Welcome to New York...?
I strive to be a more positive person. Generally I think my intentions are always meant to be positive but I get way caught up in stress and worry even when the stress and worry don’t exist. I’m pro at finding shit to fret about.
Right now I/we (my husband and I) are in a situation where tensions are high. Stress and worry really do exist. Yet because my natural state of being tends to be panic I have a hard time giving myself a pass here. I keep getting reminded by the people who love me most, the people who we moved back to be close to-- that there is a lot going on and I need to give myself a break.
For instance, I was pretty hard on myself that I didn’t write a post last week. This isn’t something I’ve verbalized to people. Just another thing added onto the pile of things happening in my head right now. I know how ridiculous it is for me to give myself shit for this considering the only person holding myself accountable for doing a post a week is me. Yet, there it is, another worry.
I think I have a fear that if I don’t follow through, I will lose momentum, and lose my ability to write. Which, is beyond silly. Clearly I have enough going on in life and healing at all times to have things to write about. It’s another instance of needing to remind myself that everything is okay and it’s all going to work out.
This move/transition was a tough one. It has been a bit of a nightmare so far which has made it really hard to think that we made the right decision, even though ultimately I know we did.
As soon as we got here my back/pelvis went out and every day since it continues to. I had to force a rescheduling of a meeting that I was super excited about and cancel a dinner with my best friend who I haven’t seen in months. Stress levels are high and I am not handling it with much grace.
In my defense we are living in a war zone right now. Our cats, turns out, do not get along with my mom’s cat, who they once lived with before. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced angry and scared cats but it is not fun and very loud and scary. All day every day has been about figuring out ways to maintain some sort of peace.
Ben and I are crazy cat people. We love our cats as though they are our children and seeing them in this amount of stress is unnerving. Locking them in our bedroom every other hour breaks our hearts, and getting woken up every morning at 4am to them desperately trying to escape is exhausting. I have gotten at most four hours of sleep every night since we’ve been here.
I feel empty and strange and confused. I have been neglecting my self care acts. Minus taking baths (I have basically moved into the bathtub). I’ve also avoided writing, including journaling, which means all of this shit is just pent up inside of me.
I feel annoying writing all of this. Once again complaining about my circumstance, which really isn't all that bad.
I feel like people are sick of me and don’t want to hear it. I know that this is not true since I’ve barely spoken to anyone outside of this house since I’ve been here and when I have it’s been family who love me, yet that feeling still exists.
Part of that is being back in NY or rather being back on Long Island-- since I have yet to go to the city (which is another weird thing that makes this whole thing feel unreal)-- is healing a lot of stuff that I left behind.
I don’t know that I have ever felt fully myself in NY. There are people who I feel fully myself around, more so than anywhere else, but as a whole I always felt a little empty a little blank and a lot judgemental and scared.
In NY I am in constant fear that the people I love are going to reject me and disappear. I feel attached to my sick and crazy days and that everyone is just waiting for the other shoe to drop and me to end up back in a hospital.
I feel like everyone thinks when shit gets nutty or my body starts acting out that I'm doing it for attention and I constantly feel the need to validate the fact that I’m not.
I feel like a failure for not being able to handle the craziness better. I feel like even though my past addictions to drama and chaos have healed a lot, that here I have to start over. In NY my body issues reach new heights and looking at a photo of myself or even in the mirror is painful as fuck.
All of the above are bullshit fears and insecurities. All of the above for the most part are not true. But that does not change the fact that they live inside me and make themselves known in my every day consciousness. Especially when my body steps in and forces me to be stuck on a couch or in a bed again.
I know once I get to the city and see my friends a little bit of normalcy will creep in. I also know writing this, as obnoxious as I feel I am coming off will also do the same.
Coming back to NY, my own personal war zone with or without the cats; moving into the literal scene of the crime-- I am writing this two feet from where my first suicide attempt happened-- is my way of forcing myself to face all of the above and more and love myself anyway. Allow love in and allow myself to trust. Force myself to face it all and heal deeper than I ever could 3,000 miles away.
It is the right decision. It was the right decision.