it’s been almost three years since my last entry here. last night, i scrolled through some posts. i barely recognize myself. im 27 now; 28 in 11 days, coming on here feels sick, because it doesn’t feel like mine, and i don't feel as broken, or as interesting.
i have stopped and started dyeing my hair
i have started and stopped drinking too much (now nine days without)
i have stopped and (am starting) to write again
i have stopped and started to run again (as of 2 weeks ago)
i have lost and kept good friends
i have moved, and moved, and moved apartments and cities
i have gained weight, and lost motivation
i have stopped eating exclusively pasta, and started eating fish
i have had scary blood test results, and had friends support me through it
i have had scary blood test results, and had friends say nothing
i have been distant from my family, and have moved back to kansas city
i have worked full-time at jobs that hurt to go to every day, and worked full-time at jobs that satiate me.
i have (we have) seen the toll of a global pandemic in 2020
i have (we have) seen black americans killed in the daylight, gasping for breath under a cop's fucking knee
i have (we have) seen domestic terrorism against our own democracy, and a president be impeached twice in the senate
i have (we have) seen an incredible divide within our nation with no surefire solution to mend it. in reality i don't think there is one.
i got a dog (Grandpa)
i felt love
i felt loss
i felt homesick
i felt empty
i felt nothing
i didn’t write
i didn’t read.
three years later.
i think it’s the medication; i don’t need to write to clear my head like i used to. the medication clears it out, or it never seeps in. it's intrusive. it's real life. it's being alive. friends and exes have had babies, gotten married, gotten divorced, and moved away. friends have left my life, some slowly and naturally, others quickly and painfully. less pain than if i weren’t medicated, i’m sure. the same as with the loss of my grandma. her suffering is too much for me. i won’t let myself start to think about it (alone in a nursing home for almost a year, isolated, and eventually succumbing to COVID.)
i’ve been listening to podcasts, but stopped listening to music almost entirely
i've been figuring out new ways i like to move my body,
refilling my humidifier,
organizing my books and plants,
studying spanish,
teaching.
grandma jennie texts me daily “i’m okay”,
i think she needs someone to reach out to daily just in case she isn’t ok,
if i don’t hear from her (which is often after i’ve long gone to bed) i’m not sure i’ll realize for a few days,
but it has been good to say i love you everyday
to someone new
appreciating how much Less Cold kansas city is than chicago,
but still too cold to walk Grandpa after work
the sun goes down early, around 5pm
the neighborhood i live in doesn’t feel safe enough to walk him at night
but i’m happy here, i think. i do wonder if i weren’t on medication if i’d realize more about how i am feeling.
i feel positive changes are coming. for me, and for our country. the inauguration of biden happened last wednesday. i got to watch the inauguration for the first time (working virtually from home has its benefits sometimes). it was powerful.