Moving on...

Sorry about the prolonged break, but the last week or so has been a little weird.

First, the kittens managed to open my fridge in the middle of the night and spoil all my food at the same time that I was breaking up with Paypal.  To make ends meet, I got a loan on my laptop from a pawn shop.  The loan kept me in food through the weekend, which was good.  It even got a pack of smokes (which didn't last the weekend, but was waaay better than nothing).

The intake with Shanti went well.  The girl who did my intake was great.  She listened, let me cry, gave me tissue...then never called me back.  It wasn't until a full 24 hrs. later, when I emailed the director again, that I heard anything from them.  Then, the director quoted a missed call as the reason communication had fallen apart.  That missed call was returned, however, which is how I got the meeting for my intake.

I sat in bed for an entire day.  I was in despair over how I would make it through...and wasn't at all certain I would.  Then, I had visions of people who have passed on.  Then, I remembered I still had resources.  Then, I created a "Post Secret" to send to PostSecrets.com.

It read, "I am the most amazing person most of my friends now~And it's too much PRESSURE!"  (p.s. I don't really believe in secrets; they're too much like lies).  Then, I called my friend Matthew and explained to him what the post card meant.  "Sarah Michelle Gellar said it best in Cruel Intentions," I told him, "'I'm the Marsha-fucking-Brady of the Upper East Side and sometimes I want to kill myself."  Her character did the things she did to ease the pressure, and that's what I needed.  For me, the easing of that pressure meant being allowed to cry.

Not being allowed by myself, but allowed by everyone else.  Precious few of my friends have let me just vent or sob or anything.  Everyone is constantly expecting me to get over it.  I'm expected to act like me, and not really be phased by the things I feel.  I can't this time.  That doesn't mean I'll be broken forever, but I need a few minutes to fall apart freely over the year of strife I've endured.

I can get through it without the therapy.  I realize that now.  I can't count on strangers to ease the pain, I need to ease it myself.  So, tomorrow, I go to see a grave.  I go to say goodbye, to get angry, to forgive, and to love.  I'm going to do the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I also realized that the friends I have here are the worst "friends" I've ever had.  I don't care much and I'm already replacing them, but it's a little disappointing.  I doubt I talk to any of them again after I get back.