When I first started therapy, I was asked what my aim was. I had recently stopped being friends with someone who had said they didn’t like who I had become, and I wanted to become someone I liked once again. Mostly, though, I wanted to enjoy my hobbies again, and become someone worth the air I breathe on this Earth.
I can’t lie, the last few weeks have been hard. This week, I was assaulted at the club, and I’ve taken the weekend off from uni to go home to my family. Yesterday, my period came, and I’ve always suffered from PMDD, so it’s a relief I wasn’t completely going insane. While my monthly miseries are frustrating, I usually get through them with the power of cigarettes, coffee, good music and my bed. Today, I took a wonderful nap, and plus, my dissertation supervisor had given me this weekend off, so I was fairly guiltless as I drifted off into a dreamless, non-weed-induced (for the first time in a month) sleep.
I’ve always been a big partier, mainly because I love to dance and meet new people and drink, so what happened was strange to experience, for obvious reasons. I looked really good, too, so it’s hard to reconcile that image of myself with the person who went to the club that day. I won’t go into details on this blog, but I called my mum up crying, asking to come home. I felt like a kid, and I think she knew it was bad because she let me smoke a cigarette on camera and didn’t tell me off. One thing she told me was that I’ll feel better soon, maybe even in a week. It’s true, I’ve been through heartbreak and bad situations before, and I tend to get over things very quickly. But still, it’s weird.
I miss this blog. I think I’ll go back to writing. I disappeared for a while to work on my dissertation, and I still have that to do, but my life isn’t any better without my writing. I’ve been so sad recently, and it’s been hard to write, or do anything worthy of enjoyment. But I’m trying to claw my way out of the pit I’ve dug myself into. Here we go.
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