Rambling

I missed my therapy session this week. Sort of accidently. But more because I didn't think I needed it this week. I was wrong.
I went out with my mom for my birthday. It was pretty civil, but mostly horrible. Does everyone else talk about childhood molestation at dinner? For serious? I mean, I'm sitting, eating chicken strips and discussing with my mother what I remember about what happened and she's just kind of nodding and she keeps asking more questions and wondering why I didn't tell her before. I think that dinner should be evidence of why I didn't tell her before. Exactly what is accomplished by telling people who can't do a damn thing but make you feel worse? I wonder. I know she means well, I really do, but I'm not her, and I'm not Sara and no, I'm not really handling it, but it's not something she can help me with AT ALL.
Anyway, my birthday was pretty exciting. I went out, and got very drunk with some friends. I guess I ignored my ex(?)boyfriend. For an ex he sure gets bitchy if I don't pay enough attention to him. Damned if he'll call before 2:30 am though. Argh. That's really my own fault. I know he's not the one for me, and I know that none of the boys I've been playing with this year are it for me, none of them are even kind of sort of workable, most of them are absolutely terrible for me. But that doesn't change the fact that I HATE being alone. I don't want to do it, and if I don't have to, I'm certainly not going to. So I guess I have no real reason to get upset when Ian isn't the ideal mate.
One of the really good things that came out of my birthday was actually hanging out with Sean and Will. I know, and have known, that I love Will more than peanut butter. That boy is my heart. But Sean was kind of a surprise, he was really, very sincerely nice, and sorry that he hadn't been there for me, even though it wasn't at all his fault. They took such good care of me, and made sure that I didn't do anything too terrible. And they didn't take many pictures. Thankfully.
I don't know. The big party is this weekend and I think it should be awesome. I've been really nervous about it, basically since it was announced, but now I'm just excited. There's no reason that it won't be really great. And then, after that, I think I should maybe never drink again.
Wow, there's really no point to any of this. Hm. I meant to write something with a point.
Maybe next time.

My Birthday

So. Tomorrow, January 14th, I'm going to be 21. Another year down. I'm trying to be optimistic about it though, and see how far I've come since last year.
Let's see, last year at this time I didn't have a job, I was living with my parents, unhappily, I still wasn't over breaking up with my fiance, the boy I had dated after my fiance had just broken up with me, I didn't have any friends to name and I generally wanted to die. This year? Well, this year I'm single but over my fiance (finally). I live with my family, but I'm pretty okay with it. I don't have a job, but I have an interview tomorrow, and I tried to kill myself last month, but this month I can see all that I have to live for. And my friends, few though they may be, are amazing and amazingly helpful.

In this year I've done so much I never thought I could. I had lovely romances and adventures. I found people I thought I'd lost, and learned how not to lose them again. I started going to a counselor and actually trying to get better. I could finally talk to my family, if only a little bit, about what happened to me when I was little. I've done yoga and ballet and I've run all over town. I've lived on my own, and took care of myself. I cried and didn't apologize. I think that's my favorite, I always apologized for crying before.

So, I guess even if I'm still broke, and I still don't have a boyfriend, and I still feel kind of fat or grumpy or like I want to die some days, my therapist was right, I really have come a long way.

Now I just have to try to remember this stuff this year.

Starting

I think it's fitting that I should try my hand at blogging now. My life is in such a state of beginnings and endings that it seems fair that I start yet another something.

That's kind of an interesting thing about me I guess. Everything is starting or stopping, everything or nothing, fantastic or horrifying. I have never had any kind of middle ground or ongoing anything. Well... I suppose that's less interesting than really, really sad.

Anyway, I'm trying this now as part of my "healing process." I recently tried to kill myself and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and post traumatic stress disorder. Right now, I've decided not to use the drugs my therapist and family so desperately would love to see me on. I just can't do it yet. It would feel too much like giving up, and I do that far too often.

I guess I'm hoping through this to find some sort of community. Other people who feel as wrong as I do, which, I hope, would make me feel more alright. Also, I know I need to deal with all of my swirly feelings and up and down emotions, and writing has always been a good way for me to do that.

So. Now that I've started I can think of nothing to say. But I'll be back very soon and hopefully will have thought of something by then.