Sowing the salt
Being a responsible, healthy adult is harder than it looks.
My roommate fascinates me. She's this heady contradiction of elements: surprisingly headstrong and fragile at the right moments. Delightful, a delicate little pixie. She frustrates me at times with typical roommate drama, but she really is amazing.
The apartment itself is a dream. It's in the heart of midtown, close to everything. Studio on the square, all the bars, the awesome local eateries. The building is 100 years old this year, packed with charms. Hardwood floors, enormous windows, high ceilings, an ivy-covered exterior, a courtyard to die for and a bangin' front porch. Central air too, unlike most places in midtown.
I go on long walks through the neighborhood. It's wealthy, gorgeous. The architecture is beautiful and the landscaping is too but not meticulous, more artless.
Since quitting Warcraft, my life took a miraculous turn for the better. I started repairing my social skills and rebuilding a circle of friends.
It's slow and hard going and I want to give up sometimes but I'm getting better.
There are good days and bad days. The good days are euphoric, the bad ones slightly less so. Enough to make it through but for awhile it was hard finding reasons to get out of bed.
There are still issues and all kinds of self-healing bits to work through, I know. It never gets easier, but it's nice to look back on my progress. I tried to get therapy/counseling but my school doesn't offer it for free if you're not taking classes. Eeps.
More good things? I'm a graduate research assistant in the Anthropology department this fall, one of two. That means 8,000$ a year of tuition is now completely covered, and I get a 2,000$ stipend each semester, which covers rent almost. I've learned how to do lots of things I thought only adults did.
Started volunteering at the abortion clinic again, which is ridiculously fulfilling and makes me happy. I'm really excited about working with the director to create some sort of advocacy program. Hopefully this is going to work out so I can do my practicum at the clinic, 300-odd hours of work.
I'm taking risks. Accepting loss. I've adopted a stray cat who wriggled his way into my heart. His name is Colin. Sometimes when he's being a dickweed I'll yell his full name, which is Colin Meloy. Ha.
Some things I'm not as pleased with? I don't think I'm an alcoholic but I also don't think I can make it through the week without several nights of binge drinking. I started smoking. It was only when I drank. Then I bought my first pack and it was only one a day, then it was whenever I damn well needed one. Probably not addicted yet, but it's a definite possibility in the near future. Have to watch that. My reasoning is I'd rather self-medicate, trade my physical health in for mental health any day of the week.
Seems as though I've narrowly skirted, perhaps even openly courted, a mental breakdown. Very recently, too. Things have been working out these days, but I wouldn't count on the upswing to stay consistent.
What I don't want to write about: the heartbreak and the fallout.
This is already a lot longer than I'd intended.
My roommate fascinates me. She's this heady contradiction of elements: surprisingly headstrong and fragile at the right moments. Delightful, a delicate little pixie. She frustrates me at times with typical roommate drama, but she really is amazing.
The apartment itself is a dream. It's in the heart of midtown, close to everything. Studio on the square, all the bars, the awesome local eateries. The building is 100 years old this year, packed with charms. Hardwood floors, enormous windows, high ceilings, an ivy-covered exterior, a courtyard to die for and a bangin' front porch. Central air too, unlike most places in midtown.
I go on long walks through the neighborhood. It's wealthy, gorgeous. The architecture is beautiful and the landscaping is too but not meticulous, more artless.
Since quitting Warcraft, my life took a miraculous turn for the better. I started repairing my social skills and rebuilding a circle of friends.
It's slow and hard going and I want to give up sometimes but I'm getting better.
There are good days and bad days. The good days are euphoric, the bad ones slightly less so. Enough to make it through but for awhile it was hard finding reasons to get out of bed.
There are still issues and all kinds of self-healing bits to work through, I know. It never gets easier, but it's nice to look back on my progress. I tried to get therapy/counseling but my school doesn't offer it for free if you're not taking classes. Eeps.
More good things? I'm a graduate research assistant in the Anthropology department this fall, one of two. That means 8,000$ a year of tuition is now completely covered, and I get a 2,000$ stipend each semester, which covers rent almost. I've learned how to do lots of things I thought only adults did.
Started volunteering at the abortion clinic again, which is ridiculously fulfilling and makes me happy. I'm really excited about working with the director to create some sort of advocacy program. Hopefully this is going to work out so I can do my practicum at the clinic, 300-odd hours of work.
I'm taking risks. Accepting loss. I've adopted a stray cat who wriggled his way into my heart. His name is Colin. Sometimes when he's being a dickweed I'll yell his full name, which is Colin Meloy. Ha.
Some things I'm not as pleased with? I don't think I'm an alcoholic but I also don't think I can make it through the week without several nights of binge drinking. I started smoking. It was only when I drank. Then I bought my first pack and it was only one a day, then it was whenever I damn well needed one. Probably not addicted yet, but it's a definite possibility in the near future. Have to watch that. My reasoning is I'd rather self-medicate, trade my physical health in for mental health any day of the week.
Seems as though I've narrowly skirted, perhaps even openly courted, a mental breakdown. Very recently, too. Things have been working out these days, but I wouldn't count on the upswing to stay consistent.
What I don't want to write about: the heartbreak and the fallout.
This is already a lot longer than I'd intended.