like Myself and Learning to Enjoy Life

I can’t underestimate this next part. I’ve hated the way I look, especially my weight, over any horrible thought I’ve ever had about my intelligence or other abilities. I never in a million years thought I’d look at myself with anything but disgust and shame. That semester, sometimes I’d wish I looked like someone’s reflection or shadow I’d catch at the corner of my eye then I’d realize that reflection or shadow had been mine. It was extremely confusing and alien at first. I began wearing tank tops for Pete’s sake! I liked how they looked… I almost can’t believe I got to that point. I was by no means skinny. I’ve dreamt of being skinny for more than a decade at this point. I didn’t weigh myself that whole semester. Maybe once for a class, but I think I refused to look at the time. Yet, I’ve never been happier with my body. Sometimes I would look in a mirror (I hate mirrors) and like how I looked! Actually looked at myself and felt good- confident even!

Unbelievable! That whole semester… And I enjoyed the heck out of it. As I experienced it I knew it likely would end. I was terrified. Like an unsavory indigestion I kept swallowing down. Yet, I pushed it aside and had the best three or four months of my life. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re used to wallowing in sadness sure that that’s all you’re worth- pain and disappointment- four months is infinity. I regret nothing. I lived. I loved. And I sure as hell made the best of it.

 

Where Am I Now?

Wow. That was certainly not the direction I expected this to go. Usually when my mind wanders it reminds me how unhappy I currently am. Getting creative, Brain. You jerk. Well, since I doubt I’ll finish up those other four drafts anytime soon, here’s the summary.

  1. I used to publish just whenever I was inspired on my old blog which was about once a month. I’m done making promises I won’t keep. Not to be rude, but I can’t keep disappointing myself. I’ll publish when I publish. Sorry.
  2. I hate living at home. My friend offered to let me move in with her, but she lives in West Texas about six hours away from where I currently live. I said no. I regret that at least five times a day. Okay, maybe only three times a day.
  3. I’m codependent without anyone to be codependent with. That’s what those four drafts said in a nutshell.
  4. The fourth kind of overlaps with the friend offering her home thing. It was a pros and cons list of moving out or living at home with my parents.

 

I hate my life right now. I have plans to make it better. I hope I follow through with them. It’s kind of difficult at the moment to find motivation. But what choice do I have? It’s fight for myself or be miserable. I know I’ve written something like this at least five times before, but that’s what I’ve found life to be: a repetitive pep talk where I have to convince myself I’m the most qualified person to care and put in the work to make my life enjoyable. I don’t know what else I can do.

I’ve given up on people before and I will never forgive myself for it. I’m terrified of what will happen if I give up on myself completely. I’ve seriously let myself go, but I know there’s some line I’ve never crossed. I know I haven’t reached rock bottom. Things can be worse. And I’m afraid. I don’t want to get there. I won’t get there. Stupid pep talk after stupid pep talk- I won’t let myself get there. Thanks, Fear. Thanks, Unhappiness. I will only let my life get better because of you.

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I’m Still Sore – Personal Poetry Collection

Disclaimer: This is an old poem. I found a batch of poems from my last semester in university. I wrote this less than a year after breaking up with someone. It’s the same someone I posted about who isn’t over “the way he made me suffer when we were together” (click here for that post). It’s a year late being published, but I find transformation and change fascinating, so I’m posting it to mark that confusing, but all too real, state I went through post break up.

Appreciate yourselves and know when you deserve better. That’s one of the most important things I learned from that relationship. Sincerely, thank you Jay.

 

 

Spring 2018

I’m Still Sore

What do you want from me?

Isn’t that always the question?

Please don’t hurt me.

I’m still sore from last time.

 

Don’t you see?

I gave you my prime.

I gave you my glee.

Now, I give you my rhyme.

 

Did I want to be free?

or simply flee?

Truth is, I felt like a flea.

I felt that was my fee.

 

So now I plea-

please don’t hurt me.

I’m still sore from last time.

 

You ate my thyme.

Turned me into chyme.

Now I am slime.

But I am no mime!

 

Don’t you see?

I gave you my prime.

I gave you my glee.

Now I give you my rhyme.

 

It is not a crime-

to be.

 

Though I’m still sore from last time,

You will not hurt me.

No more questions.

 

Do what you want, but

not with me.