I am officially heavier than I have ever been. Part of me wonders if I was just trying to see if I could get this heavy. I can’t take it. I can’t look at myself. My self confidence has tanked. I’m in a hole.
I’m smoking so much weed at night. Why? Well, it feels really nice and then I’m chasing that feeling which I can never recapture. I’m smoking too many cigarettes. I’m literally getting out of breath walking the dogs. My feet hurt. I FEEL old.
I know this is kind of nutty but I also cannot picture myself as much older. I don’t know if it’s too difficult to think about time passing like that. Or if it’s something more. Am I going to get old? I’ve always felt really strongly about leaving art and music here to live on. I don’t know. I’m in a weird place.
I’m feeling lonely but antisocial. I feel kind of adrift but I have nothing to say to reach out to people. I have nothing to say. I value silence. I know I have nothing to give right now. So I pull back.
Also, I think I just don’t want to engage with my thoughts right now. They’re on repeat and aren’t helpful.
After a couple of gigs in the past few weeks, I started to reconnect with myself as a musician and what a huge part of me that it is. My musician part is overindulgent and a little cocky. It’s the only part of me that’s like that. Without it, I don’t have arrogance. I’m confident enough. Or rather I don’t give a whole lot of fucks anymore. But that little bit of swagger helped me out of some deep muck.
It felt good to play music for people. To feel in control and supported all at once. The exchange of energy, all in good will. The knowledge that I can deliver this thing that is so uniquely mine. It’s the only place in my life that I feel that way. And yet I push it away sometimes. If I’m being honest, that swagger isn’t always there. A lot of times I feel over my head. But it’s manageable. And it’s a challenge that I’m ok with. I think sometimes that energy exchange is taxing on me as an empath. I think the overindulgence can ruin me. I think the confidence butts up against insecurity off the stage.
I’m depressed. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Maybe I should? Or maybe I should just focus on my home. I always feel better when I straighten up or offload things that are taking up space.
I’m a dick because I really feel so “above” therapy. I know what my issues are. I know I’m not taking care of myself and that makes me feel shitty. I know I’m a perfectionist who crumbles at the first mistake because why bother any more. I know I tend to get this way and will eventually swing out of it. I don’t want to talk about why. I know why. I’ve studied it my whole life. It’s boring. Keep going. Keep going.
I am unfocused and unmotivated at work. I feel pigeon-holed as an “admin” even though I’m supposedly not one anymore. This is a thing that happens to women about my age in all fields. We are expected to be den mothers, making sure everyone has snacks and fielding complaints and doing all of the small work that no one wants to do, which adds up to a lot of fucking time. I resent that a lot. I sent my resume to a few places last week. I don’t have high hopes but it couldn’t hurt. I like the flexibility I have and my institutional knowledge is unbeatable. But I can’t escape the admin trap.
And personal life wise… I feel like I don’t deserve one. I think that’s part of my weight shit too. This is a lot.
I should probably write more.
I have more to say here.
I want to give myself over to healthy living. To yoga and art and counseling. Is my depression/ weight gain/ unhealthy behavior stemming from the fact that I’m not living in alignment with my passions? Seriously. That it’s such a bad fit that I’m doing anything in my power to make it hurt less? This problem that I have had almost every single year since I started working in an office at 23? Where I have ALWAYS felt less than. Where I keep looking over my shoulder for a thumbs-up from my parents… am I doing this right? Is this what you wanted?