I broke my months long not crying streak (since November) with my therapist yesterday. It was short-lived thanks to my wonderful antidepressant, which tends to make me more cold-hearted, but it also felt fucking good.
Crying lets the sad out. I heard that in a movie once.
Here’s to hoping that my mom doesn’t read this post. Or, if you are…please stop reading, mom. Okay? Cool.
My mom is really sick and I am worried. Extremely worried.
I mean, that’s really all that I can get myself to type about it at the moment.
It’s enough for now.
I bought a quarter of an ounce of marijuana last weekend. That’s more than I usually purchase at any time, but I wanted to be set up for a while. (My therapist has no problem with me partaking in it, by the way.)
Well, not in her office.
It’s great stuff. I spend much of my time stoned and often I will come to final conclusions on certain subjects.
I like to call them Ah Ha Weed Moments.
Like, if I continue to eat cabbage, I’ll continue to be sick to my stomach afterwards.
If we continue any habit that causes us harm, that’s on us, right? Boo hoo, tough shit and all of that. So what to do? Stop the habit that is causing us harm.
It makes so much sense when your high. Then you stop being high and the idea becomes hazy again.
Am I high right now? No, but I wish that I was, man.
My mental health is stable right now. Although life isn’t so great, I still feel like I’m handling most things rather well.
It’s really all just a day at a time thing. We’re always working to better our circumstances. Shit, I’m just happy that I can wake up every morning and be able to (somewhat) bravely face whatever fucking bullshit that life can (and will) throw at me.
I’m even happier when I don’t have to leave my house for a doc appointment or something equally sucky.
But I’m also brave enough to turn off the Wi-Fi, say screw it all and go back to bed.