every day life – Page 16

“Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow kind, perhaps in the nook of a cousin universe I’ve never defiled or betrayed anyone.”

Its been a while since I posted about my eating difficulties. Its not something that is easy to post about – it feels absurd and ridiculous still that I have something like this, and it doesn’t feel serious enough to really be worthy of attention. But I read an article today about eating difficulties and it made me thoughtful. Well, it made me sad.

I don’t think I’m getting better. By which, I don’t think I’m developing a healthier relationship with food or my body. I’ve bought new clothes, force myself to eat good, healthy meals as often as I can, and not to make up for binge eating by starving….but. I still find myself twisting in front of the mirror, trying to find bones, despairing over the face that they are not there, at the roundness of my belly, of the width of my thighs, of my new stretch marks, of the blemishes on my face and the roundness of it too – I feel grossly overweight and unattractive and unable to convince myself otherwise. I find myself trying to stand a little taller sometimes, trying to sit a little straighter, to hide the way my belly rolls. I find myself not bothering with makeup and ignoring half my wardrobe- not feeling worthy of it. Makeup especially – there doesn’t seem to be much point when the canvas is all wrong. I find myself binge eating, still. Far too much. Not as great amounts, and not as often, but still too much, too often. I am always thinking about food, more now than ever actually. I’ll be totally overwhelmed by the need to binge, and unable to focus on anything else, or I’ll find myself considering my meals, trying to weigh up what will be healthiest and how much to have. If I’ve had a packet of crisps or a small chocolate bar as a snack I’ll either feel the need to compensate by making an especially healthy, small meal or think well, I’ve already failed and give in to binging, depending on my mood. I don’t want to eat, but I keep eating, and even eating my three good meals feels so wrong. I feel I need to do something about the way I look, and if only I had the willpower. I find myself looking at other girls, comparing myself and coming up at a loss.

I’m always watching other people – noting their figures, noting the way they dress, their smiles, the things they talk about. Straight legged girls, or girls with beautiful toned curves. Girls with clear skin and glossy hair. How two girl friends walking home in the rain lightly hold onto each others wrists as they squeeze together under one umbrella, how a woman on the phone tells someone she misses them, two students discussing a secret room in a club they can never find again once they leave, a girl wearing heels for no apparent reason than she wanted to.

I feel helpless against it.

I realize that I am probably willing myself not to get better. In fact, I may be feeling bitter about being better, may be longing for the days when food meant nothing to me and I did not have to eat, could easily get by with just a tiny amount of the stuff, and binging on a bar of chocolate was enough to get the high I craved. I want to be thin and clear skinned again – that was how I was. It probably wasn’t quite so magical, but I’ve formed this ideal in my head and the fact that I once had it in order to really make me feel bad about not still being it. I may be clinging onto my illness, too scared to let it go, puzzled by what would be left without it. If I am feeling stressed and lonely, what can I do except eat, to give me some joy. If I don’t eat I find myself on online shops, making useless purchases, anything to fill the emptiness and to make me feel happy.

I find it hard to feel happy these days. I find myself too scared and anxious over happiness. If I allow myself to feel positive and hopeful, what if it doesn’t make a difference? My mother keeps telling me to think positively, and then things will work out. But what if they don’t?

The “What if’s” gnaw at me, all the time. I feel a sense of dread, a firm belief deep in my gut that something bad is going to happen. Not it may, it will. Something bad is about to happen. I don’t know what.

I’ve faced failure a lot over these past few years- mainly academic. But that is just in paper – I feel like as a person I’ve perhaps grown up in the wrong way. I feel a little broken, and more than a little detached from everything going on around me, looking in and not understanding, being unable to cross over into that world. Perhaps I am in a parallel universe, looking into this strange and foreign place and longing for it, but unable to be part of it.

I’m hurting over the loss of my best friend – who I have not heard from in months, and who has been drifting away from me for years. I really need her right now, but she doesn’t need me. I don’t have anyone else. I have coworkers who I can chat to, I have my family, I have my driving instuctor so its not like I go without human contact, but I never connect with people. There is no one who I can really talk to. I don’t know though. I feel disconnected from the people around me, I do not know what to say, and antagonize and regret anything I do say. I don’t know how to make friends, or be friendly, and it feels like I’m now at the age where I’ve lost the chance to have the friends who you read about in novels or see in films – those long time friends who know you inside out, who are always there for you, and who do their best to be there for you. I lost my last friend this year, she drifted away and outgrew me, who is so childish and difficult and withdrawn. Now I am losing my sister to the same thing – to adulthood, to her growing up and changing. I am missing my sister too, in fact. Why am I always the one being left behind? Because there is something wrong with you. It has to be me. The fact that I never say the right thing or have the ability to make people stay. I eat away these feelings, this loneliness, this confusion over how other people work, how the bonds between people form, and how you can get someone to like you.

I also eat away over my stress over my life. I have my thesis to work on, which I still don’t understand, alongside two other projects, and have exams to study for, and job application after application to labour over alongside. I’m facing so many deadlines, and I feel utterly overwhelmed. I am not working right now. I’m trying to put it off. I don’t want to face it because it makes me anxious and stressed out. Of course procrastination makes me stressed out and anxious too, but not if I eat enough sugar to get that nice high. I can pretend its OK then. It feels like I’m doing life all wrong, I cannot succeed in my personal life, and I’m always struggling to keep up with my academic life. I’m feeling trapped when it comes to my financial situation, and I keep applying for scholarships, for interneships, and now for jobs, and getting rejected.

It feels more than a little disheartening to spend hours researching a company, putting together an application just to get a generic email back saying “sorry, you don’t meet our requirements.” That wording too, that implication: you are just not good enough. Here I am, sitting thinking I’m ticking all the right boxes – the high academic achievement, studying abroad, learning a different language, volunteering – but its not right. I get paranoid that perhaps they see past it all – see how shy and insecure I am underneath the facade I want to project. I want to be someone clever, someone independent who also works well in a group. I am passionate about travelling and working abroad, passionate about my degree and using it to do something useful and I want them to know this. Perhaps they focus on my failed A levels. Perhaps they see that I am shy and introverted, because I’m not involved in societies, maybe? Or do I not have the right hobbies? Is it the languages – because I have not grown up bilingual and have managed only to get to beginner level in my chosen second language? Is it that I have not got enough work experience? Perhaps. But as my coworker noted, as we were having a good bitch about the stress of graduate job hunting, it feels ridiculous and unfair that to get an entry level job you would have had to already had that job before. It feels wrong to use the word unfair. I have always believed that if I worked hard enough then I will be rewarded though. I always thought it would pay off. I’m frustrated by it. It makes me crave something that makes me feel good. Like, some chocolate.

I probably over think things. I don’t know how to switch my thoughts off. “What would you do if you had more free time”? My doctor asked me, not getting it at all. Its not that I don’t have time, its that I feel overwhelmed by the management of it, that I cannot concentrate on anything anyway, because of my thoughts. I’m so caught up worrying if I’m doing the right thing, that I feel frozen, and I don’t want to face it. What if. What is about to go wrong. Am I about to mess up. Am I messing up right now. What is wrong, what is this bad feeling settled inside me.

I don’t want to face anything. I’m tired. I’m scared. I really want some bloody chocolate to make me feel better. I know I’m not supposed to though.

Post Title: Bob Hicok - Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem

“If I only had one wing…”

I had a train to catch today. 10.42 in the city next door to mine. I overslept and rushed around trying to get myself ready, get the house organized, finish packing. I walked as fast as I could to the bus stop but only got there at 9.45. I waited for the bus which was supposed to come in 5 minutes. It came in 15. The journey was long. I seemed to have landed on one of those bus journeys where it stops at every stop, gets stuck in all the traffic, and always has the lights turn red on it. Time crept passed and eventually I had to accept I was not getting my train. I only got into the city at 10.42. So I had to get the later train after all.

This has been the theme of this week- late starts, rushing around, never quite managing to get myself organized. I missed the first hour and a half of my lecture on Thursday – a lecture I missed last week. I feel and am acting like I did in Malaysia- tired and unmotivated, never on time for anything, struggling to get things done. And my 2nd year of university in Malaysia… I didn’t do well. I’m a little worried. Why am I like this? Is it my medicine? I feel like I’ve been having massive mood swings lately- going from periods where I feel really great to periods where I can barely drag myself out of bed, because what’s the point? Everything feels so hopeless. Of course it could be hormones. It could be that I need to stop blaming my illness and recognize my own laziness and lact of discipline. I really need to get my act together.

Its not all bad though. Work was OK this week. And after the disastrous breakdown of last week I was shocked to find that this week I could drive (fairly sure my instructor was too) I managed to drive through the estates I’d struggled with a few weeks back, without any major errors, and then I drove through a busy town centre, and a busy road which required me to push my speed up to 40mph. Not that I didn’t struggle, but I didn’t feel as anxious as usual, I just went with the flow, didn’t over think, went easy on the controls. And it was OK. It was even fun. I had to deal with traffic which wasn’t fun, but I chatted to my driving instructor, who really is so nice. Maybe its because I feel more comfortable with and more trusting if her that I could relax? Idk. Either way, I almost had fun with my lessons this week. It didn’t feel terrifying or overwhelming for once- I felt capable and confident in my own abilities. I don’t have a lesson next week due to the half term and I’m terrified that when I get back to lessons whatever magic that happened this week will be lost, and I’ll be as hopeless as ever. I don’t want that.

I’m now on my train, squeezed into a table seat for some reason. I should have known it would be busy and to get a single seat, but I was caught in the idea of posting from my laptop. I was foolish. And should have expected that I’d end up writing on my phone instead.

My sister is picking me up and taking me home, then I’m going to be cleaning the house and eventually making food. My dad is away right now, and I feel for my mother all alone, working long hours with no one to help. So I offered to help her this weekend. I’m also going to a food festival with my mom and sister tomorrow which should be good. Hopefully it will cheer my mother up to have a weekend spending time with her daughters and being looked after. That is my hope. I don’t really want to spend my weekend listening to my mother and sister fight. I’m tense and anxious myself and desperate to relax. (Looking forward to being able to give my cat a big cuddle too! Is it bad that I’ve been on the edge of my seat excited this whole week at the though of seeing my cat,? It feels a little pathetic. )

“Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”

On Wednesday, I cried in front of my driving instructor. I had been feeling somewhat fragile and a little unstable throughout the lesson – I kept making stupid mistakes, like pushing the gear into neutral when I should have put it into first, and more dangerous mistakes, like drifting dangerously to the side of the road and then, just once, suddenly, swerving sharply towards the curb as I completely lost concentration. My driving instructor was noticeably frustrated and a little on edge. I wanted to do better, but I was tired and emotional and I couldn’t think. Towards the end of the lesson I was keeping my face turned away, blinking back tears, desperate to just get through it without crying.

I did not get through it.

I ended up in the passenger seat on the drive home, crying helplessly. I’m sorry, I had a terrible meeting with my project supervisor this morning, I explained, my voice hoarse. In reality, the driving was also a factor, as was the careers meeting I had the day before, as was university and my mental health and everything I was carrying, but I did not want to embarrass myself further by going to deep into an explanation, so I chose the main factor for my break down. My driving instructor was lovely, talking to me kindly, giving me tissues, sympathising with me. It was nonetheless mortifying. When we got back, I got out the car still sniffling and then got into my house, curled up on my bed and sobbed, loudly and uncontrollably, burying my face in my pillow both to muffle the sound and out of shame. If I hadn’t of taken my medication I probably would have started hyperventilating and having a panic attack. At least my driving instructor did not have to see that, I tried to cheer myself up with that, but nothing could shake my embarrassment. I do not know how I will face my driving instructor next week. No one has ever see me cry apart from my family.

Its not been great being back at uni. I’m already feeling overwhelmed and stressed out, mostly by my project and how confused I still am about it, how I just don’t know what to do, and by the fact that my supervisor is very cold towards me and I’m certain he dislikes me. Its like something deep inside me telling me that I need to get away, I tell my mother on the phone, my intuition is screaming at me that there is something off, but I have to meet him every week even though it makes me feel so uncomfortable. Maybe he sees something in you and is trying to push you, my driving instructor had told me when I expressed similar concerns to her. But I remain unconvinced. He doesn’t look down at me, but he is consistently unimpressed and not very forthcoming. This week, that wednesday, just before my driving lesson he told me “well maybe if you started doing something you’d know” I went over the words again and again, and I swear he actually said that. So I was not in the mood for driving. So I ended up crying because this project is already making me miserable and frustrated, just three weeks in and I don’t need that right now.

For fucks sake, I cannot design a power system in three weeks, Can I?! I ranted at my sister

I was so messed up and emotional that I actually got the courage to turn to my sister. Well, actually my driving instructor had told me to contact someone, and that she would text me later to check, and I did not want to lie in my text, and what if she asked in the lesson if I had contacted them and what was said? Yes, it took these kind of thoughts for me to reach out to someone, to not just sit at home crying and panicking to myself. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. And I feel terribly ashamed of how weak I am. I want to appear strong and put together.

I took the day off on Thursday. I just couldn’t bear to go into university. I needed some time for myself. I had a lie in, I relaxed at home. I had a good, hard think about things and then I talked to my mother on the phone. I had turned to my sister the day before, and it had not really helped to be honest, so I tried my mother next and thankfully my mother said everything I wanted. In the end, she is the only one who really gets my mental…things.

That day I thought a lot and came to terms with everything.

I reasoned with myself there are things you can control and there are things you cannot. I cannot control how my supervisor is towards me, but I can control my own actions and my own attitude. I thought about the work I had been doing- was there cause for concern? No. I was putting in enough and meeting all my deadlines. How was I acting in the meetings? I didn’t think I was letting my feelings show, but I resolved to be even friendlier, to discuss my work properly even if it never seems like he has much interest. I would think of it as practice for the real world – where your co-workers or even your boss may not treat you how you wish, but you have to act properly anyway. As for the driving, that was something I could control. I am already making progress with managing my anxiety around driving. As for remembering the procedures…I was working under a have lesson, review it mentally kind of system, but I decided to include a new step in my learning process – make a written driving log. I am hoping that will help me really remember things. I will work harder. I recognised that I could do more, so I will.

The careers? The careers advisor told me my CV was good! I just need to learn to stop obsessing over the fact I failed my A levels, to shake off my worries that my introversion will scream out from my CV and my application and for that, they will reject me. I am not a bad person because I am a shy introvert. I do have things I can offer to the world. I just worry because I make such a bad impression, as I told my mother. My mother did not have much to say to that, because she knows me, and she knows how cold and aloof I am when you first meet me, how rude it makes me, how off putting it is for other people. You will never truly be yourself when you do not trust people she said, hitting the nail on the head, and identifying the main problem even if she wasn’t aware of it – I do not trust anyone. But you are lovely inside she added, of course, in much more detail as she tried to reassure me. Yes, well, I said. What use is it that after a while I relax some and show a sweeter side to my personality, first impressions count. I am terribly worried about this. But, again I reasoned with myself – I did edit my CV, and I did get the courage to go speak to the careers advisor so I am not totally behind. Now I need to take the next step – get those applications in. I plan to send my first application by the end of next week.

I will apply the principle of mountain climbing to my life – instead of looking up and fretting over how much is left to climb, wondering how the hell I will ever make it, I will focus on just taking the next step, and then the next, and the next…

It’s OK. Everything is OK. After crying like that I actually did feel a bit better, and after taking the day off, and working through things in my head, and having a good discussion with my mother, I was ready to pick myself and carry on.

Is this entry very negative? I find my thoughts are always tinged with negativity. My mom pointed it out to me on the phone – that everything I was saying was so negative. I can’t seem to control it at all. I guess that is why I blog less – I feel a little self conscious about this kind of negativity, it must come across as a bit whiny? I do worry about that, and I am sorry. I’ve just not figured out how to fix it yet.

Post Title: Sylvia Plath

Untitled

I went home last weekend. Well, I went home on the Thursday before last weekend. I should have blogged sooner but the anti-depressants, or whatever, are still sucking all the energy out of me and its difficult to do just about anything. I’m so tired and so lazy.

Anyway, home.

I went home on Thursday afternoon. My mother picked me up from the station, and we went back home and cooked supper together, and talked. It was surprising how gentle and unheated the conversation was, how nice it was. So often my mother and I have nothing to say, or we can only pick at each other. But we talked easily this time, and we had a pleasant meal together, then we went upstairs to get ready for an evening out – my mother, my sister and I all together to go and see a ballet. A girls night out. The first time in a long, long time that my mother had got to spend with both her daughters. My mother was excited, which made me happy. I was the one who had arranged this, who had listened to me my mother asking to spend more time together and done something about it. I am trying so, so hard to develop a better relationship with my mother- being more patient, being more interested, contacting her more often, even if its just a random text to show her the progress on my cross stitch, or to recommend a book she may like. I’m 22 and it feels stupid that I’m still clinging to the hurt my mother gave to me when I was a teenager. I hurt her too, after all. And now time has passed and its time to let go. It helps of course that I’m not living with my mother – a certain distance between us is helpful, but its important not to let the distance get too great. I am trying to be mature. I can learn to trust and depend on my mother a little bit more.

Anyway, my mother told me how my father had given her a list of things not to say, which made me laugh. I could imagine my father fretting about the evening – knowing how rocky the relationship between us three is, wondering if it were even possible for us to spend several hours together without killing each other.

I had thought about inviting my dad too, almost felt bad about not, but I wanted it to be a girls night. I wanted to give my mother time with her daughters alone. Its important to remember that just as I like getting my parents say, without my sister, they like to get their kids to themselves sometimes. My dad certainly gets my sister and I to himself a lot – we are daddy’s girls all the way. But my mother deserved an evening with her girls. So I did not allow myself to feel too bad.

My sister arrived to come pick us up and she was in a terrible mood which made me nervous. Well, the evening went very well. We went to see Inala, a Zulu ballet with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and the music and dancing was fantastic, even if the overall message was confusing and unclear. It was very experimental. A great experience though. And we had a good night out. Except for my mother and sister fighting on the way home we got through the evening unscathed and maybe even managed to enjoy each others company. I could tell my mother was happy, and that made me happy. My sister remained in a foul mood which was disappointing, although it being a work night it was probably understandable.

The next day I went hiking with my father, which I really need to get round to writing about. It was very intense but very rewarding. I love going walking with my father.

I was tired and stiff by Saturday, but I had to wake up early as I was going shopping with my sister and for whatever reason my sister, who used to be late for everything, is now pushing for early, on-time starts (she gave my mother and I hell the Thursday night for being 5 minutes late, as if we have not spent years waiting around for her.) After my sisters foul mood on Thursday I was nervous about meeting with her. I admit I was also nervous because I made some personal confessions to her a few weeks back, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to be awkward between us now she knew. It turned out I was worrying for nothing. We had so much fun together, and a very successful shopping trip to boot. We talked practically non-stop and blew through both our budgets, and had a delicious dinner of American diner food. (Is there anything better? I had a hot dog with bacon and BBQ sauce and mayonnaise. And sweet potato fries with the same condiments. So fattening, so good.)

I love being around my sister, and yeah, I loved spending money on myself. I have to spend money though – I’ve long outgrown my old wardrobe and I needed to let myself let go of it. The other week, I took some photos of my old jeans and put them on Ebay – just like that. No hesitation. I cannot go on any longer thinking I’ll fit back into them. I’m bigger now, but healthier and the only way I’ll get smaller is by giving in to my disordered eating. I won’t do that. So I’m getting rid of my old pants and I went out and bought new pants in a significantly larger size – my sister there to reassure me that I looked fine, that I was not fat. I’m glad my sister was there.

My new jeans do look fantastic on me though. I’m not satisfied with my figure, but I’m getting there. I can recognise that having curves isn’t necessary a bad thing, even if its not what I want to be. I shouldn’t get so hung up on what the label says anyway – its how I feel, and how the clothes look on me. My new jeans fit, perfectly. They are larger than what I want but I look good in them. I feel good in them. I also bought some fitted sweaters – too long I’ve been hiding my figure in baggy tops, ashamed. I will try to show off my figure a bit more – and maybe eventually be proud of it.

Come Sunday, I was ready for a day at home and that is mostly what happened. I went to buy groceries with my dad, then my sister came around, and my mom came home from work, and we had a proper Sunday roast all together. There was some bickering, but it still felt great to be around my family. To have all of us be together. It felt a bit like an occasion – we only ever have a roast dinner on Christmas – and so it felt special. Then I had a quiet day with my family, and on Monday I came back, in time for lectures to start on Tuesday.

It’s been a miserable week. After such a great weekend it was more than disappointing to find I’m still not feeling great, the great weekend was a distraction not a cure, and being back at university is not helping. There’s so many people around, and already so much to take in information wise. I’m still behind on my theses. I need to get my act together. It’s October already! But I’ve felt tired and weepy and overwhelmed all week. This week I’ll try again. I was in a good place just before I went home – had set up good habits, begun to take control, and I took several steps back this week. But I can get there again.

“What you accomplish will never quite matter as much as where you fail.”

I had my driving theory test last Thursday. It totally sneaked up on me. I had been cramming desperately for two or three weeks, but still felt hopelessly unprepared. It left my wondering what on earth I was thinking booking it so soon (well OK, the plan was I would get it over and done with before I started uni but still, I quickly discovered this was a flawed plan.)

That morning I was supposed to wake up early and do last minute mock tests and studying, but typically I overslept. I got to do some practice, but in doing so I left late. The bus got caught in traffic. Once off the bus I realised I had no idea where to go. My phone GPS wouldn’t connect. When it did it sent me to the wrong entrance of the test building- I had to go into that wrong entrance and managed to find a very nice, understanding man to give me directions. Back out the building and around to the right entrance where a security guard gave me a set of confusing directions- left? Up the stairs? Left again? What? I found the place soon enough anyway and it was OK. The people at the test centre were great and friendly which helped ease the nerves a bit. I begun my test with a series of multiple choice questions and a case study. I did my best to breathe deep and trust in my revision, trying not to second guess myself, get confused and worked up. Next came hazards – a series of video clips to spot the developing hazards in. I was confused because the set up was completely different than the mock tests on the official practice DVD- I had to go through the instructional video twice! Worse, halfway through my test I remembered I hadn’t touched off my travel card when leaving the bus, which was distracting. I kept thinking about fines and how to sort that out, rather than paying attention to hazard spotting.

I left the test room conflicted and worried. But when I got my results, I had passed. I had done well even. I let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s a big sigh of relief!” The lady at the reception desk said. I grinned at her, laughing. Then I thanked her. “I’ll see you around…well I guess I won’t now. Good luck!” The lady said. I smiled and thanked her again before leaving. Just like that, it was halfway over. This driving thing. I went to a nearby café and ordered a coffee, sat down to drink it and wondered why I had put it off so long. Of course, I remembered that the practical part of driving isn’t going as well, and doubt returned, making me wonder if I am capable of getting my full license. Perhaps I had only passed the theory because I had drilled the practice questions into my brain in such a thorough manner. My driving lesson last week was bad, as was the one before that. I am progressing very, very slowly. I am not enjoying driving very much.

At least I managed to study for my driving, at least I managed to muster the effort to put some effort into that. My university work is still being stubbornly ignored. And tomorrow I have to begin university again. Just introductory lectures, but I’m terrified. Real life is rearing its head, and I can do nothing else but confront it, even though I’m so scared. This is my final year of university. I’m going to be doing a lot of independent work. A whole thesis on a topic I do not understand, and worry that I won’t grow to understand. I have to apply to jobs- and what if that doesn’t work out? It feels too soon, I just want to press pause on everything. Well, that is what I have been doing for this summer, haven’t I? Now my fun is up and its time to work again.

I’m not doing so good though. The anti-depressants make me feel tired and lazy and inexplicably sad. I keep waiting for them to work, to feel different somehow, but I don’t. Not really. In some ways I feel better, but in other ways I almost feel worse. In the same way, I keep waiting for certain things to happen, thinking that once they do finally everything will click into place, and I’ll be OK. But I’ve already ticked so many of those boxes and nothing changes. I’m starting to lose hope. And that is what has kept me going and that is ultimately why I am afraid of fourth year, because without hope, with this horrible sadness and helplessness clinging to me, I cannot bring myself to work. I just want to hide away and sleep. It’s not a good frame of mind for this fundamental year. It feels like what will happen this year will define the rest of my life. It feels enormous and important. And thus, overwhelming to be facing it. Thus, overwhelming to be facing it when I feel this way.

I’m not ready to be a graduate. I’m not ready for the ‘real world’ – to work. I don’t feel capable or grown up in any way. It’s all very worrying. I cannot stop worrying.

At least work is going well, and I’ve found some things to help keep my eating under control, and to help me sleep better (which I will write another entry on!) and I passed my driving theory test. And I’m going home soon so I can see my cat, and go hiking. There, I can be positive. Just.

Post Title: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves - Karen Joy Fowler

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