The creature is limping, the parts are in place.
I feel like I'm missing out on a lot of fun in order to be an employed, insured adult. Like life is happening while I'm commuting or making food for strangers.
And to be plain if overly dramatic, some days it feels like I'm barely holding it together. Every hour I'm not at work feels wasted if I'm not fighting back the endless waves of laundry and dishes and day to day living. And then I feel like I'm trying to shoehorn in socialization around that; good god I've tried going on dates, with results about as disastrous as you'd imagine.
(Oh, and this is a silly, unrelated, tiny thing, but still a mental victory in the Figuring Me Out and What I Like front. I like men that just look masculine as fuckall. My androgyny/boys in eyeliner fetish of early college is pretty gone(probably for psychological reasons I'm not delving right now), and god help me if I don't just die for a strong jaw, a five-o-clock-shadow, and rolled-up sleeves that speak of shit getting DID.
And even sillier is that I realised this as I walked out of a restaurant with my (cisgender male) date and the hostess said "Have a good day, ladies!" And I looked over and found that though taken separately, my date's facial features would have been called pleasant, even cherubic, when put together the result was more "middle-aged lesbian aunt" than anything else, and my Liz Lemon inner monologue shouted "SHUT IT DOWN.")
But I bought a new wallet I like, the first I've had without a chain in years. The chain to my last one got caught in the seat mechanism in R's jeep when we were driving around Denver, and I just unhooked it instead of untangling it. Miraculously, I found that I might indeed be an adult capable of holding onto a wallet not physically tethered to my person. So yes, a new argyle patterned number from fossil to celebrate my ability to act like a normal human in at least one capacity.
And now I'm at my mom's and I think I'm going to sleep for a bit.
And to be plain if overly dramatic, some days it feels like I'm barely holding it together. Every hour I'm not at work feels wasted if I'm not fighting back the endless waves of laundry and dishes and day to day living. And then I feel like I'm trying to shoehorn in socialization around that; good god I've tried going on dates, with results about as disastrous as you'd imagine.
(Oh, and this is a silly, unrelated, tiny thing, but still a mental victory in the Figuring Me Out and What I Like front. I like men that just look masculine as fuckall. My androgyny/boys in eyeliner fetish of early college is pretty gone(probably for psychological reasons I'm not delving right now), and god help me if I don't just die for a strong jaw, a five-o-clock-shadow, and rolled-up sleeves that speak of shit getting DID.
And even sillier is that I realised this as I walked out of a restaurant with my (cisgender male) date and the hostess said "Have a good day, ladies!" And I looked over and found that though taken separately, my date's facial features would have been called pleasant, even cherubic, when put together the result was more "middle-aged lesbian aunt" than anything else, and my Liz Lemon inner monologue shouted "SHUT IT DOWN.")
But I bought a new wallet I like, the first I've had without a chain in years. The chain to my last one got caught in the seat mechanism in R's jeep when we were driving around Denver, and I just unhooked it instead of untangling it. Miraculously, I found that I might indeed be an adult capable of holding onto a wallet not physically tethered to my person. So yes, a new argyle patterned number from fossil to celebrate my ability to act like a normal human in at least one capacity.
And now I'm at my mom's and I think I'm going to sleep for a bit.