yay I’m blogging. I’m 21 and I made a blog! maybe this will be good for me, I think. maybe I can keep doing things that are good for me.
It rained today, and thinking about the water calls my attention to how crystal-clear things have been in and around my little being as of late. I told my therapist on Monday (tonight is Wednesday’s) that perhaps, the good, long days I’ve met over the past week are the result of another hypomanic episode, not unlike the one in April which got me diagnosed with bipolar ii. She told me that, frankly, she wished I had never come across the term; I’m doing well, and nothing’s wrong with that, and I should be proud of myself. She’s right, of course. Consider the heinous acts of socializing, self-esteeming, sweating, and getting shit done— not bad things, just what I’ve been wanting for so long!!*
TLDR I’m sensitive, perhaps not clinically, but does it matter?
🎶My baby loves me, I’m so angry/Anger makes me a modern girl🎶
And I’m so mad, at everything, more than normal; I think about the shape of misogyny, and I’ve somehow become re-appalled at so much, because there is so much, and it hurts, very actively— maybe it’s that things have come so up to surface recently, like I said, clear. But?B/c?And? When I get ready to be out in the world, and I’m there, taking time with reflective surfaces, I look at my face and I see something different than usual— someone more me, suddenly present, too. I greet them, haha, hello! Who are you? And what will you look like with short hair? Maybe more like yourself, whoever that is, whatever we’ve been dealing with. I’m sorry I may have pushed you away for so long, but I promise that I’ll get to you eventually, through the brush. Avoidance is something I am great at.
Not all of the time, though. Last Friday–the one that ended up too good it got me shaking in my refusing-to-take-my-prescribed-mood-stabilizers boots–I strutted (strat?) into the Disability Resource Center on campus, before noon, and I did something that I had been avoiding for ~500 days, something that haunted me day-in and night-out for truly that long. Here, I will not disclose what that was. But what matters is that it was stupid, meaningful to me in a way I would not wish upon anybody, and I cried on the T home, with relief and joy and a puff of laughter. And I did talk to real people about it, and only let out a couple tears the second time. Now I’m writing on the web about it, really putting it out there: I make mistakes! I am capable! I’m going to fucking graduate college!
*There’s a story I tell myself, about my life (and I’m sure I’m not alone in this)— when it comes to the past couple of years, it’s…rough! And that’s okay, if only because it has to be. It’s left me with certain inclinations, sure: My therapist (who is awesome, if so much is not already clear) tells me I get anxious about becoming anxious. Yeah. She also says stuff like it’s 'safer to blame yourself than eyeing the system’ [my note] which I think is rad. I appreciate her and her help in dismantling my black-and-white thinking. Thanks, Andrea!
Part of me wants this to sit and collect internet dust. Another part of me wants it to get like, max 3 notes (that’s what they call likes on Tumblr, right?) If you’re reading this, hi. So silly, so so silly.
Tastefully,
Kate
9/13/23
p.s. super duper into a specific kind of indie music recently. playlist titled 'rememba' is a cookie jar.
#feelings, #firstppost, #gender, #mood, #or2, #up&up
