It’s 2:45am and I’m having a hard time falling asleep. Granted, I haven’t been trying very hard.
I got back to Boston last night after being in Phoenix for 3 weeks. I thought being home would make me feel less sad or alone but instead my feelings were coupled with a strange kind of guilt.
My guilt about everything has gotten much worse as I’ve gotten older. Feeling bad about not liking presents I receive makes the holidays anxiety-filled; feeling bad about falling out of touch with friends causes me to fall into hopelessness. And my depression not magically disappearing on my trip home forced me to cry several times. Maybe I should go into Catholicism; they could really use my help.
Since being back, I’ve done several “super-great” things and several “dumb-bitch” things. I unpacked right away, I hung some new cards I got, and I went to the grocery store (good). I also sent emails to random gigs (one turned out to be porn–I said no thank you), drank a cup of coffee after 6pm, and stared at myself in the mirror for a full hour (bad).
I don’t say this to shoot myself down, but really, I could be doing better.
Tonight, I took it upon myself to finally water my succulents: a task so easy that my depression forced me to avoid it as much as humanly possible for months! I felt sad and guilty and said “I’m so sorry” to them as I watered them. My succulents used to be so well cared for, but then again so did I. When one thing slips it’s all too easy to let everything else go too.
My room has slowly turned into a graveyard of self-care attempts. My nightstand is full of every skincare/essential oil/natural remedy cure you could imagine. Candles and incense and plants line my windowsills. Art prints and astrology cards cover my walls. And I love all of it, I really do. But past it all I still have to wonder why I don’t always love myself.
In the true spirit of guilt, I picked up my camera, which I asked for and have never really used, and took pictures of it all.
Tonight I also saw Doll’s House, Part II (for those of you not into theatre stuff, you can skip this, it’s fine). It focuses a lot on whether it’s braver to realize you’re unhappy and go out to find yourself, or to stick it out. I have never been one for sticking it out. But I did already tell myself that it’s the year I get over my fear of commitment. It’s the year I get over my fears of being stuck (in a place, with a person, etc). So I suppose that this is the time when I have to decide to stay rather than run away.
It’s now 3:13am. I have completely fucked up my sleep schedule and I’m not certain I’ve learned anything from writing this, but it’s fine. I’m wishing for a whole lot that doesn’t exist, but I’ve always done that and things have somehow managed to work out.