Here is a picture of me in my first apartment:
I was heavier then, but looking back, I like how "womanly" I look. Please excuse the fact that I'm in underwear and 4" patent leather peeptoe heels. (:
reading some of my old entries from my previous blogs. i found this one:
testing the limits of something i've never trusted
it's not worth what you're getting for it
why bother?
i'm growing up, and it's fucking exciting.I had just moved into my first apartment in Seattle, it was summer and the weather was so pretty and I would walk to my one painting class I had at SCCC or to the grocery store or to work. I spent a lot of time hanging out with 3 friends and we could never plan things to do that sounded fun but we always ended up doing something random and silly and enjoying ourselves. But the journal entry was about more than that. I thought at the time that I was about to find out who I was and feel comfortable with who I was because I had Asian friends for the first time and I lived by myself and could pretty much do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to. I threw up the first day I lived there (either because the city tap water was so nasty, or out of nervous excitement).
I had lots of hopes, like becoming comfortable with driving in the city (I miss
that car). I still hate driving and it makes me completely panicky to drive in Seattle. I was completely uninterested in finding a boyfriend, but I liked feeling free to date or sleep with whoever I wanted. And I liked the feeling of people wanting to date me. There were a) just generally a higher number of guys b) a higher chance of finding a guy without a bad case of
yellow fever. Despite the dating atmosphere being better than my tiny hometown, I still went on plenty of terrible dates, but I always thought it was kind of fun. I think a bad date is much more fun than an "okay" date because it makes a good story and I like to see ridiculous people in real life situations.
Anyway, that summer was the last time I felt any significant momentum in my life. It slowed once real school (SU) started in the fall and then eventually stopped during my senior year there. And my bf at the time pushed me to finish my winter quarter. He wrote a paper or maybe two for me and did all kinds of stuff or me even though he was going to school himself 100 miles away. That was the reason I passed my classes that quarter. By spring quarter, my last quarter, he was gone to Japan and with no one there to spoon feed me my homework, I gave up and dropped out six weeks before the quarter was over and I would've graduated.
By that time my coping skills were definitely no match for the elements in my life. I had pretty bad agoraphobia, and usually only left the house to get food or to go to counseling/health clinic appointments at school even though i had entirely stopped going to classes. I rarely answered my phone and mostly only talked to people via texts because it's less confrontational.
I'm realizing the coping skills I've developed are no match for reality. I need them though, desperately. Because without them, I think I might explode or implode, or walk out in the street naked and crazy or drive my car into the house.
Blah. I'm done for now.
