I don’t know what took me so long to pay $3.99. I spend more than that on a vanilla latte with coconut milk at Starbucks, and at least this place doesn’t exacerbate my anxiety like the caffeine would. I have entries in my head all the time these days and the thought of having to use a pen and write things down is too much.
Unfortunately just about every thing is too much for me these days. I can’t decide if I’m getting worse mentally or that I’m just coming to terms with it. Like I don’t make things up for my issues anymore, and it can’t be PMS 30-31 days out of the month, clearly. I try to meet my issues head on on figure them out. Take responsibility. But maybe I also use them as an excuse to behave a certain way. Maybe I’m just incredibly irrational. Social anxiety and being highly sensitive are not my favorite things and I wouldn’t even know how to explain what it’s like to live in my head. I also don’t think I was this bad in high school and college, but anything I did that showed these traits got me pegged for a snotty, terrible person, which gave me more anxiety. It was a super cool cycle. There’s nothing on this Earth that I hate more than to be misunderstood by anyone. I think that’s why I used to explain and write down all my thoughts. I do want to be understood.
Another thing that I must discuss is how much I hate friends that are not friends. Since moving to Idaho, I have two people that I love and they’re both well over 40. I don’t have to be a certain way. I don’t have to do certain things to make them like me. I love getting them stuff randomly every now and then and that’s just something I like to do for friends. I also like when friends remember important days. Just my birthday. I don’t need random friends to give me things, but if I feel like we are pretty good friends, I like to know I matter. Like Jesus, a note or a coffee or a card is sufficient, I’m not asking for diamonds. This particular month, I have stopped being friends with someone I felt was kind of important and supported me through hard things. I used to text them if I was upset. I felt she was a loyal person in my life. They’ve made some life choices I made when I was 17 and when you’re married and an adult, you can’t be making the choice to kiss other boys or do other things with them. Sometimes I am extremely black and white with morals. Sometimes I am not. She’s also shown time and again that fake friends are more important to her than real ones. Like the time she put a bunch of terrible people in her wedding. The wedding was as genuine as the people she chose on her side. That’s clear. She’s also chosen an irresponsible way of life that I can’t get behind. You can only accept so much from a person. It’s not always about liking a person unconditionally. There’s conditions. To respect yourself, you have to let the right people have an important place in your life. That’s all I’m going to say about her in here again. I mean that.
Moving a million places has made me isolated and anxious about most things. I only talk to some people through social media and then I fixate and decide I don’t like them or I don’t like what they post and I take them out of my life. It’s severely childish. I forget that I have to deal with them at some point again. I really don’t love dealing with myself. Living with myself is difficult, lately.
There’s a slight chance, if the stars align that I can move from Idaho and come back to Oregon, where we both clearly belong. This could be as soon as this time next year. I’ve put off children for almost ten years due to our hectic lifestyle and my fear of childbirth and also my fear of having to be a parent and screwing them up forever. I blame my parents for many things and sometimes I resent them. But most of the time I cannot because they’re getting older and I know I don’t have much time with them and I get very guilty that I even ever thought to resent them. It’s a huge stressor for me that I’m far away from them when they’re aging. I don’t want my kid/kids to feel this way about me.
I don’t know if this entry made me feel worse or better, but these are the things that have been heavily on my mind. There’s more, but I figured I wouldn’t write a novel the first time back in awhile. I’ve got a lot more to say.