Earlier today, I started writing a post for my blog and I was pretty proud of it at the time. It was positive and uplifting and really optimistic. I was going to finish and publish it when I got back from class. But after I got back and re-read it, I thought it sounded like a load of annoyingly optimistic bullshit. Because frankly, I don’t feel optimistic right now. I left my class shortly after I got there because everything my professor was saying was going in one ear and out the other. Math is a foreign language to me that I will never understand the point of. I got a lump in my throat and felt like there was a brick on my chest because thoughts and memories that I need to forget kept swarming into my head. I took my phone out, drafted a text that I shouldn’t be sending, deleted, re-worded, deleted, re-worded, stared at my screen for a minute or two, deleted, then fuck it. Shoved my phone back into my bag and tried to focus. After nervously tapping my pencil on my blank notebook paper for 20 minutes while on the verge of tears and a mental breakdown, I gave up. I packed up my stuff and headed back to the door, hoping the huge lecture hall would just think I was going on a bathroom break. This overwhelming feeling of stress and sadness is something that I would normally fix with…guess what? But it’s not my fix anymore. Feeling trapped in my own head is just something that I have to deal with in all of its intensity now, I guess. I choked back tears and put my head down as I walked past students heading to and from their night classes. I felt pathetic for giving up and neglecting schoolwork yet again because of frustration and distraction. Feels just like last semester. A semester that I never want to relive in any way, shape, or form.
If you couldn’t already tell by my previous posts, my drinking is very, very susceptible to emotional triggers. It’s easier to say, “Fuck it!” and go out than to wallow in self-pity. It’s easier to tell yourself that everything’s okay and you’re fine because you don’t want to miss out on a night with your friends, even when you know drinking is the last thing you should do. Just today, my friend told me that I was going to “lose my social life” and “cease to exist” because I told her that I didn’t want to drink anymore. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that my feelings and my friends guilt-tripping me are going to be temptations that I have to fight off every single day if I want to make any kind of progress in my life. If not, it’ll just be what it has been lately…a blur, stagnant, and most importantly, unproductive.
So in summary, today was a reminder that it’s still the beginning and it’s not going to be easy. Getting better is a huge PROCESS. I’m still very much a human being who is trying to change and I’m finding that it’s quite hard. It’s hard to get people out of your head when you still care. It’s hard to cut off bad habits when they’ve been your go-to. It’s hard to admit to everybody that you’re nowhere close to being perfect. It’s hard to sit in class for three hours when your professor might as well be speaking Egyptian. But that’s why I’m doing this. I’m documenting every day and being honest about it because I know that maybe on day 14, or day 30, or day 99, that I’ll look back and realize how far I came. Despite how NOT optimistic I feel at the moment, deep down, I still am. I know that time heals everything. I know that there’s a method in the madness. I know that God blessed me with the gift of the written word because I have a lot of shit to say. And how am I supposed to have a lot shit to say if I don’t have a lot of shit happen to me? The one good thing that came out of today was that I processed my emotions in a healthy way by writing about it. I didn’t throw in the towel and give up and give in like I normally would. I got it all out and am moving on.