The Decision to Stay Stuck

If you are truly unhappy with your life, and with the way things are going, I whole-heartedly believe that it is your decision to stay stuck. Your life can be better and you can start getting the things you want. The world isn’t going to magically start making your life better when all you’re putting into it is complaints, bad energy, and a negative attitude. You get what you give. Changing your life requires insight into what’s making you so miserable. What is it that you want? Find someone who has that, and ask them what they did to get it. Or perhaps you actually need to get rid of something that makes you feel bad. Many people believe that adding things to life is what will make them happier, when in reality it’s subtracting something bad that will actually make a difference. Listen to your gut instinct – it’ll hardly ever steer you wrong.

I just get so – not upset – but so frustrated when someone is constantly complaining about how shitty their life is, but doesn’t do anything about it. They repeat a vicious cycle and dive further into self-hatred. It may be because I’ve always been drawn to a self-actualizing life, but I really do believe that the answer to a problem is to either a.) learn to accept it, or b.) stop complaining and start doing something about it. I understand that clinical depression and anxiety is a factor that can debilitate helping yourself. If this is the case, there’s an answer to that too though. I’ve been there many times. Through medication and weekly therapy, I have been able to combat those issues.

That’s all. I may add more to this later but feel free to comment/criticize/discuss in the comments below (if anyone actually reads this… lol).

Heartbreak

I walked you to the front door, quickly dabbing away my wet eyes for the brief time you were walking ahead of me. I didn’t want you to see my hurt. My pain. Your strength over me. I didn’t want you to see my weakness. We say our awkward goodbye and you leave. I breathe. In, out. In, out. I’m okay. Walk to your bedroom, Julianne. You’re going to be fine. This is going to be alright. As soon as I walk through the door frame of my bedroom, I feel it. The sharp pain of grief stabs my stomach. I curl over, dropping to my knees. A sob escapes my mouth unrecognizable even to myself. What has taken over me? I can’t breath. Numbness. I can’t feel my body. All I can do is stay hunched over in the fetal position on my bedroom floor. I want to talk to someone. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t know what I feel. Disaster. Finality. Heartbreak. My heart is breaking. I can’t understand the noise that is coming out of my mouth. I hear this deep, low, long sob. Over and over. I’m shaking. Uncontrollable shaking. It’s over. My fairytale is over. This dream is over. I’ve fallen from cloud nine and I have hit rock bottom. I don’t know what’s next for me. I don’t want to know what’s next. I’ve only ever wanted him. I only want him. I’ll only ever want him. Get off the ground, Julianne. You are the worthless piece of shit you always thought you were. You aren’t good enough. Get in the fucking bed, Julianne. Sometimes the only escape is sleep. These foreign sobs will lull you to bed. Just go to fucking sleep.

This is what it felt like. To lose the one I felt so privileged to have. To lose my perfect. To lose, what I believed at the time, my only chance at happiness. In that moment. In that month. I felt the dark pressure of depression surrounding me everywhere I went. I was terrified to be alone. I hated myself when I was alone. I hated myself when I was with people. But one month turned to two months. Two months turned to three. Dead ends became silver linings. I began to see the reasons, and resolutions. I got to know myself again. I learned things I never could have had he stayed. And you will too. For anyone who is going through the dark path of a recent break up, the darkness will lead to a place that’s full of growth and healing. It hurts, but it’s worth it. You are worth it. You are good enough.

Battling Imprints

I’m going to surround myself with people who recognize my value, and see the greatness of who I am.

Not people who make me feel like I have to prove something to them or work in order for them to validate my worth.

Today is my last day working at the Center for Students in Recovery and I had a really good talk with Greg. He made me cry (of course) but he just made me recognize that I am excited by guys who confirm my imprint of not being “good enough.” It has nothing to do with who it is, it has everything to do with what they represent. It’s the guys who I need to show me that I’m worth something. Guys I have to bend over backwards and hide my true self in order for them to want me.

He said sometimes it doesn’t have to start with a spark. That a lot of the time the spark will come later. That spark can be dangerous because it’s probably a guy who will be unhealthy for me and represent those patterns I find myself in and the unhealthy type I typically fall for.

I’m gonna miss this place. I’m going to miss these people. I love CSR so much. I hope I’m ready.

Moving On

I saw this quote,

“In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it.” and I thought I would do some writing on it. This is what resulted:

I felt how I did because Kenny seemed ‘perfect’ in my eyes. I could really see a life with him. It made me so excited when I was with him and I thought of him all the time. When we were together, I was happy. So when it ended, I felt really lost and afraid that I wouldn’t find that feeling in anyone else. In some senses, I still feel that way. I’ve yet to meet someone I’ve felt the same way around. It’s only been a year and a half though. I still have a lot of time. And I truly didn’t know him all that well. I no longer need to feel this way because I will find someone very well suited to me. He will have little bits of all the things I’ve liked in my past relationships. Let the perfect shoes find me. I no longer need to feel that way because Kenny is unavailable and living with his girlfriend that he is (presumably) very happy with and planning a life with. He is not an option. I will accept that I’ll always sort of love him in my way, and that’s okay. But one day it’ll make sense and I’ll look back and understand why it didn’t work with him and why it had to end.

You are my moderation

I can’t drink.

I’ve learned that when I put the substance in my body, I become addicted.

Moderation isn’t an option; it always leads to more.

If I don’t get more I go crazy – depressed and neurotic.

More would make me better, more would make things right, just give me more and I’ll be fine.

 

You

are my moderation.

It’s better to abstain.

If I get a whiff of you, a look at you, a taste of you – when I don’t get more, I go insane.

Crush

I hate getting crushes. I get so completely overwhelmed with the person’s presence that it’s hard to concentrate on much else. When I’m around them, I am so in the moment; hyper-aware of how I’m coming across, how I look, the words I’m strategically phrasing in order to appeal to him. When he’s gone, I reminisce on our last encounter; analyzing every last syllable that came out of his perfect lips. His perfect voice. I daydream of his face and find myself unconsciously grinning in random places at random times with a glazed-over stare. The thought of him brings me happiness, and therefore I obsess. I cling onto this “happiness.” My alcoholism pervades into every aspect of my life, and therefore I must be very aware of when I feel myself become this way. Through awareness I become awake to my reality and what I need to work on.

Transported

It’s funny how getting a whiff of something can transport you through space and time to those exact feelings you had when you were around that scent before. Earlier I was on the bus, and I caught a whiff of her perfume. I was transported. I craved. I wanted the thrill, the excitement, the oblivion. In less than a second, I was that girl, getting day drunk in shitty apartments, taking ecstasy in the back of cars with strangers, feeling so free and invincible with her. I wanted to go back. I wanted to feel that again.

But then I was brought back to the here, the now. I got off that bus and I walked home where I was able to talk with a newcomer about her fears towards the upcoming weekend. She’s so motivated and inspirational already. Immediately I am reminded of how far I’ve come and what got me here. How much my numbness was my downfall in the end; my invincibility, my destruction. The good memories are connected to that scent. The happy, free, joyful moments. What scent is attached to the resulting shame, the regret, and ultimate destruction in the end? That one I seem to come by less.

Wanderlust

I want to feel present everywhere. I want to experience everything. I want to feel the breeze on my face walking the different city streets of the world. I never want to stop. I never want to stand still. I want to exchange gazes with men from different backgrounds, with different faces, textures, and stories. I want to smell the ocean on every border. I never want to stop moving. I want to drink rich espresso at different coffee shops all across the globe. I want to witness interactions and kisses between lovers speaking different languages and wearing different clothes. I want to get lost in the realization that no matter where I am, all I have is me. And me is enough. I want to feel content in my aloneness in the world. I want to breathe in the cool air of downtown late at night, with the sound of my steps on the pavement the only noise I need. I never want to stop. I won’t.