More Changes

I haven't been able to calm down for two days. It's a restless sort of terrified feeling that is fueled by many different things. It's hard to even know where to begin, but I need to say something.

I spent a good deal of time thinking of a way to move by September, and my opportunity presented itself yesterday morning, when a sublet became available in my future city. The plan was to move on my own, start working, and wait it out until we could move to a larger place together. It wasn't a definite plan because, let's face it, nothing can be these days. But it was enough of a direction for me. I seized the opportunity. Once the guarantor paperwork is filled out and I pay the deposit next Friday, it's finalized. But I spent all day agonizing because it seems that we will be moving separately at first. I suppose it makes more sense to take it slow, and being in the same town will definitely make things easier, but it's still an impossible feeling to completely control. I want to jump back into things like before. I want everything to be right again so desperately. Except I want to do things better, which means that we can't just jump into things and expect everything to be okay. It's going to be slow at first. It's going to be a rebuilding of the trust that had been broken. It's going to be learning to love each other all over again and in new and different ways. And that is kind of exciting. But it's hard when you just want that comfortable life that you had before--the falling asleep together every night, the waking up with the one you love right beside you, the always being able to look forward to seeing his face at the end of the day. And the little things like watching TV together, reading side-by-side, talking about the future, cuddling, being cute in an almost disgusting way, having weekend adventures. I miss all of that as well.

I skipped over a lot of things, but you get the general idea. I'm moving. I'm moving to a brand new place, all on my own, and I've never done that before. At least in Annapolis, I knew my roommate. This time, I don't know the two people with whom I'll be sharing the apartment. I do have a private bathroom, and the place has amenities out the ass, but it's still terrifying. I know this is a step forward for me. But I'm so scared, and I feel like crying all the time lately. I am torn inside because I know what I want, and I can't have it, at least not yet, and I have to make this decision. I know it's the right thing to do to get ahead, and it's also the right thing to do to be able to work on our relationship, but it still feels overwhelming. I keep wondering if these feelings are normal. I'm excited, for sure. But today I've been a wreck. I couldn't sleep at all last night, and my nap earlier today didn't last nearly long enough. I want the pain in my stomach to finally go away. It started to feel like it would when I would be waiting for him. It's not like there is that much of a difference between my situation here and the one I will be moving to, with respect to the relationship. The distance will no longer be a factor. But not being able to see his face every night before bed, when he is right there in the same town--that's going to be brutal.

But ultimately, this move is about moving forward on more than one front. It may not be an ideal situation, but it is still a step in the right direction in terms of our relationship. But that's not the only important thing I'm taking care of by doing this. I'm taking the leap so I can find a job that has the potential for professional growth, which may take some time, but a humiliating/menial job in a city with people I know and closer to so many people I love is better than one in an area where I feel isolated almost all the time. Being able to control my own space, for the most part, will also be a huge relief. This is also an important step because I need to keep in the practice of taking care of my own affairs. I haven't been cooking as much here, which bothers me, because I'm usually so much better about what I put into my body, but I am trying not to be too critical of myself. It's a chance for me to start functioning in the real world again. It's terrifying. I'm afraid of failing, of course. I'm confident. I'm actually more confident than I have ever been about my own abilities. But I cannot shake the fear of the unknown and the anxiety that comes with knowing that there is still a chance that despite all my best efforts, I will fail again.

I feel like I need continual reassurance that I'm doing the right thing. I may be doing this on my own, but that doesn't mean I won't need some sort of support. I'm scared of being in a new place all on my own. I don't know who wouldn't be. I wish I weren't doing this alone. And I may not be for long. But that doesn't mean that I can't. So even when I have doubts, I have to trust that I am going to be okay, no matter what happens.

It's been over a month, and I've survived. I've overcome obstacles that used to seem insurmountable. Normally, when I don't sleep, I don't function well at all the next day. I started panicking when I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep. I had been awake for nearly 24 hours and still had an 8-hour shift plus the journey home to endure. I fought with myself quite a bit. I dreaded going to work. I feared I would not last without having a meltdown. I feared that it would all just be too much. I didn't want to continue feeling like I did. I just wanted to run away by sleeping in. But I went. I somehow forced myself to deal with the situation. I had to tell myself I was doing this for a reason, no matter how miserable the job is or how shitty I feel. I have a goal, and I need the money to achieve that goal. I have a responsibility to see this through. And I did it. I worked the whole day without having any trouble, other than feeling ridiculously tired. The nap this afternoon,though short, did feel pretty amazing after that.

Also, it's been over a month, and I haven't had a meltdown. I haven't screamed. There's been a lot of crying and a lot of intense emotional pain that has caused physical pain. The anxiety is constant, unfortunately. Maybe it's more to do with the disconnect between where I want to be and where I am. I'm not sure.  But I'm coping. I'm learning to live with these feelings, which are pretty intense at times. I feel like that's an understatement. But you get the point. I've had so much shit happen to me emotionally over the past month and a half, and I haven't broken down. A few months ago, just being in the same room with other people would have sent me over the edge. Being late for an appointment would have completely destroyed my entire day, and I'd spend the whole rest of the night crying in bed, unable to move. I don't know how that person ever came to be. I knew the whole time that I wasn't myself. But I couldn't stop anything from happening.

Sometimes I still have some of those same feelings, but I'm in control this time. At some point, I will write in depth about how I felt during those months. I know there are a ton of posts from that time, but being able to analyze it from the other side might offer more insight into just how debilitating my condition had become. But I'm not up for that right now.

I guess I should finally get to what made me want to write in the first place. Walking over to my desk to take some medicine, I got hit with the realization of how different everything is right now. In my mind flashed images of our old bed, followed immediately by images of this one. Blue sheets versus red sheets. Alive versus eerily quiet. Even the lighting makes the place feel different. I just look at myself and all of my things and can't believe we aren't in the place where I felt like we belonged. It really was home. And for some reason, this doesn't have that feeling anymore. It's always going to be home. It's always going to be a loving, welcoming place. But it's a different kind of feeling. It's a home that I can still be a part of, but it's not the same as the home you have helped to create. And I really don't think my new apartment is going to totally feel like home either. I'm scared of that empty feeling following me, which has a lot more to do with being alone, but you never know what can happen. I will do my best to make the place my own. I had more to say but I got lost in thought and it disappeared.

I may consider anxiety medication again. But for now, I can handle this, as unpleasant as it feels most of the time. I struggle with this because part of me feels that I shouldn't have to feel like this all the time if there is a solution. But side effects are a real problem for me, as I have learned, and I just don't know if I am ready to take that risk again, especially because your typical anxiety meds don't do anything for me. Maybe the anxiety will resolve itself when my situation improves. It's wishful thinking more than anything, but hoping won't kill me.

I will be okay. I am doing the right thing. This is a step forward on all fronts. I won't give up.

Quiet Time

Today I've oscillated between being full of energy and drive and being so completely engulfed in my own anxiety/misery that my brain decided being asleep for 17+ hours was a more appealing option than staying awake and resolving whatever issues it's been having. In the last several months, I've noticed that I have been falling more quickly from a generally positive state to a rather miserable one, and the fall has been getting harder and harder to resist. I'm running out of energy to deal with this, all the while still fighting increasingly debilitating anxiety and the prospect of maybe getting one meal a day for an indefinite period of time.

My brain is all over the place anymore. I can't finish anything I start, and sometimes the anxiety I feel about having to do something completely overwhelms me to the point where I don't even begin whatever it was I had planned to do. Big or small, it seems that any task is enough to roll this snowball downhill, and it starts the instant I open my eyes every morning and doesn't stop until I pass out from exhaustion, long after lying down to attempt sleep.

Mere annoyances have become triggers, and triggers have become automatic switches that send me from zero to meltdown in about as much time as it took you to read this sentence.

I've more or less lost whatever it was in college that kept me so focused and able to be so productive and functional. Granted, I wasn't the best at coping then either, but I thought I had gotten past all of this. I only know part of the problem, and I know nothing of the solution. My brain is already several steps ahead, and I really can't trick it into doing anything once it gets going in a certain direction. I don't know how to bring myself back. Most of the time, it seems completely illogical that any of these skills will work for me--since I know how they work or what the ultimate aim is--so I get more upset when someone tells me what to do to calm myself down, refocus, etc. I just don't work that way, and I need to find things that really DO help. Maybe some of the issue is that things that help other people actually make it worse for me, or they make it more likely that I will exhibit some sort of behavior or have an outburst in the future. I've never really had a good chance to analyze myself because once I am removed from the situation, the feelings get locked away.
Every now and then, I am able to access that information and translate into words, often poetically, and I gain a little more insight into the puzzle of how this lump of cells in my head works. Unfortunately, that little bit just isn't enough most of the time.

I was able to get a decent workout tonight, take a nice long walk home, and sit here for a little bit before the noise came back into the picture. I feel close to the words I'm writing, and the silence I've had has been helpful. My head feels a little less like a whirlwind, and I don't feel like I have eight TV sets to watch at once in my head while trying to navigate my way through the day. (Maybe just two right now.)

So it's clear that I'm depressed and that I have been for some time. It's also becoming more clear that it may not be depression alone, which would explain why medication hasn't ever helped that much. Severe anxiety, ADHD, bipolar depression, and the big one, of course. It's not surprising, but I always thought they were all part of the same thing. But now I realize that the reason I have never really been completely okay is that, at any given time, I am dealing with one or more of these things. Sometimes, I'm just fucking anxious. And sometimes, I just can't focus. And I'm talking can't focus long enough to finish brushing my teeth or get something out of the fridge, in addition to the more important tasks of everyday life.

I am unable to do this on my own, and I don't know where to start. And even if you told me, I probably wouldn't get to doing it anyway, which has become quite a problem for me.

The noise is coming back, and my heart is starting to race again. No reason, really. But I guess that means I'm done for now.

No Way Out

I am getting very tired of having more bad days than good. I'm also just tired. I haven't been able to eat even half of what I am supposed to on a daily basis, partly from lack of appetite and partly from not having food. I feel out of it all the time, and I sleep a good 16 hours a day at least. I've thought about doing some pretty stupid things, none of which are worth the time to repeat here. I have been anxious and in meltdown mode for a week straight. Anything and everything can set me off, and I don't like the person I become when that happens. Nothing is working anymore. I may have a job again in a few months if I can figure out how to be a normal person. I'm still not sure what "taking a break" means. I'm fired but not fired? It's not as if it makes much of a difference. My last paycheck wasn't even for 100 dollars.

We are apparently going to a food bank this week.
I almost started drinking maple syrup this evening.

I was told that there are some people at the DoD who are impressed with my resume. But I've been told that before, so I'm not expecting much to come out of it. Even if it did, given my history, I would probably fail at that too. Whatever it is.

I've already learned that I am just not capable of doing anything I have ever wanted to do, which is probably why no one wants to give me the chance. Maybe they all see something I haven't been able to see until now.

A normal person would take some menial job and just deal with it. But we already know what happens to me when I have to work in a customer service environment. I'd be okay with it if I could spend less than three hours trying to get myself out of bed because I am freaking out about whether I need to shower or eat first.

I feel like everything in my life is getting really out of control.
I really don't understand how this always happens or what I can do.

Am I just not capable of doing this? Of living and functioning like everyone else? Of doing what I need to do and being happy? I am starting to believe it more and more.

There really is no way out. And I don't want to live with that.

Catching Up

I miss when things used to be simple--when I would come home from school as a little kid, knowing that there would always be a bowl of chicken noodle soup waiting for me (yes, EVERY day). I miss knowing where I was headed in life, and I miss that feeling of invincibility. I miss believing that nothing could stand in my way.

Tonight, I feel a kind of miserable I don't quite understand. I know I am not reacting like I am used to when I am devastated. I'm being calm, and I am able to do other things, and I am not an emotional wreck. Somehow, I am in control, and it doesn't feel normal for me. I'm not complaining. This is just new territory for me. 

The final rejection letter came from Pitt's School of Education. So now I feel like I have to start all over. I feel lost, hopeless, useless, aimless, etc. And I'm tired of it, really. I do not want to be an endless wanderer. I want a home. I want a life. And I want a purpose. Or some idea of what mine should be. I know what I want to do, but what if I never get the chance now? What else can I do? I don't know any of the answers yet. And while that is tearing me apart inside, I am somehow still okay. Still doing what needs to be done, helping where I am needed, and trying to better myself and my circumstances regardless of the pain. 

But if Friday hadn't happened, I probably would have had a much worse time with that news. Last week was beyond stressful. Illness, not sleeping two nights of the week, having to spend the majority of one in a parking lot with my mother, routine changes, overwhelming days at work, late night pageant preparation, phone calls, late paperwork and write-ups, worries about moving and school and jobs, a shutdown situation,and the thought of seeing my brother for the first time in four and a half years...plus the usual things. A seven day battle to keep my head above water. 

And I lost on Friday morning, during a supervision meeting. Everyone knew something was up. I could tell by the way that everything began to get louder and more intense--by the way I just kept focused on the pattern in the carpet and by how I twitched and had to fight not to scream and fall out of my chair--that it was coming, and there was no turning back.

So I wrote a note to my BSC, who was sitting right next to me once I realized this: "I am very, very close to having a meltdown, and I don't know what to do." 

I was able to at least sit through the rest of the relatively short meeting, and I suppose it was convenient that I work in an office full of therapists. The main boss came to help. It took about 45 minutes after he came in for me to fully calm down, but I talked a lot after the first 20 minutes. Needless to say, I didn't make it to work that day. But no one seemed to mind. Now I am waiting on a call for actual therapy sessions paid for by work, which I think have been long overdue. 

I don't think I would have been able to handle the news had I not come that close to exploding. I needed a fresh start, and as shitty as it was to experience and have others witness, I needed it. I knew it was coming, just not when. 

So I made it a point to arrive to work early, and I came out to the teacher. Not as gay. Not as trans. As an autistic person working with autistic children. And the twenty minute conversation that ensued was also something that I needed. I wonder why it is so much harder for me to come out about this than anything else. And, yes, it really is a coming out process. It changes how people perceive and treat you. 

I still don't have too many words about my visit with my brother. I am not sure what to say yet because I am not sure of those emotions yet.

Jumping back to today, I've been fighting the feeling I always get when big things are coming up: I always want to quit everything and drop off the face of the earth. I end up asking myself why I am doing any of it at all. But I usually get my answer after it's all over. 

I still have so many fears. But I have a different answer to how I think things will play out. I may not always believe it, but it wasn't an idea I was willing to entertain this time last year: that I'm going to be okay, even if bad things continue to happen. 

Also, yesterday was my four-year T anniversary. Two people remembered without my saying, and I am okay with how quiet I was about it this time around. Maybe next time I will celebrate in some way, but for some reason, I feel that this was the way things needed to be done this year. 

I can survive this week because I've already made it this far . 

Cell phone post

This probably isn't the best idea. I just got finished writing a few pages by hand, and of course, it made things worse. I only ever write about the same things when I feel this way, which also makes me feel like my writing is suffering.

I really do feel like I am losing it. I'm a capacitor. And I can't hold any more energy. I'm overloading, and I need an outlet. But I need enough structure to stabilize myself before I can release this energy in any way that would be productive. 

For the last several weeks, I have been holding it all in. I snapped once or twice, but I haven't been able to really get anything out otherwise. I hold myself together because I fear the response I will get, I fear upsetting others, and I fear that, one of these times, I just won't come back. 

I just want someone to hold me in a way that makes me feel better. But anyone touching me at this point is jarring. Things are getting worse. And I need to stop lying to myself about it. 

I'm making myself sick with all of this. 

I need things to stop. Or slow down. I can't keep up.

I felt like I was really getting somewhere at the start of Christmas break or maybe halfway through. I am going out of town to visit a friend this weekend, and I don't know if I have the energy for that. Almost nothing in my life is restorative. Time alone doesn't exist. Control doesn't exist. I am trapped just as much as my brother. 

I cannot leave when I want. I have almost nothing to my name. I feel isolated. And right about now, I feel hopeless. But I'm here. And I guess that's what matters to everyone. Not how I feel or that I am losing my ability to function independently. Just that I am here. 

I love my family more than anyone will ever know. It will make it that much harder to leave. I would love to be able to spend time with them, but it's not even quality time at this point because I spend so much of my free time running away, hiding in my room, hoping to recharge at least a little. But I only get enough to just keep the power on. 

I love my family. But this is going to kill me. And I don't know what to do. Or maybe I'm just making excuses because I don't have a good reason for this behavior. Or these feelings. 

I really, really, REALLY don't want to have to have these fights with myself every minute of every day. The last two days of work have been seven hour battles with myself, on top of having to deal with a room full of severely autistic children. 

I just want to be calm. Anxiety isn't quite the word anymore. I feel like it is just pain. Anxiety, depression, fear, anger, etc. It's all the same at this point. And it's always there. I wake up to it, shower with it, get dressed with it, work with it, and fall asleep with it, when I can. Pass out with it might be more accurate. 

I am shaking trying to hold in all of this nonsense. My head is pounding. My stomach hates me. I feel so much trying to escape. I feel weak. Off-balance. Dizzy. 

And I feel like this is all I do anymore. 

Worth

Even when I make the attempt to make plans, I can't complete them. And I'm not the kind of friend someone would be willing to drive an hour and a half to pick up. Hell, I'm not the kind of friend that anybody even wants to ask to do something when they live a mile away. I can't blame people for not wanting to be around me when I am like this, but to be honest, most people would never know if they were to interact with me in person. I don't share this part of myself with most people anymore. No one cares about anyone else's troubles, not really. When things are going great, everyone wants to be around me. But when I really need people, I am alone. And the only people who care enough are nowhere near me. I hate the way I sound. I hate what I have to look forward to when I wake up, and it all hits me that very second I open my eyes. And it never leaves. I can't shower without being miserable. I can barely eat. I can't walk ten feet from the door without feeling it. It's always there, and no amount of transient happiness can make it go away. It often physically hurts to be awake. But for me, emotions and physical sensations are hard to tease apart anyway.

I can't just drive to get away. Fuck, I can't even drive to go hang out with people who are going to be close to me tonight. And I would hate to ask my family because it's just too much. So once again, I'm at a point in my life and location in space where I can do absolutely nothing for myself. I've become just another burden to my family. And to myself. I don't like anything about me right now. This isn't who I am. When I was in Annapolis, I found myself again and really started loving who I was and what I could be. I didn't necessarily even need to be doing things radically different from what I am doing now. (But there are drastic differences...) But it's the feeling I had while doing them. The feeling I had just being there and being a part of something, and being able to feel that while being all by myself. Now, I can again be surrounded by people and feel all alone. It doesn't even matter. Sometimes I can't even feel connected to my own family and can barely feel connected to myself. There isn't much that I have that can numb me. Except sleep.

It is agony to be awake. Breathing hurts. Existing like this and not being able to do a fucking thing about it. I can't do this. I really can't handle this. I feel that if I am here for much longer, I will lose myself entirely. I was here for a year the last time, but I don't think I will be able to do that again. I don't know how many times I have to say over and over again that I can't do this. But that doesn't matter. I can't be helped by anyone or anything. I can't even function enough to do what I need to do to get out of this  mess, and there are no jobs around here for anyone like me. There are barely any to begin with, but retail literally made me want to kill myself, and I ended up cutting myself for the first time in my life because I could not process or handle anything that was going on in my life.

I almost feel that I am at the opposite end of the spectrum from that period of time. I had no room for anything but the job, and I lost myself because of it. Now, I have no room for anything but my current self, which is comprised mainly of walking misery. I need an escape from myself because I can't fucking stand this person who does not feel like me. I have spent so much of the last year and some months as this person who is not me. Annapolis gave me a chance to be myself again and rediscover what I love in this world. And having had that, and then having had it taken away, makes this so much worse than it was before. I don't want to be doomed to this forever, but I feel like my inability to function/focus is going to prevent me from getting anywhere.

Nobody here cares enough to ask me to do anything, or even respond when I ask them to do things, proving my lack of connection. And as this person, I don't feel like I will be able to connect. There is something about the totality of this experience that makes me incapable of being myself. I feel like I am watching myself die, and all I want to do is pull the plug.

Before I left, I had hope that things could be different. Now I have none because there is no way for me to make them any different. If I had the money, I'd leave today and start making changes. Or maybe I'd stay and get some more to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I am more stuck than I have ever been. I want to ask for help from the people that I assume care about me, but I am afraid of running in to the same problem I had three weeks ago. How the fuck does that amount of time feel like an eternity? How is possible to fall so far from where you were and where you want to be in 21 days?

I want this part of the story to be over. But I worry so much that it will be the whole story. I expect life to be challenging, even hard sometimes. But if it is this hard, every minute of every day, I don't want any part of it. The only thing that is keeping me alive right now is my mother's love. She is the only person, at this moment, to whom I feel connected. She makes me feel human. And I would hate for her to think it was her fault if I were to do something to myself. I don't want her to blame herself for anything else that her children have done.

I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I like who I am. But the problem is that I am not myself right now. And whoever it is that I am right now--that's the person I don't like. And I don't like my life situation. I feel that has brought about this change in me. I know that I absolutely need to be able to function on my own in order to feel like myself. But I am approaching the point where I will stop caring completely, and I will just sit here and waste away, both physically and mentally. How many fucking times do I have to do this to myself, and why do I feel so powerless?

Over and over again, this seems to be the only story I can tell. I just want to be able to breathe again and to see things for what they really are. And I don't want to believe that THIS is the way they really are. I want to experience GOOD again.

But I'll keep saying I'm okay. I'll keep lying and putting on that smile and telling other people that they shouldn't give up. I'm hoping for a fucking miracle that just isn't going to happen. I can't do this. And the fact that I have to keep saying that all the time means that I have never been able to. I started out doing just fine here, and I don't know why. And so I don't know how to get back to that. But I have to get back to that in order to move forward.

This isn't even worth posting to me. But I suppose I will do it anyway. There isn't anything of value in what I have written, similar to how there is nothing of value in what I have been doing. This life is worthless--this one I am forced to live. And I want the one that means something to me.

Something Like Home

I've cleaned up most of the drag-vomit nightmare that happened on Friday when we needed to find another outfit for a last-minute second performance. Unfortunately, the portion that covered my bed has yet to be organized. More important things have been happening over the past week. I've only slept in this room one night since coming home on Wednesday evening, and even that was only for a few hours. My back ended up aching madly throughout the next day. I suppose I had gotten that used to the comforts of sleeping in a real bed.

Home is not something to come back to. It's someone to come back to. I always feel my most adventurous when I have a companion. Why didn't I want to leave Pittsburgh just yet? I was going to be alone in a new place, and that was going to be terrifying. It's actually much more complicated than that, but I don't know if I have words for how I feel about eventually leaving the city. I don't think I want to do that just yet, as I've said in the past. I may want to make this place my home for the next several years. It may be my home forever. I'm certainly not even in the financial position to leave. But why in the world would I want to? Everyone is here, at least for now. I can feel what I have done resonating through the city, and though it's a small ripple in the ocean, that makes me feel like I have roots, ties, influence, or whatever you want to call it here. I feel like I am as much a part of the city as it is a part of me. I'm kind of a nobody, and I'm kind of a somebody. And the view is nice. I like going to places where almost everyone knows who I am, even if they don't talk to me. I like that feeling of being surrounded by the people who care about you. Those last two aren't always the same, obviously, but I have both of those things here.

I don't feel the need to run away from anything. Not anymore. In order to be free to wander, I need to have stability. Part of that is establishing this place as my real home. I'm going to get a place here, and I'm going to make it mine. I'm going to have a puppy and nice things. I'm going to write my shopping list on a little piece of paper and hang it on the fridge. I'm going to have my mail sitting in a neat little pile next to my keys on the kitchen table. I'm going to have a couch that's always open. I'm going to have candles. I'm going to have a big boy bed with lots of pillows and some magazines on a nightstand with a clock and a little lamp that gives off just the right amount of light for bedtime reading.

I wanted to write a little more tonight, but I kept getting distracted with that whole actually-living-my-life thing. I suppose I do have a few minutes, though. I feel so sorry for angry people. Anger is normal and healthy, and sometimes it is a very good response to have. But anger as a state of existence must be full of sadness and resentment. It's one of those things I'll never really understand. I can only be angry for a brief period. I found out that that period is a little longer than I had originally thought, but I cannot stay angry. I cannot stay bitter. I can be sad. I can be happy. But I really, really can't be angry. And I like this about me. Sometimes it makes me too nice of a person, though. But I've learned a few lessons about dealing with people.

I'm allowing myself to be a less nice person to those who are less than nice to me. And I'm finding that slightly comforting. I'm not going out of my way to be mean, but I'm also not going out of my way to be nice. I'm freaking out much less in recent weeks, and I know that my decisions have had a lot to do with that.

Speaking of meltdowns or unpleasant reactions to things, I almost had a situation last night. But it was over in probably five minutes or less. I thought I had done something to upset him. I thought for sure he was very hurt by something I had done the night before. I know I ended up face down and stretched out, stiff as a board. But there was silence. He just sat there and waited. He just knew what to do without ever having had this conversation with me. And things were fine. I sat up, put my glasses back on, and slowly looked him in the eye and told him I was fine. It was comparatively...easy. It's amazing how comfortable I've gotten in such a short amount of time. I've been able to do things with him I wasn't able to do with others until several months to a year into the relationship. It's just that easy to be myself. And I still find it hard to believe that I'm having trouble sleeping without him next to me. It just seems like it's the right thing. I've never been able to be this open about myself so quickly. That alone makes me insanely happy.

We played in the park last night. We lay on the ground looking at stars and just talked. I didn't want to be anywhere else. I don't worry about things when I'm with him. Stupid shit just doesn't bother me or stress me out like it usually does or maybe should. I just need to find that balance now because I haven't really gotten a lot of work done since I've been back. I think tomorrow is going to be that day.

I brought back a lot of shit with me from the Valley. There aren't places to put things. And there's still even more crap at my parents' house. I used to have more stuff than this, but then I kept moving around so much that I needed to leave so many things behind each time.

My thoughts are starting to go in different directions, which means I'm almost done. There's crazy lightning happening now. I love storms...except when gunshot-like thunder wakes me up and scares the shit out of me. That happened this afternoon for the first time in my life, and I can now understand why some people don't enjoy storms.

Shimmy.

Surprise

I'm pretty sure I only write in here when I'm severely messed up in the head. I wish that weren't the case. I think I've reached the point of not even being able to write about what's going on in there. I can't grab a hold of anything in my head or outside of it. I'm not grounded in any way. This isn't going to be good. I feel like this past week and a half of this is going to keep building until something really terrible happens, and that just makes me want to stay away from everyone.