October 8, 2018

Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.

It’s hard. Loss is hard.

I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?

Day 120 – Sad Day

October 2, 2018

Relationships are hard. We pee with the door open now. We’re there.

We still date each other, which is nice. But now it’s like: go to work, text about work while at work, come home and talk about work, sleep so we can go to work.

He’s not working right now, which is amazing, because that means he has more energy than I do to clean or cook or walk our dog or workout. I appreciate all these things. But it’s unsettling, too.

Are we just going to end up as roommates? Will we still like each other? Will we still love each other? Are we going to have chore wheels and arguments about splitting the bills and sit around in our sweats burping up our takeout? Is that what happens? I feel like that’s what happens.

Day 114 – Roommates or Romance?

October 1, 2018

All I do is work and eat and work and sit and try to stay up and sleep and work. Do other people have hobbies? Energy?

I have a writing deadline… So far, all I’ve written is my name at the top of the page. You do not write your name at the top of scripts.

Day 113 – Work Work Work Work Work Work (thanks, Rihanna)

September 24, 2018

I had a terrible dream. I was desperately begging someone not to do something and they kept doing it. I’ve never felt that desperate before. I was crying and begging and watching him ignore me. I felt powerless and hopeless simultaneously. It was the worst.

But then I woke up like: Oh, thank god, that was just a dream.

But no. The reality is so much worse. I woke my boyfriend up to comfort me because I was completely losing it.

To realize that your real life is worse than your worst nightmare??? Fuck me.

Day 106 – Waking Nightmare

September 23, 2018

We talked it out. Maybe I need to calm myself, but I don’t know how. Other people must be really good at life, because they seem to be succeeded and, even, flourishing.

I don’t get it. I just cycle through panic attacks and in between (and during them), eat a ton of food. So it goes like this: wake up, moan about being awake, start to panic (heart beating fast) so I check my phone to make sure no one has tried to get ahold of me, pee, eat, panic again about the time it took me to pee and eat because I have to get to work, start driving aka constantly panicking (heart beating fast, stomach roiling, sweaty palms, racing thoughts about how everyone is a terrible driver), get to work, panic about everything from parking to the parking attendant to getting inside to sitting down without my stomach popping over my pants to whether or not the coffee creamer I like will still be there, eat second breakfast, panic about work and whether or not I can do it and how much I want to run out the door and get on a plane and fly far away, then snack. It’s now 10 am. This will continue until I attempt to fall asleep.

Day 105 – Anxiety and Coffee

August 8, 2018

Today I learned THAT lesson. The one where you never know what someone else is going through. I made a mistake by not asking/checking in with them before we started down a snarky, fighting, annoyed-at-each-other path. We mostly recovered from it, but not before I discovered what had happened.

He’s always there for me. He sits with me as I cry and complain and talk about my family. He listens to me grieve and holds me when I feel like I won’t survive. He stands by my side no matter what. I had a really rough, very grief-laden day – I don’t even know WHY, some days are just like that – but he had a rough day, too. And he doesn’t lean on me nearly as often as I need to lean on him and instead of being there for him in a clear way from the beginning, I jumped into the fight.

I guess we all live and learn, but I appreciate how often he’s there for me and I appreciate the fact that I can’t always do it alone. I can’t always get through the day by myself anymore. I don’t really remember what I did before him, but I can’t imagine how I would have survived the last 2 years without him. This grief… it’s like drowning. When I come up for air, sometimes the waters are calm, and sometimes the waves crash right back down on me. And even though his day wasn’t full of grief – in NO WAY do I want it to be, trust me – it was a no good, very bad day in its own way and I should have been there for him.

I know what it’s like to be heartbroken, but I also know what it’s like to just have a regular old bad day where you just need to go to sleep and wake up the next day and feel like it’s a new day and the mistakes of yesterday can be left behind. I can never and will never be able to leave anything behind because I HAVE ANXIETY THAT’S ALWAYS TRYING TO KILL ME AND REMIND ME OF EVERY DUMB THING I’VE EVER SAID OR DONE OR ALMOST SAID OR DONE. But still… grief is selfish sometimes.

Day 59 – Lessons Learned

August 4, 2018

Sometimes I feel like I put effort into things that other people treat like a whatever, bro, no worries type situation and they generally turn out to be correct. I work hard at something or I worry about making sure I’m on time, fulfil my responsibilities, honor my commitments, do the work, and truly give it my all when other people are just, like, I’ll do it later if I remember and then they don’t and THERE ARE NO CONSEQUENCES.

None. None consequences. But I don’t know any other way to be. I don’t know how to be un-committed to things or chill about literally anything or do half-ass work and not completely stress and lose sleep over it when other people seem to have NO ANXIETY WHATSOEVER about these things and they are no worse off for it. BUT I HAVE NO CHILL. NONE. I was taught that it matters in school and in life that you give it your all 100% of the time, when, in actuality, it seems like it doesn’t much matter and those people get just as far IF NOT MUCH, MUCH FARTHER in life without that same level of responsibility and work ethic.

I always come back to this idea. No matter how sad or how down or how worthless I feel, I know that I am always going to outwork anyone else on the job. The problem is, I’m not the one who gets the job in the first place. It’s the person who didn’t worry, and kind of did some of it last minute, and mostly just winged it who got the opportunity. What the actual fuck, life? WHAT? No one told me this is how it would go.

I guess it’s the whole: The good die young. Life isn’t fair.

Day 55 – I Have No Chill