What you’ve missed:
- Merkins and where to buy them.
- I learned vaginas can be allergic to more than just latex.
- Upon my death, my best gay will make a diamond from my cremated remains, pop it in a tiara, and wear me to drag shows. Tell me that isn’t a great conversation piece.
- Aranea and Nellie have finished molting. Still adorable.
- Erlene has laid her third clutch of infertile eggs.
- As for Joy, I saw her moving around the other day but she’s still in hiding. I hope she’s out soon 😦
- One of my friends informed me he was wrapped up in a tortilla blanket this morning while dancing to “Goodbye Horses”.
- …and my mental health is, well, not great.
I have been wondering lately if I need a med increase; however, I think a lot of the issue is loneliness. It’s been a rough two years.
Thankfully, I’m vaccinated and can spend more time with the people I love. But after this past year of isolation, I forget I can go do that now.
Due to COVID, my aptitude for socializing is much lower than it used to be. Working on building it back up, though. Hopefully? As much as I enjoy the solitude, I stubbornly acknowledge I need people. My people.
I feel heavy. I am lonely. And I am ABSOLUTELY part of the problem.
Going out and meeting new people sounds fun…on a small scale. However, throw in some social anxiety and it becomes a struggle because nowadays, new people mildly terrify me.
WHO AM I?!
Socializing with new humans isn’t awful MOST OF THE TIME. I think it’s more of the build up and anticipation when it comes to the plans unfolding. Having to leave on time so I arrive on time but I am usually always early because for some reason I think everything will fall apart if I am ever late.
So then I sit there, in my car, in nothing but my thoughts as I wait for the other person to show up.
Which means I get sweaty. Even more anxious. And try to calm myself down instead of thinking of all the ways I will mortifyingly embarrass myself.
But once I get to know someone, or get settled into a situation, I’m usually okay.
It’s just getting to the point where I am comfortable with someone that is incredibly uncomfortable. Yes, I have to be okay with being uncomfortable. And, god forbid, HUMAN.
HOWEVER, I would be more okay with it if my anxiety wasn’t so bad I that I have to medicate myself or else I end up with awful tummy cramps and need a bathroom.
Which that in itself makes me die a little inside each time.
I don’t really know who I am anymore, if I am to be honest. An unfamiliar feeling, for sure, but one that makes me curious. Because once I go through all of this, who will I be once I reach the other side?
Hopefully someone who doesn’t feel crazy half of the time.
A friend of mine has been attending therapy. This has inspired me to start looking into it seriously once I get settled at the farm.
Because I don’t want to keep going through the same patterns that aren’t giving me the results I’m wanting. I prefer to advance- not stay stagnant.
And I don’t want to end up like a poor Howard Hughes. I would like to have an actual healthy, long term relationship again…eventually.
…as long as they help cook/clean/do dishes. Otherwise, all bets are off.
Even better if I could reach a point where I didn’t need meds for anxiety. Pretty sure, thanks to SAD, I’ll probably need antidepressants for at least half of the year.
WHATEVER KEEPS ME GOING! I DON’T CARE!
Sooo, yeah. There’s all of that. Spread out on my clothesline.
I’ll bring it all in soon enough to fold and put away.
More posts to come.