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Where do I go from here?

I’m creatively constipated. I can’t even write privately these days. I have ideas floating through my head, but as soon as I try to actually put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, I freeze.

Just sitting here typing this at the library of the university my friend is attending, waiting for her to finish class, so we can go walk her doggies, I’m tearing up. I haven’t even been able to read what others have written, when it used to be one of my favourite ways to spend time with myself.

I have always loved writing. I started using LiveJournal back in about 2001, and have had a blog since then. Prior to that, I wrote stupid short stories and other random pieces for myself. I’m not lacking in encouragement from outside sources; several people have told me I should start writing again. What I’m lacking is the confidence in myself as a writer that I had for so long.

I feel so much shame and anger in myself, it’s hard to admit. I find it embarrassing that I am usually such a vocal supporter of mental health, and am having trouble admitting that I have actually been presented with two new potential diagnoses. I am still unable to present those right now, for reasons I hope to explain later.

So, where does this leave me? How do I get over this crippling fear I have of opening myself up again?

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Back to Me

Words haven’t wanted to come lately. Not here, not in my mind, not in any of my paper journals, not on my laptop. I am still trying to find a safe resting place.

Physically, I am safe. I am settled into a pretty comfortable routine with my amazing and loving roommates. I am working, although it’s not at a job I want permanently. It pays well, and while I’m technically part time, most weeks are closer to fulltime hours, though the randomness of shift work.

I think I have stopped losing weight. I’m down 10-15 pounds from my normal weight, but I’m trying to make myself eat. It’s only noticeable in my jeans, I think. My belt needs to be done up two notches tighter. I’m sleeping better, too.

Mentally, I’m starting to feel a lot better, but I still want to find a counsellor or depression support group. I have made a pretty concerted effort to not talk to the Pirate the last month or so. I messaged him for his birthday 3 weeks ago and haven’t spoken to him since. It’s hard. Harder than I thought it would be, but I know it’s what I need to do.

I still have horrifying moments of panic when I just feel utterly devastated that we are no longer together. Then I remember his hurtful words, and his hurtful actions, all while simultaneously professing that he is a nice guy. No, dude. Nice guys aren’t manipulative jerks who only look out for themselves. I’m trying to keep that thought to the fore when I feel the worst, when I just want my friend back.

I still feel like I’m searching for where I belong. I don’t think Edmonton is home, not where I want to settle, but I’m trying to make the most of it. My cost of living here is a lot less than it was in Vancouver, and I’m making more money. I’ve had a couple slips with money lately, like buying a fancier phone than I actually need when my last one died, but generally I think I’m doing pretty well. I have a little bit of money saved-not nearly as much as I’d like, but it’s a start. I have been making additional payments towards my debts, with a vague hope to be debt-free by the end of 2013. I am serious about traveling when my debt is paid off.

I have recovered a bit of my inherent girlness and am nervously looking forward to a hangout with a dude I have planned for when I’m in Vancouver visiting in two weeks. No plans to move back there at this point, and he knows that, so I think we’re both waiting to see what happens when we hang out. I am terrible about not worrying about things, so of course I’m probably making a bigger deal about it than I need to.

I would like to find my home. I would like to find a place I enjoy and stay put for longer than a year. For now, it’s Edmonton. I have committed to myself that I will give it a full year here before I leave. I am pretty sure that I want to live in the B.C. interior somewhere, but I have yet to commit to that.

In a lot of ways I’m still taking it one day at a time, but more and more days are tear-free. More and more days have giggles and a mind that seems clear of fog. Now I’m mostly only having bad moments and not bad days, weeks.

I’m finding my way back to me.

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Importation

Sorry to anybody using a reader who was just inundated with a million posts.

I’ve imported all my old LiveJournal posts here, starting from all the way back in Feb 2002. That’s over ten years that I have been online journalling, on various platforms. However, due to depression issues, no archives from 2002-2011 are publicly available at this time.

Maybe one day.

After I go through them and clean them up and remove identifying info of other people…

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Forgotten

I have forgotten how to write.

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