Beginnings are always the hardest part, figuratively and literally.
I think it’s fair to say I’m more emotional than I used to be, but I also think that’s an outward misconception. I’ve always felt these emotions, I’m simply more willing to show them now. I thought I used to cry a lot, but Past Me would be baffled if someone were to tell her how much I cry now. I’ve come to accept it; I think a big source of my conflicts from before were a result of keeping too much bottled up. Cathartic release is essential to a healthy mind, and so I cry heartily and often. It’s comforting to know the tears are not always sad, though.
As of today, I have applied or am in the process of applying to a total of 16 schools. So far, I’ve been accepted to two and deferred from one. I won’t find out about 12 schools until the week I am at national competition, which is totally unfortunate.
I’ve had three people tell me I should write a book, one going so far as to say I should write a memoir. I worry that I’ll never be able to see the potential and talent that so many others seem to see in me. Maybe one day.
In a coffee shop. A couple years from now.
I’ve been doing very well lately. I’ve cracked down on myself to check my sugars more often and give my insulin when I’m supposed to. I’ve been having a lot of lows, but I’m going back to my doctor in two weeks so hopefully that will be fixed. Health insurance is still a bitch, and the looming responsibilities of impending adulthood are threatening to overburden me, but I’m hanging in there. Writing helps a lot.
I’m trying to make it a point to make love normal. I know this sounds weird, so let me explain.
As of December 23, 2016, my mother has told me “I love you” three times. My father has said the three magic words only once. I was raised in a household devoid of affection and love, and that has affected me profoundly. I’m not going to let it ruin me any longer. I will be open to love. It will be commonplace for me. I will hug and kiss the ones closest to me, and I will remind them every day of how much they mean to me and how much I value them. Most of all, I will remind myself. The past seven months have been a saga of self-forgiveness and acceptance, and slowly but surely I am learning to love myself. So long as I can be happy with myself, I will be okay.
I am okay.