This started as a private journal with all locked posts. I’ve since decided to leave it open, if someone wants to read it, because it makes things feel more real. However, I continue to try to be as honest and journal like as possible.
As such, this page is more of an interesting self experiment.
31. rested. shit gets handled and i’m trying to make sure its handled well. the shit is worse than it used to be. i sleep a lot, read a lot, and sometimes try to paint. i live in an apartment in my brothers house, and got into grad school for next year. im struggling to get my footing back in life after a long time on medical leave. things are calmer now, though. i love books, my nieces and nephews, and wasting time watching horrible reality tv. i have few friends that live here but the ones i have are good ones. i miss the exuberance of 25, and the delays in life caused by mental illness are starting to become apparent, but I’m getting used to that. fresh start.
29. coming to grips with things, for better or worse.
I dont drink enough, take too many medications and sleep in variable amounts. i like bar night trivia and reruns of ‘the west wing’. i live alone in an old flat that i love but is awfully lonely. i spend a lot of time trying not to feel lonely.
27. i think too much, drink too much, and sleep very little.
I like art, science, the ocean (but not the things in it), high heels, and the sound of tennis balls bouncing. I’m ridiculously terrified of things with tentacles, and of not being flawless. I’m intense, driven, and constantly laughing. I’m allergic to everything and I cook all the time, usually while blaring bad 80s music and singing into the spatula. I’ve got a super useful fine arts degree and am finishing up a neuropsych degree this summer. I work as a political lobbyist, mostly for mental health care issues. I’ve got one roommate, no money, and a deep rooted love of red lipstick, bar night trivia, good books, loud music, strong drinks and “The West Wing”.
PTSD, formally (mis?)diagnosed as bipolar disorder, bipolar disorder, some form of intense anxiety disorder, and an on again off again relationship with healthy food intake. At this moment, these facts overwhelm many others in my thoughts, but not my actions.
I’m a 25 year old white Canadian girl with a university degree, an awesome but ill paying job, 2 roommates and a lot of lip gloss. I dont have kids, I’m not dying, I eat relatively properly, and I have no niche skill to teach you. Basically, I’m extremely average and theres no reason for writing this except for maintaining my own sanity.
I like flavoured water even though it’s ridiculous (when I was a kid I’m pretty sure we called that shit “juice” just sayin), I put the extra ‘u’ in words cuz I’m all british up in here, I can’t play guitar but for some reason I own one, and I have a strange love of Roxette (I know.)
I’m overly sensitive, tend to read to much into things (whydidntyoutextmetodayyoumusthateme) but I still manage to be extremely logical. It causes all sorts of emotional vs reason issues. I really miss scented markers and scratch and sniff stickers, somehow all my friends turned out to be gay (who knew), and I have a tendency to miss things that never really existed.
I used to be really good at soccer but then fine art university happened so that sort of went out the window. I am however, pretty good at making random shit no one buys because the economy sucks, drawing, and learning. That last one was pretty useful in school, seems not so much in real life. I feel gypped.
I like books, cooking, high heels, weird food, travelling, tequila, strange music and the smell of clean sheets.
I’m also bipolar and have celiac disease. It’s a footnote, not the novel.