Life Itself

In 88 days, I will be living in the city of my dreams, the prodigal “room where it happens”. I will be given the opportunities of interning on Capitol Hill or volunteering at a number of non-profit organizations. I will meet people from around the world. And best of all, not a single person there knows me. I have no predisposed expectations to live up to. I can be a wholly new person and set up a new life for myself. This current moment is one I have been working for and dreaming of for over 7 years, and it is finally happening.

Now, I make lists of the valuables and in-valuables that I can’t live without; what books do I treasure enough to take with me, what image do I want to make for myself through the clothes I wear? I contact my insurance company and medical suppliers to see what my options are for treatment in what will be my new home. I register for disability services- something I never imagined I’d have to do, but know I must. I prepare for transition.

I have begun an exercise regimen and I am cleaning my diet. I have worn my CGM continuously for 2 months. My goal before I leave is to lower my HBa1C from 8.8 (in March) to 7.5 or lower, and I am currently on track to beat that goal. I’d like to lose some weight as well, but that goal is second to simply controlling my disease. I need to prove, to myself more than anyone else, that I am fully capable of being an independent adult and taking care of my health.

I am also learning when and how to ask for help. I lose no self-value in doing so and that lesson has taken time to learn, but the journey in doing so has been fruitful.

I am also remembering a lesson I taught myself through years of solitude: Let people go. There are people who enter your life to teach you, to guide you, and to support you, and once those people have served their purpose, they must be let go. There are some people who entered my life during my high school tenure whom I believed I could carry with me possibly for the rest of my life, but rapidly I am realizing that may not be the case. I wish them no ill will, simply that I need to let them go in order to continue becoming the best possible person I can be.

I am learning how to be happy. That is the most important lesson I can hope to learn in my life.

 

If you’re interested, once I move away I am planning on making a new blog to document my life in Washington, D.C. and eventually New York. I’ll link that blog here once it’s made.

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A Lack of Color

I wouldn’t call Tuesday an overreaction, but a gut reaction. Over time, and especially since seeing him, I did the one thing I was supposed to avoid at all costs: getting attached.

I love him. He loves me. We know this. He is my world as I am his. The distance is too great to make this any shade of easy. The distance itself isn’t even the problem; the real problem is how intense his workload is, to the point that simple texting is unfeasible for him. I know if he tried harder we could make it work, but I don’t want to ask that of him. He has too much to focus on and I don’t want to be a contributing factor to his stress; inversely, I want to be a source of relief and relaxation. I can’t be that person if I get attached.

I brought up spending a month in the summer with him, and he said he’s discuss it with his mother. It wasn’t a no, which gives me hope and I am allowing myself to hope, even if it’s just this once.

I miss being loved. Life is lonely and it isn’t easy.

Long Way Down

I’ve had a few days to think and reminisce, and I feel that I now have a better opinion on the events that transpired while at competition last week. I understand better now my feelings after distancing myself a bit from the source of my problems.

What I mean to say is, you abandoned me. You were my lifeline for the past three years, my constant, my go to. You were the father figure I lacked growing up and that I desperately needed, and even more desperately wanted. I felt I could trust you with my life, and I did on many occasions. You threw all of that back at my face.

Once again, I was forgotten. I was a side piece that could be discarded without a second glance. Meaningless, worthless, valueless. You reminded me of all the reasons I long to escape this city so badly. You transported me back to a time when I didn’t want to be alive. You, who was supposed to be my hero and confidant, made me want to die.

I was marginalized, ostracized, by none other than the person who made me feel I could make a change in the world. You empowered me, as you so like to say, only to completely tear me down without a hint of hesitation. You weathered down all of my defenses only to remind me why I built them in the first place. You made me return to the angry, distant, and cold-hearted person I used to be and grew terrified of. You made me feel heartless.

All of this without so much as an apology; even less, an explanation. I asked for honesty and was met with lies upon lies upon lies. And yet, you’re confused as to why I am so angry. You disregard my emotions, just as I as a person grew used to being disregarded altogether as I was growing up.

You stripped me of my self-worth and self-confidence. You transformed me into a frail and volatile carcass of a person who has trouble identifying left from right, and now, up from down. What was my most prized creation has slowly turned into a prison where my motivation is entirely sapped. For what purpose?

To what end? Mostly though, why? I feel I deserve at least an explanation.

Satisfied

Cheers to another surprisingly good week!

I had another two interviews with universities I applied to, and they were worlds better than my first one! I’m still in shock at the praise I received from my interviewers, and the conversations I had with them make me really excited at the prospect of having similar conversations in a college environment. I’m really eager to be surrounded by people who are as willing and hungry to learn as I am. 70 days until I know where I’ll be living in just about eight months, and I’m excited.

I finally sorted out the issue with my sensor, which I am now happily wearing again after a four-month hiatus. Now that I’m halfway through the school year and I’ve gotten through the worst of it, I’m cracking down on my diabetes care again. I had let myself slip for the past few weeks because of how stressed I was due to applications, school, and competition, but I’m getting myself back together now. I need to instill good habits early to make sure I can remain healthy once I move away.

I’m lacking motivation when it comes to school simply because it feels like my teachers and peers collectively have given up. I get that we’re seniors, but I don’t understand why that means I should want to stop working. If anything, I feel like that would make the transition to college only that much more difficult. I want to be challenged and I want to grow, and it sucks that it seems like the people around me don’t want to put in the effort to do the same.

As time passes, I’m realizing more and more how difficult it will be to say goodbye to my family. I never anticipated that it would be this way. Growing up, I always had distant relationships with my cousins because of our large age differences, but as I’ve grown and matured, they’ve come to take me more seriously and we’ve grown closer. By the same token, I’m extremely joyed that at the very least, I will have them to call in good times and in bad.

My hard work and dedication in school are coming to fruition, my health is better than it has been in years, I’m happy with myself and the progress I’ve made. Good things are coming; I’m working for them.

HandClap

Inspiration for another tattoo idea hit me: a bird flying out of an open cage. Jane Eyre. “I am a bird; and no net ensnares me.” Sure, the quote says net but a cage is much more aesthetically pleasing. I’m happy I finally found a relevant tattoo in honor of my favorite novel.

My winter break officially ends tomorrow. I’m proud of myself. My last school break was the summer and I was such a mess. Looking back, it pleases me to say I don’t really recognize that person anymore. I got through these two weeks alone for the most part and I got by very well. My own company was enough for once.

I had an interview with a big university yesterday, and although it didn’t go as I expected, I’m honored for having had the opportunity. I applied to a total of 16 schools and by April 1st, I’ll know where I’ll be living in the fall. My hard work is slowly and steadily being acknowledged.

I’ve been finding more time to read which also makes me happy. Books were my first friends and first loves, I’m glad I can still find solace in them.

Competition season is beginning and I can’t wait for the rush of working.

I’m eager for a change of pace. I’m growing in ways I never deemed possible only months ago, but I’m starting to feel, more than ever before, that Miami isn’t enough for me. I doubt I’d like New York very much, but I’m eager for the opportunity to explore it. I’ll be in California in March and although the west coast isn’t very appealing, I’m looking forward to this chance to be somewhere new and inviting. Chicago’s blisteringly cold winters scare me, but I think I’d like its overall atmosphere. DC is calling to me, but I need to see more of the world before I settle down.

I haven’t been to any museums in months; they were a special place of ours. I need an art fix. I might go mudding with some friends, though.

I never, in a million years, thought this would be my life, but I’m very happy for it. I’ve been reflecting on early-2016 the past few days, the carcass of a person that I was during that time, and I’m proud that I was able to pull myself out of that and make something better. I’m a stronger and more independent individual than I was then, and the future is only looking better.

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

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.

Ghost!

Today is a down day and I’ve stopped trying to fight it. Down days are essential to making the up days extra good. I think I’ve been doing okay. I’ve had a few slip ups and moments where I’ve let myself feel worse than I should have, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and I can’t expect to completely reinvent myself in a week. So today is a down day and I’m doing my best to cope with that.

Ex-Boyfriend never called. He said he’d call when he got back in town, but he never did, and as we speak he’s boarding another plane and flying miles away from me. I yearn to talk to him. Besides Pelican, I feel like he’s the only one who ever really listened. I’ve been keeping a lot bottled up lately, and I know that I shouldn’t, but I don’t feel comfortable enough with my friends to try and talk to them about anything.

I’m coming to realize that I think I need new friends. While the ones that I currently have are often my pillars of support and the only people keeping me afloat, sometimes, especially as of late, they’ve been doing me more harm than good. Their characters have changed as they have entered relationships, they are often aloof when I need them most, and they hurt me when all I’ve done is try to help and be a good person. I’m not that good at making friends, I guess.

Home is no different really. I feel like a stranger in my own bed, but that’s nothing new.

We’re going back to school and working, and I welcome this much needed distraction. I feel Ex-Boyfriend’s ghost in almost every room I walk into, but I try to take inspiration from likely suggestions he would have given. I try to make the memory of him helpful instead of painful. On down days, that’s hard to do, but I think I’m doing okay.

Overall, I think I’m doing okay. Let’s just hope I can do okay for long enough.

How do you get over someone who gave you a whole world?

Barricade

This week has been quite a roller coaster, and not the pleasant kind. I fell really badly, in an emotional way, especially the last three days. If I let myself think for long enough, my heart starts pounding and my lungs forget that oxygen is their friend and my hands start shaking and I become a mess, so I’ve been trying to not think to much. As you can expect, this hasn’t been working too well.

I’m proud to say I didn’t resort to self harm after such a slump. It was disheartening that my good moods seemed to become a thing of the past as the days progressed, but I kept myself together enough to not break out the razor stashed in my drawer, and if anything good happened this week, it was that. I truly am proud of myself for that. I think it’s a sign that I do have the willpower to get better, I just need to remind myself of that willpower every now and then. I know that had I had a week like this one a year ago, my thighs would be a bloody mess right now.

My would-be(?) significant other leaves tomorrow for three weeks to another continent and that has me in shambles. As much as I try to deny it, I do still have feelings for her, strong ones, that seem more vibrant and fresh every time we’re together. I’m just completely fed up with feeling like she probably never had the same feelings towards me as I do for her. I’m sick of the one-sidedness of our relationship. As much as I’ve been trying to suppress my feelings, however, they surfaced today with a vengeance. It just really brings me down, the thought that while she’s away for the next three weeks, I will miss her terribly, but I know she probably won’t be missing me.

I really wish my mom would listen to my pleas of getting me a psychologist. I have the willpower to get better, I just need some pushing and prodding, and really just someone to talk to. It’s sad that I feel like the only person I may feel comfortable talking to is being paid to listen to me complain, but hey people pay for worse things.

Here’s to hoping for a better week.

Pale Black Eye

This past Friday I attended my first concert- and it was amazing. 20 minutes in I was kicked in the back of the head by a fat crowd surfer which caused my head to smash into the railing in front of me (yes, I was in the front row, am I hardcore yet?), resulting in a minor cut and lots of bruising. Other than that, the night was indescribable.

The opening band, Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band, was a pleasant surprise for me. I hadn’t listened to them beforehand and had no idea what to expect, but was more than satisfied with their mellow rhythms and heartbreaking yet soothing lyrics. I also give Kevin kudos on the straggly ginger beard.

The next band, Balance and Composure, was when I got my black eye. I had listened to them a bit beforehand and considered them to be an OK band, and was once again pleasantly surprised by their performance. They also had an interesting thing going on with their backdrop, but that’s a story for another day.

Finally, Manchester Orchestra took to the stage and the urge to stroke Andy Hull’s beard was intense. It didn’t help that he was only five feet in front of me and close enough that when he’d look down to the crowd he’d look straight to me and my friends. That man is mighty talented, as is the rest of the band. They put on a performance, with Andy having even “written a song” especially for my venue. The hour and a half that Manchester was on the stage was the first time in quite a while where I let myself go and let myself be happy (happy, and not merely content).

I am now concert hungry and hope this will not be my last one for any lengthy period of time. I only pray that bands quit booking their performances on Tuesdays, which my strict parents refuse to let me attend since there is usually school the following day.

I still regret not being able to touch Andy’s beard.Image