vacant

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i used to love the blog https://fifty2letters.wordpress.com/.  i miss it sometimes, like a weird form of internet kinship of people who have never spoken but are the only ones speaking. only ive stopped speaking, too.  not for reasons like hers (she completed her project, for better or worse… maybe she has another blog somewhere now, who knows).  ive stopped because im not suffering horribly and i dont know how to talk about things when they are only kind of miserable to sometimes ok.  actually i sort of hate when people talk about being sort of miserable and talk about being ‘mildly depressed’. i dont know why, im kind of a shitty person i guess, but it just frustrates me.  so i silence myself.

im sitting on a panel representing students at a mental health conference next week.  i am dreading it, as per usual.  im not sure why i always agree to do these things.  i dont like doing them. and someone from the CFS will be there too, which is awkward since we seem to have this completely unneeded dislike of each other. lest the student movement work together. (oh left, always so divided…).

jon left and work feels like chaos though its really not much different i just hate the project im working on. and i shouldnt, its theoretically in my ballpark.

sam’s kidneys have failed and shes going into the hospital in a little over a week. she is probably the strongest person ive met, maybe too strong for her own good.  she never complains. she never feasters in her own depression, somehow. i worry about her a lot.

Sometimes i think about writing letters on here, like Mara did, but I dont have anyone to write them to.  no one has died. theres no one to fill in that i dont have the ability to fill in (though i tend not to bother). i think the construct might help me have things to say though. I dont know.

i feel like drinking.

im actually really unhappy they discontinued my favourite liquor. actually they didnt discontinue it, canada just decided to stop selling it. i have a giant bottle i bought in the states but its going to run out.

i feel like being drunk.

i feel like feeling nothing and loving everything and everyone and not caring about anything but everyone. i miss when that was a thing i didnt associate with being raped.

i feel like feeling safe.

i miss feeling safe. that doesnt come back.

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im home and i should be out.

its jons last night here and hes spending the night, he says. then he forgot he had beer planned with friends at 9 30 so i was supposed to go to that. and i tried. i walked to the bar but they were charging cover and i didnt have cash and jon didnt answer his phone so i walked home. jon texted he would spot me but im already here and he hasnt responded to any of my texts since, so. im here. i put on my pajamas i go back and forth between sobbing and writing. im not even sure what im sobbing about… that hes leaving in general, that i didnt go to the bar, that this is what my last night with my best friend turned into i dont know. honestly im exhausted and i just want to go to bed but i cant because im not sure when he’ll get here.

i dont know what to do, internet. someone tell me what to do.

new shiny wife

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I’ve been gone. I could ramble about that but theres no reason for it, so I’m just going to skip over it and act like it never happened.

Jon moves tomorrow. his last day of work was friday. i feel sick about it. I keep having dreams where the world is ending (literally) and for some reason I’m at work and like trying to save it. its not a very well masked dream. or nightmare, i guess. im sad. im so so sad. and terrified. we are completely flying blind without a full time ED.

speaking of which.
i was offered the ED position; almost took it. ultimately, through many weeks of extreme distress, turned it down. my therapist thinks its a good thing. i do too, but it enrages me e that it is a good thing. im so tired of being sick. im so tired of not being normal. im so tired of not being able to take a giant promotion because im me.

in other news, i moved. on april 1st. i stopped living with brandon. or anyone, actually. i live y myself in a too expensive apartment in the north end under donna and kale. i really, really like it. we go to value village and the far away cheap grocery store every week. we alternate who has who over for dinner. we joke that i am kales second wife. im shiny and new so he listens to me. but i have my space and no one is in it and sometimes thats really nice.

but jon is leaving. and i dont do well with change. and this might not go well alone. so maybe we will see.

my parents are in china. they cant communicate because China sensors all things google, but i think they are having a good time. who wouldnt, really? my dad is going to some clinical trial in arizona after they get home. he seems to be feeling fine. thats all you can ask for, really.

i’d planned to actually write something but kale and i need to leave in 20 minutes and im in my pjs with bedhead, so i suppose ill go deal with that. im sure ill be back to cry and mope on monday. bipolar me doesnt handle losing support systems well.